Рита Херрон – The Man From Falcon Ridge (страница 10)
What had shaped Hailey into the strong woman she was now? And who the hell was she running from?
ALTHOUGH REX’S BIG STONE KITCHEN was intimidating and austere, the woodburning stove and smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped her in warmth, tempting Hailey to accept his offer and forget about the dangers haunting her—at least for a night.
But Rex’s dark raking eyes and towering presence posed another danger. One she wasn’t prepared to tangle with now. Maybe never.
An intoxicating aura shimmered off the man in rays that heated her blood and created an illusion of false security. Sexual attraction did not mean caring or safety.
It usually meant trouble.
Hadn’t she learned that from experience? Or was she forever going to be lured into trusting a man just because he hadn’t yet hit her?
This man could turn on her in a second….
“What kind of bird do you have in back now?” she asked, changing the subject as they walked to his Jeep.
“A ferruginous hawk.” His grim expression indicated he hadn’t liked the way he’d found the animal. “It was hit by a pellet gun. The pellet damaged soft tissue in its right wing.”
“So it’ll recover enough to be returned to the wild?”
He nodded. “He’s grown, he should do fine. But sometimes the juveniles get too dependent and have trouble adapting, especially if they’re kept in captivity too long.”
“What sparked your interest in birds?”
He shrugged, his expression guarded as they drove to her house. “There was a local wildlife center nearby when I was growing up. I used to volunteer there.” He gestured out the window, across the rocky terrain, his look pensive. “Just look at the space, the freedom the birds have. They’re lucky.”
He obviously identified with the birds of prey on an instinctual level, maybe even envied their freedom. She wanted to hear more, but they arrived at her house, and Rex parked. Even through the haze of snow flurries clogging her vision she noticed the screen door was still flapping in the wind. Another gust sent debris swirling across the porch. Hailey clutched the door handle, a shiver chasing up her spine.
“Wait here,” Rex said in a low, commanding voice. “I’ll check it out.”
Tempted again to accept his offer, Hailey hesitated. It would be easy to relinquish control to this man. But this house belonged to her, and she’d never asked anyone to fight her battles for her. She couldn’t start now.
“I’m going with you,” she said, surprised at her calmness when an edginess tightened every cell in her body.
“Hailey—”
“Whoever was in there is probably long gone,” she argued.
“All the more reason we should call the police and let them dust for fingerprints.”
“No.” Hailey opened the Jeep door. “Let’s look inside first.”
Dark clouds obliterated the dwindling afternoon sunlight as she followed Rex to the front door. He held his gun in front of him as he slowly stepped inside the entrance. He kept her behind him, his footsteps slow and steady, his eyes scanning the interior with caution. Shadows hovered in every corner, the dim lighting of the house adding to Hailey’s anxiety, each footstep bringing another creak and groan to the old house. They searched the downstairs room by room but found nothing amiss.
Hailey sighed with relief, but a screeching noise above shattered the momentary peace. Rex pressed a finger to his lips to indicate for her to keep quiet, then inched up the steps. Hailey followed, holding her breath until they reached the landing, then her gaze flew to the attic door.
Her pulse pounded. “The note, it’s gone.”
Rex frowned and glanced at the doorway, then back to her.
“The picture, it was there, I swear it.”
He pressed a finger to her lips, then motioned that he’d check out the rooms. Hailey followed, cringing when they entered the children’s empty bedrooms.
Although the paint had faded in the boy’s room, and someone had obviously removed most of the toys, wooden bunk beds still sat in the corner. Simple navy bedspreads, dusty and faded, were draped over the tops. Hailey froze, imagining the young boy at play, a train set winding around the room on the floor.
Grief for the poor child followed, her throat swelling.
The next room was painted pale yellow, the room bare except for a twin Jenny Lind bed and antique dresser. Oddly, there was no comforter or spread on the bed, but she pictured a frilly pink spread on top with lacy pillows scattered at the headboard and rag dolls and stuffed animals overflowing the now bare shelves.
“There’s no one here,” Rex said, jarring her back to reality.
“I told you he probably already left.” Hailey’s shoulders fell in relief. But the thought of the young lives lost so senselessly still troubled her. She had to talk to the locals and learn more about the people who’d lived here. More than ever, she wanted to honor their memory.
Rex studied her as they walked back to the attic door. “You’re sure someone was inside?”
Hailey hesitated. Had there been someone inside or had she imagined it? “Yes. How else would the note and picture get there, and then disappear?” She pointed to the door, the image of the bloody massacre stark in her mind. “The article described the murders, and the picture was so stark. The father was lying on the floor a few feet away from the mother. Mrs. Lyle had her arm curled protectively around her son. And the man had his hand extended, as if he was trying to touch them.”
“I’ve seen the photo.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “But I don’t see any signs of an intruder here. No footprints, nothing.”
“You don’t believe me?” Hailey asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe you heard a noise, the furnace squawking or the boards creaking with the wind and you just—”
“Maybe he was in the attic.”
His eyebrows arched. “All right, I’ll check.” He reached for the door and Hailey froze, her sense of claustrophobia growing.
He yanked it open anyway, and suddenly a flurry of wings wrestled through the air, flapping in their faces. Hailey screamed and ducked. Rex grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor while the bird flew in a circle, then soared down the steps and out the open screen door.
“A brown bat,” Rex said, standing. “That’s odd, bats are nocturnal. You rarely see one this time of day.”
“How did it get in?” Hailey asked, wondering if there were more upstairs.
“Probably a hole in the attic. Bats hibernate in the winter, so he might have been looking for a warm place to nest.”
Hailey wiped at her forehead. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I don’t know. Usually they nest in caves or the mines around here and return to the same place each winter. But the bat is probably the noise you heard.”
Hailey licked her dry lips. “Maybe, but that bat didn’t leave the gardenias, and put the note and picture on the door.”
His look turned skeptical. “Hailey, it’s understandable that you heard a noise and got spooked, maybe you—”
“Maybe I imagined the picture of those dead people?” Hailey backed away from him. “What do you think I am, some kind of lunatic that invented this story just to get your attention?”
He hesitated, and her chest squeezed. “Staying in this house would freak out anyone,” he finally said in a gruff voice. “The ghost stories especially.”
“I didn’t invent the note.” Anger replacing her fear, Hailey guided him down the steps. “Thanks for coming, though. I won’t bother you again, Rex.”
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