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On the long ride home from the Colorado state prison, Rex Falcon’s stomach churned with the certainty that his dad had spent the last twenty years in jail for a crime he hadn’t committed. Shame and sorrow mingled with anger. All his life, Rex had questioned his father’s innocence.
And now with new criminology techniques and the airing of a recent show on The Innocents, more cold cases were being reopened and solved. With his father’s upcoming parole hearing and Rex and his brothers experience in their private investigative business, they’d reviewed the police reports and trial transcripts and found discrepancies that cast doubt on the original case.
The Hatchet Murderer.
The press had given his dad the name because of the vicious slayings of the Lyle family. That was the reason his mother had dragged him and his two brothers to Arizona to live. But now Rex had returned to their childhood home at Falcon Ridge to learn the truth.
Rex shifted his SUV into Park beneath the towering pines next to his family’s stone manor, got out and went to the backyard, to the wildlife sanctuary for the hawks he and his brother rescued and trained for flight. A kestrel sat on its perch, its wings spread in an arc. Although it was dark, and snowflakes drifted down to pelt him in the face, Rex homed in on the animal’s watchful movements. He and his brothers had inherited an affinity for the creatures of the wild from their father. And just as the birds had special sensory skills to stalk and track their prey, so did Rex and Deke and Brack.
At one time, Rex had wondered if his father had given in to that primitive need to prey on the weak and had killed the Lyles. Now he knew differently, and was ashamed he’d ever doubted him.
He’d also wondered if he’d inherited that dangerous, uncontrollable side.
He glanced down the hill at the house where their father had supposedly butchered the family. The Hatchet House had been closed up since the murder. The fading, chipped paint and latticework of the Victorian structure testified to its disrepair. The angles and attic window seemed macabre in the murky light. It was tucked on the side of a cliff, isolated but closer to the main road and town than Falcon Ridge, but the way it jutted out over the mountain made it look as if it might slide into the canyon any second. The location, coupled with its gruesome history and the fact that locals claimed it was haunted had kept buyers away. He’d already conducted a preliminary sweep of the downstairs. Tomorrow he’d search every inch of it and the grounds for evidence the police might have missed in their hasty, slipshod investigation.
And he’d run off anyone who got in his way.
HAILEY HAD BEEN DRIVING for hours, battling the snowstorm. Putting the miles between her and Thad. Between her and her past.
A mountain road twisted to the side, and she veered onto it. Darkness bathed the graveled road, shadows from the trees flickering like fingers reaching for her, crystals of frozen ice pelting her windshield. For a brief second when she’d left Thad, she’d considered going to the police. But he had too many friends in the police department, too many important people to protect him. Just like her fifth foster father had. She’d traveled that rocky road before and managed to survive.
Her foster mother hadn’t been so lucky.
So, she’d left Thad’s car at his house, taken her own and left for good. Just to be on the safe side in case he’d followed, she’d traded her Civic for a VW. She’d also traded her golden hair for a brownish-red and had layered it into a shoulder-length bob.
Thank goodness she’d already bought a place in the mountains, so she wasn’t running without a plan.
The majestic view of aging trees, their boughs heavy with icicles, and wildlife roaming free stirred her awe. She’d always wanted to come to this area, had been saving for the right place for months. Here she’d find a sanctuary from the dark shadows that had dogged her all her life.
Here, she would have a new beginning. A future.
She made another turn, then spotted the house in her headlights. The Victorian mansion sat at the top of a cliff overlooking the densely populated woods beyond. She hit the brakes. The For Sale sign dangled precariously over the edge of the cliff as if it had been there a long time and had barely managed to withstand the last storm.
Her gaze swung to the house. Just like in the pictures the real estate agent had shown her, it was weathered-looking and had fallen into disrepair. Boards on the front porch needed replacing, the shutters were loose and the paint peeling. But the price was right, and fixing it up would be cathartic.
Although it was slightly isolated, it was also near enough the supposedly haunted mining town of Tin City to entice visitors. She envisioned her Internet antiques business being housed on the bottom floor, her private quarters on the top. And if she researched the house’s history, the tale of its ghosts would draw customers to her showroom. She’d always been fascinated with history, especially local legends of small towns. Her fascination with storytelling coupled with her degree in history had been an asset when she’d worked at the auction house.
Thad had thought her interests spooky, even boring. But somehow learning about others’ past seemed to help compensate for the fact that she’d forgotten so much of her own.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she climbed from the car. Wind howled through the snow-tipped treetops, ruffling the bare branches. A whisper of danger coasted on its tail.
She glanced back down the mountain road. Had Thad found her?
No, she was safe.
Her destiny awaited her. Her future. She felt it in her bones.
Renewed determination filling her, she walked up to the front porch, ready to start over. Towering pines cast spiny shadows around the property like bony fingers hovering over the roof. Spiderwebs and dirt clung to the yellowed wood, and the dark window of the attic seemed sinister in the gray light. She could almost see the ghost of a child’s face peering out through the blackness, her cry of loneliness echoing through the eaves. The house had spoken to her.
And she was unable to escape the lure of its call.
SOMEONE WAS AT the Hatchet House.
Rex couldn’t wait until the next day. He barreled down the curvy mountain road, gravel and ice spewing as he slowed to a stop. A VW sat in the clearing, and a woman stood in front of the picture window, staring up at the sagging latticework. She jerked around at the sound of his Jeep, her startled expression reminding him of a baby eagle cornered in the forest by a hunter.
He killed the engine and climbed out, his pulse accelerating. Even though night had fallen and darkness engulfed her features, he could tell she was small with choppy auburn hair that almost looked unnatural. A baggy denim shirt and jeans covered her frame, revealing nothing about the curves he sensed lay beneath. He zeroed in on her eyes, though. He’d never seen any that color. His body reacted involuntarily, heat spread through his limbs and his sex hardened. Stunning was the only word to describe her.
No, add cold and scared to stunning.
“Who are you?” She hunched deeper inside her coat, backing toward the porch awning as if it might offer safety. But the lights were out and shadows closed around her, fresh snow crystals clinging to her hair.
“Rex Falcon. I live on top of the mountain at Falcon Ridge.” He dragged his eyes from hers and skimmed down her face. Primal instincts overtook him. Even in the shadows, the rose-petal color of her lips made his mouth water for a taste.
But the trembling of her lower lip warned him that his gut instinct had been right.
She was running from something.
No other woman in her right mind would have traveled up this mountain alone. Not at night in this storm when the roads became almost impassable. Not to look at the Hatchet House. That is, unless she was some kind of reporter. Or maybe one of those nuts who chased ghosts and tried to prove they were real.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Hailey Hitchcock.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Studying the house.” She squared her shoulders in a show of bravado, but the purple bruise on her chin negated the effect.
Their gazes locked. A tension-filled moment passed between them, fraught with questions and an undeniable awareness of their isolation. His body began to throb, the call of the wild inside him drawing him to her.
But that could only mean trouble. And he would not give in to those instincts.
Maybe he could scare her off. “You must be a tourist, stopping by to gawk at the house because of all the rumors.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “You mean about the ghosts?”
“Yes, and the murders.” His voice rumbled out hard. Cold. “They say the house is haunted.”
She swallowed, the pale skin of her neck glowing in the twilight. “I know, the real estate agent told me about the ghosts when I bought the place.”
His pulse kicked up with surprise. “A family was killed here twenty years ago. They say their spirits are waiting around for revenge. That doesn’t bother you?”
“I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
Just of real men. He saw it in her eyes and the hands-off look she shot him.
“You seem to know a lot about this house,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Her low voice sounded sultry beneath the whistle of the wind. Slightly shaken, he struggled for a reply, not ready to share the truth about his own family’s involvement in the murders. If she stayed, she’d find out soon enough.
But her presence would complicate everything. How could he search the property with her inside?
“What are you planning to do with the house?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
She pulled the coat tighter around her throat, her breath a puff of white in front of her. “Live here. And I’m starting an antiques business.”
He frowned. “Why antiques?”
“I like the stories behind them,” she said. “The antiques once belonged to people, they were important to them at one time.”
Did she belong to anyone? A man maybe? How about a family? It was none of his business, he reminded himself. “This house isn’t in good enough shape to live in, much less house a business.”
“I’m going to renovate it.”
Dammit. She’d tear up the inside, get rid of things, any evidence that might still be around. “If you’re looking for someone to do repairs, my brother and I happen to be in the business.” At least they were now.
Her mouth parted in surprise, but her eyes flashed with wariness. Now he knew why they mesmerized him. They were the deepest reddish-brown he’d ever seen, like the earthy tones of a red-tailed hawk.
Her sweet scent invaded his nostrils, too, stirring urges that warred with his better sense. But old ghosts echoed around the house, reviving memories of the blood bath that had taken place within the rotting walls.
She studied him for another long moment, then nodded. “Thanks, although I’m not sure how much I can pay.”
“No problem.” He shrugged, blinking away fresh snowflakes. “We live simple lives in the mountains, our materialistic needs are few.” But his need for the truth and revenge was strong.
She offered a tentative smile that twisted his gut.
He steeled himself against her beauty. He was interested in this place for one reason and one reason only. For the answers it offered about his father.
And he’d be damned if he’d let Hailey Hitchcock interfere with his plans.
HUNCHING HIS STOOPED shoulders inside his cloak, he watched from the shadows of the forest as the frail-looking woman opened the door and went inside the house. Who was she? And why had she bought a run-down house that was supposedly haunted?
She obviously didn’t know its history.
A chuckle reverberated in his chest as he pictured her finding out.
The house had once been beautiful, painted blue with white shutters, the outside postcard perfect. The ultimate dream for the happy couple who’d moved inside. Laughter and dreams had abounded within the walls, the patter of small feet and children’s voices filling the empty rooms with life and joy.
Then everything had changed.
Dreams had been shattered. Lives had been destroyed. The world had crumbled down just as the house looked as if it might crumble now.
The pain of the woman’s cries still echoed in his head, the sadness in her eyes, the whisper of death as she’d clawed her way toward the boy….
It had been all her fault.
And now this…this other woman had come.
He had to get rid of her.
The Hatchet House held secrets. Secrets that would ruin his life if exposed. Secrets that would stay behind closed doors.
Secrets that he would kill to keep hidden…
Chapter Two
A whisper of unease tickled Hailey’s spine, mingling with the icy cold temperature, as she entered the house. Rex Falcon’s words about the ghosts echoed in her mind.
But ghosts weren’t real. No, danger came from real, live men who wanted to control the women they were involved with. Not ones who were buried and long gone. Besides, the real estate agent assured her the killer was serving a life sentence in prison.
It was time to stop running and build her own life. She’d held her ground with Rex Falcon, refusing to let his gruff, mysterious demeanor intimidate her. His dark, sexy eyes had trapped her, though, and a spark of awareness had passed between them. A sexual spark that she had no intention of exploring.
The low hum of the snowstorm outside echoed through the house, reminding her she was alone. Rex Falcon’s predatory expression flashed back. He hadn’t wanted her here. She’d sensed that was the reason he’d mentioned the ghosts.
But she refused to let anything chase her away.
And she was not here to get entangled with a man.
The wood floor creaked as she closed the front door and fumbled for the light switch. But the power company had yet to turn on the electricity. The realtor claimed the furniture had been left in place. Maybe there were some candles around, also.
The stale smell of a house having been closed up filled the chilly air as she moved into the parlor. Twilight settled over the interior, painting the sheet-draped furniture with gray, but on the mantel she spotted a silver candelabra. She hurried over, blew the top layer of dust away, then found a pack of matches on the hearth of the brick fireplace. The pack was so old it took three times before she finally lit the slender tapered candlesticks, but she was grateful for the soft glow.
Then she studied the room. Heavy velvety drapes covered the windows and hung to the floor, obliterating the outside, and creating an ominous, claustrophobic feeling. Hailey shivered, her uneasiness mounting. But those curtains shielded her from the outside and any strangers who might be roaming in the woods. And they were thick enough to help ward off the cold, as well.
She’d replace the windows with Thermopane ones, trade the drapes for blinds so the natural light could spill in during the daytime, and she could shut them at night.
The walls were dingy and needed paint, too, and dust motes swirled in the halo of candlelight. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling and a spider retreated into a corner to spin its web. Clutching the candelabra in her hand, she decided to check out the rest of the house.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty rooms as she walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The counters and woodwork were faded and chipped, but the old-fashioned oven and stove supposedly still worked. The refrigerator was an ancient model with no ice maker, but was functional, and there was no dishwasher. Dust covered the dingy beige countertops, and she spotted droppings near the bottom of the wood cupboard door that had probably come from mice. A set of old-fashioned café curtains in faded orange hung over the bay window, but she nudged them aside to look out at a majestic view of the Colorado mountains. The valley below would be green in summer, but now brown dotted the trees, along with an increasing layer of snow.
She imagined the white-topped mountain peaks at sunset, and a smile tugged at her lips.
But the wind howled outside, the thin panes of glass crackling with the force. The floor was darker near the mudroom, too. She stepped closer to examine the deep brown of the planks, but a sense of horror immobilized her.
Was the dark area the bloodstain from the family who’d died inside the room twenty years ago?
TWENTY YEARS SINCE anyone had lived in the Hatchet House. And now this woman…
Rex couldn’t shake his anxiety over her appearance. Hailey Hitchcock was beautiful. But she was in trouble. Running from something. Probably scared of her own shadow although she’d tried to appear unfazed by his appearance.
So why had she bought a supposedly haunted old house in the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter?
Because she didn’t want to be found. But wasn’t she afraid to live alone in a house where a brutal crime had occurred? And who was she running from? Her husband? A lover?
Or could she be in trouble with the law?
His father’s haggard face materialized. Years ago, he’d been tall in stature, a mountain of a man with an animalistic nature and skin bronzed from the sun and outdoor work. Now, he was pale and drawn, the lack of ample light and time in his natural environment killing him. Just as it would kill Rex and his brothers to be locked away, deprived of the very essence of their being.
And his mother…she had suffered so much over the years. She’d loved their father unconditionally, had stood beside him at the trial, had endured the tauntings of the neighbors. Even after his father’s conviction, she’d tried to hold her head up in the town, but some people were cruel. So, she’d finally taken her boys to Arizona, far away from the hateful gossip and condemning eyes.
