A Shiver At Twilight (2 page)

The certainty in his tone made her blood run cold. She looked at the door as footsteps pounded up, foreboding a squirming, living thing in her gut. “Who do you think it is?” she whispered a second before the door flew open and a man strode in, a stunned expression on his face.

Chapter Three

At first glance, the stranger looked like a beach bum, all golden hair and dusky tan skin. Warmed and sun-kissed. He was young, probably only five or six years older than Carly’s twenty-three and he was handsome in a rugged, early Robert Redford kind of way. His eyes glittered with an unusual shade of brown—not quite amber, not quite hazel. Golden, like the rest of him. Tall and muscular, he wore a pair of battered jeans and a fleeced lined jacket over a sweatshirt emblazoned with “Canyon Veil High School Girl's Lacrosse.”

She cast a nervous glance at the old man who lived here, but he no longer stood at her side. Confused she looked behind her, fearing for one crazy second that he might be creeping up on her. Nothing but shadows and cold waited anywhere she looked. The old man was gone.

“What are you doing here?” the young stranger at the door asked.

The question struck her funny and she almost laughed. What the hell did it look like she was doing here? She glanced down at herself. Mud covered nearly every inch of her body with pine needles stuck into the mix. Her hands and arms had deep abrasions on them and she suspected her face looked pretty much the same. There were holes in her jeans where the fabric had caught and torn during her wild flight down. She looked like she’d been through hell. Pretty much, she had.

Strange, though, that other than his surprise at finding her on the doorstep, the old man who lived here hadn’t really reacted to it at all. She frowned, disturbed by this realization. Disturbed by his vanishing act. Didn't he care that this stranger—this young man—had just burst into his house?

The stranger advanced, leaving the front door wide open and Carly’s attention snapped back to his face. He approached her like she was a wild animal caught in a snare, one that might snarl and bite if he wasn’t careful. He held his hands loose at his sides, palms slightly facing her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice unbelievably gentle.

Tears burned her eyes at the careful tone of his question but she refused to let them flow. This was not the time to show weakness, no matter how kind and consoling this man appeared to be. Someone had run her friend off the road—she knew it. She’d seen it from a hundred and fifty miles away. For all she knew, it had been this man and now he’d come to finish off the rescue party. But she didn't think so. Something about this golden stranger calmed her, made her think he could be trusted.

The man stopped right in front of her and murmured again, “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, biting down on her lip. Still moving with caution, he lifted a hand and slowly, tenderly touched her cheek, brushing away tiny bits of gravel and pine needles that clung to her skin. His fingers were long and warm and for a moment she wanted to turn her face into his palm and let him comfort her. Crazy to have such a reaction to a man she’d never met before. Maybe it was the compassion she saw in his face. Maybe it was the very maleness of him, the steady strength she saw in his whiskey colored eyes. Maybe she’d scrambled her brains when she’d fallen.

“Is that your silver car out there all smashed up?” he asked softly.

Carly shook her head. “It’s my friend’s car. I’m looking for her.”

“There’s someone in it,” he said cautiously.

“I know, but that’s not her. I don’t…I don’t know who that woman is . . . .”

He frowned. “Were you with your friend when she crashed?”

“No.”

“No?” His brows went up and his eyes searched her face. “In that case, you wouldn’t happen to own a blue VW bug, would you?”

She nodded.

“How did you get down here?” he asked, the frown fading into bewilderment. And then his eyes dropped to her muddied form once more. “Did you fall?”

He looked so incredulous that she did finally laugh. The sound came out high and shrill, but it felt good all the same. Laughter chased the horror back, just a bit. Just enough.

“I rolled,” she said. “And bounced a little.”

She covered her mouth as a snort came out between giggles. Probably she was hysterical, but she was alive and no longer alone with the creepy old man who’d let her in. Hopefully, she’d find Jillian soon and she, too, would be laughing like a loon someplace close. Safe.

The golden stranger seemed to understand the crazy thoughts going through her head. He smiled a little and shook his head. “Why don’t I get you out of here? I think you should see a doctor.”

“And the police,” she said on a gulp. “I need the police. I don’t know where my friend is. She could still be out there. You didn't see her?”

She knew the last was a stupid question. Of course he hadn’t seen her. He would hardly have left her if he had. But he answered in the same even voice, as if her question was perfectly rational.

“No, I didn't see anyone. But we’ll look again on the way out and we’ll get the police down here to really search.”

Carly nodded. A plan. It was good to have a plan.

Outside, thunder boomed with window-rattling intensity and lightning lit up the hall where they stood. It brought into sudden, chilling focus just where she was and what had transpired on this awful night. Her eyes began to burn again.

“Thank you. Getting out of here would be great,” she said and burst into tears.

He stepped closer and pulled her into the solid warmth of his chest. He smelled of soap and some elusive cologne that made her want to bury her nose in his heat and take his scent deep into her body. He rubbed her back and murmured soothing words while she cried, her entire body shaking with delayed reaction. Each little touch set off sparks on her nerve endings. His long fingers traveled up to the sensitive skin of her nape, brushing over the bare skin in a teasing caress that finally distracted her from her terror. Her sobs slowed and came to a hiccupping stop, leaving behind only the sound of their breathing and an awareness that stretched tight between them.

Wow, this night had gone from crazy to flat out unbelievable.

He leaned back, bending his knees so he could look into her face. His eyes gleamed a beautiful golden-green. “Okay?” he asked, his voice deep, a little husky. The sound rubbed against her heightened senses.

She nodded, embarrassed by her own thoughts. He’d come to help and suddenly she was entertaining ideas of stripping those layers off that muscled chest and running her fingers over the hot skin she’d find beneath. Shock, she told herself. It had to be shock.

She’d smeared mud and dried pine needles on his sweatshirt and tried to brush it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, watching her hands move against him with an intensity that made the gesture somehow intimate.

Carly stilled but she couldn’t seem to pull her palms from where they rested just over his heart. As if guessing at her inner struggle, his arms tightened fractionally, keeping her captive.

He cleared his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Carly,” she said, and her voice held that same, husky invitation that his had. She gave herself a mental slap and tried again. “Carly Ryan.”

“I’m James Dover. People call me JD.” He took what felt like a reluctant step back, letting his arms drop. Cold rushed in where the heat of his body had been. “Let’s get you to that doctor.”

Feeling like a fool, she followed him to the door. “Wait,” she said, before they stepped through. “I want to thank the man who let me in.”

JD looked startled. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave without thanking him.” She faced the gaping darkness in the house, wondering when and why he’d turned out the lights. “Hello? Excuse me?” Her voice echoed back, unanswered. She waited. “Sir? I just wanted to say thanks. I’m going now.”

The silence felt thick and insidious. Carly backed up until she bumped into JD. His arms came up and steadied her.

“I guess he had something to do,” she mumbled.

“Sure,” he said, his voice once again bewildered.

As they stepped onto the porch, lightning flashed overhead in a bright and angry display that made Carly jump. It illuminated the white pickup truck parked out front before it cracked down on the towering pine tree beside it. A harsh scent filled the air as flames jumped from the point of impact.

The fire tried to take hold and fear seized Carly as she imagined this hellish night going from bad to worse to horrifying. But the pine’s bark was sodden, the tree heavy with the weight of it and the flame doused before it could burn. Then the massive giant swayed in a gruesome parody of bending before snapping with a sound like an explosion. It keeled with an equally loud groan and then crashed down, shattering glass and crunching metal as it struck. It happened so fast, neither of them had time to react, but when it was over, the white pickup lay in ruin beneath the tree.

Chapter Four

“Holy crap,” Carly whispered.

JD had other things to say and more creative ways to say it. He ran out and circled the destroyed vehicle, apparently searching for a way inside it, though it seemed a pointless foray to Carly. The tree had made a bizarre pancake of his truck, nearly cleaving it in two with the impact. There were no doors left to open, no way into the flattened mess. The roof of the cab and the bed in the back had been shaped into a V around the pine.

“Fuck!” he shouted at the wreck.

He raked his hands through his hair, leaving it standing on end. Then he crouched down and wedged a shoulder into the crunched opening of what used to be a window.

While he struggled for access—to what end she had no clue—Carly shrank back on the porch, foreboding dogging her steps. She looked over her shoulder into the house, wondering about the old man. Where had he gone? Surely he’d heard the crash? But the stillness behind her rubbed against her skin like oily fur. She shifted, not liking the feeling of having her back to the gaping darkness of the open door.

As she hesitated, she heard footsteps and JD stopped at her side, looking like he couldn’t quite believe what had happened. She couldn’t believe it either. What were the odds of lightning crashing down in just that place? Of lightning at all in a winter storm like this? A million to one? Ten million to one?

JD shook his head and glanced away. She had the strange feeling that he’d heard her thoughts.

“It looks like we’re going to be stuck here for awhile,” he said.

And as if to validate the statement, the freezing, slushy rain thickened and came faster. It colored the driving wind a brilliant, blinding white. Soon there would be drifts and piles of it everywhere. It was the kind of snow that layered ice on black roads and isolated the unsuspecting driver.

JD strode past the foyer into the room the old man had led her to—the one with the fireplace. At the entrance, he reached over, flipped a switch and a loud click echoed in the barren room. No lights came on.

Carly drew even with him, wondering why the fire didn’t cast a glow. The answer struck her like something hard and sharp. No fire burned warmly in the grate, not even the remnants of one. Like the old man, the flames had vanished.

All the skin on her body seemed to shrink until she felt like she’d been trapped in a constricting wetsuit. She’d thought she was cold before, but now . . . .

JD turned on a flashlight—she realized that it must have been what he’d grabbed out of the cab of his truck—and the beam chased back all but the blackest shadows. She trailed him through the door on the other side to a kitchen as devoid of furnishings as the first room. Another click of an ineffective light switch. She felt a draft that made her shudder. JD’s light bounced off dirty countertops to a shattered window over an ancient porcelain sink.

“You’re sure someone let you in?” he asked.

“Either that or I imagined the door opening and the man leading me to a warm fire.” As she spoke, they both turned to the fireplace. “There was a fire,” she said. “And an old man with gray hair and a flannel shirt. He asked me if teenagers had forced me off the road.”

JD continued to stare at her like she was crazy. She couldn’t blame him. There was no fire now. No old man.

“I saw lights,” she insisted, her voice rising as she tried to convince them both. “When I was walking on the road. That’s how I found it here. I saw lights and smoke coming from the chimney. I smelled the fire.”

She spoke the last as if the addition of olfactory perception would make her claim indisputable. No matter that the lights weren’t working now and the hearth was as cold as her blood, she’d smelled a fire.

She saw something flicker in his expression and knew he must have seen the lights too, maybe even the smoke from the chimney. Why else would he have come here looking for . . . the thought ended in an unsettling question.