Riley looked up, catching Devra’s eye. LuAnn turned to her and gave a little cry, her eyes widening with shock. “No,” she moaned and shook her head.
“It’s okay, LuAnn. It’s only Devra. Remember, you met her yesterday.”
She looked up again—eyes narrowing, lips drawing tight. “She looks so much like Michelle. I don’t understand.”
He went to her side and offered his hand. “I’m going to take you back to the house.” He helped her stand. “The dogs are going to be all right. I’ll call Dr. Williams once we get there.”
She nodded and patted his hand. “Thank you, Riley.” But before they’d gone two steps, she stopped and turned back to the horse stalls behind her. She left Riley’s side and ran to the stalls. A deep cry escaped her.
“What is it?” Riley asked, his voice filled with anxiety.
“Storm. He’s gone.”
“TONY,” RILEY SAID softly as his partner answered the line. “I need you to do me a favor and check with the phone company to see if any calls were placed from my house last night.”
“Why, what happened?”
“We’ve had an intruder. LuAnn’s prized stallion is missing and the dogs were drugged.”
“You think Miss Morgan had something to do with it?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I think you should find the lady a nice hotel.”
“Not yet. But do me a favor and see if she has a cell phone.”
“Your call. She could be a total whack job. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Riley couldn’t get the image of someone standing over his bed wielding a knife out of his mind. What if it had been her? What if she were completely insane? He couldn’t get a handle on why a serial killer who was allegedly after Devra would go after him or steal a horse. It made no sense.
“So do I, Tony.”
CAUTIOUSLY, DEVRA walked farther into the barn.
Riley had taken LuAnn back to his house to call the veterinarian. She was all alone, and more than a little jumpy. So much for never letting her out of his sight. She watched the shallow breathing of the four dogs lying on the ground and hoped they’d make it.
She stopped in front of the first stall where she read the sign above the door.
Babe.
“Hello, Babe,” she crooned. The horse’s ears wiggled. She reached out a hesitant finger and stroked his long nose. From her dream, she remembered gloved hands reaching into a stall and big, scared brown eyes. Why would he steal LuAnn’s horse?
“He was Michelle’s favorite.”
Devra spun. Mac stood close enough to touch. Her heart jumped in her chest. She stepped back against Babe’s gate. Mac reached forward and took a blond curl in his grasp, letting it wrap loosely around his finger.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, hoping to appease the anger she could still see burning in his eyes.
He dropped the curl. His dark eyes perused her face, then moved slowly down her body. “Too bad about the dogs.”
“Yeah,” Devra said nervously. What was it about him that seemed so familiar?
“What do
you
think happened here?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered, and suddenly started to feel dizzy. The horse’s wet nose slid against her neck.
She jumped forward, tripping. Mac caught her by the arms, his strong grasp holding her upright—a little too strong, a little too tight.
Babe whinnied behind her.
“What do you want?” she asked, afraid to look into those dark, rage-filled eyes.
His lips curled upward.
“What’s going on?” Riley asked from the doorway.
“Just getting acquainted with your friend here.” The contemptuous gleam of animosity dimmed to a cold dead hate.
Devra shivered.
“Dr. Williams is on his way,” Riley said, walking into the barn.
Mac turned and left without saying another word.
“Are you all right?” Riley asked.
She nodded, though she wasn’t. She wasn’t anywhere near all right.
Riley reached behind her to open Babe’s stall. She watched his large deft hands slip the bridle over the horse’s head. “I see you’ve met Babe,” he said and
hefted a large leather saddle onto Babe’s back, lifted the flaps and tightened the straps. He appeared so strong and sure of himself, so in control. “He’s a gentle horse.” He turned and met her eye. “He’ll take good care of you.”
She didn’t answer, just stood staring at him. “What do you mean, take good care of me?”
“We’re going for a little ride.”
“Oh, no,” she said, backing away from the beast. “I don’t think so.”
“We’re going after Storm. Unless you’d rather stay here with my brother. I won’t leave you by yourself.”
Devra looked out the barn’s opening, but didn’t see a sign of Mac. “And you think I’d be safe with him?”
Riley looked at her, a strange speculative sheen in his eyes. “My brother isn’t dangerous.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.
“Stand on this,” he said and gestured toward a polished stump, “then throw your leg up and over his back.”
She knew this wasn’t a good idea, but she wasn’t about to stay there with Mac. She stepped up onto the stump as he instructed, except at the last minute Babe shifted just as she extended her leg over his saddle. “Oh!” she cried, and grabbed the saddle’s horn.
With a firm grip on her shoulder and another on her rear, Riley gave her a push, righting her up on Babe’s back. As she settled herself in the saddle, she could still feel the burning impression of Riley’s grasp on her jeans. “Lord,” she whispered. What kind of fool was she?
Riley took Babe’s reins and led him around a tree. Devra clung to the horse’s back, her legs holding a death grip on Babe’s ribs, as she became accustomed to his height. “I don’t know about this,” she stammered. “I’ve never been on a horse before. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea.” Perhaps Mac wasn’t as dangerous as he appeared.
“You’ll be fine,” Riley assured her. He handed her the reins, then demonstrated how to get the horse to turn, first left, then right, then how to stop. “Think you can handle it?”
“Sure,” she answered, though she wasn’t at all sure.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him hurry back to the barn, then glanced around for any sign of Mac. Something about him made her more than a little nervous. That tingling sensation tickled the back of her neck once more. Someone was out there watching her. She could feel it. She perused the bushes around her, but no one was in sight.
Not Riley.
Not Mac.
Not the man who broke into Riley’s house last night. She remembered her dream vividly, could still feel the imprint of his finger on her cheek. Why couldn’t she remember what he’d said to her? Thank God Riley had been there. Thank God he’d woken when he did.
Riley rode out of the barn with nothing between his jeans and the horse. “You ready?”
Her eyes widened as she took in the easy sway of man and horse. She swallowed the lump of awareness in her throat and nodded. He pointed toward a clump
of trees in front of his house. Babe lurched forward as he followed Riley’s horse.
As they moved, Devra could easily see the prints. First, a man’s large-size boot heading toward the barn, then horses’ hooves coming back out. Could he still be here?
Silently, they continued deep into the countryside. They passed under enormous crepe myrtles, their rich purple blossoms shining like amethysts in a sea of verdant green. The sweet fragrant smell teased her senses. It felt almost peaceful, like a glittery page from a children’s storybook where nothing bad ever happened and people always lived happily ever after. But like so many fairy tales, nothing was ever what it seemed.
A soft, moist breeze encircled her in its embrace and lulled her into thinking the danger had passed, that everything would be all right. Then Riley stopped.
“What is it?”
“I lost his trail.” Riley climbed off his horse and inspected the ground around them, which had turned pebbled like a creek bed.
“See anything?”
“No,” he said after another minute had passed.
“Do you really think he’s still here?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what he wants.”
Riley climbed back onto his horse and continued down the trail. She followed behind him, unable to shake the chill that had invaded her bones, despite the cloying heat of midday. Live oaks stretched their mam
moth branches, holding thick bushels of tiny green ferns. Devra stared absently at the tiny fronds that lightly touched her cheek. A wooden structure hidden high in the branches of one such oak caught her eye. A cascade of deep fuchsia bougainvillea dropped from its wooden roof like the flowing train of a bridal veil.
Amazed, Devra stopped. Riley held a finger to his lips. Hidden beneath the thick layer of pink blossoms, Devra could see the rings of an old ladder.
“It’s the perfect place to hide,” he whispered. “Stay here and stay on your horse.”
She nodded and watched him dismount, then silently approach the tree. He climbed the ladder and disappeared within the branches. A rustling sounded behind her. Quickly, she turned. Both horses snorted a protest, then moved with her. “Shh,” she said to the animals, but didn’t see anything. She moved the horses forward a few steps, her gaze searching the bushes, fear ripping down her spine. Something was here, she knew it. She
felt
it.
Perhaps in response to her apprehension, perhaps not, Babe shifted nervously and blew air loudly out of his nose. “It’s okay,” she cooed. But was it?
She heard a step behind her. She turned and gasped. A strong hand pressed against her mouth and before the deep chemical smell hit her, she felt herself being dragged off her horse. “No!” she screamed, but the sound came out a muffled whine. Muscle, hard as rock, pressed into her back as his vise-like grip tightened. In her last few seconds of consciousness, her one thought was of Riley.
RILEY KNEW someone had been up there the moment he entered the tree house. Nothing was out of place, but everything was just a little…different. The table and chairs by the window, the beat-up old rug on the floor, the baseball bats, gloves and balls in the wooden crate in the corner. It was all as it should be, yet somehow something was different.
Then he saw it. The folded up newspaper in the corner, an old paper, yellowed and thin. He walked closer and stared down at the picture of a young teen on the front page. “Tommy Marshall found dead at Miller’s Creek” was captioned under the picture. Riley picked up the paper. The first thing he noticed was how old it was. The second was the date—almost exactly fifteen years ago.
His jaw stiffened as he stared at the paper. Someone was pulling his strings, playing him along, dropping clues for him to find: the locket, the raspberries, this fifteen-year-old paper—the
Rosemont Gazette.
Rosemont, Washington.
Washington. Wasn’t that where Devra said her parents lived?
Devra.
All clues always pointed back to her.
He’d left her alone too long. Someone had definitely been up here—someone who wanted him to know about the death of this boy. He tucked the paper into the waistband of his jeans and opened the hatch to climb down from the tree house, then he saw it. A chill rushed through him, making him stop and stare uncomprehendingly at the picture of his mother. It was sitting on the window’s ledge.
The picture that up until now had sat on his mantel.
Riley grabbed the picture and flew down the ladder. When he got to the spot where he’d left Devra, he stood dumbfounded.
“Devra?” Where was she? “Devra!” he called, as a thin thread of panic started to wind itself tighter and tighter in his mind. His horse stood patiently waiting for him, but Devra and Babe were gone.
He tromped through the undergrowth, calling Devra’s name. Had she gone back without him? Had something spooked Babe? Had their intruder found her?
The one suspect they had in Michelle’s murder, the one woman who was going to be able to piece all this together for him, was gone. And he had lost her.
If anything has happened…if he were responsible for yet another woman’s… He couldn’t think it. How could he have left her alone? Because he hadn’t believed she was in any real danger. He was so certain she had an accomplice, that she was perhaps even the killer. Certainly he hadn’t expected she could end up as another victim.
The rude awakening sucker punched him in the gut. The captain was right. He wasn’t thinking properly. And because of him, Devra could be dead. He had failed to protect her. He had failed—
again.
Branches scratched his face as he tore through the thicket—calling, searching, hoping.
“Devra!”
In the far distance, storm clouds moved across the sky. Ozone was building and he could feel the static tingling the back of his neck. He had to find her soon, before the storm drove him back.
Suddenly, he heard a soft whinny. Babe? He pushed
through a particularly nasty bramble bush, and saw Babe tied to a tree. Not just Babe, but Storm, too. Cautiously he looked around for any sign of the intruder, for any sign of Devra.
But there was none.
He checked the horses and they were fine, but where was the person who took them? Where was Devra? He started to untie the horses, when he heard something. He walked toward the sound, rounded a large tree and saw her.
His breath stuck in his throat. Mac was squatting next to her as she lay on a thick patch of grass, surrounded and practically buried in a heap of daisies. “Mac?” Riley couldn’t believe his eyes. “Mac, what have you done?”
Riley didn’t like the way her hands were resting on her chest, with their backs pushed together and the pinkies intertwined. He didn’t like the way her hair was spread out like a fan around her head. Or the way Mac was touching it.
He stepped closer.
Mac stood, holding a daisy in his hand, confusion and pain chasing across his face.
“What happened?” Riley asked. “Is she…” He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t let himself absorb the emotions threatening to rack through his body.
Mac dropped the flower and it fell to Devra’s side, to land atop many others. “I was looking for Storm….” He turned and looked back down at her.