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Adam’s gaze froze on the black-and-white photograph of the Delaney family—Al, his wife Karin, their daughter, Kasey, age twelve.
Twelve. Same age Adam had been when his own dad died, four years earlier.
Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, Adam stood and, taking the paper with him, trudged woodenly back to his room.
“Do you see the time, young man?” his mom said from behind the paper. “School starts in less than half an hour, y’know.”
Yeah, he knew. But he wouldn’t be going to school today. Too much to think about….
Five minutes later, when he opened the back door, his mom was at the sink, rinsing her coffee mug. “Where’s your book bag? And what about your lunch?”
“Don’t need ’em.”
She started toward him. “Adam Thorne, where—?”
“Got stuff to do,” he muttered.
“Stuff? What stuff?”
Truthfully? Adam didn’t know what, exactly. But he knew this: A man had died last night because he hadn’t had the guts to put a stop to a moronic stunt—and now, he had to do something.
Shrugging, he stepped off the porch. “Love ya, Mom,” he said over his shoulder. “Have a good day at work.”
Today, Adam intended to work, too…at finding a way to make right something that had gone so very wrong.
Chapter One
Fifteen years later—Halloween Eve
Kasey Delaney squinted through the windshield.
Should she turn right or left? Exhaling a sigh of frustration, she threw the car into park and grabbed the directions, written by her so-called assistant in purple ink on lavender notepaper.
Yes, she thought, she’d followed each instruction to the letter. Which meant there should be a sign at this crossroads that read Kaplan’s Herb Farm. Kasey looked up. There was a sign, all right. A big white one in the shape of an arrow. But it said Thorne’s Getaway in bold, black letters.
She glanced around, at thick underbrush spilling onto the gravel, at autumn leaves, at deep murky puddles that had collected beside the road following last night’s downpour.
She hated to admit it, but she was lost. And if there was anything she hated more than being lost, she couldn’t name it at the moment. But she had no one to blame but herself.
Not two hours ago, she’d barely sidestepped a run-in with Aleesha.
“I wrote the directions down ’zactly as the lady told them to me.”
“But Aleesha…”
The girl’s lower lip had jutted out and her dark eyes misted with tears. She tucked a black cornrow braid behind one ear. “You ain’t never gonna trust me.”
The last thing Kasey had wanted was to hurt the kid’s feelings.
She leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, remembering how they’d met three years ago through an inner-city mentoring program. Fact was, Kasey couldn’t love Aleesha more if she were a flesh-and-blood relative, which was why, despite the protests of half a dozen well-meaning friends and relatives, she’d legally adopted the girl. Hoping the action would prove her trust, Kasey had tucked the directions into her pocket.
“Should’ve known better,” she muttered now.
Immediately, she felt guilty for the harsh thought. Aleesha had come a long way in the year they’d been a bona fide family. And she’d go even farther, “with a little more patience and a whole lot more love,” Kasey said to herself.
She reached for her purse. She’d call Information, get the herb farm’s phone number, and call for directions herself…if only her dinosaur of a cell phone would work way out here in the middle of—
The phone wasn’t in her purse. Grimacing, Kasey realized that Aleesha had borrowed it earlier that afternoon, and returned it with a dead battery.
“You shouldn’t leave here without it,” her mother had warned, when Kasey plugged it into the charger. “Marty Bass said we’re in for severe thunderstorms tonight.” Then she said, “What’s wrong with the charger in your car?”
Kasey’s silent nod toward Aleesha had been hint enough: misplaced. “I’ll only be gone an hour or so,” she said with a reassuring smile. “What could possibly happen in an hour?”
“A million things,” her mother said.
One of which, Kasey admitted now, was getting lost.
Well, no point dwelling on it. “When life gives you lemons, you quote tired old clichés.”
Grabbing her pruning shears and a wicker basket for cuttings, Kasey decided to take advantage of the acres of wildflowers on either side of the road. She climbed out of the sports car, immediately wrinkling her nose at the sucking sound her hiking boot made when she lifted it from the mud.
What could happen in an hour? “You could get lost and mired in mud.”
Squaring her shoulders, Kasey plunged into the hip-high grass. The whole area was lush with seed pods and willow branches. Better to concentrate on work than the occasional cricket. “Now I remember what I hate more than being lost,” she grumbled, lurching at every insect’s hip-hop. “Bugs.”
Shouldn’t a person who traipsed through fields on a regular basis be used to things that crawled and flew and stung? She’d been the proud owner of Fleur Élégance for more than five years, after all. The floral creations she designed for hotels, restaurants, department stores and art galleries had won numerous awards—and secured Kasey impressive contracts. Her trademark, right from the get-go, had been the gnarled branches, wild mushrooms and dried leaves she’d artistically interspersed among realistic-looking silk flowers.
Fortunately for her, very few insects lurked in late October. But there were enough. Too many for her liking! Dusk was settling over the field as a yellowjacket buzzed near her head. “Isn’t it time for you to go to bed, or hibernate,” she said, waving her free arm, “or something?”
Soon, she’d gathered a basketful of cuttings for her next project. Smiling, Kasey could almost picture the arrangement she’d create with them on a marble pedestal in the center of the Columbia Bank’s main branch.
A glance at her watch told her that more than an hour had passed while she’d snipped and trimmed. She could almost hear her mom, her neighbors, even Aleesha teasingly referring to her as a scatterbrain for letting time slip so easily away from her. Kasey had never let the jokes get to her. Instead, she told herself that becoming immersed in projects, losing all track of time, was a trait that almost always guaranteed—
That’s weird, she thought, approaching her car. I never realized that it sat so low to the ground—
And then she understood why it looked that way. Kasey hadn’t noticed when she’d stopped alongside the narrow, rutted road, but she’d parked in a huge mudhole. In the hour that had passed as she collected flowers, her tiny convertible had sunk to its floorboard. “Oh, fine. That’s just great,” she complained. “Stuck in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no food…”
She smiled and shrugged. “When life gives you mud,” she mused, “pucker up!”
She decided to think of this as an adventure, a compelling tale to tell when she got back to civilization. Worstcase scenario, she’d have to spend the night here in the car, and walk to the main road in the morning to flag down a tow truck.
Right?
As if in answer, thunder rumbled overhead. Couldn’t be a good sign, Kasey thought, especially not this late in the year. Seconds later, a sizzling flash of lightning sliced the darkening sky. Suddenly, her predicament didn’t seem quite so funny. In fact, it didn’t seem funny at all.
Because, for one thing, she hadn’t seen another vehicle as she’d driven out here. Not a farmer’s truck. Not a horseman’s van. Not even a kid on a bicycle. And, though she’d been in that field for over an hour, she didn’t remember hearing anything drive past, either.
Kasey had never admitted it, not even to her mother, but thunderstorms scared the willies out of her. Waiting one out in a minuscule convertible didn’t seem the least bit appealing. And, though she’d given up her night-light more than a decade ago, she wasn’t overly fond of the dark, either. Especially when, thanks to an impending storm, it fell as fast as a stage curtain.
But being alone in the woods in the dark…
Shivering, Kasey squinted toward the horizon. Was that a light? Heart pounding, she did a squishy little jig, right there in the mud. Yes, yes it was a light! Now, if she could just make it that far before the storm hit….
“Please, God,” she prayed, “let it be a cozy little cabin with a nice, happy family in it.”
Her stomach growled. “And I hope they’ll be sitting at the supper table, eating cheesy lasagna and buttery garlic bread.” She licked her lips. “And that there’ll be cold lemonade in the fridge.”
Kasey reached for the sports car’s door handle. No point lugging the overflowing basket of wildflowers through the—
Something scurried across the toe of her boot, and Kasey let out a wail. Whatever it was wouldn’t get a second chance to tramp on her foot! She took off like a sprinter and headed straight for that light, and didn’t stop until she stood on the porch of a tidy log cabin.
She stared at the wide wooden door. Golden light, filtering through the curtained window beside it, glowed with welcoming warmth. Would the people inside be warm and welcoming, too?
She was drenched by now, and shivering in the wind. Kasey frowned. Much as she hated to admit it, her mother had been right. She never should have come all the way out here so late in the day.
No sleep last night. Nonstop supervision of Aleesha. Her mother’s up-again, down-again health. If she wanted to, Kasey could make a long list of excuses for her rash decision. But right now, all she wanted was to get inside, out of the wind and rain. Summoning what was left of her courage, she knocked.
Scurrying—much like what she’d heard in the underbrush on the way from the car to the cabin—sounded on the other side of the door. Then, footsteps. Big, heavy footsteps.
She held her breath as her fertile imagination went to work: Maybe the cabin was a hideaway for a gang of jewel thieves. Maybe a murderer had holed up in there. What if a serial killer had slaughtered all the people inside, so they’d never be able to testify against—
“Who’s there?”
The suddenness of the deep baritone startled her so badly, she let out something that sounded like “Eek!”
Sighing, Kasey rolled her eyes, because she’d always hated it when women did that in the movies. And yet, when the door jerked open, she said it again. On the heels of a silly giggle, she sputtered, “Uh, um, h-hi!” in a tiny voice.
Backlit by the interior light, he was little more than a shadow on the other side of the screen door. And it was definitely a “he.” A tall, very broad-shouldered man who said nothing, nothing at all.
“Um, my, uh, my car got stuck in the mud back there?” She used her thumb to point behind her. “I was gathering flowers?” She held up the basket, in case he needed proof. “My, um, assistant gave me the wrong directions, so I’m lost?”
He continued to stand there, one hand on the frame, the other holding the brass knob of the inside door. He didn’t nod, didn’t smile, didn’t speak.
What’s with you? she wanted to ask him. Cat got your tongue? “I, uh, well, then it started to rain.” She giggled again, and this giggle sounded even sillier to her own ears than the last one. “There was thunder and lightning and the whole nine yards, y’know? And I thought, ‘Uh-oh, what’re you gonna do now?’ And then I saw your light? And—”
Kasey clamped her teeth together, wondering what on earth was making her spew out information in the form of questions. She’d never done anything like it before.
Maybe she was dreaming. Sure. Why not? That made sense, because this whole situation was beginning to feel like a nightmare. The darkness, the weather, this house and its owner—if this huge, silent man hadn’t killed the owner—all had the makings of a Hitchcock flick. She’d always wondered why heroines seemed to deliberately put themselves in danger in those movies. Now, feeling enormous empathy for the poor, delicate things, Kasey believed they’d probably only been desperate to get in out of the cold rain.
And speaking of rain, how long did this guy intend to let her stand here, dripping and shaking? Didn’t he have any manners at all?
“Oh, sorry,” he said, opening the screen door. “Where are my manners?”
Had he read her mind? Or had she, in her high-strung state, been thinking out loud? She decided she could just as easily do the rest of her thinking inside.
She slipped past him, taking care not to touch him—no easy feat, big as he was—and made a beeline straight for the heat of the fire. She’d prayed for a cozy cabin and a nice hot fire, something to eat and drink. Two outta four ain’t bad, she thought, thanking Him. Now what were the chances her host was a normal, decent guy? She’d settle for anything less than a criminal at this point.
He closed the door just then—a little louder than necessary, Kasey thought. When he bolted it, she swallowed, hard.
“I don’t get much company way up here.” He laughed softly. “Especially not during a thunderstorm.”
Well, she told herself, at least he has a nice laugh. Then her smile faded as she remembered that lady reporter’s interview with Ted Bundy. He’d had a nice laugh, too.
Frowning darkly, the stranger said, “You’re soaked to the skin.”
Which should have been the least of his worries. Between the mud that had clumped in the treads of her boots and the rain that dripped from her pants cuffs, she’d tracked in quite a mess. And now it was puddling on what appeared to be a polar bear rug. “Oh, wow. I’m so sorry,” she said. “When I get back to town, I’ll—”
“Easy. I know how to use a scrub brush.”
With no explanation whatever, he disappeared through a nearby doorway, leaving her alone near the fire. Had he gone to fetch his hatchet? A handgun? Maybe a rope and a roll of duct tape, so he could tie her up and torture her before—
He clomped back into the room on brown suede boots. Who is this guy? she asked herself, staring at the big shoes. Paul Bunyan? Then she noticed that he carried something white, and something red, neatly folded and stacked on his hand. On his unbelievably large hand. Larry from Of Mice and Men popped into her mind.
They stood for a moment, blinking and clearing their throats, as if trying to come to grips with the fact that she was stuck here, at least for the time being.
“You can change,” he said, nodding toward the room he’d just vacated, “in there.”
She nodded, too, as he handed the clothes to her. “Wow. Neat. A sweatsuit. And a towel, too,” she said. “This is great. This is good.” What inane thing would pop out of her mouth next? she wondered. “Let us thank Him for our food”?
Smiling, both dark brows rose high on his forehead. “Lemme guess,” he began, “your name is Red.”
“No, it’s—” She followed his gaze to the basket of cuttings still clutched in her free hand. Getting his Red Riding Hood joke, she laughed. Way too long and way too loud, but what did he expect after the chilly greeting he’d given her?
“I—I own a… These are for…” She put the basket on the nearest end table. Maybe she’d explain later. And maybe you won’t. “I’ll just go and change now.” And backing through the door, she said, “Thanks. Really. I appreciate it.”
The instant she closed the door, Kasey checked for a lock. “Rats!” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Whoever heard of a door without a lock?”
You have, was her silent answer. Her own bedroom door didn’t have a lock on it. Neither did her mom’s, or Aleesha’s. And while her bathroom door had one, it had been broken for as long as she could remember. Besides, if the guy on the other side of this door aimed to harm her, a lock wouldn’t stop him. And if that was his aim, wouldn’t he have done it by now?
Possibly.
And he might just be one of those killers who got his jollies by watching his victims suffer….
Trembling, Kasey leaned her back against the door. Get hold of yourself, ’cause if he is a murderer, you’ll need your wits about you! Then, trading her wet clothes for his gigantic, fleecy sweatsuit, she vowed to get her overactive imagination under control.
Adam had just placed two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, when she came out of the bedroom. He hadn’t known what to expect, considering the shape she’d been in when she arrived, but surely not this….
No way she could’ve been taller than five foot five. He knew, because when she’d slunk past him to get inside earlier, the top of her head had barely reached his shoulder. Somehow, she looked even tinier in his bulky sweatsuit.
Her hair had looked darker, straighter, when it had been all plastered to her head by the rain. Now, thick waves that fell almost to her waist gleamed like a new penny in the firelight.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you have a phone way out here….”
“Cell phone,” he said, “but the battery is dead.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going around lately.” Then she noticed the mugs. “Oh, wow,” she said, smiling. “Hot chocolate, my favorite.”
The smile put a deep dimple in her right cheek at exactly the same moment as a loud, gurgling growl erupted from her stomach. She placed a hand over it. A very tiny, dainty hand, he noticed.
