Fear-fed adrenaline surged through her

Then as suddenly as it started, the attack was over. He released her and stepped back, holding the gun.

“Sorry,” RJ told her. “My house, my rules.”

He opened the cylinder and dropped the shells into the palm of his hand. Tossing them to her, he held her gaze.

“You keep the bullets. I’ll keep the gun.”

She was trembling all over, from shock and fear.

“Feel free to leave if you want, but if you go out to your car, you won’t be coming back inside tonight.”

Teri believed him. She knew he had no reason to trust her or to know if she had another weapon in the car.

“For what it’s worth, Teri, if I’d wanted to attack you, I’d have done so. I prefer a willing partner.”

Return to Stony Ridge
Dani Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For women of courage everywhere.

Special thanks to Judy Fitzpatrick, Natashya Wilson and my own hero, Roger.

I couldn’t have done this without you guys.

And of course, for Chip and Dan and Barb as always.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An avid reader, Dani Sinclair didn’t discover romance novels until her mother lent her one when she’d come for a visit. Dani’s been hooked on the genre ever since. But she didn’t take up writing seriously until her two sons were grown. With the premiere of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani’s kept her computer busy ever since. Her third novel, Better Watch Out, was a RITA® Award finalist in 1998. Dani lives outside Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!

You can write to her in care of the Harlequin Reader Service.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Teri Johnson—This intriguing P.I. has a whopping secret.

RJ Monroe—Helping an old friend may have put this contractor in a killer’s sights.

Olivia Barnesly—Teri’s mysterious client has never met the woman she hired Teri to find.

Valerie Boyington—This desperate mother went missing in the dead of night.

Corey Boyington—Valerie’s son is safe—and safely hidden.

Lester Boyington—The businessman seems genuinely worried about his missing wife and son.

Wyatt Crossley—The police chief has his hands full.

Will Leftcowitz—He wasn’t always a groundskeeper.

Mrs. Norwhich—The cook may be lacking in personality, but she makes a mean sandwich.

George and Emily Walken—The kind older couple have taken in foster children for most of their married lives.

Kathy Walsh—The housekeeper can relate to the women at Heartskeep.

Ian, Nola and Boone—The kids swear there’s someone—or something—moving around Heartskeep after dark.

Lucky—RJ’s dog has lived up to his name more than once.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Prologue

Late April

Rain lashed the car. It was all he could do to hold it steady as the storm swirled around them. He could barely see the narrow, twisting road despite the frequent tongues of lightning in the night sky. Next to him, his wife slumped still and silent, her head flopping against the side window. In the backseat, the baby cried. The woman beside the baby stirred and moaned softly.

Finally, his straining headlights picked up the gleam of metal on the side of the road. Pulling up beside the parked vehicle, he stopped. In seconds, he was drenched as he transferred the crying child from the small car to the larger SUV.

Returning to the car, he hauled his sister-in-law’s half-conscious form from the backseat and placed her behind the steering column of the small car. Despite her bruised face, she managed to open one eye and look at him accusingly.

“You should have minded your own business,” he told her. He swung, enjoying the power as his fist smashed into her face once more and he felt her cheekbone shatter. Her head pitched forward, hitting the steering wheel. Even though there was no one around to hear, he was glad she missed the horn. He positioned her body carefully, placing her foot on the gas pedal and using her heavy purse to hold it there. Lowering both side windows, he moved her unresisting hands to the wheel and glanced toward his wife. She hadn’t moved, though he had jostled her getting her sister into position. Her head now slumped forward, away from the window. It was possible she was already dead. He didn’t bother to check.

The roadway slanted steeply toward the narrow bridge over Leary Creek. Water lapped at the road, inching its way up the black surface in his direction. The top of the guardrail was the only visible indication of where the bridge stood. The creek was a swollen, raging river after two days of continuous heavy rain, and the angry water continued to rise with impossible speed, cascading across the bridge with a terrible roar.

Aiming the car, he put it in gear and quickly leaped back out of the way. The car lurched forward, gathering speed as it rolled toward the rising water.

Lightning and thunder crashed overhead. He watched the car plunge into the water where it was caught in the fierce current. The small vehicle instantly began drifting in the direction of the water’s flow—over the bridge. Impatiently, he waited as it hung on the guardrail until a wave of debris-filled water washed against it with stunning force. The car was lifted and sent tumbling along with the swiftly flowing current until the open windows invited the waves inside. The car sank from view a moment later.

He tossed the roiling water a jaunty salute. “Goodbye, wife.”

Then he hurried back to his son and the dry warmth of the waiting SUV.

Chapter One

Mid-September

The darkness beyond the rain-streaked window was as tempting as it was scary. Ten-year-old Ian Sutter peered through the pane of glass at the blurry line of trees that formed a forbidding barrier stopping the expansive lawn in its tracks. The tree’s ghostly limbs swayed ominously as a gust of wind sped by.

Ian shivered. Had he really seen something move in their stark depths? He surveyed the dark bedroom. He wanted to climb back into bed and curl up beneath the covers, but he couldn’t do that. He was late. It was past time to start his patrol. His mother slept soundly in the big bed across from him. It wouldn’t do to wake her.

He felt the familiar coil of helplessness when he thought about his mom. Ian hated that he was only ten. He wanted to be older, bigger, stronger. Strong enough to keep anyone from ever hurting her again.

Ian slid out of bed. He patrolled the scary old house every night to be sure no one had found a way inside after the adults had gone to bed. His mother believed they were safe behind the gates and locked doors of Heartskeep, but Ian didn’t believe it for a minute. They’d never be safe if he found out where they were.

Patrolling was important. Flashlight in hand, Ian slipped out the door and started down the narrow back staircase. Mrs. Norwhich, the cook, always left a night-light on in the huge kitchen, but tonight there was no light. The room was a vast black shadow despite the bank of windows along the rear wall.

Ian shivered. He wasn’t afraid of the dark. He was cold, that was all. His flashlight beam swept the empty room, allowing shadows to dance about the walls. He clicked the beam off to conserve his batteries and crossed to check that the alarm system was softly glowing red. It was. And the door was bolted, as it should have been. By touch he could also tell that each window was locked.

About to turn away, he froze. Something had moved outside. Heart pounding, he waited, his eyes straining to see across the grass to the opening where the maze led toward the fountain. At first, nothing happened, but he knew he hadn’t imagined the motion. An indistinct figure suddenly appeared in the maze opening. It stood as still as death, barely visible as it gazed up at the house. Ian drew back hastily. The figure vanished. He was almost certain it had been the blond ghost.

He waited for several long minutes, but nothing else moved.

A man or a ghost?

Ian panted as excitement warred with fear. He wanted it to be the ghost. He was far less afraid of ghosts. Unless…would the ghost be angry he’d been spying? Would it come for him if it was?

The ghost wouldn’t hurt him. Ghosts couldn’t hurt people.

Could they?

For a moment, he wondered if he should tell someone what he’d seen. Not his mother. He’d just upset her, and she wouldn’t believe him, anyhow. She hadn’t before when he’d tried to tell her about the man who’d disappeared in the corner of the dining room. She’d told him she didn’t believe in ghosts. Then she’d hugged him with her good arm and started to cry. He didn’t like to make his mother cry. It made him feel all sick inside.

Mrs. Walsh would listen. She always listened. But even she would think he’d been dreaming. Ian continued to stare out toward the maze. Leaves kicked about by the slight breeze rustled across the grass. Nothing else moved.

He fingered his flashlight nervously. He was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t hurt people. Better to finish his rounds and go back upstairs. There was nothing anyone could do about a ghost. But he’d hurry just in case it came inside again.

A SOFT CLOUD OF MIST drifted above the eerie trees and began to settle like a fine white shroud, blurring the dark ribbon of road stretching before her. Her headlights cut such a dim swath through the darkness they were all but useless. White-knuckled, Teri Johnson gripped the steering wheel as the trees swayed overhead. She forced tired eyes to stare through the windshield, pretty sure she was lost again.

Her instinctive dislike of the mysterious R.J. Monroe escalated another notch. If not for his interference she could have rescued Valerie and Corey this morning. She’d been so close!

Teri blinked wearily. Her need for sleep was growing critical. The few winks she’d snatched on the front seat of her car while waiting for the fog to dissipate this morning hadn’t been nearly enough. Every time she thought about how close she’d come to being caught inside the old farmhouse, adrenaline jazzed her all over again.

She’d been driving for eight to ten hours now, thanks to that blasted detour, and if she didn’t find the turnoff leading to Monroe’s place in another few minutes she was going to…

What? Turn around and go back? Not an option.

Pull over and have a good cry? Certainly appealing, but a waste of time.

Where was the blasted turnoff? The man at the gas station hadn’t implied it was this far out. But what had he said? She couldn’t remember and the mist was turning to rain, making visibility a joke.

She heard the raspy sound of her breathing in the quiet of the car as her tension increased. She could no longer see the asphalt well enough to spot any standing water before she drove into it. She had to turn back.

Then she spotted a road to her left unmarked by lights. Only a dim reflection off the street sign told her she’d found her turn. In her relief and haste, she didn’t see the water until it was splashing against the car wheels, bringing her heart into her throat.

Teri drew a ragged breath of relief as she cleared the water. Her hands were slick and they trembled. What had she been thinking? She should have waited for morning. She was too tired for a confrontation tonight.

“Heck of a time to come to that decision.”

And she was talking to herself again. Great.

This was a bad idea. She really should turn around, find a motel for the night and come back first thing in the morning. But up ahead was a badly listing mailbox. Without it, Teri would have driven past without spotting the narrow driveway.

She braked. There was no name on the mailbox, but this had to be the place. The attendant had said the house was well off the main road, but this entrance couldn’t have been better hidden if it had been planned that way.

Maybe it had been.

Or maybe she was in the wrong place completely. Would a building contractor have a gravel driveway this deeply rutted and in such serious need of repair? Towering trees waved and bent overhead. The wind was doing its best to shake the leaves from their branches. Beginning to yellow for the season, they flattened across her windshield, clinging to the glass and defying the wipers that threatened to rip them aside.

And as the small coupe jounced and splashed its way over the deep ruts, her misgivings turned to certainty. Driving up to a stranger’s front door at this hour of the night was a stupid thing to do. Teri knew nothing about R.J. Monroe except that he’d come between her and her goal. Maybe she should think through her approach instead of simply barging up there and challenging the man. What if he wasn’t alone?

What if he was?

Spotting a small break in the trees lining the right side of the driveway, Teri slipped the car into the grassy clearing and switched off the headlights. The house, ablaze with lights, loomed ahead. She stared at the lovely old structure, hungry for repairs to the sagging front porch and the chipped, damaged gingerbread finish. The clapboards badly needed paint, while the weedy, overgrown front yard cried out for pruning and decent landscaping.

If Monroe was a general contractor, would his place really look like this? Talk about bad advertising. But maybe he’d just bought the house and was planning to restore it. There was a stately grandeur about the structure that had appeal despite its condition.

Thunder boomed overhead, drawing her out of her strange reverie. The rain had become a storm sweeping in undetected. Although every minute counted, common sense told her to head back to civilization until morning.

But she was so close.

And so was the storm bringing more rain. Water already pooled at the bottom of this street. More rain meant deeper water.

Putting the car in reverse, Teri backed under the trees in an effort to get the car turned around. The rear wheels began to sink.

“No!”

Bogged in mud, the tires spun uselessly. Sweating, she tried to calm, rocking the car forward and back. She didn’t have to get out and look to know she had made the situation worse. She was good and stuck unless she got some traction under those rear wheels.

Cursing, she put the car in Park and turned off the engine, mentally running through the items she had with her. She had nothing that would work. There was no help for it. She was going to have to go to the house now, if only to get some assistance.

It would be okay. She’d scope out Monroe while pretending to be a lost motorist who’d made a wrong turn. Removing her gun from her purse, Teri stuffed her keys in her pocket, pulled the hood of her jacket up around her head and stepped outside.

Immediately, wind whipped the hood down and back and sent her hair flying about her exposed face. Rain pummeled her skin. Yanking the hood back into place, she closed the car door, gave a furious glare at the half-buried rear wheel and hurried toward the brightly lit windows. Water soaked her tennis shoes and jeans in seconds.

Caution made her stop shy of the covered front porch on a rise of ground that allowed her to see inside the house clearly. The downstairs windows were bare of drapes. A string of bright floodlights illuminated the main rooms where a dusty, masculine figure bent over a makeshift worktable in the opening between the living and dining rooms.

As he straightened, she saw he was tall and lean and extremely well-muscled. His torso was bare to the waist. A pair of ragged, hacked-off jeans hardly decent enough to be called shorts covered a minimum of skin. They displayed distressingly muscular thighs and long, fit legs covered in a fine white dust like the rest of him. Thick white socks, heavy work boots, and a pair of goggles completed his attire. He definitely looked like a contractor.

It was something of a relief to see that. Obviously he had purchased the place to fix it up. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the two giant oscillating fans he had running. They didn’t stem the sweat that sheened off the hard planes of his chest under the intensely bright lights. All the windows were closed against the storm.

Teri watched as he tugged off the goggles and rolled those firm shoulders to stretch bunched muscles. Sweat trickled down one high cheekbone, leaving a visible trail in the dust that coated his tanned face around the line left by the goggles. He wiped at it absently with the back of his arm, leaving streaks of dirt behind.

He looked tired and brooding and magnificent. She tamped down that last thought instantly as he ran long fingers through lightly curling dark hair—almost, but not quite, in need of a trim—that clung to the back of his neck.

Teri hadn’t expected him to be so big—or so strong—or so angry-looking. That last gave her pause, but at the same time there was something almost compelling about him. Mesmerized, she watched him lift a trimmed panel of drywall with an ease belied by the bunch and pull of muscles that strained across his back. For a lean man, he was deliciously well-developed. He worked the panel into place against the bared furring with deft experience. Hefting a hammer, he drove the nails in with precise hard, almost rhythmic blows that sent her blood hammering as well.

There was quiet symmetry in the way he moved, completely focused on his task. As he turned to pick up a tape measure, she had an unrestricted view of his face. The symmetry carried to his features as well. He was unsettlingly handsome, and he appeared to be completely alone until a large black animal lifted its head from its curled position on the floor.

Teri froze. The dog gathered itself slowly and stood. It shook itself and stopped. It seemed to look straight at her.

She told herself he couldn’t possibly see her, but she didn’t move. For the first time in several minutes, she became aware of her surroundings. The storm was growing in intensity. She couldn’t have been wetter if she’d gone swimming fully clothed. And she was cold. So cold her teeth were starting to chatter.

Coming here tonight had been stupid. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this dark brooding man and his big dog weren’t it. He continued working with an economy of movement that she might have appreciated under other circumstances, but she’d swear the large dog’s gaze remained focused on her.

Better to spend another night in her car under the trees than knock on that door. There was nothing the least bit welcoming in the man’s dark scowl or the dog’s intent stare.

Lightning speared the sky. Teri turned and ran, driven by the echo of thunder in her ears.

FRUSTRATION DROVE every blow of the hammer. Guilt and anger ate at R.J. in equal parts. He’d promised Valerie she’d be safe at Heartskeep. Yet she’d gone missing all the same. Either she’d played him for a fool or he should have done more to keep her safe.

He hoped it was the former. He wasn’t sure he could live with the guilt if the person responsible for her battered condition had managed to get to her despite all the safeguards they had in place at Heartskeep.

He hadn’t seen Valerie since her brother’s funeral several years ago. Then she’d been a teenager, inconsolable over the death of the big brother who’d died so senselessly in a military training exercise. R.J. had wanted to cry as well as they lowered his best friend into the ground. And even though he’d lost touch with the family after they moved away a few months later, he’d never forget the debt he owed Eric and his family.

When the rest of Stony Ridge had labeled R.J. a troublemaker and worse, Eric’s family had welcomed him into their home, treating him as they did all Eric’s friends, making him feel at ease the same way his foster parents had done.

Lightning flared so close that a thunderclap rattled the windows. Without warning, the house plunged into cavernous black and abrupt silence, save for the howling of the wind and the battering rain.

R.J. tore his thoughts from the past and swore. “Great. Just great.”

Lucky suddenly flew to the front door. The low, deep growl of warning that issued from his throat captured R.J.’s full attention.

“It’s just a storm, fella.”

Lucky clawed at the door intently, demanding it open.

“What’s wrong, boy?”

Not a deer or squirrel. Not in this storm. And as the skies lit once more, he glimpsed a human figure running down the drive.

Valerie?

The surge of hope had him twisting the doorknob before his brain could assimilate how unlikely that was. She didn’t know where he lived.

Lucky shouldered the door aside before he could grab the dog’s collar and bounded out into the storm.

“Lucky! Get back here!”

He might as well have ordered the wind. Lucky plunged down the steps as if all hell wasn’t breaking loose around him. R.J. cursed and went after him. He was pretty sure Lucky wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he’d never heard the big dog growl like that before.

In a wicked display of light and noise, a large tree limb crashed to the ground, sprawling across the mouth of the driveway. The slender figure had been heading toward the tree line, but suddenly changed direction and ran toward the limb instead. The person was unaware of Lucky gaining at his heels.

Devil’s forks plunged to earth around the pair with reckless abandon. They’d all be lucky if they weren’t skewered by flying debris or electrocuted by lightning.

Rain hammered his bare skin, driving R.J.’s eyes nearly closed. He saw the figure begin to tug uselessly at the thick limb as Lucky caught up. Cursing under his breath, R.J. put on a burst of speed. By the time he reached them, the figure had backed against the fallen limb and was waving a large stick aggressively in Lucky’s direction.

“Lucky! Sit!”

Not that he expected the dog to obey even if he’d heard the shouted order over the storm. Lucky wasn’t real clear on commands. He knew what the words meant, he just wasn’t convinced they applied to him.

Lucky barked. He cocked his head at the stick, as if trying to determine the rules of this new game. And the person was so intent on the dog that R.J. realized he’d gone unnoticed. As the person swung the stick at Lucky, R.J. reached out and intercepted the blow, wrenching the stick away. The person whirled to face this new threat as Lucky barked happily.

Not Valerie, but a woman nonetheless. Her fear-filled eyes were as wild as the storm.

“It’s okay,” he shouted to be heard over the storm. “He won’t hurt you. We’ve got to get inside!”

“No!”

There wasn’t time to argue. Energy sizzled in the air around them. Thunder bellowed and before she realized what he was going to do, he stepped forward and lifted her off her feet. She screamed and fought him as he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of wet cement.

Except cement would have been more cooperative. There wasn’t an ounce of cooperation in this sodden woman. He had to pin her legs so she couldn’t kick him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about the hands that pummeled his bare back.

Lucky barked his approval of this new and exciting game. Lightning momentarily blinded him as he hurried back up the drive with his burden. R.J. figured if they made it back inside without getting killed, it would be a miracle.

By the time he mounted the steps, he was breathing heavily. He opened the door, took four steps inside and dumped her on her feet. She scrambled away, stumbling in her haste. He ignored her to close and lock the door behind Lucky, who promptly began to shake the water free from his fur all over the hall.

“Lucky, no!” He made another grab for the animal’s collar. “Not in here! Come on, we’ll go to the mudroom…”

His voice tapered off as he found himself facing the business end of a small but lethal-looking gun.

“…or not.”

She’d backed against the far wall. Her wide eyes had lost only a little of that frenzied wildness he had glimpsed outside.

Frustrated and more than a little annoyed, R.J. stared at the weapon in her hand. Even if he and Lucky had scared her half to death, the idea that she’d pull a gun on him in his own house made him angry.

“Put that thing away,” he demanded.

She took a shuddery breath. “Not a chance.”

As though finally sensing the dangerous atmosphere between the humans, Lucky plopped to a sitting position at R.J.’s feet, gazing between them with soulful eyes. His whine seemed to ask what had gone wrong.

“Stay where you are,” she commanded.

With a quick shake of her own head, she tossed back long matted strands of hair, sending droplets of water flying much as Lucky had done.

The low-voiced contralto was husky and a bit shaky, but she was in control, which was a major relief. At least she wouldn’t pull the trigger by accident.

She was a bedraggled sight with her sodden hair plastered to her head and face. Her jacket and jeans were sopping wet, as well. She reminded him of a drowned puppy. One with teeth, he decided, eyeing the gun.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’ve got that right.”

She had guts he’d give her that much.

“Look, I’m sorry if I scared you, but we couldn’t stand around out there and you didn’t look as though you were going to listen to reason.”

“I said, don’t move!”

He halted the step he’d started to take in her direction. She was scared. Scared people with guns were apt to do stupid things. Like shoot someone.

“Fine. I’m not moving. What are you doing here?”

He knew he sounded angry, but staring down the barrel of a gun seemed to have that effect on him.

“Trying to leave,” she retorted.

“Great! Don’t let me stop you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You just did.”

“My mistake. Go.” He waved a hand toward the door.

She glared as more of the wildness faded from her gaze.

“My car’s stuck in the mud,” she admitted reluctantly.

That figured. “Where?”

She raised her chin defiantly. “Under some trees at the side of your driveway. I need help getting it out.”

He nodded at the gun. “You’ve got a strange way of asking for help, lady.”

“You grabbed me,” she pointed out. And she didn’t lower the gun.

“It was hardly a thrill. You were about to get us all killed out there. Or maybe you didn’t notice that lightning. It was practically coming down on top of us.”

“I was trying to move that branch.”

He stared at her, saw she was serious and shook his head. “You need a chainsaw.”

“So help me.”

“Not a chance, lady. I’m not suicidal. Take a look out there!”

A shiver ran through her. He decided she wasn’t going to shoot him and gave her his best glare.

“And put that thing away before you hurt someone.”

He took a step forward. Her hand tightened convulsively. Maybe she would shoot him after all. The fear was back in her eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt, but shook it aside.

“Look, I’ve had it with you. Either shoot me or don’t, but I’ve got things to do. One of those lightning strikes took out the power. Now if holding that gun makes you feel more secure, feel free, but I have to go out back to start the generator.”

R.J. suited action to words, moving with deliberate care as he started into the living room. She tensed. So did he, but the half-expected sound of a gunshot didn’t come. He continued through the dining room and out to the kitchen, releasing his breath.

Lucky padded ahead, hoping for a treat. After a second, R.J. sensed her following them.

“Watch where you step,” he cautioned gruffly without turning around. He paused to turn off the turbo fans as he went past so they wouldn’t blare to life once he started the generator.

“Are you lost?” he asked without looking at her.

“Not if you’re R.J. Monroe.”

Chapter Two

R.J. spun around. He hadn’t expected that. She took a hasty step back. Her hand was thrust inside her jacket pocket, holding the gun no doubt. She might be nervous but she faced him boldly.

“Who are you?”

“Stay where you are,” she commanded.

“Please,” he added with soft menace. She froze.

“What?”

“You aren’t real big on manners, are you? ‘Stay where you are, please.’ My foster parents were sticklers for good manners,” he explained. “They taught me a person gets a lot farther on a few please-and-thank-yous than all the bullying in the world.”

Scowling, her voice deepened. “Please.” R.J. stopped moving. “Do you always abuse a person’s hospitality this way?”

The sudden crack of thunder was so loud they both gave a start. For a second, R.J. was afraid she’d fired the gun. Lucky barked and shook himself again.

“Come here, dog.”

Ignoring her and the possibility she’d shoot him, R.J. strode past her without another word. Lucky trotted after him into the mudroom. Drying the dog off gave him a chance to collect his thoughts. She knew his name, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen her before, and he couldn’t imagine anyone being mad enough to send someone after him with a gun.

She came to the doorway, a silent shadow watching as he toweled Lucky and reached for the dog treats in the box up high on the shelf. The gun made him nervous. He had a feeling it wouldn’t take much for one to go off in inexperienced hands, and she didn’t look all that experienced to him.

Pulling a clean towel from the stack in the basket waiting to be carried upstairs, he set it on the dryer. “You can use this to dry off. I need to start the generator.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he grabbed the flashlight and a jacket from the hook and stepped back outside into the storm. The worst of it seemed to be moving away.

R.J. debated his options. He could go around to the front and try to come in behind her and take the gun away, but that seemed risky. She could have shot him already if that had been her intent. And he was curious. Who was she? What did she want?

He wished he had thought to grab his cell phone. Then he could have called Wyatt. As Stony Ridge’s chief of police, Wyatt Crossley could have told him the best way to handle this situation. Even better, he would have sent reinforcements to take the crazy lady off R.J.’s hands.

He ran around the side of the house and started down the drive. There was still too much lightning in the air for comfort, but he spotted the glint of chrome after a brilliant flash that wasn’t as close as most had been. The small car was mired in the mud under the trees all right. Well and truly stuck.

Texas plates. He whistled under his breath. She was a long way from Texas. And he didn’t know anyone from that part of the country. What was this all about? The car was locked. A purse and a pair of night-vision goggles sat on the front seat.

Not exactly standard equipment for any of the women he knew. There was also a blanket and pillow on the back seat and a tidy bag of what looked like trash on the floor.

Now why would a woman come looking for him with a gun and a pair of night-vision goggles? This made no sense, but there was only one way to get any answers. He hurried back around the house and got the generator started. For once, it purred to life without argument.

The mudroom was empty as he stepped back inside. Her jacket dripped from a hook. Nice to see she was making herself at home. He hung his beside it and checked her pocket.

“I kept the gun,” she told him.

“Figured as much.”

Unrepentant, he turned. Suddenly he was aware that his chest was bare and dripping wet. She’d used the towel to wrap her hair turban-style, but the black, long-sleeved turtleneck she’d worn under her jacket was nearly as wet as her coat. Wet enough to cling like a second skin, outlining lush curves. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted.

He turned to the clothes dryer. He did not want to feel sorry for her. He wanted to cling to his anger, but something about her made that difficult. Pulling out a black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he glanced up at her.

“I have extras if you want something dry to wear. They’ll be big, but better than wet clothes.”

“I have a suitcase in my car,” she told him.

“Good. When the storm stops, you can get it.”

She frowned, watching as he used another towel to dry his hair and pat his chest dry.

“I’m about to drop my pants, so unless you want the full show, you might want to step back in the kitchen.”

The air charged with electricity more potent than the sky outside. Color suffused her cheeks. Without a word, she backed out of sight. R.J. grinned and stripped quickly, toweling himself thoroughly before donning the clean outfit.

She wasn’t beautiful, though she was pretty in a wholesome sort of way that definitely didn’t go with the gun. And while she intrigued him, he was in no mood to play games with strangers, pretty or otherwise.

He tugged his softball sweatshirt off the hook and found her standing in the middle of the kitchen, next to Lucky, looking lost.

“Here. You look cold. It’s not freshly laundered like the stuff in the dryer, but it’s warm.” Hesitantly, she accepted the sweatshirt. “There’s a bathroom off the kitchen that backs to this laundry room.”

“I know.”

So she’d done some exploring while he’d been outside. “Looking for more weapons?”

“Do you have some?”

Under other circumstances, he would have come back with a teasing rejoinder, but tonight he was all out of humor.

“If you decide to change, you can throw your wet stuff in the dryer,” he told her gruffly.

She didn’t reply and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

He crossed to the gas stove and put the kettle on. A powerful gust of wind shook the old farmhouse. Aware of her standing there looking a bit uncertain, he pulled out a box of vanilla wafers. Instantly, Lucky appeared at his side.

“These aren’t for you, dog.”

His stubby tail wagged and Lucky offered a wide doggy grin. Before the woman even moved, R.J. sensed she’d made up her mind. Without a word, she went back into the laundry room and he heard the dryer open.

Satisfied, he relaxed and put the cookies on a plate. Then he set about preparing a couple of mugs of hot chocolate. Barefoot, he padded into the living room, mindful of the littered floor. After starting a fire in the fireplace, he set up a couple of TV trays. Lucky stayed with him, hoping a cookie or two might find their way to the floor.

“All you think about is your stomach, dog.”

Lucky woofed agreement. R.J. was aware that the woman had gone into the bathroom. He carried the mugs of chocolate into the living room and waited. A few minutes later, he heard her start the clothes dryer.

“I hope you like marshmallows in your chocolate,” he said when she came in, surveyed the room and perched uneasily on the edge of the couch across from him. The couch was closer to the fireplace. He figured she probably needed the warmth it would offer once the fire caught properly.

She wore a pair of his sweatpants beneath his old sweatshirt. He assumed she’d donned the clean T-shirt as well. She really did look exhausted. And ill at ease.

“What did you do with the gun?”

Her hand automatically went to her waist. “Why?”

“I like to keep track of things like guns in my house, lady. Lucky’s a gentle animal, but he takes a dim view of anyone trying to harm the person who fills his food bowl.”

Lucky gazed up at him hopefully, tongue lolling. Her color heightened, but she didn’t apologize. He sort of liked that about her.

“Stop calling me lady.”

“Fine. Give me a name.”

“Teri.”

“Just Teri?”

“For now.”

And he sort of liked that, as well. She might be tired and scared, but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Okay. We’ve established that I’m R.J. Monroe and you came here to see me. I’m guessing you don’t want your house redone in the middle of the night, so what can I do for you?”

TERI HESITATED a second before meeting his gaze. She had the strongest urge to tell him she was Corey’s aunt and all she wanted was her nephew. But the sense of suppressed violence in him stilled the words.

“Tell me what you did with Valerie and Corey,” she demanded instead.

R.J. paused in the act of lifting a cookie. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, apparently, that hadn’t been one of them.

“What does a woman from Texas want with Valerie and her son?” he asked slowly.

A flare of panic turned her hot, then cold. “How do you know I’m from Texas?”

“License plate on your car.”

So that was what had taken him so long outside. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d check out her car, but she’d locked it. She was pretty sure she’d locked it. So she told herself it didn’t matter and lifted her chin.

“Where are they?”

“Why should I tell you?”

She decided she didn’t like him. He was too handsome, too arrogant and more than a little intimidating. And he knew it, too. He was deliberately baiting her. On the other hand, she needed his cooperation.

“We don’t have time for games, Mr. Monroe. I’m a private investigator. Lester Boyington knows his wife came here to meet you. He found your e-mail about Heartskeep.”

Watching him closely, she saw his jaw harden as his body tensed.

“If he gets to her,” she added firmly, “he’ll kill her.”

He tossed the uneaten cookie to Lucky who snapped it out of the air and waited hopefully for more.

The man didn’t look at the animal. His gaze remained fastened on hers. It took real effort not to squirm under that steady stare.

“And you know this because…?”

Anger made her snap at him. “Because I broke into their house early this morning and found your e-mail on their computer. I half hoped it was a false trail she’d laid for Lester to follow. But it wasn’t, was it?”

“You broke into their house?”

She shouldn’t have told him that, yet it didn’t seem to shock him. He probably figured investigators did things like that every day. Still, she picked her next words with more care.

“I’d been watching the house since dawn. When I was certain Lester wasn’t inside, I went in to get them out but they were already gone. Valerie had left the computer on—or someone had. Your message was on the screen.”

R.J. swore. His expression was angry enough to send her hand toward her waistband.

“Why were you trying to get them out?”

“Because Lester Boyington is dangerous.”

He studied her expression as if trying to read her mind.

“Who are you, Teri?”

Her eyes flicked away from his gaze afraid he’d see the lie. “I told you, I’m a private investigator. My name’s Teri Johnson.”

“Let me see your license.”

She set her jaw. “It’s in my purse and as you’ve already seen, that’s in the car.”

“Who are you working for?”

She was on safer ground now. “That’s privileged information.”

“Consider me privileged, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

He seemed to grow larger and even more menacing as he straightened in his chair. She’d already seen the strength of those work-hardened muscles and once again she was conscious of how isolated they were in this old farmhouse. Not to mention how unprepared she was to deal with a man like this. She couldn’t afford to show a single sign of weakness.

“Where’s Valerie?” she forced herself to demand once more.

The expression that flitted across his features came and went too fast for her to categorize. His eyes narrowed.

“Do you know Valerie?”

She hesitated. “I know she’s in danger. I need to get to her.”

She should have said yes. What was one more lie? He considered her for a long, lingering moment.

“Valerie told me she had no one else to turn to. Yet you claim you came to rescue her.”

Teri clamped her mouth shut. What could she say unless she told him the truth?

“How do I know you aren’t working for her husband?”

“Never!”

He seemed momentarily startled by her vehemence.

“So you don’t know Valerie, but you do know her husband.”

Dark anger stirred. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t lower her gaze. She willed him to listen and believe.

“I know that men who get off on hurting women, children or animals should be tortured, castrated and imprisoned for the rest of their natural lives.”

R.J. blinked and sat back. His brow furrowed as he studied her.

“Tell me where Valerie is,” she pressed.

He scowled while his jaw clenched with some dark emotion. “I wish I knew.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Valerie disappeared from Heartskeep sometime last night.”

Teri closed her eyes as defeat washed over her. She was too late. Again. Bleakly she opened her eyes and regarded him.

“Lester got to them?”

“We don’t know what happened.” His voice roughened. “The police found her cell phone crushed behind the house near the fountain. Her car, all her belongings, everything was still there, except her.”

Her heart pounded faster. “What about Corey?”

To her surprise, R.J.’s features gentled. “The boy’s fine. Valerie left everything behind, including her son.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that Valerie wasn’t Corey’s mother. She stopped the words in time, but it rankled all the same. Still, Lester hadn’t gotten Corey.

The jolt of hope was tempered by questions. “Why would Lester take Valerie and not Corey?”

Could Valerie still be alive?

“We don’t know that anyone did take her. It’s possible she left on her own.”

“Right. After crushing her cell phone.”

To her surprise, a hint of embarrassed color washed his face.

“It’s possible.”

Anything was possible. Maybe Teri hadn’t been too late after all. Maybe Valerie had sought asylum at Heartskeep in order to leave Corey behind so she could continue to run unhampered by a young child. She could have crushed the cell phone herself in an effort to point the police in Lester’s direction.

Staring at his troubled expression, Teri decided R.J. didn’t have the answers she needed.

“This Heartskeep place is a woman’s shelter, right?”

He nodded.

“Can you take me there?” If he noticed the edge of demand in her voice, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“At the moment? No.”

“In the morning, then.” But she let her dissatisfaction show.

“Valerie is gone, Teri.”

But Corey wasn’t. “She may come back.”

“For Corey,” he agreed. “I can’t see her leaving her son behind.”

She swallowed a retort. “Doesn’t Heartskeep have safety precautions in place to protect the women?”

“Of course it does. For one thing, there’s a high fence around the perimeter of the estate.”

She snorted. “Fences can be climbed.”

“Not this one. And the house is wired with an alarm system.”

She dismissed the alarm with a wave of her hand. “No cameras? No guard dogs?”

“It’s a woman’s shelter, not a prison.”

“Well, someone must have seen something.”

“The police have questioned everyone.” He rubbed his jaw in frustration. “No one knows what happened. Valerie simply disappeared sometime after she went to her room last night. We spent most of the day searching the grounds. Heartskeep has umpteen acres of ground to cover and a lot of it is wooded. Despite that, there should have been some sign somewhere if she didn’t leave under her own power, and there wasn’t. Except for the cell phone.”

Wearily, Teri leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. He could be lying, but she didn’t think he was.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed.

When she opened her eyes again, he was studying her with a masculine expression that made her distinctly uneasy. Self-consciously, she pushed at a strand of hair slipping out from under the towel.

“Have they asked her husband what happened?”

“They have to find him first.”

“He’s…not at home?” she corrected, changing the tone to make it a question.

“Not according to the police in Maryland.”

Her fingernails tapped restlessly against the steaming mug. Reflected firelight flickered across his features. His dark good looks stopped short of being to-die-for handsome, but R.J. projected an aura of self-confidence that would be irresistible to most women.

Teri scowled at him. “Will you please take me to Heartskeep?”

He picked up his mug and took a long swallow of the rapidly cooling chocolate. “Why?”

“So I can talk to the people who were there last night.”

“You don’t need me for that. All you have to do is go and ring the buzzer.”

“But you know them. You could introduce me.”

He set his mug down and regarded her with dark blue eyes that didn’t seem to miss much. “I could, but I don’t know you, do I?”

The towel slipped to one side. Thankful to have an outlet for her jumpy nerves, Teri released it and began to briskly rub the terry cloth over her wet hair. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her at any moment. The snapping heat of the fire and the calming warmth of the hot chocolate were conspiring against the need that had driven her this far. She was fading fast and she knew it.

“Why did you come here, Teri? Why didn’t you go to the police and enlist their help instead of coming to me?”

She hoped he didn’t see her flinch. She knew exactly how much help she’d get from the authorities if she told them who she really was. She thought about her sister lying in that hospital bed in a deep coma from which she might never awaken and set her jaw.

If Lester even had a suspicion that she and her sister were still alive, he wouldn’t rest until he finished what he’d started, and no one would be able to stop him.

A gust of wind shook the house, rattling windows. Abruptly, R.J. set his cup down and stood. Her gaze flashed to his face.

“I’m going to assume we’re on the same side for now, Teri, but I’ve been up since four-thirty this morning and tomorrow promises to be another bad day. I have to be up again in a few hours, so let me have your gun and you can spend the night.”

She straightened, coming wide awake. “Not a chance.”

“This isn’t negotiable.”

“Forget it.”

“How do I know you won’t shoot me in my sleep?”

“How do I know you won’t attack me in mine?” she fired back.

“I’d say a little trust is called for here.”

“Yeah? How little?”

Maybe if she hadn’t been so tired she would have been quicker. Then again, probably not. R.J. was incredibly fast. He was across the room in the blink of an eye with her wrists pinned before she could move. Using his weight and strength, he pushed her down into the back of the couch.

Lucky barked sharply as she thrashed, kicking at him, but she’d taken off her shoes. Fear-fed adrenaline surged through her as one hand went to the waistband of her slacks.

As suddenly as it had begun, the attack was over. He released her and stepped back holding the gun. Teri surged to her feet in front of him quivering in rage and fear.

“Sorry,” he told her without a trace of contriteness. “My house, my rules.”

He opened the cylinder and dropped the shells into the palm of his hand. Tossing them on the couch beside her, he held her gaze.

“You keep the bullets. I’ll keep the gun.”

Shock, fear and anger mixed together in her mind.

“For what it’s worth, Teri, if I’d wanted to attack you, I’d have done so. I prefer a willing partner.”

“Bastard!”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Lucky whined at their feet, obviously upset by the tension in the room. R.J. shoved the gun into his pocket and rested his hand on the dog’s large head in a reassuring gesture.

“Feel free to leave if you want, but if you do go out to your car, you won’t be coming back inside tonight.”

The hard-edged words were a promise rather than a threat. Teri believed him. As shaken as she was, part of her understood. He had no reason to trust her and no way to know whether she had another weapon in the car.

“I don’t have a spare bed,” he continued. “But the couch isn’t bad. I’ve slept on it myself on occasion. And it’s better than your car. Warmer, for one thing. I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow while you make up your mind.”

Arrogant bastard.

Lucky trotted beside him as he strode from the room. Badly shaken, she rubbed at her wrists where he had grabbed them in that steely vise. He was even stronger than he looked. He could have easily hurt her if that had been his intent. Yet he hadn’t.

Stay or go?

Teri dropped down on the edge of the couch. What choice did she have? The bottom line was that she needed R.J. if she wanted to get to Corey. It might be too late to help Valerie, but Corey was still here.

But why? Why hadn’t Lester taken him away?

Slowly, she made her way to the tiny bathroom behind his laundry room. Dark smudges of exhaustion underscored the brilliant green color of her eyes. The hue seemed far too bright and out of place against the stark whiteness of her skin. She gazed at her reflection in the chipped mirror over the old-fashioned sink and conceded her stupidity.

She shouldn’t have come here tonight. She should have waited for morning. Now she was stuck here with a man she didn’t like. A man who scared the heck out of her in more ways than one.

She was too tired and too shaken to think straight anymore. Stealthily, she slipped into the kitchen and removed a steak knife from the wooden holder on the counter. Feeling only slightly foolish, she carried the knife with her into the bathroom. If her instincts turned out to be wrong about him, at least now R.J. Monroe wasn’t going to find her totally unarmed and defenseless.

FOR A MINUTE, R.J. thought she’d run after all. He dumped the linens on the couch and started for the door, only stopping when he heard water running in the downstairs bathroom. He relaxed, not sure whether to be pleased or not. He probably wouldn’t sleep a wink with Teri under his roof, but his choices were limited.

Besides, guilt gnawed at him. He’d been unduly rough with her. Her terrified expression when he’d grabbed her was going to haunt him for a long time to come. On the other hand, she’d already pointed that gun at him once tonight and he wasn’t going to apologize for taking it away.

Who was she working for? Why keep her client’s identity a secret unless she was helping the husband? But R.J. couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was. There had been an intensity in her voiced dislike of Lester Boyington that rang true.

Unless she was a good actress, simply pretending.

After making up the couch, R.J. tidied the room, filled and set the automatic coffeepot to drip at the usual hour and added wood to the fire. He was too tired to puzzle out the mystery of his strange houseguest tonight.

Lucky sprawled outside the bathroom door waiting for her. R.J. had a hunch she wouldn’t come out until she heard him go back up the stairs.

“Guard her, Lucky,” he told the dog loudly enough for her to hear if she was listening.

Lucky’s stubby tail whomped the floor. Teri didn’t know it yet, but her biggest danger was in being licked to death.

It was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Three

Morning brought a thick layer of fog and an uneasy truce. R.J. hadn’t expected to sleep at all, let alone so deeply, but the stresses of the day before had taken their toll and he’d awoken at his normal time, surprised that Lucky wasn’t there nudging him awake.

At least she hadn’t murdered him in his bed.

Despite the early hour, she was dressed again in her own clothes when he got downstairs and Lucky was barking to be let back inside. He fed the dog while Teri poured coffee for them both. She diluted hers with plenty of milk and sugar, he noted.

“Have a seat while I make us some eggs,” he told her. “Scrambled, okay? With cheese? I’ve tried doing them over easy but they usually end up scrambled anyway.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” Her stomach growled loudly in protest.

R.J. raised his eyebrows, noting the way her blush gave her high cheekbones a delicate pink stain. She really was quite attractive. He wondered what she’d look like in something other than black.

Though obviously embarrassed, she held his gaze. “I didn’t have dinner last night. Scrambled eggs would taste great.”

He wanted to smile but didn’t. “I’ve got precooked bacon strips, too. They aren’t as good as the real deal, but I don’t have much time most mornings.”

“That’s okay. Eggs are more than enough. What can I do to help?”

“How are you at toast?”

“Depends on the toaster.”

“Not the domestic sort, huh?”

“There are restaurants for a reason, you know.”

He didn’t want to like her, but she made it difficult. He found his guard slipping as they prepared breakfast with the deft ease of people who had done so together more than once. The domesticity of the scene unsettled him. R.J. was fully conscious of her on several levels, and that alone was disturbing. Letting himself be attracted to her wasn’t smart. He needed to keep in mind that the woman was here with an agenda.

“Where’s the army that’s going to help us eat all this?” she asked, watching him stir the grated cheese into a huge mound of eggs in the frying pan.

“I work construction. I protein and carbo-load most mornings. You should see what I have for lunch.”

Her lips quirked. “Pass.”

“You one of those women who diet all the time?”

“No.”

That had struck an unexpected nerve. Her flat tone and severe expression left him wondering, but then he should have known better than to mention the D word to a woman.

She set silverware on his small table, poured them each a glass of apple juice and, at his request, buttered several slices of toast.

“Are you always this domestic?” she asked as they sat down together.

“Not much choice if I want to eat. You’ll have noticed there aren’t a lot of restaurants nearby.”

Lucky plopped on the floor between them with his usual wistful expression.

“Your dish is over there,” R.J. reminded him. But he broke off a slice of bacon and tossed it to the dog. For a second, he thought Teri was going to scold him, but she reconsidered and started eating.

For someone who didn’t eat breakfast, she made hearty inroads on the food he’d put in front of her, including the bacon strips. She could stand to gain a few pounds, though he wouldn’t have told her so under torture.

She was a little too thin, if generously proportioned. Her dark red hair floated around a pinched face that still showed lines of strain. She’d made an effort to restrain the silken mass of her hair, but his bathroom wasn’t well equipped for unexpected guests. Probably because he rarely had any. At least the smudges beneath her impossibly green eyes weren’t as dark as they had been last night, but the sliding glances she kept sending his way were still wary.

Fine with him. R.J. didn’t trust her, either.

“Sleep okay?”

Startled, she looked up. “Yes. Thank you. But your dog licked me awake before the crack of dawn. He made it clear he wanted out, so I turned him loose. Hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I appreciate it. Lucky’s a dog of simple needs, but he does think people are here to serve.”

“Uh-huh. Well, if you ever run out of sandpaper, I’m sure his tongue could fill in for you in a pinch.”

R.J.’s lips curved. The persistent tug of sensual awareness annoyed him. He decided it had been too long since his last date and finished his meal quickly, anxious to clear his driveway and get her car out of the mud. He’d be glad to send her on her way. The thing was, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy.

He was right.

“Do you think we could make a fresh start this morning?” she asked over a forkful of eggs.

“In what way?”

“Tell me everything you know about the night Valerie disappeared.”

His fingers tightened around his coffee mug. He took a swallow to buy some time. He couldn’t see any reason not to share the small amount of information he had. He’d already told her most of it anyhow.

“According to Kathy Walsh—she’s the house mother, I guess you’d call her. Anyhow, according to Kathy, Valerie went to her room shortly before eleven. In the morning, she was gone. Her son and her clothes and her car were still there. Even her purse. She wasn’t.”

He found he was gripping the cup tightly enough to snap the handle and set it down. Teri’s expression was equally bleak.

“No one heard a thing. The house alarm was still armed for the night. All the doors and windows were locked. One of the kids heard her son crying that morning and Kathy went up to check on them.”

A flash of sympathy, almost pain, came and went in her expressive, too green eyes.

“The chief of police is a friend of mine. Wyatt’s wife is the founder of the shelter so he was called in right away. He discovered the broken cell phone in back by the fountain,” he went on more calmly. “Wyatt thinks it belonged to Valerie, but he’s checking to confirm that. He came to see me right after he found the phone.”

“Why?”

There was no need to tell her how Wyatt had questioned him about R.J.’s argument with Valerie the evening she disappeared. Wyatt had only been doing his job. And quite possibly that argument was responsible for her disappearance. If he hadn’t pressured her to talk to Wyatt and press charges against her husband, maybe she wouldn’t have run.

“I took her to Heartskeep. Wyatt thought maybe I knew where she had gone.”

Mistrust was back in Teri’s eyes. R.J. ignored it and continued.

“We searched the grounds until it got too dark to see. By then, it was raining hard enough to wash away any useful evidence of anything. The thing is, if she’d stayed close to the house someone would have found her.”

“Why would she have gone outside in the first place?”

R.J. raised and dropped his shoulders. “We don’t know. It’s possible she went to get something from her car before the house alarm was turned on and surprised someone on the grounds, possibly an intruder who had nothing to do with her husband. The crushed cell phone was found in some disturbed grass out in the maze. That’s quite a distance from the parking area and there were no signs of a struggle near the car, nor that anyone had been dragged there. I can’t come up with a single reason for her to have gone into the maze that night. It was dark and raining.”

Feeling the helpless anger once more, he had to force his tightly balled fingers to relax.

“Maybe she ran from someone and was trying to use the cell phone to call for help,” Teri suggested.

“Or she dropped it when she was unloading things from her car and someone else took the phone out back.”

“And crushed it?” R.J. shrugged again. “I agree it’s unlikely, but we have no idea what happened. She simply vanished.”

Teri wasn’t sure what to make of the undercurrent of anger in his voice, but the suppressed violence set her stomach churning. She’d seen how strong he was.

But if he’d hurt Valerie, would he be angry? She didn’t think so. The problem was, she no longer trusted her instincts when it came to men.

“How is it you know Valerie?” Had they been lovers?

“Her brother was one of my best friends in high school. Valerie used to tag along after us like a puppy.”

Or a girl with a crush? Teri didn’t voice that aloud but it seemed likely. A lot of women would be drawn to R.J.’s good looks and self-confidence.

“Valerie has a brother?”

“I thought you were a private investigator.”

“There wasn’t time to run a background check on her,” she told him quickly. “My job was to find her and offer her protection from her husband.”

“Who hired you?”

“I told you, I’m not at liberty to say.”

Those dark blue eyes turned frosty. Teri worked to control a shiver, but she refused to be intimidated by him.

“You’d better get permission, then,” he said softly, “because Wyatt isn’t going to accept that answer.”

“The police can’t force me to answer questions.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

She hoped he couldn’t tell how the softly spoken threat had unnerved her.

“Why did she e-mail you in the first place? Were you her lover?”

The last part came out before she could stop the question. Only a flick of his eyes revealed any emotion at all. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she wished she hadn’t asked.

“How long have you been a private investigator?”

She raised her chin defiantly. “Long enough to know when I’m being stonewalled. If you’re her friend, you’ll help me.”

“Will I?”

Trust came hard, but if she wanted his help she knew she was going to have to bend a little. “We could sit here glaring at each other all day, but it wouldn’t solve a thing. I came here to offer Valerie and Corey a safe refuge from Lester.”

“What sort of safe refuge?”

Exasperated, she set down her fork and pushed aside her plate. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be safe.”

“You think I’d hurt her?” he demanded.

“I don’t know you, do I?” she replied, mimicking his earlier words to her.

His eyes narrowed. “You could be working for her husband.”

“And you could be the person she met out by the fountain,” she countered.

His penetrating gaze would unnerve most people. She was far from immune, but Teri forced herself to hold his gaze steadily, even though her heart thudded against her chest.

Without comment, he set her gun on the table and stood, carrying his dishes to the sink. For a moment, Teri was stunned. The relief hit her hard. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the gun and tucked it into her waistband. Without a word, she gathered her dishes and joined him at the sink.

“What made you decide in my favor?”

“Who said I have?”

They proceeded to neaten the kitchen in silence while she seethed. He was the most arrogant, annoying man. Then she saw an answering anger simmering in his gaze.

“So why did you give me back my gun if you don’t trust me?”

“Stupidity. On the other hand, I can always take it back from you if you try anything.”

Arrogant, obnoxious… “You think so?”

“We both know so.”

She wondered if she should have kept the steak knife instead of replacing it this morning. Lucky watched them anxiously, sensing the tension in the air. Teri swallowed down a hot reply. She needed R.J.’s help, not his anger. But the man did know how to infuriate her.

“I’m pretty sure her husband knows she came here, R.J.”

“So you said.”

“I also think he followed her here. I think he got to her the other night.”

That made him pause. “How?”

“The same way I did. Your e-mail message. Your name, Stony Ridge and Heartskeep were all mentioned.”

“I meant, how do you think he got to her?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He called her cell phone.” R.J. didn’t respond.

“Look, Lester won’t be satisfied with hurting Valerie. He’s going to come after you next for helping her.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

His expression clearly said he’d relish the idea.

“You’re a fool. I may not have done my research on Valerie, but I did on Lester. The man is dangerous.”

R.J.’s expression hardened. “I can be dangerous, too.”

The hairs on the back of her neck raised. She didn’t doubt his words. There was a core of steel in his tone. Just maybe he’d be a match for Lester.

“Earlier you said you broke into their house?”

She shifted at that steady stare. “Not exactly.”

“What…exactly?”

Teri released a breath and reminded herself that she needed his trust. “I let myself in through an unlocked window. But that’s not the point. I think Lester killed her.”

For a long minute, R.J. didn’t move. He didn’t speak, but his features clearly showed a starkly dangerous side to the man. Then his normal expression settled into place.

“That’s a strong statement.”

She managed not to shudder. “Yes.”

“Why would he kill her?”

Could she make him understand? Would it matter if he did?

“Lester is not what he appears to be. Most people who meet him will tell you he’s one step from a halo.”

“Murderer to saint is a pretty far leap.”

She was no longer fooled by his mild tone. “Not as far as you might think. You haven’t met him yet.” She set her jaw, unwilling to get into a discussion about Lester Boyington. “Look, if you really care about Valerie, help me.”

His eyebrows lifted. “How?”

“Take me to Heartskeep and introduce me to the people who were there.”

“The police have already talked to everyone.”

“Female officers?”

He didn’t respond.

“These are women who’ve been abused, right? I can get them to tell me things they may not want to tell a male authority figure.”

She knew R.J. didn’t trust her, but he wanted Valerie found. If there was even a chance she could deliver, Teri felt sure he’d take the risk.

“And you think they’ll tell a private investigator things they wouldn’t tell Wyatt?”

“Maybe. I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you? Someone must have seen something.”

“Not necessarily. It was dark. And you haven’t seen Heartskeep.”

“Then show me. Tell people I’m an acquaintance of yours.”

“Who happens to be a private investigator?”

She met him glare for glare. His eyes fell first.

“Wyatt won’t appreciate interference in his investigation.”

The knot of tension in the pit of her stomach eased. He was going to help.

“Let me worry about your police chief.”

He set the last dish in the dishwasher before answering. “I’ll see about moving that branch from the driveway. Then we’ll see if we can get your car out of the mud.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“Ever use a chain saw?”

“Power tools don’t scare me.”

“What does?”

She met the challenge without flinching. She could have told him, but she didn’t. And a few hours later, after she got her first glimpse of Heartskeep, Teri decided the huge old mansion might have to be added to her short list.

The wrought-iron gates that protected the vast grounds were intricately shaped, but, to her mind, dark and towering and intimidating. She waited in her mud-splattered car behind R.J.’s large truck while he spoke into the call box near the mouth of the gate. Then he punched a series of numbers into the box. After what seemed like a long wait, the gates slowly swung open.

If all it took was a pass code and R.J. had the code, he could have gotten inside whenever he wanted. So could anyone else. Or was it necessary to call first and be given a code? She didn’t know much about security systems, but Valerie had gone missing so there was some way to beat them. Teri had no doubt that Lester had discovered that way.

The long, fog-cloaked driveway with its dripping trees was disturbing, but it did little to prepare a first-time-visitor for the impact of the house itself. The enormous structure squatted in the center of a clearing shrouded in mist. Dismally, its many windows reflected the gnarled, half-dressed trees and the bleak fall sky overhead.

“Welcome to Heartskeep,” she muttered out loud.

If houses had souls, this one would be old and splotched with secrets.

Teri tried to quell her apprehension as she followed R.J. and Lucky onto the wide front porch. The imposing front door was unlocked. Because someone knew they were coming or did they leave it that way? Without knocking, RJ ushered her into a hall much too large for the purpose.

Though attempts had been made to make the insides cheerful with the use of colorful, welcoming fabrics, nothing could be done to shrink its overwhelming size. Heartskeep would never be a homey sort of place to anyone who wasn’t fond of grand hotels.

The woman who bustled forward to greet them exuded the warmth the estate lacked. Kathy Walsh was probably in her midfifties. A slim, well-preserved woman with sad but friendly eyes, her expression showed concern and a trace of alarm.

“R.J., I’m so glad you came by. We have a bit of a situation. Alexis insisted on coming in this morning and now she’s in labor. I’ve been trying to reach Wyatt, but either he turned off his cell phone or he’s out of range. I don’t want to call the dispatcher because at this point I’m not sure he’d have time to get here anyhow. Alexis needs to get to the hospital right away. Can you take us in your truck?”

“Of course.” R.J. strode into the enormous open room clearly visible from the front door. A group of women clustered around an attractive, very pregnant young woman bent over in a high-backed chair. She looked up ruefully as R.J. reached her.

“Wyatt told me to stay home today, but oh no, I just had to get some paperwork done. I felt fine other than a slight backache this morning. I had all kinds of energy when Will picked me up and drove me over here, but my water broke after he left to run an errand in town.”

“Yeah, sometimes it happens that way,” R.J. said calmly.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “How would Stony Ridge’s favorite bachelor know that?”

R.J.’s grin was cocky. “Television. A person can learn all sorts of things watching television.”

“Yeah, well I hope you learned how to deliver a baby, because I’m not sure this one is going to wait much longer.”

“He’ll wait,” R.J. promised. “Hear that, junior? Hang in there a little longer.” He helped Alexis to her feet. “I’d offer to carry you, but Wyatt would probably punch me.”

“Hah! You’re just too much of a gentleman to point out you’d need a crane to lift me.” She looked past him to where Teri had stepped forward to stand in the hall opening. “I’m sorry for the rude welcome. I’m Alexis Crossley.”

“Teri Johnson. And no apology is needed,” Teri told her. “There’s nothing more incredible than the birth of a baby.”

“True, but you’d think they could have come up with an easier system for giving birth to one.”

Teri grinned, immediately warming to the woman.

“Let me grab my coat and I’ll come with you,” Kathy told R.J. She sent Teri a questioning look.

R.J. followed her gaze with a frown.

“Go ahead, R.J. I can wait here,” Teri offered. She knew he wouldn’t like it, but his truck wouldn’t hold all of them.

The woman called Alexis doubled over again with a groan. That cinched the matter.

“Okay if Teri waits here with Lucky? She’s not a guest.”

“Fine,” Kathy replied anxiously tugging on her jacket. “We need to go. Mrs. Norwhich is in the kitchen.”

Teri grabbed Lucky by the collar so he wouldn’t follow them. “Go.”

R.J. shot a warning look in her direction and went.

Teri turned to the silent cluster of watching women and smiled. “Hi. I’m Teri. I’m a friend of R.J.’s.”

“THE GHOST isn’t going to like this,” Boone whispered. His small face pleated with worry.

“It’s okay, Boone,” Nola consoled. “Ghosts don’t hurt people.”

Ian peered around the dim dining room as if making sure the ghost wasn’t listening. “Haven’t you ever heard of pol…pol…polter something or other?”

“Poltergeists,” Nola told him briskly. “There’s a book on them in the library. They throw things. But they don’t make people disappear.”

“Yeah? What about Corey’s mom?” Ian demanded. “The ghost got her.”

“Stop it,” Nola ordered, laying an arm on her brother’s thin shoulder. She felt him quiver and barely stopped a shiver herself. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. I saw him. He was out by the fountain that night.”

Nola did shiver this time. Her brother grabbed her hand. His fingers were cold in hers. The fountain was where the police had found the missing woman’s cell phone all smashed. She’d heard them talking about it.

“You’re making this up,” she said.

“No, I’m not.”

She could see he wasn’t.

“And that isn’t the best part,” Ian added, his eyes growing large with suppressed excitement. “I heard two of the adults talking in the kitchen last night. I know who the blond ghost is and why he’s haunting Heartskeep.”

“Who?” she breathed.

Boone leaned in close as Ian lowered his voice still further.

“The man who used to live here before this house was turned into a place for people like us was a doctor. He murdered his wife and buried her in the maze. But first he hid all his money so no one could take it away from him.” Ian paused for effect. “Then he went crazy. He got shot dead right on top of where he buried her.”

Boone gripped his sister’s hand so hard his fingernails punctured her skin. Nola pulled his bony shoulders more tightly against her body, holding him close as if she could fend off the feeling of horror licking at her mind, as well.

“It’s still here, Nola,” Ian pressed. “No one ever found his money because he’s guarding it.”

“You’re making this up,” she said again.

Ian’s expression turned hurt. He drew back his head.

“Am not. Mrs. Walsh wasn’t happy when Mrs. Isley asked about the story, but she admitted it was true. Even you have to admit Mrs. Walsh wouldn’t lie.”

No, it was unlikely the kindly Mrs. Walsh would tell a lie or a tall tale like that one.

“There’s more,” Ian added conspiratorially. “The house used to be different, with dark wood walls around the balconies upstairs. There were secret passages to get onto them. Only what if they didn’t find all of the hidden passages, huh? I bet there are more. Look at all these dark walls.”

He waved a hand expansively at the dark panels surrounding them and the others followed his gesture with wide eyes.

“I bet we could find them. I bet we could find the money and the ghost, too.”

His words scared Nola. The idea was terrifying. And just a teeny, tiny bit appealing.

“That’s stupid,” she scoffed.

“Is not!”

“Ghosts don’t need secret passages,” Nola protested. “They can walk through walls.”

Ian gave her a fierce scowl. “That doesn’t mean they can’t disappear inside one. I’ve been thinking about this. We saw the blond ghost disappear in this corner next to the fireplace, right? So what if there’s a secret passage over here? We should look now while our moms are in the kitchen talking to that new woman.”

Lucky nudged her arm for attention. Nola stroked the big dog’s head absently. She was glad for his presence because Lucky wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Nervously, she followed Ian to the gigantic fireplace that nearly spanned the back wall of the dining room.

“How are we going to find a secret passage even if there is one?” she asked.

“It’s got to be the bookcase, like in the movies.”

The three children eyed the bookcases that shored up either side of the big fireplace. Instead of books their shelves were filled with wine glasses and brightly colored dishes.

“If we break something, we’re going to get in big trouble,” Nola warned.

“We’ll have to be careful, then. Move, Lucky.”

“The ghost isn’t going to like this,” Boone warned unexpectedly, his small face seamed with worry.

“What ghost?”

All three children whirled at the sound of Teri’s voice. She stepped into sight from the hall and offered them her most reassuring smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was looking for Lucky.”

“You didn’t scare me,” the taller boy protested, recovering quickly.

“I’m glad. I’m Teri. You must be Ian. And you’re Nola so this must be Boone. Your mothers were telling me about you.”

Ian regarded her with a trace of belligerence. Boone peered up at her silently. The girl took her measure while resting a reassuring hand on her brother’s arm. Lucky trotted forward, stubby tail wagging. Gratefully, Teri scratched him behind the ear.

“Thanks for keeping Lucky out of trouble while I was talking to your mothers. I’m a friend of R.J.’s. I told him I’d watch Lucky, but I got to talking and forgot about him.”

“That’s okay. Lucky likes us,” Nola told her.

“I’m not surprised. Hanging with you guys would be a lot more fun than a group of boring adults. So you’re looking for secret passages, huh? I bet a spooky old house like this one has all sorts of secrets.”

The three children exchanged glances. As the oldest, Ian was obviously the spokesman.

“Heartskeep has lots of secrets,” he agreed. “There used to be secret passages upstairs, but someone tore them down.”

“Bummer. I’d love to find a secret room or see a ghost or two.”

“You believe in ghosts?” Nola asked skeptically.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I’ve never seen one, but I think just about anything is possible, don’t you?”

Ian eyed her suspiciously. “My mother says there’s no such thing.”

“She could be right. I like to keep an open mind.”

“I’ve seen one,” he announced boldly.

The children stared intently, waiting for her reaction.

“Was it scary?” she asked.

Lucky nudged her hand. Teri went back to petting him.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“Were too,” Boone argued. Then he glanced at Teri and drew back, as if afraid he’d said something wrong.

Her heart hurt for the fearful child. This could be Corey in a few years if she wasn’t successful in getting him away. Nola patted Boone’s arm reassuringly in a motherly fashion that made Teri ache for her as well.

“I was not!” Ian bragged unfazed.

“Did I hear you say you saw the ghost the night the missing woman disappeared?” Teri interjected quickly.

Ian fell silent. His glance at Nola seemed to be asking her opinion.

“Ian says he did,” Nola responded primly.

“I did!” he insisted hotly. “He was out back, near the fountain. That’s where they found her cell phone, you know. It was all crushed and everything.”

“Ian thinks the ghost took her,” Nola put in, “but I told him ghosts don’t hurt people.”

Ian rounded on her. “How do you know?”

Teri stepped into the breach, fighting a wave of mingled fear and excitement.

“What did the ghost look like?”

The children fell silent. She’d let her tension come through and scared them. She had to go slower, win their trust.

“There are scientists who study ghosts, you know.”

Three sets of eyes regarded her mutely.

“They have trouble because most adults never see one.”

“I see him all the time,” Ian bragged.

Nola pursed her lips but didn’t argue.

“Will you tell me about him?” Teri asked.

Uncertainly, he looked at the others.

This was important. Teri knew Ian had seen something. Unfortunately, Betty Drexler chose that moment to appear in the doorway across from them.

“Mrs. Norwhich said lunch will be ready in about five minutes. The children need to go and wash their hands.”

Teri tamped down her impatience as the children were ushered out to wash their hands. There was nothing she could do but go along to the kitchen with everyone else a few minutes later.

The women were still uneasy around her as they settled at the large table in front of yet another huge fireplace. Teri understood their mistrust all too well. They all had a good reason for caution, but it made things hard. She’d already discovered that none of them wanted to talk to her. They especially didn’t want to answer any questions.

Two of the women were sporting obvious injuries. Ian’s mother appeared to have the most physical damage. Her right arm was in a cast and a sling, and bruises mottled her face. Teri suspected there were more bruises hidden by her clothing.

She fought the burning rage and bitter helplessness that churned in her stomach when she looked at these women. Life was so unfair. But as the last person entered the dining room, she looked around with a sinking feeling.

“Where’s Corey? I thought R.J. said only Valerie disappeared.”

The women exchanged uneasy glances. It was the taciturn and rather eerie-looking Mrs. Norwhich who answered as she carried over a tureen of soup and placed it on the table.

“Wyatt had him placed in foster care yesterday.”

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