Appalachian Prey
Appalachian Prey
Debbie Herbert
Star-crossed lovers…Danger awaits them bothUnfortunate circumstances force pregnant Lilah Tedder to face deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. They must uncover old secrets or pay the ultimate price…
Star-crossed lovers on Lavender Mountain... Danger awaits them both.
After her father’s murder, pregnant Lilah Tedder dreads facing deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. Though she still wants him, Lilah knows his professional ambition won’t let him associate with a moonshiner’s daughter. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. Now they must uncover old family secrets or pay the ultimate price.
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her eldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.
Also available by Debbie Herbert
Bayou Shadow Hunter
Bayou Shadow Protector
Bayou Wolf
Siren’s Secret
Siren’s Treasure
Siren’s Call
Visit millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more information
Appalachian Prey
Debbie Herbert
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07855-9
APPALACHIAN PREY
© 2018 Debbie Herbert
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to Maxine Brooks,
one of the best readers ever!
And, as always, to my husband, Tim; my dad,
J. W. Gainey; and my sons, Byron and Jacob.
Contents
Cover (#u90bd7757-5e8f-55a7-a33c-04449de483a9)
Back Cover Text (#ufa6a91a9-ee46-551a-a82c-e09feed8db56)
Author Bio (#u54b36544-16cc-57b7-bfc2-6754e9a309c7)
Booklist (#ufdc22dd2-00fb-55b3-8c61-6db11a5ac7e8)
Title Page (#u8be982cf-3884-515e-aa83-46b69c2c671e)
Copyright (#ua03ed227-fbbb-58ed-a2b9-d05434701b75)
Dedication (#uf6b503a4-74e1-5707-8097-4f823074b223)
Chapter One (#u35ba7049-af73-5244-88f8-71ce22f296d7)
Chapter Two (#ua3b3a624-06ad-587a-b0ea-c32fc625803a)
Chapter Three (#u795b53c5-e0ff-5d80-ba68-c7ad7b6fe629)
Chapter Four (#u08161122-421e-5f2c-8f88-488726e3ceb1)
Chapter Five (#uee7cfc6a-0bb3-520f-86a0-60a353abe4ec)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Moonshine again...seriously?
Hidden caches had turned up everywhere in her father’s cabin. No surprise there. Lilah snatched two plastic jugs from the back utility room and marched to the kitchen, intent on pouring the illegal hooch down the drain. Corn liquor had destroyed her parents’ marriage and her dad’s liver. Would have killed him, too, if he hadn’t been murdered a week ago.
Unexpected tears blurred her vision as she unscrewed the lid on one of the jugs and poured the liquid poison into the chipped enamel sink. Not that she and Dad had been all that close in recent years, but still, the man had been her father. Lilah tipped the jug. Glug, glug, glug...a hundred dollars’ worth gone. Could have bought a used college textbook with that money.
She blinked and gazed out the open window. The cabin was nestled in the foothills, with rolling mountains standing sentinel in all directions like a green fortress. A deceptive beauty, as though the price for living in such a visual feast meant being taxed with rampant poverty and violence. Dad’s death was the latest evidence of that.
Whoever said you can’t go home again was dead wrong. After a mere week, Lilah felt like she’d never left Lavender Mountain. Memories washed over her, most of them unpleasant—her parents’ screaming matches, brutally cold nights where they’d all huddled in front of the fireplace. But it hadn’t been all bad. Some days, wandering the woods with her older siblings, Jimmy and Darla, had been magical.
A faint scrape of boots on leaves and pine straw jarred her senses. Someone approached.
Lilah stilled, picturing in her mind’s eye the open front door and windows. Had the murderer returned? She fought the instinct to flee to the back bedroom and lock herself in. Probably just one of Dad’s old customers who hadn’t gotten the word yet.
Quickly, she raced across the rugged pine floorboards to the den. Through the battered screen door emerged the silhouette of a tall bearded man dressed in denim overalls. What mountain had he just climbed down from? Lilah sprinted to the door and latched the rusty lock into place. A joke of a defense. She reached for the weapon always propped by the door frame, and her right hand curled around the barrel of the twelve-gauge shotgun, its metal smooth, familiar and comfortable.
And loaded.
“What you want?” she called out in her fiercest voice.
The man didn’t appear the least bit intimidated as he shuffled forward, his foot on the first porch step. “I got bizness with Chauncey Tedder.”
“Guess you could say my dad’s out of business,” she said, sliding the shotgun next to her hip.
He climbed the second step. One more and he would be within six feet of where she stood. He swayed and squinted, peering into the room. Lilah was painfully aware he could see straight into the little kitchenette.
“Looks to me like you got some ’shine in there,” he boomed. “Go git me a jug afore I get really riled.”
She didn’t aim to find out what the stranger was like “really riled.” This place was well out of range for anyone to hear if she screamed, and Dad was shot not far from the cabin. Lilah unhitched the lock and kicked open the screen door. She drew the shotgun up to shoulder level, finger twitching at the trigger. “I repeat—this place is closed for business. I’d appreciate you spreading the word.”
“Whoa, little missy.” He threw up his hands and backed away. “Don’t mean ya no harm.”
He tripped on the step and took a tumble. Oomph.
Chagrined, Lilah bit her lip and lowered the shotgun. “You okay there?”
He rose, brushing dirt off his overalls. “I reckon. You sure are a touchy thing. Best be gettin’ on my way.” With one last sorrowful glance at the jugs on the kitchen counter, he ambled away, gingerly limping on his right foot.
What the hell.
She returned inside, retrieved the full jug she hadn’t yet dumped out, and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey,” she yelled. “Come on back, you can have a jug.”
He shot her a wary look, clearly suspicious of her change of heart. But in the end, the pull of the moonshine outweighed his reservation, and he returned.
Lilah set the jug down at the bottom of the stairs and scampered back to the door.
“Same price as always?” the man asked, carefully pulling out a wad of dollar bills from his side pocket.
“It’s on the house. Just don’t come back, ya hear? This is the last of it.” Unless she found more while cleaning out the cabin. No telling how many bottles were tucked away in nooks and crannies.
A grin split his weathered face as he tucked the money away. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
He picked up the jug and gave a quick nod before walking across the yard. A sheriff’s cruiser rounded the bend in the road and turned into her dirt driveway. The man momentarily froze at the sight, and then took off running to the nearby tree line—more like hobbling with his injured foot—but almost quick enough to get out of sight. Couldn’t have hurt too bad, she mused.
The cruiser came to an abrupt halt, and a man started to climb out.
Lilah’s heart skittered, even faster than when the stranger had suddenly appeared at her door minutes ago. Could it be...
Oh, yes, it most definitely was.
Harlan Sampson. The man who’d quickly won her heart three months ago and then had dumped her twice as fast after a week of fun and games. Her left hand involuntarily fluttered over her stomach, and Lilah hastily jerked it away.
“Well, looky here,” Harlan drawled, eyeing the man carting his haul off into the woods. He faced her and pushed the dark sunshades up on his head, revealing the startling beryl-blue eyes that had enthralled her on her last ill-fated visit, which—damn it—still sent her heart pounding into overdrive. He walked toward her. “Looks like I finally caught a Tedder point-blank in the act of distributing illegal whiskey.”
“Wrong. I wasn’t selling. I was giving. Ain’t no money exchanged hands here.” Inwardly, Lilah winced at the slip into the local vernacular. It had been twelve years since she’d called Lavender Mountain home, but in times of high emotion—and now definitely counted—she lapsed back into the lingo.
“So you say.”
She pinched her lips together. “What brings you here?”
“Came to pay my respects, see how you’re getting on.”
Weeks ago, she would have flung herself on Harlan at those words. But not now. “I’m jim-dandy,” she replied, lifting her chin a fraction. “I saw you at Dad’s funeral. No need to come over.”
“I believe I owe you an apology.”
“Forget it.” There was no way she’d admit how much his silence had hurt.
His eyes smoldered, and he slowly climbed the porch steps, close enough now to make her breath hitch. “I can’t forget it. And I can’t forget you.”
* * *
EVEN GLARING AT HIM, shotgun by her side, Lilah Faye Tedder was a hell of a sight. Harlan drank it in—the long blond hair that tumbled past her shoulders, the elfin delicate face with the determined chin, the slight womanly curves of her body. He had tried to wipe away the memory of her, but with one glance, the old familiar pull returned. He nodded at the firearm. “Mind putting that thing away? Hard to talk to an angry woman holding a shotgun.”
A smile ghosted across her face before the hardened set returned to her chin. “You said what you came to say. Apology accepted.”
“C’mon, Lilah. Let’s talk.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
With that, Lilah spun on her heel and entered the cabin. Not much of an invitation, but he’d hardly expected her to welcome him with open arms. The place smelled as clean and as fresh as the pine breeze that blew through the open windows, but with a touch of lemon cleaner. It already had the stale antiseptic look of a bare shell of a dwelling. No knickknacks or frivolities, just an old sofa and a couple of chairs.
“I see you’ve been hard at work.” He’d been here before. Chauncey’s old place had been filled with junk when he was alive.
“It’s all set for the realtor to list as soon the reading of the will is over. After that, I’ll head on home.”
Probably for the best, at least for his career. According to Sheriff J.D. Bentley, associating with any Tedder wouldn’t reflect well on him or the office. His boss planned on retiring soon and understood that he had ambitions to run and take over the top law enforcement job in the county. And as such, J.D. had driven home the point that he had no chance of winning the sheriff’s election if he was a known associate of the outlaw family.
Personally, Harlan couldn’t care less about the piddly amounts of money some moonshiners made. No, what disturbed him were the rumors that Lilah’s family had turned to the new Appalachian cash crop of growing marijuana.
Following her lead, he took a seat in one of the old chairs that remained. “No reason to hurry home, is there? Now that school’s out, I thought you would be free for the summer.”
She leveled him with a glacial stare. “That was the original plan. Things changed.”
Ouch. Yeah, he caught her barb. Last time she had been home, they’d planned on her returning to Lavender Mountain this summer so they could see each other regularly.
“Sorry about your dad. Must be hard—”
“Any news on who shot him?” Her voice was sharp and cold.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But we’re working on it.”
“I bet.”
This wasn’t the same Lilah from March, the woman with the ready smile, the soft eyes and the gentle voice. But she had every reason to be bitter, especially with him.
“We’re working ’round the clock. No leads have panned out yet, but we’re interviewing his friends and—” he hesitated a beat “—known associates.”
“Meaning y’all suspect this was related to his moonshining.”
If only it were that simple. He hedged. “The theory is it revolved around his illegal activities, yes. You and Darla already said he had no enemies or problems with others that you know of.”
Silver eyes clouded in pain. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone shoot Dad? It’s not like he made a fortune.” Her neck turned a fraction toward the back of the cabin.
“Maybe an irate customer?” he suggested.
“Doubt it. Most were regulars.” Again, her eyes darted to the rear of the cabin as she folded her arms at her waist.
“Okay, what’s going on?” he asked sharply.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s going on.”
He strode past her, down the narrow hallway and peeked inside the two bedrooms at the end. One was completely empty, nothing suspicious there. The other housed only a double bed and a dresser. A lacy pale yellow nightgown was draped across a plaid bedcover. An image of Lilah in that nightgown flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth at the wave of loss that churned his gut.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She followed close behind him, her bare feet padding on the old wood flooring. “You have no right to search my place.”
“It’s not yours until you can show me the deed has been transferred to you in writing.” He crossed the room and glanced cursorily inside the small bathroom with the old-fashioned iron claw-foot bathtub. Nothing out of place there, either.
“Mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
He felt a tad foolish for wondering if an unwelcome visitor might have forced his way in and held her hostage.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure. But you kept looking back this way, as if something was worrying you.”
A flush stained her cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”
This was getting him nowhere. He changed tactics. “Lilah, I want to help. If there’s a problem, tell me. I can’t leave you alone out here if there’s the slightest possibility you’re in danger.”
“Why do you care?” she scoffed. “Go on and leave me—again. It’s what you do best.”
Her words slammed into him like bullets. He’d hurt her. Bad. “I’m sorry,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I should have at least tried to explain.”
“No explanation needed. I can guess what happened. As soon as your family and friends caught wind of you seeing a Tedder, they jumped all over you. Go on, admit it.”
Heat rushed up the back of his neck. She’d pretty much nailed their reaction. He could have borne their objections, but...
“And then your boss piled on, too. Right? Wouldn’t look good for the apparent heir in the upcoming sheriff’s election to be sleeping around with a lowlife like me.”
The accusation in her eyes stung, but not as much as the truth of her words. Yes, he was ambitious. But it wasn’t the money and the power he craved—it was the chance to make a difference. This little corner in the Appalachian foothills had always garnered more than its share of hardship and tumult. And somehow, the situation kept going downhill. Elmore County was rife with drug trafficking, ancient feuds and an isolation that led many to a life of crime, believing the laws didn’t apply in this neck of the woods.
“I won’t deny any of that,” he said slowly. “J.D. had a long talk with me. Basically said that if I continued seeing you, he wouldn’t endorse me as his replacement.”
“And your career means more to you than I do. Fine. But you could have talked to me instead of giving me the silent treatment.”
“You’re right. And I regret that.”
Harlan regretted a lot of things. He should never have listened to J.D. or anyone else. He should have defended Lilah. He should have never let her slip away.
He was an ass.
Harlan shook his head. No, he’d done the right thing. The people in this county needed him. No point in throwing his career away because of one magical week. But that one week together during her spring break from work and school had been an unbelievable whirlwind of passion and emotion. And then, he’d slipped out of her life without a single word, even after all the plans they’d made for the summer. He raised a hand to touch her, to cup her face in his palms, to tell her he was sorry.
Lilah stepped back, lips curled in a bitter smile. “Don’t even think about it, Harlan Sampson. We’re done.”
Abruptly, he dropped the hand by his side. He’d lost the right to touch Lilah ever again.
“Message received.” He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. “But I still don’t like leaving you alone out here. Can’t you get a room in town until you’ve finished your business?”
“No.”
She turned and headed down the hallway, leaving him no choice but to follow. Lilah opened the front door wide and waved a hand in dismissal. “Goodbye, Harlan.”
He nodded, but as he brushed past Lilah, he couldn’t resist placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for everything. And for your loss. Your dad might have been on the other side of the law, but he was a decent man. I liked him, and he didn’t deserve what happened. I’ll do everything I can to find who shot him.”
The anger and hostility fled, and her lips trembled the slightest bit. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
She shook her head.
“If you think of something, you have my number.”
Before she could object, he planted a light kiss on her cheek and stepped out onto the porch. The sun was sinking low in the green mountains, casting a coral and purple hue on the clouds. Damn, he hated leaving her with night approaching.
“Wait. There is one thing you can do.”
He swung around, eager to help. “Name it.”
Lilah lingered in the doorway, rubbing her arm. “I—I found some money today while I was cleaning up the place. In light of what happened to Dad, well, it makes me nervous. It’s too late for me to go to the bank, but maybe you could keep it safe for me tonight? I’ll come pick it up in the morning and deposit it.”
“No problem.”
He returned to the inside of her cabin. How crafty of Chauncey to keep a hidden stash of dough. He hoped for Lilah’s sake that it was at least a thousand dollars or so. She could use the cash. Working as a teacher’s aide and going to college didn’t leave her much in the way of money.
“I told Darla ’bout finding a wad of cash up under the mattress, and she wanted us to go on and split it, but I told her it didn’t sit right with me. That much money should be reported.”
He gave an indulgent smile. “No one would be the wiser if you didn’t turn it in. There’s no need to worry. I agree with Darla, just keep the money.”
“But it’s a lot of money. I’ll need to talk to the bank manager. Don’t they investigate if you deposit more than ten thousand dollars at a time?”
The hell. “Excuse me? How much money are we talking about?”
“About thirty thousand.”
Thirty. Thousand. Dollars. Ill-gotten dollars, no doubt. The rumors must be true. Chauncey, and probably his partner-in-crime brother as well, had graduated from moonshine to marijuana—or even harder drugs.
“Get it,” he said tightly. Small wonder the Tedder reputation stank.
And she’d planned on sleeping on that load of cash tonight? Some folks ’round these parts would kill for thirty grand. Even if Lilah knew how to use that shotgun, she’d have been putting herself in jeopardy staying here overnight with that much money. If anyone else knew about it, she could have ended up with bullets riddling her body—the same fate as her father.
She scampered away, seemingly eager to be rid of the cash. Hard to believe, but at some level, Lilah must still trust him. Damn, he would have to tell J.D. about this. No way he could just let her waltz into a bank and get flagged as a possible drug dealer.
He sat on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell did you get mixed up in, Chauncey?” he muttered under his breath. He kicked back on the cushions and sighed.
Sure was taking her a long time. Harlan drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of the old couch, waiting.
And waiting.
“Everything all right, Lilah?” he called out.
She staggered back into the den, face pale and fiddling with the gold cross chain around her neck.
He stood, dread prickling his scalp. “What’s wrong?”
She drew an unsteady breath. “The money...it’s gone.”
Chapter Two (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Gone.
Harlan rubbed his temples and sat back down on the sofa. He pointed to the rocker, and Lilah settled across from him. How to tell her?
“Was your dad in the habit of keeping large amounts of money around the cabin?” he finally asked.
“No.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”
“Any idea how he might have come into this money?”
Her lips pinched together. “No.”
“Moonshining can be pretty profitable for a few folks.”
The muscles in her jaw worked, and she lifted a hand and waved it in the air. “Not for us. Does this look like a mansion or something? If Dad made much money at it, he sure didn’t believe in spreading the wealth.”
Harlan knew her financial struggle. She’d been working for six years as a teacher’s aide, paying for college tuition and books as she could on her salary.
“Sure, he wasn’t known for having an extravagant lifestyle,” Harlan agreed. “But you told me yourself that he acted different when you visited in March.”
“Lots of shady characters hanging around. A younger crowd, people I’d never seen before.” She sighed and stared down at her hands. “Lots of long talks with Uncle Thad, too. Whenever I entered the room, they would stop talking. But that wasn’t so unusual. In the past, they would come up with some pretty harebrained get-rich schemes that never worked. Part of the reason Mom cut out years ago.”
Lilah lifted her head and faced him dead on. “But you already know most of this. I confided a lot to you when—” she hesitated a heartbeat “—when we were seeing each other.”
Seeing each other. Images of her flashed through his mind—Lilah lying on his bed, her hair spread against the sheets, the play of moonlight on her skin, the feel of her hand gliding down his abs and lower still... Best not to dwell on that. He cleared his throat.
“Can’t help wondering if your dad might have changed his, er, business model. He wouldn’t be the first to switch from moonshine to marijuana. That’s where the real money is these days.”
Gray eyes flashed. “You asking if Dad was a dope dealer? No way.”
There was no kind way to have her face the possibility. Might as well be honest. “There’s been rumors. We know for a fact that there’s a huge drug-running operation that passes through our mountains. We just haven’t been able to make a major bust yet.”
“Rumors?” She stood and paced, temper sparking in her clipped movements. “Figures. Anything criminal happening in Elmore County and people are going to bring up Dad’s name. It’s so unfair. He never hurt anybody. And he never sold liquor to the teenagers that came around. Said moonshine was a grown man’s drink.”
Harlan bit the inside of his mouth to keep from blurting his thoughts. He’d liked Chauncey, but Lilah had either forgotten her dad’s more violent tendencies or she’d shoved them to the back of her mind. She hadn’t been especially close to her dad, but his death was so recent, so fresh in her heart, and Chauncey was her father, after all.
“I’m not judging him,” Harlan said, treading lightly. “He had plenty of good qualities—a loyal friend, always minded his own business and generous to a fault. But he had a dark side, too. Chauncey spent many a night as a guest of the Elmore County jail for assault.”
She shrugged. “Drunken bar fights.”
Fierce fights that had resulted in serious injuries to the unlucky, foolhardy men who crossed him. But he let that pass without comment. “You’ve never seen anything else suspicious?”
“I know what pot plants look like. If I’d seen any on our property, I’d have reported it. Take a look around for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“Your father didn’t have to be growing it in his fields to participate. He could have managed an indoor operation.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” Lilah crossed her arms.
If she had a fault, it was stubbornness. She’d come by it honestly as Chauncey Tedder’s daughter. That man refused to live life on anyone else’s terms and abided by his own creed of what constituted right and wrong—the law be damned. Truth be told, many mountain folk felt the same.
“If you find anything incriminating while you’re staying here, I hope you’ll tell me.”
“Outlaws keeping a step ahead of the law up here?” she quipped. “Imagine that.”
Were they ever. Every drug raid ended the same—a dead end with no evidence or suspects in sight. “This is serious, Lilah. Drug operations bring in a dangerous criminal element. They aren’t like your dad.”
She sobered. “Which is why Dad would never have been a part of that. Never.”
He raised his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. I just can’t help worrying about you staying out here alone.”
“I won’t be here long. There’s no reason to stay now that...you know.” She let her words trail off.
Now that their relationship was over.
Again, it hung heavy in the air between them, weighing on his shoulders like a thick blanket. “When?”
“Soon,” she answered dismissively.
He’d lost the right to question her more closely about her comings and goings. None of his business.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry for—”
“Forget it.” She thrust out her chin. “I have.”
Had she? Had Lilah really moved on? Because he sure as hell hadn’t. “Why don’t you stay with Darla while you’re here? The next guy coming along to buy ’shine might not be as nice as the one that just skedaddled off your property.”
He caught the slight tightness at the edge of her eyes. “She’s busy with Ed and her kids. We’d get on each other’s nerves after a while, anyway.”
“Too bad Jimmy couldn’t have stayed longer.”
“Yeah. He looked so sad when he had to fly back,” she said wistfully.
His old friend, her brother, was no longer the free-spirited kid that he used to hang around with in high school—and occasionally get in trouble with. Jimmy’s tour in Afghanistan had changed his carefree attitude. At the funeral, and even afterward, he’d been distant and grave. Shell-shocked, some might say.
The loud rumble of a diesel engine roared from the driveway, and Harlan stepped out onto the porch in time to see a large gruff man at the wheel. He sharply turned the truck, and it circled the yard before heading back down the road.
“Your cruiser is running off my dad’s business,” Lilah said drily.
He rubbed his chin. “Wish I could leave it here overnight.”
“I’ll be fine. Just go.” With that, she turned away.
He’d been dismissed, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “At least for tonight, call your sister and see if she’ll stay out here with you.” At the cold snap of her gray eyes, he added, “Please.”
“Maybe.”
The old oak door shut firmly behind her. Stubborn woman.
* * *
A LEATHER CORDED bracelet with a crimson stone, a triple-stranded necklace of multicolored glass and a tarnished silver ring with a fake cameo carving. Lilah laid the jewelry on the kitchen table and examined the pieces. They obviously held little, if any, monetary value, but they’d been carefully wrapped in an embroidered linen handkerchief inside a red silk drawstring pouch. So they’d meant something to somebody at one time.
Curious, she’d called Mom, who’d snorted when asked if they’d once belonged to her. “Anything I wanted from that cabin, which wasn’t much, I took with me when I left your dad.” She also claimed never to have seen the jewelry. “Might have belonged to Chauncey’s mama, but if it did, I never noticed he had them, and he never mentioned it to me. Your dad wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, anyway.”
Still, Lilah was reluctant to chuck the pieces in the charity box with everything else worth salvaging. If the jewelry had belonged to Granny Tedder, she wanted to keep it.
At the crunch of gravel outside, she peered out the front window. Good, just Darla and Uncle Thad come to call. She opened the screen door and waved them inside. Uncle Thad hefted Darla’s overnight bag from the truck bed as her sister minced her way to the porch in high heels. Lilah suppressed a giggle. Even as a kid, Darla was into playing dress up and acting like a Hollywood ingenue instead of a hillbilly’s daughter.
“Thanks for coming over, y’all. Harlan was over earlier and got me all paranoid about staying alone out here.”
“Harlan, huh? He’s sexy.” Darla winked as she entered, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake.
Lilah ignored the comment.
“Got yer shotgun, don’t ya?” Uncle Thad bellowed. “Yer safe enough.” He huffed and puffed up the porch steps. He was a giant of a man, over six feet tall, and as strong and as broad-boned as an ox.
He always knew just what to say to make her feel better. She hugged him as he entered the cabin.
Darla walked to the kitchen table, hips swaying. When she pulled out a chair and sat, she crossed her legs, exposing a long stretch of thigh. “You’ve been working hard. I’ve never seen Dad’s place look so tidy. At least not since Mama ran off.” She tossed her hair and sighed. “Be a love and make me a cup of coffee. Those kids ’bout ran me ragged today.”
Lilah exchanged a quick knowing glance with Uncle Thad, who was dragging the suitcase to the back bedroom. Somehow, everything always centered on Darla and her needs. Feeling guilty, Lilah set about fixing the coffee. After all, her sister was busy with her own home life and didn’t have to come babysit a grown fraidy-cat woman.
“What do we have here?” Darla cooed, picking up the multicolored necklace and holding it to the light.
“Found them under Dad’s mattress. Any idea who they belong to?”
“No, but it’s mine now.” Darla clasped the necklace around her neck and preened. “How does it look?”
Gaudy, actually. Lilah measured the coffee and started the machine. “Mmm,” she said noncommittally.
Uncle Thad waved from the den. “Gotta hit the road. Momma’s waiting dinner on me.”
“Tell Aunt Vi I said hey,” Lilah called from the kitchen.
Darla put on the bracelet and ring. “Not too shabby, I guess. Whatcha think, Uncle?”
He stopped and stared. “Where’d ya get those baubles?”
“Lilah found them. Do they look pretty on me?”
“Sure, sure. Not that you need adornment.” He winked at Lilah. Uncle Thad knew how to flatter his niece.
“You want to keep one, Lilah?” Darla asked.
“Nah, that’s okay. They should go to someone who appreciates them.”
Uncle Thad left, and Lilah warmed up a large pot of chicken and dumplings and another pot of butter beans. She was suddenly ravenous and exhausted as the aroma kicked in, and she absently stirred the dumplings, thinking of all the things she’d have loved to discuss with Darla. Hidden matters of the heart. But there was a layer of reserve between them. It seemed sometimes as if Darla resented her. Lilah had left Lavender Mountain years ago, finished her high school degree, and would soon graduate college with her teacher’s certificate, whereas Darla had never left, never finished her schooling and had pretty much been forced into marriage when she’d gotten pregnant at sixteen.
Lilah set their plates on the table and sat across from her. “I know the kids keep you busy, but aren’t they fun, too? I mean, you like being a mother, don’t you?”
Darla shrugged. “It has its moments, I suppose. But it’s lots of work. More than I realized it would be.”
“But satisfying, right?”
“Sure,” she said carelessly, lifting her little finger as she sipped her coffee.
Well, that hadn’t been particularly enlightening or encouraging. What had she expected? Lilah ate, savoring the homemade food. As soon as her stomach was sated, lethargy crept in like a drug. She blinked, surveying the dirty dishes with dread. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and snuggle under the covers.
“Hey, kid.” Darla’s hand closed over hers. “You look beat. I’ll wash the dishes.”
“You will?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Of course. You go on to bed.”
Beat didn’t even begin to cover how exhausted she felt. For the first time since she was a little kid, Lilah had begun taking afternoon naps. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said.
Darla slipped off the leather bracelet and clasped it around Lilah’s wrist. “And you keep this. Stand up for yourself now and then, girl.”
Unexpected tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them back. Every once in a blue moon, Darla surprised her. Nodding, she got up from the table and went to the bedroom. Without bothering to change into her nightgown, she slipped between the covers and fell into the black abyss of sleep.
* * *
COLD.
Lilah rubbed the goose bumps on her arm. Wind rustled through the pines and whooshed into the cabin. Darla must have opened a window, she surmised, clambering out of bed.
The scrape of a heavy boot on the wooden floor brought her to an abrupt halt. The back of her neck prickled. Another step creaked in the hallway, and her mind raced. The shotgun was by the front door, so that was of no use. She hesitated, torn between locking her door or opening her bedroom window and hightailing it into the dark night.
But she couldn’t leave Darla alone to face the menace.
Lilah unplugged the lamp on her nightstand and wrapped her hand around the base like a club. Not much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. She stepped into the hallway and flattened herself against the wall, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.
Moonbeams cast a silvery glow in the den, and the shadows shifted, forming the silhouette of a man in black. He wasn’t aware of her presence and crept from the rocking chair to the coffee table, picking up magazines and searching for...something. Did others know about the large amount of cash her father had stockpiled in the cabin? This could get ugly, deadly even. Maybe someone who’d been searching for the money had murdered her dad. Damn it, Harlan was right to warn her away from this place. Darla spending the night calmed her fears, but unless her sister was packing heat, she was of no help.
Lilah peeled herself away from the wall and stepped into the hallway to warn Darla of the danger. At the slight sound, the man straightened and spun around.
He had no face. Where eyes and nose and mouth should have been, there was nothing but inchoate blackness.
Lilah’s pulse pounded furiously in her taut body. It was a nightmare come to life—paralysis rooted her feet to the floor and she could hardly breathe. The scream in her throat choked her lungs, refusing to unloose in the deathly quiet.
Suddenly, the intruder turned and ran for the open window.
A piercing cry vibrated her ears and brain. It took several seconds before she realized it was her own voice screaming. She stumbled to the front of the cabin on numb feet and dropped the lamp on the sofa, exchanging porcelain for the cold steel of the shotgun’s barrel. A bolt of courage rippled down her spine, and she raced to the window and slammed it shut.
“What the hell is going on?” Darla rushed into the room and flipped on the light switch, revealing her baby doll nightie with its feathered neckline. Her mouth was devoid of the usual red lipstick, but pink sponge curlers dangled loosely in her brown hair. Oddly enough, the scanty attire only made her appear like an adolescent. A vulnerable, confused teenager.
“Somebody broke in. Did you open the window in here before you went to bed?”
“No. Is that how they got in? Did you get a good look at him?”
“He wore a mask.”
“Oh, my God. I’m calling Ed to get out here.”
“No sense rousing him and your kids out of bed. The man’s gone.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not staying here.”
“We could drive into town and stay at a motel. But I don’t relish the thought of going outside to get in the car.”
“Call your Harlan. Tell him to get here ASAP.”
Her Harlan. She wished he was. Not the mean, stupid Harlan who’d dumped her but the old Harlan who couldn’t keep his hands off her and whose kisses had made her feel wild and cherished. She lifted her chin. “No. I won’t bother him.”
“Bother him? Isn’t responding to break-ins, like, his job?”
She could call someone else in the sheriff’s office, but Harlan would get word and come immediately. Lilah thought fast. “We could call Uncle Thad.”
Darla grumbled. “Okay. But the only reason I’m not calling Ed is ’cause I don’t wanna put my kids in danger.”
“I’ll make the call while you get dressed.”
Darla sped to the bedroom, mumbling under her breath—something about the crazy gene in their family, Lilah thought.
Lilah grabbed the cell phone and punched in her uncle’s number with her left hand, still clutching the gun in her right. She turned off the overhead light and stood by the window. Was he out there in the darkness, waiting for another night, another opportunity?
She would never feel safe here again. Maybe Harlan was right. Maybe Dad had gotten mixed up in some new dangerous scheme. A new gamble, a new adventure—one that had cost him his life. Who knew what desperate secrets lived in another’s heart? She had to think about her own future, her own sad secret.
As soon as she’d settled her dad’s affairs, she would leave Lavender Mountain.
Chapter Three (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
This was going to kill Darla.
She’d put off bringing up the matter of the missing money, imagining Darla’s furious reaction at the news. For the past couple of days, she’d stayed tied up with all the paperwork concerning the robbery and fixing up Dad’s old place. Darla was much too busy to be bothered. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true or fair—she’d been avoiding this scene with her sister.
Tired as she was from the drama and all her duties, Lilah couldn’t up and leave the mountain without letting her sister know the money was gone. She sped down Dark Corners Road to the homestead where Darla, Ed and their three children lived. Her sister would be devastated about the stolen money. If only she’d just let her have it that morning like Darla had begged. And she could kiss goodbye that sisterly chat she’d planned on. After the news, Darla would be in no mood to offer advice and comfort over the matter that had weighed on Lilah for weeks. It wasn’t like there’d been much chance of Darla being supportive, anyway, if she was being honest with herself.
At the last sharp bend before hitting town, she pulled into Darla and Ed’s gravel driveway. An unfamiliar red pickup truck was parked near the side porch. Maybe Ed had traded in his old clunker. She picked her way through a barrage of mangy dogs and mewling cats that barked or hissed their displeasure at the invasion of their territory.
Old toys and broken furniture almost barricaded the doorway, and she impatiently scooted a rusted table out of her path. Through the screen door she heard Darla talking on the phone.
“Yes, I’ll hold. But only for a minute. Longer than that and I’ll take my business elsewhere,” Darla huffed.
Lilah pushed open the door and entered the kitchen where her sister held a tape measure stretched across the lower cabinets. “You back, sir? I want mahogany,” Darla said. “Only the best. And I want it pronto.”
Lilah blinked. Wow. This was a change. Ed must have been working overtime.
Darla retracted the tape and scribbled on a scrap sheet of paper, her face puckered in concentration.
“New cabinets, huh? Nice.”
Her sister snapped her head up, pencil poised. “What are you doing here?”
Not the welcome she’d expected. But then, she and Darla had never been particularly close. The ten-year age difference was large enough so that shortly after their parents’ divorce, a pregnant Darla had married Ed while Lilah had moved over a hundred miles away with their mother.
“Well, I’m leaving, and I thought I’d say goodbye first.”
Darla colored slightly. “Right. Sorry I couldn’t help out more with the estate stuff. Ed Junior’s been down with a tummy ache.”
“No problem.” Lilah shrugged and waited awkwardly.
“I’ll just, uh, get off the phone. Want something to drink?”
“Water, thanks.” Lilah plopped down on a chair in the den.
The TV blared, although no one was watching it. Where were her nephews?
Darla returned from the kitchen and tossed her a water bottle. “Where are the kids?” Lilah asked.
“I started them in daycare yesterday. I needed more peace and quiet ’round here.” She shuddered. “I’m still recovering from that intruder scare.”
“Me, too,” Lilah admitted. “I meant it when I said I’m not staying. I’ll come back when there’s papers that need to be signed when the cabin sells, and for the meeting next week in the probate office.”
Darla tossed back her hair. “Both stupid formalities. That cabin’s not worth much, and I doubt Dad had more than a few hundred dollars in the bank. A complete waste of time.”
“But he had thirty thousand dollars lying around the house,” she pointed out.
“Dad didn’t trust banks. Besides, I bet he was just holding that money for someone.”
Lilah suppressed a shudder. If that was true, was that why the intruder had been in the cabin? Would he return?
“Anyway, do you think you could take care of all the paperwork for me?” Lilah asked hesitantly. “I only got involved with everything because Jimmy was overseas and you said you were too busy with the kids to fool with it. Now that they’re in daycare...maybe you could take over?”
“You handle it. You always were good with all that complicated kind of stuff.”
Irritation flared between her temples. “But I live over a hundred miles from here, and I’m busy, too.”
“You?” Darla scoffed. “You don’t have other people depending on you to feed them and watch over them. Or a demanding husband. What else do you have to do?”
That about hit her last reserve of patience. “I have a j-o-b. Remember? I also take college classes in whatever spare time I have.”
“Pfft.” Darla waved a hand dismissively. “Why you wasting time getting a fancy degree...”
But Lilah tuned out her words. Instead, she was mesmerized by the huge diamond flashing on Darla’s left hand. “Ed upgraded your wedding ring? It used to be on the small side.” Rinky-dink was more like it.
Darla abruptly lowered her hand and crossed her arms, hiding the ring from view.
The new pickup, ordering new cabinets, fancy jewelry. Well, that little mystery was solved.
“It was you!” Lilah stood and pointed her finger. “You’re the one who stole the money.”
“It wasn’t stealing. That was Dad’s money, and I’m sure he meant for me to have it.”
Of all the selfishness Lilah had witnessed over the years with her sister, this was the most outrageous. “All for you, huh? What about me and Jimmy?”
“Jimmy’s making plenty of money in the army.”
“And me?”
“You’re about to become a teacher. You’ll be rolling in dough. I need it more than you. I have a family. You don’t.”
Lilah closed her eyes, thinking of how much thirty thousand dollars would have helped in paying off her college tuition and upgrading from her clinker of a car to something more reliable. Rolling in dough on a teacher’s salary? Not hardly.
She drew a long steadying breath. “We’ll see what Jimmy thinks about all this when I call him tonight.”
“Do you have to tell him?” Darla flushed and bit her lip. “We ain’t spent it all yet. I could give you each a few thousand.”
She’d never been so angry. Lilah trembled from the injustice. Careful, careful. Don’t say something you’ll regret. “I’ll see you later, after I’ve spoken with Jimmy,” she said past numb lips.
“Ah, come on, LayLay,” Darla cajoled, using her old childhood nickname. “Don’t get all mad on me.”
Lilah strode past her, eager to avoid more confrontation. “We’ll settle up after I talk to Jimmy. I’ll be speaking with Harlan, too. He knows that money was stolen from the cabin. I’m sure he’ll want to question you about the theft.”
Darla paled. “Now, look here...”
“Save it for the cops,” Lilah said, marching out of the house and back to her car. Of all the nerve. Of course, she wasn’t going to press charges, but let Darla sweat it a little.
Inside her car, she backed out of the driveway and then paused. Go left or right? Left meant leaving the mountain, right meant having “The Talk” with Harlan. She dreaded it, but her conscience demanded she tell him. Besides, he’d already called, wanting her to sign the missing money report.
Digging deep into her reserves of courage, Lilah turned right.
* * *
THE MOMENTARY LULL in the crowded, noisy sheriff’s office alerted Harlan that something was off. He glanced up from his paperwork and followed the gaze of his coworkers to the front door.
Ah, yes. Lilah Tedder had that effect on the opposite sex. She turned her head, scanning the room until she zeroed in on where he sat. Her blond hair glowed like a halo under the harsh fluorescent lighting, but her eyes burned like two flames, hot and flickering.
She was no angel.
Lilah beelined to his desk in determined steps. He hoped J.D. wouldn’t come out of his office anytime soon this morning and witness them together. She stepped up to his chair.
“So you’ve already drawn up the report on the money?” she asked, cutting to the chase.
“Yep.” Harlan picked up the printed document. “Just need you to sign it.”
She sat down next to him and primly placed her purse in her lap. He slid the paper toward her, and she glanced down. “I’m not signing it. There’s no longer any need for a report.”
“Why? You found it?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He was missing something. People didn’t “misplace” thousands of dollars of cash. “That’s good. Where was it?”
“I forgot I’d moved it from under the mattress to the bottom dresser drawer.”
She was lying, but why? Truth was, he’d been reluctant to write up the report, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to her newfound wealth. At least not until the money was accounted for and safely deposited in the bank. Besides, her family’s name was mud as it was. This report would drag more fodder and speculation about Chauncey’s questionable activities.
“Are you sure about this? What’s really going on?”
“I’m more worried about intruders than...”
She stopped, obviously flustered about blurting out that tidbit.
“Intruders?” he honed in quickly. “You have any more men showing up to buy moonshine?”
“No. Never mind about that. I’m leaving today, anyway.”
“Sure you won’t change your mind?” He’d secretly hoped she would hang around long enough for him to try to win her back.
“It’s for the best.”
“You’re scared. Tell me what’s going on. Has someone hurt you or threatened you in any way?” If they had, he’d hunt them down like a dog and make them pay. He lowered his voice and took her hand. “Tell me.”
She jerked her hand away. “There’s nothing to tell. Forget the report.”
“Sure, never mind that I wasted an hour writing this up,” he shot back, hurt and annoyed.
Lilah shrugged. “Sorry.”
Her tone implied she was anything but sorry.
“For God’s sake, Lilah, what the hell is going on here?” He was conscious of his fellow officers glancing their way. He lowered his voice. “First, the missing money, then you hint at an intruder and now you deny anything’s wrong?”
“Don’t badger me, Harlan Sampson,” she said, glaring. “I didn’t come here today to talk about the report, anyway. That’s not important.”
“Not important?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you for real? I demand to know what’s going on.”
She jumped to her feet, her face flushed and her voice raised. “You have no right to demand anything from me. Never did. I just dropped by to tell you that I’m—I’m...oh, never mind. I won’t bother you with the news.”
The room was the quietest Harlan had ever witnessed. From deep in the recesses behind their administrative offices, an inmate could be heard cursing in a holding cell.
This wasn’t happening. His mind spun in circles. Surely Lilah wasn’t about to say she was pregnant, was she? They’d been careful. Except, well, there were a couple of times they’d been too impatient. He felt like he’d fallen down into a deep well and couldn’t catch his breath.
Lilah raised her chin and strolled away, her back ramrod stiff. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Sheriff Bentley shaking his head in an I-told-you-so way.
Instead of heading to the front door, she made an abrupt turn to the right and entered the women’s restroom. Jolene Smithers, a fellow officer, rose from behind her desk. “I’ll check on her,” she said, eyes wide with equal measures of pity and curiosity.
To hell with J.D.
He found his feet and followed Jolene, aware that every eye in the room was upon them. Someone snickered, and the back of his neck flushed with heat.
* * *
LILAH PULLED BACK her hair and leaned over the toilet, gagging. A few deep, shuddering breaths later, she straightened, bracing her hands against the stall’s cool metal siding.
That’d been close. For a moment back there, she’d been ready to upchuck all over Harlan’s carefully prepared report. One that was no longer needed.
“Get yourself together and get the hell out of Dodge,” she muttered.
“You all right in there?” a female voice drawled.
Lilah stiffened. “I’m fine,” she said in a mind-your-own-business tone.
“Don’t sound fine to me.”
Lilah waited. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t leaving and wasn’t entering the neighboring stall. Just what she needed. Why couldn’t a girl get a clean break when she needed to beat a hasty exit? Sighing, she pushed open the door and strode to the washbasin, determined to ignore the nosy stranger. From the corner of her eye, she took her in—a tall rangy woman, wearing a brown uniform and a badge.
“Quite a scene out there,” the woman commented drily.
Lilah splashed her face and rinsed her mouth out.
“I think Harlan’s worried about you.”
“Told ya I was fine.” She jerked a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her face and hands before throwing it in the bin.
“You with child?” the woman asked.
Lilah snatched the keys from her pocketbook and marched to the door. Another minute and she would be out of this stifling place.
“Is it Harlan’s?”
The nerve. Lilah’s eyes snapped to meet the intruder’s. She wore no makeup and her auburn hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail. Still, it was easy to see she was a beauty in a tomboyish, no-frills kind of way with a peaches-and-cream complexion and large hazel eyes.
“None of your business...” Lilah glanced at the nameplate pinned below her badge. “Officer Smithers.”
“We’re all good buddies working here. Family, even. So is it his?”
Lilah pushed past the woman but Jolene Smithers stepped in front of her.
“Following in your sister’s footsteps? Guess I should give you some credit, though. At least you managed to finish high school before populating our county with more Tedders.”
The hell? It may have been years since she’d lived in Lavender Mountain, but Smithers’s lip curl of disgust when she said Tedders slashed through time. Once again, Lilah was young and facing the taunts of schoolchildren or braving the slights of classmates who never came to her birthday parties. No parent wanted their child hanging out with the likes of Lilah and her family.
“Get out of my way,” she said coldly.
“I’m betting it isn’t. Good thing we have paternity tests these days. Keeps riffraff like you from tying down a decent man who—no doubt—will insist on doing the right thing. Either marriage or child support for the next eighteen years.”
Jolene’s words splattered like acid on Lilah’s heart. That much was true. Harlan would insist on doing right by her. But what kind of life would that be—knowing she’d unwittingly trapped him into marriage? He couldn’t know the truth.
“And what about his career?” Jolene continued. “He’d be the laughing stock of this county, running for sheriff after a shotgun wedding to a Tedder.”
She’d had enough. Lilah went around Jolene and flung open the restroom’s door before delivering her parting shot as she stepped into the lobby. “It’s not his baby. Okay? You happy now?”
Whipping her head back around, she faced a tall uniformed column of stubborn human male.
Harlan.
His feet were planted less than six feet from the doorway and his face was set like carved granite.
How much had he heard? He couldn’t have missed her saying the baby wasn’t his. Lilah lowered her head and walked quickly to the door. She’d come by to tell him she was pregnant with his child, but maybe it was best this way.
So why was she near tears? If he had ever loved her, that love hadn’t been enough to erase the stigma of her name. Believing she was pregnant by another man, so quickly after their own affair had ended, would be proof to him that she was fickle and unworthy.
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE GEORGIA sun beat down like a whip on his face. “Lilah. Stop.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she froze. He stepped in front of her and gazed at her pale face. Now that he had her attention, he hadn’t a clue what to say.
“Sorry you heard the news that way,” she said flatly. “Didn’t want you to wonder if it was yours, though—just in case we ran into each other in the future or you heard something.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. This didn’t feel right.
“Positive.”
Anger churned his gut. There hadn’t been anyone else for him since he’d cut off ties with Lilah. How had she moved on so quickly? “Who?” he ground out past numb lips.
Her brows raised and she regarded him blankly.
“Who’s the father?”
“Oh. You don’t know him. He’s not from around here.”
She was lying. He was—almost—sure of it.
“Is the baby mine or not? I deserve the truth.”
She hesitated. “You deserve a life with a woman you love. You deserve to be sheriff.”
“Is that what this is about? Let me decide what I want.”
“Do you love me?” she asked abruptly.
His mind drew a blank. Love? He cared for her...mightily cared. But love? “I... I’m...”
Her lips trembled, and she pinched them together. “Whatever happened between us is long over. I have to figure things out on my own.”
“You shouldn’t have to face this alone. What about this...this other man?” His mind whirled at the possibility she was telling the truth. “Will he marry you? Or at least support you?”
She gave a harsh laugh. “The days of shotgun weddings ’round these parts are long over. Plenty of women have been single moms. I can do the same.”
A memory pierced him—her dad at the Foxy Lady bar/motel, hunting down Ed after getting word that Darla was with child. By all witness accounts, Chauncey had stormed into the dive, red-faced and waving a shotgun, searching for the hapless culprit who’d deflowered his eldest daughter. Seeing Ed shirk into the corner, Chauncey had approached and grabbed a fistful of Ed’s camouflage jacket. “Congratulations, you’re getting married,” he’d announced.
Harlan ran a finger over the collar rim of his stiff uniform shirt. Those days of forced marriages weren’t entirely over. Chauncey Tedder would be mighty displeased about this situation if he were still alive. He cleared his throat. “But you don’t have to raise a child alone if he—”
“Just go back to work, Harlan. This is my problem, not yours.” She darted around him, but not quickly enough for him to miss the tears brimming in her eyes.
“Are you going to be okay driving home?” he asked. Damn it, he still cared about her even though he shouldn’t.
She didn’t bother responding. Instead, she climbed in her car and backed out of the parking space a tad too carelessly. She whipped out of the lot and accelerated onto the highway. Within a minute, the car disappeared in the distance.
It was as if Lilah couldn’t wait to be rid of him.
“She gone?” Jolene was suddenly beside him.
“Looks that way.”
“It’s for the best, Harlan.” She ran a hand along his arm. “Time you moved on. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
He frowned and moved out of her reach. This wasn’t Jolene’s first hint she wanted something more than friendship.
“Plenty of other fish in the sea.” She smiled and practically batted her eyes.
But he had zero interest in his comely coworker. Instead of a tall redhead, his interest was decidedly marked in favor of a certain petite blonde. One who clearly was over him and might even be pregnant with another man’s baby.
So why was he so upset? Hadn’t that been what he wanted all along—a clean break with Lilah? But he walked away from Jolene and headed back to work weighted with a heaviness that made him feel suddenly ten years older.
Chapter Four (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Harlan considered himself lucky. Today would be so busy that thoughts of Lilah would be temporarily relegated to the back burner. Last night had been a tough and fitful sleep—was the baby his or not and why should he care?—but after numerous cups of coffee, he now had enough stamina to get through the day’s scheduled raid.
He and five other officers surrounded the abandoned older home. Kudzu crept over the windows like a living, breathing veil. So convenient for anyone hiding illegal drugs. One would expect to see broken windows and doors in a vacated building, but for all its age and the superficial facade of neglect, the front door was bolted shut with a steel chain and padlock and it lacked signs of forced entry anywhere.
Not only that but also dozens of large footsteps had tamped down the overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the house. They’d been there when he and the team had arrived.
He had a good feeling about this one.
Remote homes sprinkled Appalachia, but this place on top of Booze Mountain took the cake. It had taken them a good half an hour of driving up increasingly narrow and bumpy dirt roads to get here.
Sammy Armstrong sidled over and gave him a broad wink. “How’s your girlfriend doing?”
Harlan gritted his teeth. If it had been someone other than his old childhood friend teasing him, he would have busted his chops. “Fine,” he spat, not inviting further conversation.
Sammy nudged him. “Lilah’s more than fine. A real looker. A man could do worse.”
J.D. pulled into the lot and exited the cruiser, patting his uniform shirt pocket. “I got the subpoena. Let’s do this.”
Alvin Lee, a fellow officer, marched up the sagging porch steps with a pair of giant bolt cutters.
Harlan idly swatted at a skeeter that buzzed near his ear and swiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. The heat was brutal, even up here in the mountains.
The chain crashed onto the wooden porch with a clatter nearly as loud as a shotgun blast. Alvin kicked in the door, and Harlan followed him inside the abandoned home.
The stench of stale food pervaded—a toxic mixture of fried bologna and venison. In the center of the main room, the scratched surface of a long table was littered with boxes, string and packing tape. It looked like an assembly line set up. Easy to guess the sort of merchandise packaged here.
He glanced around the mostly ruined interior, and his spirits sank. It looked deserted. Not even a single marijuana plant in sight. So much for his intuition.
Three other officers entered via the back door, and J.D. strolled into the room, thumbs tucked into his belt. “Find any drugs?” he asked hopefully.
Harlan swiped a finger on the fine layer of white powder on the table. Much too white for mere dust. “Probably cocaine residue,” he answered, brushing off the powder on his pant legs. “Afraid that’s going to be the extent of our find.”
“Damn it. Not again.” J.D. stalked off to the adjacent kitchen. “Comb the area for leftover receipts, matches—anything left behind that might give us some clue who’s been here.”
Sammy slammed his fist into his open palm. “What is this? Almost a half dozen raids now in the last year? They’re always a step ahead of us.” He huffed in frustration. “It’s like they know we’re coming.”
Dread settled in Harlan’s gut as he assimilated the words. He didn’t want to believe it. They were a small team, and he’d grown up with most of them on the mountain. They were his friends, his colleagues, the people he trusted in dangerous situations.
But the lure of easy money could mess with a person’s mind. He’d seen it before. A younger officer, Caleb, had fallen into that trap last year. First, it was turning a blind eye on minor offenses like illegal poker games. Then it progressed to fixing tickets for family and friends. Word spread until it reached a point where everyone believed they could offer a little money in return for a favor, muddying boundaries. Even if he’d wanted to stop taking bribes, Caleb had confessed that if he hadn’t taken them, someone would have squealed.
Someone always squealed. You could count on that. It held true for inmates as well as the officers who were supposed to enforce the law.
In the end, Caleb had been fired.
Harlan tapped a finger against his lips. Caleb still dated Marla, one of the two dispatchers on the day shift. Did Marla pump him with information on their scheduled raids? Mentally, he made a note to check on that.
J.D.’s cell phone rang, and he tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Answer that while I help Alvin search the back bedroom.”
Harlan picked it up. “Sampson here,” he said, opening a drawer and searching its sparse contents as Marla breathlessly reported the latest news.
Another shooting. Another victim dead.
An icy finger of fear shimmied down his spine. Lilah—and their baby—might be in danger.
* * *
LILAH RUBBED HER swollen eyes, then riffled through the stack of bills that had collected in her mailbox during her absence. Absentmindedly going up the stairs, she almost ran smack into Luke McCoy at the bottom of the apartment stairwell.
“Whoa there, missy,” he said with a laugh. “We missed you while you were gone.” She glanced up, and his easy grin melted away. “You all right?”
Lilah gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Need a friend? We could talk over breakfast and coffee.”
Sure, but she hated to encourage the guy. He’d been asking her out for weeks now, and if she went out with him, he’d make a big deal of it.
“No, really. It was a rough night, but I’m okay.”
“Missing your family, I bet,” he said knowingly. “Ms. Cranston told me you went home for your father’s funeral and stayed awhile to take care of the estate and stuff.”
She made a mental note to be more circumspect with her elderly neighbor. “Right,” she agreed, clutching at the excuse.
A brown-and-white cop cruiser whipped into a nearby parking spot, and she idly watched as a man got out. He locked the door and turned, rapidly making his way toward them. It couldn’t be. A familiar shock of brown hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes... Yes, it was Harlan. What was he doing here? And dressed in his uniform, too?
“I think breakfast is just what you need,” Luke continued, unaware of Harlan approaching from behind. “Let me take you out.”
Her stomach revolted at the thought of food. “No, thank you.”
“Ah, come on—”
“The lady said no,” Harlan snapped.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His jaw tightened. “We have business to discuss.”
Luke held up a hand and shuffled backward. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”
Well, at least he might not pester her for dates anymore. So at least something good would come of this unexpected meeting with Harlan.
“Is that him?” Harlan asked stiffly.
“What? Oh, you mean... Never mind, it’s still none of your business.”
“Seemed pretty spineless to me,” Harlan observed. “He cut out pretty quick when I came.”
“You practically ordered him to leave,” she argued. “Besides—”
“Yoo-hoo, officer!” They looked up the stairs, where Ms. Cranston stood in her housecoat. “That was quick. I just called five minutes ago.”
“Ma’am, I’m not—”
“I got to puzzling on that stranger hanging around here last night, and the more I thought on it, the more scared I got on account of—”
“Stranger?” Harlan took the stairs two at a time and withdrew a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “When? What did he look like?”
Lilah followed him, trying to quell the butterflies of alarm in her stomach.
“He was medium height, a little on the thin side and dressed all in black. Kept walking back and forth in that hallway there.” She pointed to the hall where Lilah’s apartment was.
“Did he wear a black ski mask?” Lilah asked, holding her breath.
“No. If he had, I’d a called the police right away.”
“Could you describe his face or hair?” Harlan asked.
Ms. Cranston shook her head. “He stayed in the shadows.”
Harlan sighed and returned the notepad to his shirt pocket.
“Thing is,” Ms. Cranston continued, “another feller came ’round this morning dressed all in black. I leaned out my window and yelled, ‘Hey, whatcha doin’?’ He took off running to the parking lot without even turning around to see who was talking.”
“Did you get a look at the car make and model, or a tag?”
“It was a big dark blue car,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t know models and such as that.”
Harlan nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He took Lilah’s arm and motioned for the stairs.
“Hope you catch him,” Ms. Cranston called to their backs. “I don’t cotton to strangers roaming around here. Up to no good, I bet.”
“We’re going to your apartment, and you’re going to pack your things,” Harlan said in his no-nonsense voice. “We’ll talk on the way to Lavender Mountain.”
* * *
“WON’T BE ANY safer there,” she muttered. Inside her apartment, she whirled to face him. “You can’t just show up and start ordering me around.”
His face was as set as she’d ever seen it. “Have a seat.”
Something was wrong. Bad wrong. Her jellied legs no longer felt strong enough to support her weight, and she sank into the nearest chair, clasping her hands in her lap. “What’s happened?”
Harlan ran a hand through his hair and sank to his knees beside her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and inhale the scent of his woodsy aftershave. “There’s no easy way to break this, darlin’.”
Who was in trouble or hurt this time? Jimmy? He’d returned to his tour in Afghanistan last week, and Lord knew that he’d been placed in dangerous missions time and again—
“It’s Darla,” he said gently, placing a large rough hand over hers and squeezing. “She’s been murdered.”
No. No, not her sister. “I just saw her yesterday,” she mumbled. How stupid. As if that meant Darla couldn’t possibly be dead. Lilah shook off the useless denial. “How...”
“Shot in the back.”
Murder again. The air pressed in and her lungs seized. She squeezed in a painful breath and exhaled. “Same as Dad?”
“Yes.”
Without thinking, she collapsed onto his broad shoulders, her body shaking uncontrollably. Not again. Not again. Harlan shifted into the chair beside her and guided her onto his lap where she felt cradled by his strength. His hands rubbed up and down her back. She focused on his touch—it was all she could grasp to stop the maelstrom of mourning, which threatened to overwhelm her.
First Dad, and now Darla. All in the space of a week.
Lilah snapped her head up, remembering she wasn’t alone in her grief. “Those poor kids! And Ed, too.”
Harlan brushed away the tears on her cheek. “We’ve called Ed’s parents, and they’re on the way. If need be, they can keep the children at their place while we get to the bottom of this.”
“Surely Ed wants them there with him. And I can go over and stay a bit until things settle down. Help him out. He must be devastated.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.” She cocked her head to the side, digesting the impact of his words. “You don’t... I mean... You aren’t saying Ed killed Darla, are you?”
“We’re not ruling anything out. Usually, a killer is someone known intimately by the victim.”
She tensed, fighting the sudden shudder that crawled up her spine. “Not in this case. It’s the same way my dad was killed, so it must be the same person. And Ed had no beef with Dad.”
“That you know of,” Harlan corrected.
“Only when he got Darla pregnant in high school. Once they got married, Dad and Ed got along just fine.”
“Did your brother-in-law ever work for your dad on the side?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Are you arresting Ed?”
“J.D.’s questioning him now.”
She jumped off his lap. “And the kids? I have to get down there. They might need me.” Guilt snaked its way through her gut, insidious and slimy. Who was she kidding? Nobody needed her. She and Darla had had a major argument over the stolen money. The last time she’d seen her sister, she’d stormed out of the house, threatening to put the cops on her tail.
Frantically, she grabbed her purse off the table, eager to leave and keep her mind and hands busy instead of dwelling on the news. “I’ve got to pack a few clothes, and...and...” She blindly stumbled into the coffee table and rubbed her shins.
“I’ll drive you.” Harlan took her purse and set it on the sofa. “Go ahead and pack. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll need my own vehicle. I don’t want to be dependent on you to drive me everywhere while I’m back.”
“Yeah, about that. The easiest thing all around is for you to stay with me. Ed and the kids have his parents to help out, and there’s no sense in you wasting money on a motel.”
No. He didn’t love her, and she wouldn’t be a burden to him or anyone else. Lilah thought fast. There was always Uncle Thad and Aunt Vi, but with their eight children, it tended to be a bit noisy and cramped.
“I can stay with my Aunt Ruth who lives about forty miles from here. She has health problems so she’ll appreciate my help around the house and my company.” She stifled the impulse to cross her fingers behind her back. Ruth was nearly seventy years old and had never married or had children—a quiet woman like her preferred the solitary life. Yes, she’d recently had minor surgery but, truth be told, Ruth was just fine on her own.
His brow furrowed. “She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her? I don’t like you working so hard.”
“No. Besides, what’s it to you?”
His eyes trailed down to her belly. “Somebody needs to look out for you.”
Lilah couldn’t help it. She blushed.
Harlan quirked a brow. “Since when have you ever been shy with me?”
Yeah, he was right about that. No point in modesty after he knew every inch of her body. Lilah shook off the sudden images of Harlan’s intimate kisses. Now wasn’t the time for remembering such things.
“I’ll need to call the Red Cross again and get word to Jimmy.”
“I can do it for you,” Harlan volunteered.
“No. I’m family. I should.” Lord, she didn’t want to, though. Her brother had enough stress without hearing that yet another family member had been murdered.
“We’ll do it together. Tonight.”
Lilah wavered. It would be nice to stay with Harlan. There was nowhere she’d feel more protected. On the other hand, going to his place would stir up the old memories of the time they’d spent together. A happier time when she’d thought they’d be together forever.
Harlan obviously sensed her hesitation and moved in for the kill. “Come on,” he said in his husky, sexy voice. “It’ll give us an opportunity to talk. I’m still not convinced the baby isn’t mine.”
The baby. Lilah’s hand went to her stomach. She had to consider more than just her own feelings. Harlan could protect her...protect them. It didn’t mean they were a couple again. And there was no denying that she and all her family were in danger. This was far from over—something deep and rotten and evil lay at the bottom of these two deaths.
It was only a matter of time before the killer struck again.
Who would be next?
Chapter Five (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
“It’s a formality.”
Harlan placed his broad hand on the small of her back and guided her into the antiseptic, frigid forensics room located in the bowels of the county hospital.
Lilah’s breath came in rapid, shallow bursts. I can’t do this. She thought of Ed. He was always in the background at family gatherings, a quiet presence and foil to Darla’s chatter and dramatics. A seemingly decent guy.
But now, the normally stoic Ed was barely holding himself together. His large hands were trembling by his sides.
I have to be here. It’s the last kindness I can do for my sister. Help her family in their time of need.
“It will all be over in a minute,” Harlan whispered reassuringly in her ear.
“Right.” One quick glance, a thumbs-up to the coroner from Ed and she was out of there.
An older woman in pastel blue scrubs and a white coat nodded at her briskly, but not unkindly. Lilah’s gaze dropped to the gurney where a body was draped over with a white sheet. Darla’s body. She forced her leaden feet forward and nodded, glad Harlan’s hand remained at the base of her spine. Ed groaned and then pinched his lips together in determination. Lilah patted his arm.
At his nod, the woman turned down the sheet with a practiced flick of her wrist.
Red lipstick blazed against pale alabaster skin tinged with a morgue-blue undertone. Dishwater-blond hair fell carelessly over stiff shoulders. The curve of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows, a certain sculpting of the nose and lips—Lilah could see herself in the family genetics. Thank heavens they had only revealed her face. There was no hint of the violence she’d endured. But if rolled over, Darla’s body would have been visibly marred by shotgun pellets.
The sheet was short on the left side and Lilah observed Darla’s lifeless hand that peeked out from under the edge of the cover.
“It’s her,” Ed croaked. “Darla Marie Tedder Stovall.”
The woman immediately pulled the sheet back over Darla, covering her face.
Harlan nodded to the technician. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“The secretary out front will have you sign a paper confirming the identification. Sorry for your loss.”
They were officially dismissed.
Lilah wanted to say goodbye to Darla, say she was sorry that sharp words were the last ones spoken between them. But it was too late. She swallowed the regret and walked out of the cold room, breathing deeply as they headed toward the desk. A young man handed them a clipboard and pen. “Sign here,” he said, motioning to the signature line at the bottom of the sheet.
Ed scribbled his name with shaking hands.
“There’s freshly brewed coffee,” he offered them. “Can I get y’all a cup?”
Ed shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.
“Yes—I mean, no.” She sure could use the comfort of warm caffeinated liquid, but her own needs were secondary for the next few months.
“How about some water?” Harlan asked her, his deep voice rumbling behind her.
“What I really want is to get out of here first.”
Harlan nodded. “Thanks, but we’re fine,” he told the tech, ushering them to the elevator.
Once inside, Harlan pressed the button and they rumbled up to the main floor. Ed exhaled and scrubbed at his face.
She couldn’t imagine the pain he must be in. “How are the kids doing this morning?” she said around the burn in her throat.
“Mom’s watching them.”
The elevator door opened and they emerged into the main lobby. The hustle and bustle seemed miles away from the stillness of the basement morgue. Ed walked out first, eyes blinking. He held out a hand to Lilah. “Thanks for coming in with me. It helped. I could tell Dad didn’t want to do it.”
She glanced over toward the patient waiting area where Ed’s father slowly rose from a vinyl sofa and shuffled their way. “Understandable. Call me if there’s anything I can do. Anything.”
He nodded and she watched as he and his father exited the building into the beautiful, sun-shining day.
“It should be dark and stormy,” she said, lips trembling. “And pouring down rain.”
A nagging sense of unease quivered in the dark recesses of her brain, and she rubbed her temples. Something wasn’t quite right about the viewing of Darla, other than the obvious.
“Headache?” Harlan asked.
“No. I can’t explain it. But I feel like I’m missing some important detail. I looked at Darla and...” Her voice drifted off.
“It’s been a shock. I should have insisted Ed do this himself.”
“It would have only made things harder for him, and he needs to be strong for his kids. And it wasn’t just seeing her dead. It’s something else.”
“I’ll get you that water and we’ll be on our way.”
Alone, she regarded the preoccupied staff and visitors go about the business of living.
Harlan returned and pressed a bottle of water into her hands. Lilah sipped it tentatively. Not too bad, actually. It erased the lingering chill in her belly. “Maybe this will help me think better.”
“Do you need to go back into the examining room?”
“Hope not. Let me sit here a spell and concentrate.”
His hand was powerful and comforting as he guided her to an unused waiting room and onto a sofa. “Take your time. If you want, we can come back tomorrow and talk to the forensics doctor if you need to. No rush.”
She didn’t want to return and she didn’t want to see her sister’s body again. Think. Lilah placed her head in her hands and reviewed the last few minutes as if she were a camera, detached and methodical, scanning the scene to replay it for details. She’d entered the morgue, blinking from the glaring whiteness of the fluorescent lights and the white walls. The technician had unrolled the white sheet, exposing Darla’s face, and then she’d glimpsed Darla’s left hand where the sheet had exposed her bare fingers curled at the edge of the metal gurney.
“That’s it!” Lilah jerked her head up and snapped her fingers. “Darla wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Not even her wedding ring.”
“She always wore it?”
“Always.”
Harlan didn’t appear too impressed with her realization. “They might have removed all the jewelry before you saw her.”
She hadn’t considered that. They’d probably given Ed the wedding ring and the costume jewelry Darla had been wearing from the cabin.
“Why Darla?” she whispered, leaning her head against the cold hard wall. “Maybe Dad was involved in shady business. Even bigger than moonshine. Maybe even Ed and Uncle Thad and my boatload of cousins are as well. But Darla?”
“Women commit crimes, too—not that I’m saying your sister did.”
She shook her head adamantly. Darla hadn’t been concerned about anything past her own little world of her kids and her home. And she was much too lazy to get involved with work in any shape, form or fashion.
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Debbie Herbert
Star-crossed lovers…Danger awaits them bothUnfortunate circumstances force pregnant Lilah Tedder to face deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. They must uncover old secrets or pay the ultimate price…
Star-crossed lovers on Lavender Mountain... Danger awaits them both.
After her father’s murder, pregnant Lilah Tedder dreads facing deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. Though she still wants him, Lilah knows his professional ambition won’t let him associate with a moonshiner’s daughter. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. Now they must uncover old family secrets or pay the ultimate price.
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her eldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.
Also available by Debbie Herbert
Bayou Shadow Hunter
Bayou Shadow Protector
Bayou Wolf
Siren’s Secret
Siren’s Treasure
Siren’s Call
Visit millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more information
Appalachian Prey
Debbie Herbert
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07855-9
APPALACHIAN PREY
© 2018 Debbie Herbert
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to Maxine Brooks,
one of the best readers ever!
And, as always, to my husband, Tim; my dad,
J. W. Gainey; and my sons, Byron and Jacob.
Contents
Cover (#u90bd7757-5e8f-55a7-a33c-04449de483a9)
Back Cover Text (#ufa6a91a9-ee46-551a-a82c-e09feed8db56)
Author Bio (#u54b36544-16cc-57b7-bfc2-6754e9a309c7)
Booklist (#ufdc22dd2-00fb-55b3-8c61-6db11a5ac7e8)
Title Page (#u8be982cf-3884-515e-aa83-46b69c2c671e)
Copyright (#ua03ed227-fbbb-58ed-a2b9-d05434701b75)
Dedication (#uf6b503a4-74e1-5707-8097-4f823074b223)
Chapter One (#u35ba7049-af73-5244-88f8-71ce22f296d7)
Chapter Two (#ua3b3a624-06ad-587a-b0ea-c32fc625803a)
Chapter Three (#u795b53c5-e0ff-5d80-ba68-c7ad7b6fe629)
Chapter Four (#u08161122-421e-5f2c-8f88-488726e3ceb1)
Chapter Five (#uee7cfc6a-0bb3-520f-86a0-60a353abe4ec)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Moonshine again...seriously?
Hidden caches had turned up everywhere in her father’s cabin. No surprise there. Lilah snatched two plastic jugs from the back utility room and marched to the kitchen, intent on pouring the illegal hooch down the drain. Corn liquor had destroyed her parents’ marriage and her dad’s liver. Would have killed him, too, if he hadn’t been murdered a week ago.
Unexpected tears blurred her vision as she unscrewed the lid on one of the jugs and poured the liquid poison into the chipped enamel sink. Not that she and Dad had been all that close in recent years, but still, the man had been her father. Lilah tipped the jug. Glug, glug, glug...a hundred dollars’ worth gone. Could have bought a used college textbook with that money.
She blinked and gazed out the open window. The cabin was nestled in the foothills, with rolling mountains standing sentinel in all directions like a green fortress. A deceptive beauty, as though the price for living in such a visual feast meant being taxed with rampant poverty and violence. Dad’s death was the latest evidence of that.
Whoever said you can’t go home again was dead wrong. After a mere week, Lilah felt like she’d never left Lavender Mountain. Memories washed over her, most of them unpleasant—her parents’ screaming matches, brutally cold nights where they’d all huddled in front of the fireplace. But it hadn’t been all bad. Some days, wandering the woods with her older siblings, Jimmy and Darla, had been magical.
A faint scrape of boots on leaves and pine straw jarred her senses. Someone approached.
Lilah stilled, picturing in her mind’s eye the open front door and windows. Had the murderer returned? She fought the instinct to flee to the back bedroom and lock herself in. Probably just one of Dad’s old customers who hadn’t gotten the word yet.
Quickly, she raced across the rugged pine floorboards to the den. Through the battered screen door emerged the silhouette of a tall bearded man dressed in denim overalls. What mountain had he just climbed down from? Lilah sprinted to the door and latched the rusty lock into place. A joke of a defense. She reached for the weapon always propped by the door frame, and her right hand curled around the barrel of the twelve-gauge shotgun, its metal smooth, familiar and comfortable.
And loaded.
“What you want?” she called out in her fiercest voice.
The man didn’t appear the least bit intimidated as he shuffled forward, his foot on the first porch step. “I got bizness with Chauncey Tedder.”
“Guess you could say my dad’s out of business,” she said, sliding the shotgun next to her hip.
He climbed the second step. One more and he would be within six feet of where she stood. He swayed and squinted, peering into the room. Lilah was painfully aware he could see straight into the little kitchenette.
“Looks to me like you got some ’shine in there,” he boomed. “Go git me a jug afore I get really riled.”
She didn’t aim to find out what the stranger was like “really riled.” This place was well out of range for anyone to hear if she screamed, and Dad was shot not far from the cabin. Lilah unhitched the lock and kicked open the screen door. She drew the shotgun up to shoulder level, finger twitching at the trigger. “I repeat—this place is closed for business. I’d appreciate you spreading the word.”
“Whoa, little missy.” He threw up his hands and backed away. “Don’t mean ya no harm.”
He tripped on the step and took a tumble. Oomph.
Chagrined, Lilah bit her lip and lowered the shotgun. “You okay there?”
He rose, brushing dirt off his overalls. “I reckon. You sure are a touchy thing. Best be gettin’ on my way.” With one last sorrowful glance at the jugs on the kitchen counter, he ambled away, gingerly limping on his right foot.
What the hell.
She returned inside, retrieved the full jug she hadn’t yet dumped out, and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey,” she yelled. “Come on back, you can have a jug.”
He shot her a wary look, clearly suspicious of her change of heart. But in the end, the pull of the moonshine outweighed his reservation, and he returned.
Lilah set the jug down at the bottom of the stairs and scampered back to the door.
“Same price as always?” the man asked, carefully pulling out a wad of dollar bills from his side pocket.
“It’s on the house. Just don’t come back, ya hear? This is the last of it.” Unless she found more while cleaning out the cabin. No telling how many bottles were tucked away in nooks and crannies.
A grin split his weathered face as he tucked the money away. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
He picked up the jug and gave a quick nod before walking across the yard. A sheriff’s cruiser rounded the bend in the road and turned into her dirt driveway. The man momentarily froze at the sight, and then took off running to the nearby tree line—more like hobbling with his injured foot—but almost quick enough to get out of sight. Couldn’t have hurt too bad, she mused.
The cruiser came to an abrupt halt, and a man started to climb out.
Lilah’s heart skittered, even faster than when the stranger had suddenly appeared at her door minutes ago. Could it be...
Oh, yes, it most definitely was.
Harlan Sampson. The man who’d quickly won her heart three months ago and then had dumped her twice as fast after a week of fun and games. Her left hand involuntarily fluttered over her stomach, and Lilah hastily jerked it away.
“Well, looky here,” Harlan drawled, eyeing the man carting his haul off into the woods. He faced her and pushed the dark sunshades up on his head, revealing the startling beryl-blue eyes that had enthralled her on her last ill-fated visit, which—damn it—still sent her heart pounding into overdrive. He walked toward her. “Looks like I finally caught a Tedder point-blank in the act of distributing illegal whiskey.”
“Wrong. I wasn’t selling. I was giving. Ain’t no money exchanged hands here.” Inwardly, Lilah winced at the slip into the local vernacular. It had been twelve years since she’d called Lavender Mountain home, but in times of high emotion—and now definitely counted—she lapsed back into the lingo.
“So you say.”
She pinched her lips together. “What brings you here?”
“Came to pay my respects, see how you’re getting on.”
Weeks ago, she would have flung herself on Harlan at those words. But not now. “I’m jim-dandy,” she replied, lifting her chin a fraction. “I saw you at Dad’s funeral. No need to come over.”
“I believe I owe you an apology.”
“Forget it.” There was no way she’d admit how much his silence had hurt.
His eyes smoldered, and he slowly climbed the porch steps, close enough now to make her breath hitch. “I can’t forget it. And I can’t forget you.”
* * *
EVEN GLARING AT HIM, shotgun by her side, Lilah Faye Tedder was a hell of a sight. Harlan drank it in—the long blond hair that tumbled past her shoulders, the elfin delicate face with the determined chin, the slight womanly curves of her body. He had tried to wipe away the memory of her, but with one glance, the old familiar pull returned. He nodded at the firearm. “Mind putting that thing away? Hard to talk to an angry woman holding a shotgun.”
A smile ghosted across her face before the hardened set returned to her chin. “You said what you came to say. Apology accepted.”
“C’mon, Lilah. Let’s talk.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
With that, Lilah spun on her heel and entered the cabin. Not much of an invitation, but he’d hardly expected her to welcome him with open arms. The place smelled as clean and as fresh as the pine breeze that blew through the open windows, but with a touch of lemon cleaner. It already had the stale antiseptic look of a bare shell of a dwelling. No knickknacks or frivolities, just an old sofa and a couple of chairs.
“I see you’ve been hard at work.” He’d been here before. Chauncey’s old place had been filled with junk when he was alive.
“It’s all set for the realtor to list as soon the reading of the will is over. After that, I’ll head on home.”
Probably for the best, at least for his career. According to Sheriff J.D. Bentley, associating with any Tedder wouldn’t reflect well on him or the office. His boss planned on retiring soon and understood that he had ambitions to run and take over the top law enforcement job in the county. And as such, J.D. had driven home the point that he had no chance of winning the sheriff’s election if he was a known associate of the outlaw family.
Personally, Harlan couldn’t care less about the piddly amounts of money some moonshiners made. No, what disturbed him were the rumors that Lilah’s family had turned to the new Appalachian cash crop of growing marijuana.
Following her lead, he took a seat in one of the old chairs that remained. “No reason to hurry home, is there? Now that school’s out, I thought you would be free for the summer.”
She leveled him with a glacial stare. “That was the original plan. Things changed.”
Ouch. Yeah, he caught her barb. Last time she had been home, they’d planned on her returning to Lavender Mountain this summer so they could see each other regularly.
“Sorry about your dad. Must be hard—”
“Any news on who shot him?” Her voice was sharp and cold.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But we’re working on it.”
“I bet.”
This wasn’t the same Lilah from March, the woman with the ready smile, the soft eyes and the gentle voice. But she had every reason to be bitter, especially with him.
“We’re working ’round the clock. No leads have panned out yet, but we’re interviewing his friends and—” he hesitated a beat “—known associates.”
“Meaning y’all suspect this was related to his moonshining.”
If only it were that simple. He hedged. “The theory is it revolved around his illegal activities, yes. You and Darla already said he had no enemies or problems with others that you know of.”
Silver eyes clouded in pain. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone shoot Dad? It’s not like he made a fortune.” Her neck turned a fraction toward the back of the cabin.
“Maybe an irate customer?” he suggested.
“Doubt it. Most were regulars.” Again, her eyes darted to the rear of the cabin as she folded her arms at her waist.
“Okay, what’s going on?” he asked sharply.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s going on.”
He strode past her, down the narrow hallway and peeked inside the two bedrooms at the end. One was completely empty, nothing suspicious there. The other housed only a double bed and a dresser. A lacy pale yellow nightgown was draped across a plaid bedcover. An image of Lilah in that nightgown flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth at the wave of loss that churned his gut.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She followed close behind him, her bare feet padding on the old wood flooring. “You have no right to search my place.”
“It’s not yours until you can show me the deed has been transferred to you in writing.” He crossed the room and glanced cursorily inside the small bathroom with the old-fashioned iron claw-foot bathtub. Nothing out of place there, either.
“Mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
He felt a tad foolish for wondering if an unwelcome visitor might have forced his way in and held her hostage.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure. But you kept looking back this way, as if something was worrying you.”
A flush stained her cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”
This was getting him nowhere. He changed tactics. “Lilah, I want to help. If there’s a problem, tell me. I can’t leave you alone out here if there’s the slightest possibility you’re in danger.”
“Why do you care?” she scoffed. “Go on and leave me—again. It’s what you do best.”
Her words slammed into him like bullets. He’d hurt her. Bad. “I’m sorry,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I should have at least tried to explain.”
“No explanation needed. I can guess what happened. As soon as your family and friends caught wind of you seeing a Tedder, they jumped all over you. Go on, admit it.”
Heat rushed up the back of his neck. She’d pretty much nailed their reaction. He could have borne their objections, but...
“And then your boss piled on, too. Right? Wouldn’t look good for the apparent heir in the upcoming sheriff’s election to be sleeping around with a lowlife like me.”
The accusation in her eyes stung, but not as much as the truth of her words. Yes, he was ambitious. But it wasn’t the money and the power he craved—it was the chance to make a difference. This little corner in the Appalachian foothills had always garnered more than its share of hardship and tumult. And somehow, the situation kept going downhill. Elmore County was rife with drug trafficking, ancient feuds and an isolation that led many to a life of crime, believing the laws didn’t apply in this neck of the woods.
“I won’t deny any of that,” he said slowly. “J.D. had a long talk with me. Basically said that if I continued seeing you, he wouldn’t endorse me as his replacement.”
“And your career means more to you than I do. Fine. But you could have talked to me instead of giving me the silent treatment.”
“You’re right. And I regret that.”
Harlan regretted a lot of things. He should never have listened to J.D. or anyone else. He should have defended Lilah. He should have never let her slip away.
He was an ass.
Harlan shook his head. No, he’d done the right thing. The people in this county needed him. No point in throwing his career away because of one magical week. But that one week together during her spring break from work and school had been an unbelievable whirlwind of passion and emotion. And then, he’d slipped out of her life without a single word, even after all the plans they’d made for the summer. He raised a hand to touch her, to cup her face in his palms, to tell her he was sorry.
Lilah stepped back, lips curled in a bitter smile. “Don’t even think about it, Harlan Sampson. We’re done.”
Abruptly, he dropped the hand by his side. He’d lost the right to touch Lilah ever again.
“Message received.” He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. “But I still don’t like leaving you alone out here. Can’t you get a room in town until you’ve finished your business?”
“No.”
She turned and headed down the hallway, leaving him no choice but to follow. Lilah opened the front door wide and waved a hand in dismissal. “Goodbye, Harlan.”
He nodded, but as he brushed past Lilah, he couldn’t resist placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for everything. And for your loss. Your dad might have been on the other side of the law, but he was a decent man. I liked him, and he didn’t deserve what happened. I’ll do everything I can to find who shot him.”
The anger and hostility fled, and her lips trembled the slightest bit. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
She shook her head.
“If you think of something, you have my number.”
Before she could object, he planted a light kiss on her cheek and stepped out onto the porch. The sun was sinking low in the green mountains, casting a coral and purple hue on the clouds. Damn, he hated leaving her with night approaching.
“Wait. There is one thing you can do.”
He swung around, eager to help. “Name it.”
Lilah lingered in the doorway, rubbing her arm. “I—I found some money today while I was cleaning up the place. In light of what happened to Dad, well, it makes me nervous. It’s too late for me to go to the bank, but maybe you could keep it safe for me tonight? I’ll come pick it up in the morning and deposit it.”
“No problem.”
He returned to the inside of her cabin. How crafty of Chauncey to keep a hidden stash of dough. He hoped for Lilah’s sake that it was at least a thousand dollars or so. She could use the cash. Working as a teacher’s aide and going to college didn’t leave her much in the way of money.
“I told Darla ’bout finding a wad of cash up under the mattress, and she wanted us to go on and split it, but I told her it didn’t sit right with me. That much money should be reported.”
He gave an indulgent smile. “No one would be the wiser if you didn’t turn it in. There’s no need to worry. I agree with Darla, just keep the money.”
“But it’s a lot of money. I’ll need to talk to the bank manager. Don’t they investigate if you deposit more than ten thousand dollars at a time?”
The hell. “Excuse me? How much money are we talking about?”
“About thirty thousand.”
Thirty. Thousand. Dollars. Ill-gotten dollars, no doubt. The rumors must be true. Chauncey, and probably his partner-in-crime brother as well, had graduated from moonshine to marijuana—or even harder drugs.
“Get it,” he said tightly. Small wonder the Tedder reputation stank.
And she’d planned on sleeping on that load of cash tonight? Some folks ’round these parts would kill for thirty grand. Even if Lilah knew how to use that shotgun, she’d have been putting herself in jeopardy staying here overnight with that much money. If anyone else knew about it, she could have ended up with bullets riddling her body—the same fate as her father.
She scampered away, seemingly eager to be rid of the cash. Hard to believe, but at some level, Lilah must still trust him. Damn, he would have to tell J.D. about this. No way he could just let her waltz into a bank and get flagged as a possible drug dealer.
He sat on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell did you get mixed up in, Chauncey?” he muttered under his breath. He kicked back on the cushions and sighed.
Sure was taking her a long time. Harlan drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of the old couch, waiting.
And waiting.
“Everything all right, Lilah?” he called out.
She staggered back into the den, face pale and fiddling with the gold cross chain around her neck.
He stood, dread prickling his scalp. “What’s wrong?”
She drew an unsteady breath. “The money...it’s gone.”
Chapter Two (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Gone.
Harlan rubbed his temples and sat back down on the sofa. He pointed to the rocker, and Lilah settled across from him. How to tell her?
“Was your dad in the habit of keeping large amounts of money around the cabin?” he finally asked.
“No.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”
“Any idea how he might have come into this money?”
Her lips pinched together. “No.”
“Moonshining can be pretty profitable for a few folks.”
The muscles in her jaw worked, and she lifted a hand and waved it in the air. “Not for us. Does this look like a mansion or something? If Dad made much money at it, he sure didn’t believe in spreading the wealth.”
Harlan knew her financial struggle. She’d been working for six years as a teacher’s aide, paying for college tuition and books as she could on her salary.
“Sure, he wasn’t known for having an extravagant lifestyle,” Harlan agreed. “But you told me yourself that he acted different when you visited in March.”
“Lots of shady characters hanging around. A younger crowd, people I’d never seen before.” She sighed and stared down at her hands. “Lots of long talks with Uncle Thad, too. Whenever I entered the room, they would stop talking. But that wasn’t so unusual. In the past, they would come up with some pretty harebrained get-rich schemes that never worked. Part of the reason Mom cut out years ago.”
Lilah lifted her head and faced him dead on. “But you already know most of this. I confided a lot to you when—” she hesitated a heartbeat “—when we were seeing each other.”
Seeing each other. Images of her flashed through his mind—Lilah lying on his bed, her hair spread against the sheets, the play of moonlight on her skin, the feel of her hand gliding down his abs and lower still... Best not to dwell on that. He cleared his throat.
“Can’t help wondering if your dad might have changed his, er, business model. He wouldn’t be the first to switch from moonshine to marijuana. That’s where the real money is these days.”
Gray eyes flashed. “You asking if Dad was a dope dealer? No way.”
There was no kind way to have her face the possibility. Might as well be honest. “There’s been rumors. We know for a fact that there’s a huge drug-running operation that passes through our mountains. We just haven’t been able to make a major bust yet.”
“Rumors?” She stood and paced, temper sparking in her clipped movements. “Figures. Anything criminal happening in Elmore County and people are going to bring up Dad’s name. It’s so unfair. He never hurt anybody. And he never sold liquor to the teenagers that came around. Said moonshine was a grown man’s drink.”
Harlan bit the inside of his mouth to keep from blurting his thoughts. He’d liked Chauncey, but Lilah had either forgotten her dad’s more violent tendencies or she’d shoved them to the back of her mind. She hadn’t been especially close to her dad, but his death was so recent, so fresh in her heart, and Chauncey was her father, after all.
“I’m not judging him,” Harlan said, treading lightly. “He had plenty of good qualities—a loyal friend, always minded his own business and generous to a fault. But he had a dark side, too. Chauncey spent many a night as a guest of the Elmore County jail for assault.”
She shrugged. “Drunken bar fights.”
Fierce fights that had resulted in serious injuries to the unlucky, foolhardy men who crossed him. But he let that pass without comment. “You’ve never seen anything else suspicious?”
“I know what pot plants look like. If I’d seen any on our property, I’d have reported it. Take a look around for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“Your father didn’t have to be growing it in his fields to participate. He could have managed an indoor operation.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” Lilah crossed her arms.
If she had a fault, it was stubbornness. She’d come by it honestly as Chauncey Tedder’s daughter. That man refused to live life on anyone else’s terms and abided by his own creed of what constituted right and wrong—the law be damned. Truth be told, many mountain folk felt the same.
“If you find anything incriminating while you’re staying here, I hope you’ll tell me.”
“Outlaws keeping a step ahead of the law up here?” she quipped. “Imagine that.”
Were they ever. Every drug raid ended the same—a dead end with no evidence or suspects in sight. “This is serious, Lilah. Drug operations bring in a dangerous criminal element. They aren’t like your dad.”
She sobered. “Which is why Dad would never have been a part of that. Never.”
He raised his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. I just can’t help worrying about you staying out here alone.”
“I won’t be here long. There’s no reason to stay now that...you know.” She let her words trail off.
Now that their relationship was over.
Again, it hung heavy in the air between them, weighing on his shoulders like a thick blanket. “When?”
“Soon,” she answered dismissively.
He’d lost the right to question her more closely about her comings and goings. None of his business.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry for—”
“Forget it.” She thrust out her chin. “I have.”
Had she? Had Lilah really moved on? Because he sure as hell hadn’t. “Why don’t you stay with Darla while you’re here? The next guy coming along to buy ’shine might not be as nice as the one that just skedaddled off your property.”
He caught the slight tightness at the edge of her eyes. “She’s busy with Ed and her kids. We’d get on each other’s nerves after a while, anyway.”
“Too bad Jimmy couldn’t have stayed longer.”
“Yeah. He looked so sad when he had to fly back,” she said wistfully.
His old friend, her brother, was no longer the free-spirited kid that he used to hang around with in high school—and occasionally get in trouble with. Jimmy’s tour in Afghanistan had changed his carefree attitude. At the funeral, and even afterward, he’d been distant and grave. Shell-shocked, some might say.
The loud rumble of a diesel engine roared from the driveway, and Harlan stepped out onto the porch in time to see a large gruff man at the wheel. He sharply turned the truck, and it circled the yard before heading back down the road.
“Your cruiser is running off my dad’s business,” Lilah said drily.
He rubbed his chin. “Wish I could leave it here overnight.”
“I’ll be fine. Just go.” With that, she turned away.
He’d been dismissed, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “At least for tonight, call your sister and see if she’ll stay out here with you.” At the cold snap of her gray eyes, he added, “Please.”
“Maybe.”
The old oak door shut firmly behind her. Stubborn woman.
* * *
A LEATHER CORDED bracelet with a crimson stone, a triple-stranded necklace of multicolored glass and a tarnished silver ring with a fake cameo carving. Lilah laid the jewelry on the kitchen table and examined the pieces. They obviously held little, if any, monetary value, but they’d been carefully wrapped in an embroidered linen handkerchief inside a red silk drawstring pouch. So they’d meant something to somebody at one time.
Curious, she’d called Mom, who’d snorted when asked if they’d once belonged to her. “Anything I wanted from that cabin, which wasn’t much, I took with me when I left your dad.” She also claimed never to have seen the jewelry. “Might have belonged to Chauncey’s mama, but if it did, I never noticed he had them, and he never mentioned it to me. Your dad wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, anyway.”
Still, Lilah was reluctant to chuck the pieces in the charity box with everything else worth salvaging. If the jewelry had belonged to Granny Tedder, she wanted to keep it.
At the crunch of gravel outside, she peered out the front window. Good, just Darla and Uncle Thad come to call. She opened the screen door and waved them inside. Uncle Thad hefted Darla’s overnight bag from the truck bed as her sister minced her way to the porch in high heels. Lilah suppressed a giggle. Even as a kid, Darla was into playing dress up and acting like a Hollywood ingenue instead of a hillbilly’s daughter.
“Thanks for coming over, y’all. Harlan was over earlier and got me all paranoid about staying alone out here.”
“Harlan, huh? He’s sexy.” Darla winked as she entered, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake.
Lilah ignored the comment.
“Got yer shotgun, don’t ya?” Uncle Thad bellowed. “Yer safe enough.” He huffed and puffed up the porch steps. He was a giant of a man, over six feet tall, and as strong and as broad-boned as an ox.
He always knew just what to say to make her feel better. She hugged him as he entered the cabin.
Darla walked to the kitchen table, hips swaying. When she pulled out a chair and sat, she crossed her legs, exposing a long stretch of thigh. “You’ve been working hard. I’ve never seen Dad’s place look so tidy. At least not since Mama ran off.” She tossed her hair and sighed. “Be a love and make me a cup of coffee. Those kids ’bout ran me ragged today.”
Lilah exchanged a quick knowing glance with Uncle Thad, who was dragging the suitcase to the back bedroom. Somehow, everything always centered on Darla and her needs. Feeling guilty, Lilah set about fixing the coffee. After all, her sister was busy with her own home life and didn’t have to come babysit a grown fraidy-cat woman.
“What do we have here?” Darla cooed, picking up the multicolored necklace and holding it to the light.
“Found them under Dad’s mattress. Any idea who they belong to?”
“No, but it’s mine now.” Darla clasped the necklace around her neck and preened. “How does it look?”
Gaudy, actually. Lilah measured the coffee and started the machine. “Mmm,” she said noncommittally.
Uncle Thad waved from the den. “Gotta hit the road. Momma’s waiting dinner on me.”
“Tell Aunt Vi I said hey,” Lilah called from the kitchen.
Darla put on the bracelet and ring. “Not too shabby, I guess. Whatcha think, Uncle?”
He stopped and stared. “Where’d ya get those baubles?”
“Lilah found them. Do they look pretty on me?”
“Sure, sure. Not that you need adornment.” He winked at Lilah. Uncle Thad knew how to flatter his niece.
“You want to keep one, Lilah?” Darla asked.
“Nah, that’s okay. They should go to someone who appreciates them.”
Uncle Thad left, and Lilah warmed up a large pot of chicken and dumplings and another pot of butter beans. She was suddenly ravenous and exhausted as the aroma kicked in, and she absently stirred the dumplings, thinking of all the things she’d have loved to discuss with Darla. Hidden matters of the heart. But there was a layer of reserve between them. It seemed sometimes as if Darla resented her. Lilah had left Lavender Mountain years ago, finished her high school degree, and would soon graduate college with her teacher’s certificate, whereas Darla had never left, never finished her schooling and had pretty much been forced into marriage when she’d gotten pregnant at sixteen.
Lilah set their plates on the table and sat across from her. “I know the kids keep you busy, but aren’t they fun, too? I mean, you like being a mother, don’t you?”
Darla shrugged. “It has its moments, I suppose. But it’s lots of work. More than I realized it would be.”
“But satisfying, right?”
“Sure,” she said carelessly, lifting her little finger as she sipped her coffee.
Well, that hadn’t been particularly enlightening or encouraging. What had she expected? Lilah ate, savoring the homemade food. As soon as her stomach was sated, lethargy crept in like a drug. She blinked, surveying the dirty dishes with dread. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and snuggle under the covers.
“Hey, kid.” Darla’s hand closed over hers. “You look beat. I’ll wash the dishes.”
“You will?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Of course. You go on to bed.”
Beat didn’t even begin to cover how exhausted she felt. For the first time since she was a little kid, Lilah had begun taking afternoon naps. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said.
Darla slipped off the leather bracelet and clasped it around Lilah’s wrist. “And you keep this. Stand up for yourself now and then, girl.”
Unexpected tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them back. Every once in a blue moon, Darla surprised her. Nodding, she got up from the table and went to the bedroom. Without bothering to change into her nightgown, she slipped between the covers and fell into the black abyss of sleep.
* * *
COLD.
Lilah rubbed the goose bumps on her arm. Wind rustled through the pines and whooshed into the cabin. Darla must have opened a window, she surmised, clambering out of bed.
The scrape of a heavy boot on the wooden floor brought her to an abrupt halt. The back of her neck prickled. Another step creaked in the hallway, and her mind raced. The shotgun was by the front door, so that was of no use. She hesitated, torn between locking her door or opening her bedroom window and hightailing it into the dark night.
But she couldn’t leave Darla alone to face the menace.
Lilah unplugged the lamp on her nightstand and wrapped her hand around the base like a club. Not much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. She stepped into the hallway and flattened herself against the wall, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.
Moonbeams cast a silvery glow in the den, and the shadows shifted, forming the silhouette of a man in black. He wasn’t aware of her presence and crept from the rocking chair to the coffee table, picking up magazines and searching for...something. Did others know about the large amount of cash her father had stockpiled in the cabin? This could get ugly, deadly even. Maybe someone who’d been searching for the money had murdered her dad. Damn it, Harlan was right to warn her away from this place. Darla spending the night calmed her fears, but unless her sister was packing heat, she was of no help.
Lilah peeled herself away from the wall and stepped into the hallway to warn Darla of the danger. At the slight sound, the man straightened and spun around.
He had no face. Where eyes and nose and mouth should have been, there was nothing but inchoate blackness.
Lilah’s pulse pounded furiously in her taut body. It was a nightmare come to life—paralysis rooted her feet to the floor and she could hardly breathe. The scream in her throat choked her lungs, refusing to unloose in the deathly quiet.
Suddenly, the intruder turned and ran for the open window.
A piercing cry vibrated her ears and brain. It took several seconds before she realized it was her own voice screaming. She stumbled to the front of the cabin on numb feet and dropped the lamp on the sofa, exchanging porcelain for the cold steel of the shotgun’s barrel. A bolt of courage rippled down her spine, and she raced to the window and slammed it shut.
“What the hell is going on?” Darla rushed into the room and flipped on the light switch, revealing her baby doll nightie with its feathered neckline. Her mouth was devoid of the usual red lipstick, but pink sponge curlers dangled loosely in her brown hair. Oddly enough, the scanty attire only made her appear like an adolescent. A vulnerable, confused teenager.
“Somebody broke in. Did you open the window in here before you went to bed?”
“No. Is that how they got in? Did you get a good look at him?”
“He wore a mask.”
“Oh, my God. I’m calling Ed to get out here.”
“No sense rousing him and your kids out of bed. The man’s gone.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not staying here.”
“We could drive into town and stay at a motel. But I don’t relish the thought of going outside to get in the car.”
“Call your Harlan. Tell him to get here ASAP.”
Her Harlan. She wished he was. Not the mean, stupid Harlan who’d dumped her but the old Harlan who couldn’t keep his hands off her and whose kisses had made her feel wild and cherished. She lifted her chin. “No. I won’t bother him.”
“Bother him? Isn’t responding to break-ins, like, his job?”
She could call someone else in the sheriff’s office, but Harlan would get word and come immediately. Lilah thought fast. “We could call Uncle Thad.”
Darla grumbled. “Okay. But the only reason I’m not calling Ed is ’cause I don’t wanna put my kids in danger.”
“I’ll make the call while you get dressed.”
Darla sped to the bedroom, mumbling under her breath—something about the crazy gene in their family, Lilah thought.
Lilah grabbed the cell phone and punched in her uncle’s number with her left hand, still clutching the gun in her right. She turned off the overhead light and stood by the window. Was he out there in the darkness, waiting for another night, another opportunity?
She would never feel safe here again. Maybe Harlan was right. Maybe Dad had gotten mixed up in some new dangerous scheme. A new gamble, a new adventure—one that had cost him his life. Who knew what desperate secrets lived in another’s heart? She had to think about her own future, her own sad secret.
As soon as she’d settled her dad’s affairs, she would leave Lavender Mountain.
Chapter Three (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
This was going to kill Darla.
She’d put off bringing up the matter of the missing money, imagining Darla’s furious reaction at the news. For the past couple of days, she’d stayed tied up with all the paperwork concerning the robbery and fixing up Dad’s old place. Darla was much too busy to be bothered. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true or fair—she’d been avoiding this scene with her sister.
Tired as she was from the drama and all her duties, Lilah couldn’t up and leave the mountain without letting her sister know the money was gone. She sped down Dark Corners Road to the homestead where Darla, Ed and their three children lived. Her sister would be devastated about the stolen money. If only she’d just let her have it that morning like Darla had begged. And she could kiss goodbye that sisterly chat she’d planned on. After the news, Darla would be in no mood to offer advice and comfort over the matter that had weighed on Lilah for weeks. It wasn’t like there’d been much chance of Darla being supportive, anyway, if she was being honest with herself.
At the last sharp bend before hitting town, she pulled into Darla and Ed’s gravel driveway. An unfamiliar red pickup truck was parked near the side porch. Maybe Ed had traded in his old clunker. She picked her way through a barrage of mangy dogs and mewling cats that barked or hissed their displeasure at the invasion of their territory.
Old toys and broken furniture almost barricaded the doorway, and she impatiently scooted a rusted table out of her path. Through the screen door she heard Darla talking on the phone.
“Yes, I’ll hold. But only for a minute. Longer than that and I’ll take my business elsewhere,” Darla huffed.
Lilah pushed open the door and entered the kitchen where her sister held a tape measure stretched across the lower cabinets. “You back, sir? I want mahogany,” Darla said. “Only the best. And I want it pronto.”
Lilah blinked. Wow. This was a change. Ed must have been working overtime.
Darla retracted the tape and scribbled on a scrap sheet of paper, her face puckered in concentration.
“New cabinets, huh? Nice.”
Her sister snapped her head up, pencil poised. “What are you doing here?”
Not the welcome she’d expected. But then, she and Darla had never been particularly close. The ten-year age difference was large enough so that shortly after their parents’ divorce, a pregnant Darla had married Ed while Lilah had moved over a hundred miles away with their mother.
“Well, I’m leaving, and I thought I’d say goodbye first.”
Darla colored slightly. “Right. Sorry I couldn’t help out more with the estate stuff. Ed Junior’s been down with a tummy ache.”
“No problem.” Lilah shrugged and waited awkwardly.
“I’ll just, uh, get off the phone. Want something to drink?”
“Water, thanks.” Lilah plopped down on a chair in the den.
The TV blared, although no one was watching it. Where were her nephews?
Darla returned from the kitchen and tossed her a water bottle. “Where are the kids?” Lilah asked.
“I started them in daycare yesterday. I needed more peace and quiet ’round here.” She shuddered. “I’m still recovering from that intruder scare.”
“Me, too,” Lilah admitted. “I meant it when I said I’m not staying. I’ll come back when there’s papers that need to be signed when the cabin sells, and for the meeting next week in the probate office.”
Darla tossed back her hair. “Both stupid formalities. That cabin’s not worth much, and I doubt Dad had more than a few hundred dollars in the bank. A complete waste of time.”
“But he had thirty thousand dollars lying around the house,” she pointed out.
“Dad didn’t trust banks. Besides, I bet he was just holding that money for someone.”
Lilah suppressed a shudder. If that was true, was that why the intruder had been in the cabin? Would he return?
“Anyway, do you think you could take care of all the paperwork for me?” Lilah asked hesitantly. “I only got involved with everything because Jimmy was overseas and you said you were too busy with the kids to fool with it. Now that they’re in daycare...maybe you could take over?”
“You handle it. You always were good with all that complicated kind of stuff.”
Irritation flared between her temples. “But I live over a hundred miles from here, and I’m busy, too.”
“You?” Darla scoffed. “You don’t have other people depending on you to feed them and watch over them. Or a demanding husband. What else do you have to do?”
That about hit her last reserve of patience. “I have a j-o-b. Remember? I also take college classes in whatever spare time I have.”
“Pfft.” Darla waved a hand dismissively. “Why you wasting time getting a fancy degree...”
But Lilah tuned out her words. Instead, she was mesmerized by the huge diamond flashing on Darla’s left hand. “Ed upgraded your wedding ring? It used to be on the small side.” Rinky-dink was more like it.
Darla abruptly lowered her hand and crossed her arms, hiding the ring from view.
The new pickup, ordering new cabinets, fancy jewelry. Well, that little mystery was solved.
“It was you!” Lilah stood and pointed her finger. “You’re the one who stole the money.”
“It wasn’t stealing. That was Dad’s money, and I’m sure he meant for me to have it.”
Of all the selfishness Lilah had witnessed over the years with her sister, this was the most outrageous. “All for you, huh? What about me and Jimmy?”
“Jimmy’s making plenty of money in the army.”
“And me?”
“You’re about to become a teacher. You’ll be rolling in dough. I need it more than you. I have a family. You don’t.”
Lilah closed her eyes, thinking of how much thirty thousand dollars would have helped in paying off her college tuition and upgrading from her clinker of a car to something more reliable. Rolling in dough on a teacher’s salary? Not hardly.
She drew a long steadying breath. “We’ll see what Jimmy thinks about all this when I call him tonight.”
“Do you have to tell him?” Darla flushed and bit her lip. “We ain’t spent it all yet. I could give you each a few thousand.”
She’d never been so angry. Lilah trembled from the injustice. Careful, careful. Don’t say something you’ll regret. “I’ll see you later, after I’ve spoken with Jimmy,” she said past numb lips.
“Ah, come on, LayLay,” Darla cajoled, using her old childhood nickname. “Don’t get all mad on me.”
Lilah strode past her, eager to avoid more confrontation. “We’ll settle up after I talk to Jimmy. I’ll be speaking with Harlan, too. He knows that money was stolen from the cabin. I’m sure he’ll want to question you about the theft.”
Darla paled. “Now, look here...”
“Save it for the cops,” Lilah said, marching out of the house and back to her car. Of all the nerve. Of course, she wasn’t going to press charges, but let Darla sweat it a little.
Inside her car, she backed out of the driveway and then paused. Go left or right? Left meant leaving the mountain, right meant having “The Talk” with Harlan. She dreaded it, but her conscience demanded she tell him. Besides, he’d already called, wanting her to sign the missing money report.
Digging deep into her reserves of courage, Lilah turned right.
* * *
THE MOMENTARY LULL in the crowded, noisy sheriff’s office alerted Harlan that something was off. He glanced up from his paperwork and followed the gaze of his coworkers to the front door.
Ah, yes. Lilah Tedder had that effect on the opposite sex. She turned her head, scanning the room until she zeroed in on where he sat. Her blond hair glowed like a halo under the harsh fluorescent lighting, but her eyes burned like two flames, hot and flickering.
She was no angel.
Lilah beelined to his desk in determined steps. He hoped J.D. wouldn’t come out of his office anytime soon this morning and witness them together. She stepped up to his chair.
“So you’ve already drawn up the report on the money?” she asked, cutting to the chase.
“Yep.” Harlan picked up the printed document. “Just need you to sign it.”
She sat down next to him and primly placed her purse in her lap. He slid the paper toward her, and she glanced down. “I’m not signing it. There’s no longer any need for a report.”
“Why? You found it?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He was missing something. People didn’t “misplace” thousands of dollars of cash. “That’s good. Where was it?”
“I forgot I’d moved it from under the mattress to the bottom dresser drawer.”
She was lying, but why? Truth was, he’d been reluctant to write up the report, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to her newfound wealth. At least not until the money was accounted for and safely deposited in the bank. Besides, her family’s name was mud as it was. This report would drag more fodder and speculation about Chauncey’s questionable activities.
“Are you sure about this? What’s really going on?”
“I’m more worried about intruders than...”
She stopped, obviously flustered about blurting out that tidbit.
“Intruders?” he honed in quickly. “You have any more men showing up to buy moonshine?”
“No. Never mind about that. I’m leaving today, anyway.”
“Sure you won’t change your mind?” He’d secretly hoped she would hang around long enough for him to try to win her back.
“It’s for the best.”
“You’re scared. Tell me what’s going on. Has someone hurt you or threatened you in any way?” If they had, he’d hunt them down like a dog and make them pay. He lowered his voice and took her hand. “Tell me.”
She jerked her hand away. “There’s nothing to tell. Forget the report.”
“Sure, never mind that I wasted an hour writing this up,” he shot back, hurt and annoyed.
Lilah shrugged. “Sorry.”
Her tone implied she was anything but sorry.
“For God’s sake, Lilah, what the hell is going on here?” He was conscious of his fellow officers glancing their way. He lowered his voice. “First, the missing money, then you hint at an intruder and now you deny anything’s wrong?”
“Don’t badger me, Harlan Sampson,” she said, glaring. “I didn’t come here today to talk about the report, anyway. That’s not important.”
“Not important?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you for real? I demand to know what’s going on.”
She jumped to her feet, her face flushed and her voice raised. “You have no right to demand anything from me. Never did. I just dropped by to tell you that I’m—I’m...oh, never mind. I won’t bother you with the news.”
The room was the quietest Harlan had ever witnessed. From deep in the recesses behind their administrative offices, an inmate could be heard cursing in a holding cell.
This wasn’t happening. His mind spun in circles. Surely Lilah wasn’t about to say she was pregnant, was she? They’d been careful. Except, well, there were a couple of times they’d been too impatient. He felt like he’d fallen down into a deep well and couldn’t catch his breath.
Lilah raised her chin and strolled away, her back ramrod stiff. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Sheriff Bentley shaking his head in an I-told-you-so way.
Instead of heading to the front door, she made an abrupt turn to the right and entered the women’s restroom. Jolene Smithers, a fellow officer, rose from behind her desk. “I’ll check on her,” she said, eyes wide with equal measures of pity and curiosity.
To hell with J.D.
He found his feet and followed Jolene, aware that every eye in the room was upon them. Someone snickered, and the back of his neck flushed with heat.
* * *
LILAH PULLED BACK her hair and leaned over the toilet, gagging. A few deep, shuddering breaths later, she straightened, bracing her hands against the stall’s cool metal siding.
That’d been close. For a moment back there, she’d been ready to upchuck all over Harlan’s carefully prepared report. One that was no longer needed.
“Get yourself together and get the hell out of Dodge,” she muttered.
“You all right in there?” a female voice drawled.
Lilah stiffened. “I’m fine,” she said in a mind-your-own-business tone.
“Don’t sound fine to me.”
Lilah waited. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t leaving and wasn’t entering the neighboring stall. Just what she needed. Why couldn’t a girl get a clean break when she needed to beat a hasty exit? Sighing, she pushed open the door and strode to the washbasin, determined to ignore the nosy stranger. From the corner of her eye, she took her in—a tall rangy woman, wearing a brown uniform and a badge.
“Quite a scene out there,” the woman commented drily.
Lilah splashed her face and rinsed her mouth out.
“I think Harlan’s worried about you.”
“Told ya I was fine.” She jerked a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her face and hands before throwing it in the bin.
“You with child?” the woman asked.
Lilah snatched the keys from her pocketbook and marched to the door. Another minute and she would be out of this stifling place.
“Is it Harlan’s?”
The nerve. Lilah’s eyes snapped to meet the intruder’s. She wore no makeup and her auburn hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail. Still, it was easy to see she was a beauty in a tomboyish, no-frills kind of way with a peaches-and-cream complexion and large hazel eyes.
“None of your business...” Lilah glanced at the nameplate pinned below her badge. “Officer Smithers.”
“We’re all good buddies working here. Family, even. So is it his?”
Lilah pushed past the woman but Jolene Smithers stepped in front of her.
“Following in your sister’s footsteps? Guess I should give you some credit, though. At least you managed to finish high school before populating our county with more Tedders.”
The hell? It may have been years since she’d lived in Lavender Mountain, but Smithers’s lip curl of disgust when she said Tedders slashed through time. Once again, Lilah was young and facing the taunts of schoolchildren or braving the slights of classmates who never came to her birthday parties. No parent wanted their child hanging out with the likes of Lilah and her family.
“Get out of my way,” she said coldly.
“I’m betting it isn’t. Good thing we have paternity tests these days. Keeps riffraff like you from tying down a decent man who—no doubt—will insist on doing the right thing. Either marriage or child support for the next eighteen years.”
Jolene’s words splattered like acid on Lilah’s heart. That much was true. Harlan would insist on doing right by her. But what kind of life would that be—knowing she’d unwittingly trapped him into marriage? He couldn’t know the truth.
“And what about his career?” Jolene continued. “He’d be the laughing stock of this county, running for sheriff after a shotgun wedding to a Tedder.”
She’d had enough. Lilah went around Jolene and flung open the restroom’s door before delivering her parting shot as she stepped into the lobby. “It’s not his baby. Okay? You happy now?”
Whipping her head back around, she faced a tall uniformed column of stubborn human male.
Harlan.
His feet were planted less than six feet from the doorway and his face was set like carved granite.
How much had he heard? He couldn’t have missed her saying the baby wasn’t his. Lilah lowered her head and walked quickly to the door. She’d come by to tell him she was pregnant with his child, but maybe it was best this way.
So why was she near tears? If he had ever loved her, that love hadn’t been enough to erase the stigma of her name. Believing she was pregnant by another man, so quickly after their own affair had ended, would be proof to him that she was fickle and unworthy.
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE GEORGIA sun beat down like a whip on his face. “Lilah. Stop.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she froze. He stepped in front of her and gazed at her pale face. Now that he had her attention, he hadn’t a clue what to say.
“Sorry you heard the news that way,” she said flatly. “Didn’t want you to wonder if it was yours, though—just in case we ran into each other in the future or you heard something.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. This didn’t feel right.
“Positive.”
Anger churned his gut. There hadn’t been anyone else for him since he’d cut off ties with Lilah. How had she moved on so quickly? “Who?” he ground out past numb lips.
Her brows raised and she regarded him blankly.
“Who’s the father?”
“Oh. You don’t know him. He’s not from around here.”
She was lying. He was—almost—sure of it.
“Is the baby mine or not? I deserve the truth.”
She hesitated. “You deserve a life with a woman you love. You deserve to be sheriff.”
“Is that what this is about? Let me decide what I want.”
“Do you love me?” she asked abruptly.
His mind drew a blank. Love? He cared for her...mightily cared. But love? “I... I’m...”
Her lips trembled, and she pinched them together. “Whatever happened between us is long over. I have to figure things out on my own.”
“You shouldn’t have to face this alone. What about this...this other man?” His mind whirled at the possibility she was telling the truth. “Will he marry you? Or at least support you?”
She gave a harsh laugh. “The days of shotgun weddings ’round these parts are long over. Plenty of women have been single moms. I can do the same.”
A memory pierced him—her dad at the Foxy Lady bar/motel, hunting down Ed after getting word that Darla was with child. By all witness accounts, Chauncey had stormed into the dive, red-faced and waving a shotgun, searching for the hapless culprit who’d deflowered his eldest daughter. Seeing Ed shirk into the corner, Chauncey had approached and grabbed a fistful of Ed’s camouflage jacket. “Congratulations, you’re getting married,” he’d announced.
Harlan ran a finger over the collar rim of his stiff uniform shirt. Those days of forced marriages weren’t entirely over. Chauncey Tedder would be mighty displeased about this situation if he were still alive. He cleared his throat. “But you don’t have to raise a child alone if he—”
“Just go back to work, Harlan. This is my problem, not yours.” She darted around him, but not quickly enough for him to miss the tears brimming in her eyes.
“Are you going to be okay driving home?” he asked. Damn it, he still cared about her even though he shouldn’t.
She didn’t bother responding. Instead, she climbed in her car and backed out of the parking space a tad too carelessly. She whipped out of the lot and accelerated onto the highway. Within a minute, the car disappeared in the distance.
It was as if Lilah couldn’t wait to be rid of him.
“She gone?” Jolene was suddenly beside him.
“Looks that way.”
“It’s for the best, Harlan.” She ran a hand along his arm. “Time you moved on. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
He frowned and moved out of her reach. This wasn’t Jolene’s first hint she wanted something more than friendship.
“Plenty of other fish in the sea.” She smiled and practically batted her eyes.
But he had zero interest in his comely coworker. Instead of a tall redhead, his interest was decidedly marked in favor of a certain petite blonde. One who clearly was over him and might even be pregnant with another man’s baby.
So why was he so upset? Hadn’t that been what he wanted all along—a clean break with Lilah? But he walked away from Jolene and headed back to work weighted with a heaviness that made him feel suddenly ten years older.
Chapter Four (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
Harlan considered himself lucky. Today would be so busy that thoughts of Lilah would be temporarily relegated to the back burner. Last night had been a tough and fitful sleep—was the baby his or not and why should he care?—but after numerous cups of coffee, he now had enough stamina to get through the day’s scheduled raid.
He and five other officers surrounded the abandoned older home. Kudzu crept over the windows like a living, breathing veil. So convenient for anyone hiding illegal drugs. One would expect to see broken windows and doors in a vacated building, but for all its age and the superficial facade of neglect, the front door was bolted shut with a steel chain and padlock and it lacked signs of forced entry anywhere.
Not only that but also dozens of large footsteps had tamped down the overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the house. They’d been there when he and the team had arrived.
He had a good feeling about this one.
Remote homes sprinkled Appalachia, but this place on top of Booze Mountain took the cake. It had taken them a good half an hour of driving up increasingly narrow and bumpy dirt roads to get here.
Sammy Armstrong sidled over and gave him a broad wink. “How’s your girlfriend doing?”
Harlan gritted his teeth. If it had been someone other than his old childhood friend teasing him, he would have busted his chops. “Fine,” he spat, not inviting further conversation.
Sammy nudged him. “Lilah’s more than fine. A real looker. A man could do worse.”
J.D. pulled into the lot and exited the cruiser, patting his uniform shirt pocket. “I got the subpoena. Let’s do this.”
Alvin Lee, a fellow officer, marched up the sagging porch steps with a pair of giant bolt cutters.
Harlan idly swatted at a skeeter that buzzed near his ear and swiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. The heat was brutal, even up here in the mountains.
The chain crashed onto the wooden porch with a clatter nearly as loud as a shotgun blast. Alvin kicked in the door, and Harlan followed him inside the abandoned home.
The stench of stale food pervaded—a toxic mixture of fried bologna and venison. In the center of the main room, the scratched surface of a long table was littered with boxes, string and packing tape. It looked like an assembly line set up. Easy to guess the sort of merchandise packaged here.
He glanced around the mostly ruined interior, and his spirits sank. It looked deserted. Not even a single marijuana plant in sight. So much for his intuition.
Three other officers entered via the back door, and J.D. strolled into the room, thumbs tucked into his belt. “Find any drugs?” he asked hopefully.
Harlan swiped a finger on the fine layer of white powder on the table. Much too white for mere dust. “Probably cocaine residue,” he answered, brushing off the powder on his pant legs. “Afraid that’s going to be the extent of our find.”
“Damn it. Not again.” J.D. stalked off to the adjacent kitchen. “Comb the area for leftover receipts, matches—anything left behind that might give us some clue who’s been here.”
Sammy slammed his fist into his open palm. “What is this? Almost a half dozen raids now in the last year? They’re always a step ahead of us.” He huffed in frustration. “It’s like they know we’re coming.”
Dread settled in Harlan’s gut as he assimilated the words. He didn’t want to believe it. They were a small team, and he’d grown up with most of them on the mountain. They were his friends, his colleagues, the people he trusted in dangerous situations.
But the lure of easy money could mess with a person’s mind. He’d seen it before. A younger officer, Caleb, had fallen into that trap last year. First, it was turning a blind eye on minor offenses like illegal poker games. Then it progressed to fixing tickets for family and friends. Word spread until it reached a point where everyone believed they could offer a little money in return for a favor, muddying boundaries. Even if he’d wanted to stop taking bribes, Caleb had confessed that if he hadn’t taken them, someone would have squealed.
Someone always squealed. You could count on that. It held true for inmates as well as the officers who were supposed to enforce the law.
In the end, Caleb had been fired.
Harlan tapped a finger against his lips. Caleb still dated Marla, one of the two dispatchers on the day shift. Did Marla pump him with information on their scheduled raids? Mentally, he made a note to check on that.
J.D.’s cell phone rang, and he tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Answer that while I help Alvin search the back bedroom.”
Harlan picked it up. “Sampson here,” he said, opening a drawer and searching its sparse contents as Marla breathlessly reported the latest news.
Another shooting. Another victim dead.
An icy finger of fear shimmied down his spine. Lilah—and their baby—might be in danger.
* * *
LILAH RUBBED HER swollen eyes, then riffled through the stack of bills that had collected in her mailbox during her absence. Absentmindedly going up the stairs, she almost ran smack into Luke McCoy at the bottom of the apartment stairwell.
“Whoa there, missy,” he said with a laugh. “We missed you while you were gone.” She glanced up, and his easy grin melted away. “You all right?”
Lilah gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Need a friend? We could talk over breakfast and coffee.”
Sure, but she hated to encourage the guy. He’d been asking her out for weeks now, and if she went out with him, he’d make a big deal of it.
“No, really. It was a rough night, but I’m okay.”
“Missing your family, I bet,” he said knowingly. “Ms. Cranston told me you went home for your father’s funeral and stayed awhile to take care of the estate and stuff.”
She made a mental note to be more circumspect with her elderly neighbor. “Right,” she agreed, clutching at the excuse.
A brown-and-white cop cruiser whipped into a nearby parking spot, and she idly watched as a man got out. He locked the door and turned, rapidly making his way toward them. It couldn’t be. A familiar shock of brown hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes... Yes, it was Harlan. What was he doing here? And dressed in his uniform, too?
“I think breakfast is just what you need,” Luke continued, unaware of Harlan approaching from behind. “Let me take you out.”
Her stomach revolted at the thought of food. “No, thank you.”
“Ah, come on—”
“The lady said no,” Harlan snapped.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His jaw tightened. “We have business to discuss.”
Luke held up a hand and shuffled backward. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”
Well, at least he might not pester her for dates anymore. So at least something good would come of this unexpected meeting with Harlan.
“Is that him?” Harlan asked stiffly.
“What? Oh, you mean... Never mind, it’s still none of your business.”
“Seemed pretty spineless to me,” Harlan observed. “He cut out pretty quick when I came.”
“You practically ordered him to leave,” she argued. “Besides—”
“Yoo-hoo, officer!” They looked up the stairs, where Ms. Cranston stood in her housecoat. “That was quick. I just called five minutes ago.”
“Ma’am, I’m not—”
“I got to puzzling on that stranger hanging around here last night, and the more I thought on it, the more scared I got on account of—”
“Stranger?” Harlan took the stairs two at a time and withdrew a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “When? What did he look like?”
Lilah followed him, trying to quell the butterflies of alarm in her stomach.
“He was medium height, a little on the thin side and dressed all in black. Kept walking back and forth in that hallway there.” She pointed to the hall where Lilah’s apartment was.
“Did he wear a black ski mask?” Lilah asked, holding her breath.
“No. If he had, I’d a called the police right away.”
“Could you describe his face or hair?” Harlan asked.
Ms. Cranston shook her head. “He stayed in the shadows.”
Harlan sighed and returned the notepad to his shirt pocket.
“Thing is,” Ms. Cranston continued, “another feller came ’round this morning dressed all in black. I leaned out my window and yelled, ‘Hey, whatcha doin’?’ He took off running to the parking lot without even turning around to see who was talking.”
“Did you get a look at the car make and model, or a tag?”
“It was a big dark blue car,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t know models and such as that.”
Harlan nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He took Lilah’s arm and motioned for the stairs.
“Hope you catch him,” Ms. Cranston called to their backs. “I don’t cotton to strangers roaming around here. Up to no good, I bet.”
“We’re going to your apartment, and you’re going to pack your things,” Harlan said in his no-nonsense voice. “We’ll talk on the way to Lavender Mountain.”
* * *
“WON’T BE ANY safer there,” she muttered. Inside her apartment, she whirled to face him. “You can’t just show up and start ordering me around.”
His face was as set as she’d ever seen it. “Have a seat.”
Something was wrong. Bad wrong. Her jellied legs no longer felt strong enough to support her weight, and she sank into the nearest chair, clasping her hands in her lap. “What’s happened?”
Harlan ran a hand through his hair and sank to his knees beside her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and inhale the scent of his woodsy aftershave. “There’s no easy way to break this, darlin’.”
Who was in trouble or hurt this time? Jimmy? He’d returned to his tour in Afghanistan last week, and Lord knew that he’d been placed in dangerous missions time and again—
“It’s Darla,” he said gently, placing a large rough hand over hers and squeezing. “She’s been murdered.”
No. No, not her sister. “I just saw her yesterday,” she mumbled. How stupid. As if that meant Darla couldn’t possibly be dead. Lilah shook off the useless denial. “How...”
“Shot in the back.”
Murder again. The air pressed in and her lungs seized. She squeezed in a painful breath and exhaled. “Same as Dad?”
“Yes.”
Without thinking, she collapsed onto his broad shoulders, her body shaking uncontrollably. Not again. Not again. Harlan shifted into the chair beside her and guided her onto his lap where she felt cradled by his strength. His hands rubbed up and down her back. She focused on his touch—it was all she could grasp to stop the maelstrom of mourning, which threatened to overwhelm her.
First Dad, and now Darla. All in the space of a week.
Lilah snapped her head up, remembering she wasn’t alone in her grief. “Those poor kids! And Ed, too.”
Harlan brushed away the tears on her cheek. “We’ve called Ed’s parents, and they’re on the way. If need be, they can keep the children at their place while we get to the bottom of this.”
“Surely Ed wants them there with him. And I can go over and stay a bit until things settle down. Help him out. He must be devastated.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.” She cocked her head to the side, digesting the impact of his words. “You don’t... I mean... You aren’t saying Ed killed Darla, are you?”
“We’re not ruling anything out. Usually, a killer is someone known intimately by the victim.”
She tensed, fighting the sudden shudder that crawled up her spine. “Not in this case. It’s the same way my dad was killed, so it must be the same person. And Ed had no beef with Dad.”
“That you know of,” Harlan corrected.
“Only when he got Darla pregnant in high school. Once they got married, Dad and Ed got along just fine.”
“Did your brother-in-law ever work for your dad on the side?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Are you arresting Ed?”
“J.D.’s questioning him now.”
She jumped off his lap. “And the kids? I have to get down there. They might need me.” Guilt snaked its way through her gut, insidious and slimy. Who was she kidding? Nobody needed her. She and Darla had had a major argument over the stolen money. The last time she’d seen her sister, she’d stormed out of the house, threatening to put the cops on her tail.
Frantically, she grabbed her purse off the table, eager to leave and keep her mind and hands busy instead of dwelling on the news. “I’ve got to pack a few clothes, and...and...” She blindly stumbled into the coffee table and rubbed her shins.
“I’ll drive you.” Harlan took her purse and set it on the sofa. “Go ahead and pack. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll need my own vehicle. I don’t want to be dependent on you to drive me everywhere while I’m back.”
“Yeah, about that. The easiest thing all around is for you to stay with me. Ed and the kids have his parents to help out, and there’s no sense in you wasting money on a motel.”
No. He didn’t love her, and she wouldn’t be a burden to him or anyone else. Lilah thought fast. There was always Uncle Thad and Aunt Vi, but with their eight children, it tended to be a bit noisy and cramped.
“I can stay with my Aunt Ruth who lives about forty miles from here. She has health problems so she’ll appreciate my help around the house and my company.” She stifled the impulse to cross her fingers behind her back. Ruth was nearly seventy years old and had never married or had children—a quiet woman like her preferred the solitary life. Yes, she’d recently had minor surgery but, truth be told, Ruth was just fine on her own.
His brow furrowed. “She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her? I don’t like you working so hard.”
“No. Besides, what’s it to you?”
His eyes trailed down to her belly. “Somebody needs to look out for you.”
Lilah couldn’t help it. She blushed.
Harlan quirked a brow. “Since when have you ever been shy with me?”
Yeah, he was right about that. No point in modesty after he knew every inch of her body. Lilah shook off the sudden images of Harlan’s intimate kisses. Now wasn’t the time for remembering such things.
“I’ll need to call the Red Cross again and get word to Jimmy.”
“I can do it for you,” Harlan volunteered.
“No. I’m family. I should.” Lord, she didn’t want to, though. Her brother had enough stress without hearing that yet another family member had been murdered.
“We’ll do it together. Tonight.”
Lilah wavered. It would be nice to stay with Harlan. There was nowhere she’d feel more protected. On the other hand, going to his place would stir up the old memories of the time they’d spent together. A happier time when she’d thought they’d be together forever.
Harlan obviously sensed her hesitation and moved in for the kill. “Come on,” he said in his husky, sexy voice. “It’ll give us an opportunity to talk. I’m still not convinced the baby isn’t mine.”
The baby. Lilah’s hand went to her stomach. She had to consider more than just her own feelings. Harlan could protect her...protect them. It didn’t mean they were a couple again. And there was no denying that she and all her family were in danger. This was far from over—something deep and rotten and evil lay at the bottom of these two deaths.
It was only a matter of time before the killer struck again.
Who would be next?
Chapter Five (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)
“It’s a formality.”
Harlan placed his broad hand on the small of her back and guided her into the antiseptic, frigid forensics room located in the bowels of the county hospital.
Lilah’s breath came in rapid, shallow bursts. I can’t do this. She thought of Ed. He was always in the background at family gatherings, a quiet presence and foil to Darla’s chatter and dramatics. A seemingly decent guy.
But now, the normally stoic Ed was barely holding himself together. His large hands were trembling by his sides.
I have to be here. It’s the last kindness I can do for my sister. Help her family in their time of need.
“It will all be over in a minute,” Harlan whispered reassuringly in her ear.
“Right.” One quick glance, a thumbs-up to the coroner from Ed and she was out of there.
An older woman in pastel blue scrubs and a white coat nodded at her briskly, but not unkindly. Lilah’s gaze dropped to the gurney where a body was draped over with a white sheet. Darla’s body. She forced her leaden feet forward and nodded, glad Harlan’s hand remained at the base of her spine. Ed groaned and then pinched his lips together in determination. Lilah patted his arm.
At his nod, the woman turned down the sheet with a practiced flick of her wrist.
Red lipstick blazed against pale alabaster skin tinged with a morgue-blue undertone. Dishwater-blond hair fell carelessly over stiff shoulders. The curve of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows, a certain sculpting of the nose and lips—Lilah could see herself in the family genetics. Thank heavens they had only revealed her face. There was no hint of the violence she’d endured. But if rolled over, Darla’s body would have been visibly marred by shotgun pellets.
The sheet was short on the left side and Lilah observed Darla’s lifeless hand that peeked out from under the edge of the cover.
“It’s her,” Ed croaked. “Darla Marie Tedder Stovall.”
The woman immediately pulled the sheet back over Darla, covering her face.
Harlan nodded to the technician. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“The secretary out front will have you sign a paper confirming the identification. Sorry for your loss.”
They were officially dismissed.
Lilah wanted to say goodbye to Darla, say she was sorry that sharp words were the last ones spoken between them. But it was too late. She swallowed the regret and walked out of the cold room, breathing deeply as they headed toward the desk. A young man handed them a clipboard and pen. “Sign here,” he said, motioning to the signature line at the bottom of the sheet.
Ed scribbled his name with shaking hands.
“There’s freshly brewed coffee,” he offered them. “Can I get y’all a cup?”
Ed shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.
“Yes—I mean, no.” She sure could use the comfort of warm caffeinated liquid, but her own needs were secondary for the next few months.
“How about some water?” Harlan asked her, his deep voice rumbling behind her.
“What I really want is to get out of here first.”
Harlan nodded. “Thanks, but we’re fine,” he told the tech, ushering them to the elevator.
Once inside, Harlan pressed the button and they rumbled up to the main floor. Ed exhaled and scrubbed at his face.
She couldn’t imagine the pain he must be in. “How are the kids doing this morning?” she said around the burn in her throat.
“Mom’s watching them.”
The elevator door opened and they emerged into the main lobby. The hustle and bustle seemed miles away from the stillness of the basement morgue. Ed walked out first, eyes blinking. He held out a hand to Lilah. “Thanks for coming in with me. It helped. I could tell Dad didn’t want to do it.”
She glanced over toward the patient waiting area where Ed’s father slowly rose from a vinyl sofa and shuffled their way. “Understandable. Call me if there’s anything I can do. Anything.”
He nodded and she watched as he and his father exited the building into the beautiful, sun-shining day.
“It should be dark and stormy,” she said, lips trembling. “And pouring down rain.”
A nagging sense of unease quivered in the dark recesses of her brain, and she rubbed her temples. Something wasn’t quite right about the viewing of Darla, other than the obvious.
“Headache?” Harlan asked.
“No. I can’t explain it. But I feel like I’m missing some important detail. I looked at Darla and...” Her voice drifted off.
“It’s been a shock. I should have insisted Ed do this himself.”
“It would have only made things harder for him, and he needs to be strong for his kids. And it wasn’t just seeing her dead. It’s something else.”
“I’ll get you that water and we’ll be on our way.”
Alone, she regarded the preoccupied staff and visitors go about the business of living.
Harlan returned and pressed a bottle of water into her hands. Lilah sipped it tentatively. Not too bad, actually. It erased the lingering chill in her belly. “Maybe this will help me think better.”
“Do you need to go back into the examining room?”
“Hope not. Let me sit here a spell and concentrate.”
His hand was powerful and comforting as he guided her to an unused waiting room and onto a sofa. “Take your time. If you want, we can come back tomorrow and talk to the forensics doctor if you need to. No rush.”
She didn’t want to return and she didn’t want to see her sister’s body again. Think. Lilah placed her head in her hands and reviewed the last few minutes as if she were a camera, detached and methodical, scanning the scene to replay it for details. She’d entered the morgue, blinking from the glaring whiteness of the fluorescent lights and the white walls. The technician had unrolled the white sheet, exposing Darla’s face, and then she’d glimpsed Darla’s left hand where the sheet had exposed her bare fingers curled at the edge of the metal gurney.
“That’s it!” Lilah jerked her head up and snapped her fingers. “Darla wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Not even her wedding ring.”
“She always wore it?”
“Always.”
Harlan didn’t appear too impressed with her realization. “They might have removed all the jewelry before you saw her.”
She hadn’t considered that. They’d probably given Ed the wedding ring and the costume jewelry Darla had been wearing from the cabin.
“Why Darla?” she whispered, leaning her head against the cold hard wall. “Maybe Dad was involved in shady business. Even bigger than moonshine. Maybe even Ed and Uncle Thad and my boatload of cousins are as well. But Darla?”
“Women commit crimes, too—not that I’m saying your sister did.”
She shook her head adamantly. Darla hadn’t been concerned about anything past her own little world of her kids and her home. And she was much too lazy to get involved with work in any shape, form or fashion.
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Debbie Herbert
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Star-crossed lovers…Danger awaits them bothUnfortunate circumstances force pregnant Lilah Tedder to face deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. They must uncover old secrets or pay the ultimate price…