Lost! One more wrong turn and she'd probably end up in
Massachusetts, which was so not where she needed to be.
Pulling over to the side of the two-lane road, Brie
Danzinger consulted her brand-spanking-new map of New York
State, folded to reveal the Catskill region.
According to this, once she'd turned off Highway 17, she
should only have had a few more miles of twisting, tree-
lined road before she reached her hotel on the outskirts
of Leaning Tree. A straight shot.
But apparently she'd turned one time too many. No surprise
there. Back in Colorado, her dad had always joked she'd
inherited a no-sense-of-direction gene from him at birth.
The noticeable absence of street signs didn't help either.
Brie rolled down her window, inhaling the pine-scented
air. There were no houses that she could see, no gas
stations or convenience stores — nothing but trees, trees
and more trees. Oaks and pines and maples battled with
evergreens to spread branches toward the sun.
She sighed and attempted to refold the map back to the
precise rectangle. Halfway through, she gave up and tossed
the thing on the seat. The woods beckoned, tempting her
with shifting shadows and moist earth. She might as well
stretch her legs and walk off some of her frustration.
Slipping into the sheltering forest, she rolled her
shoulders, feeling the tension lift, as though stolen away
from her by the light breeze that ruffled the leaves.
Somewhere nearby, a rabbit watched her — how Brie knew
this, she couldn't say and didn't care to analyze. She
simply knew.
From a branch high above, a squirrel chattered, scampering
unafraid among the treetops. A crow cawed, and a blue jay
screeched an answer. Brie smiled, pushing aside branches
until she reached a small clearing. Transfixed by a shaft
of sunlight that turned the foliage to emerald, she
breathed in deeply, letting the scents and sounds of
nature wash over her. She finally felt at home, oddly
enough in a place she'd never been. Something resonated
with her here in these woods, in tune with the steady beat
of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest.
Peace.
Who knew? She'd traveled nearly two thousand miles to find
her past, and fallen in love with a patch of forest.
"We shoot trespassers on sight around here."
Brie jumped and spun, swallowing back an instinctive
scream. Her father's lifelong warnings rang in her ears. A
silver-haired man glared at her, arms folded. An older
man, his lined face wore an expression of shock. He seemed
to have come out of nowhere; she hadn't heard even the
slightest rustling of the leaves.
"I'm sorry?" Surely she hadn't heard him correctly.
"What did you say?" She glanced around, unable to see her
car or even the place where she'd entered the forest.
"You!" Recoiling, eyes widening, he spat at her. His voice
quivered with what sounded like surprise and
hope. "Elizabeth? What are you doing here? You're supposed
to be dead, you hear me? Dead."
Elizabeth had been her mother's name.
She took a step toward him, and then froze. "I —" The
emotion shining from his dark eyes made her pity him.
Elizabeth Beswick had died over twenty years ago.
Obviously, she still lived on in this man's memory.
"Liz, where have you been hiding?" His mouth worked. "Why
did you stay away so long?"
"I'm not —"
"Elizabeth," he repeated, one hand stretched out clawlike
toward her, his tone beseeching.
Geez. She took a deep breath. "I'm not her. Elizabeth was
my mother's name. But she's dead." Suppressing the urge to
comfort him, she swallowed. "I just got here, been driving
for days. All the way from Colorado."
The man stopped, the expression on his face changing to
confusion. He shook his shaggy head once, like a dog
shaking water from its ears. The pity she'd been unable to
keep from her voice must have reached him. Rooted in
place, he continued to stare, the emotion in his eyes
changing to anger.
"You're trespassing," he spat.
"Actually, I'm lost." She tried for a smile. He wasn't
having any of it. In fact, his obvious embarrassment over
mistaking her for a long-dead woman appeared to enrage
him.
"I posted signs."
"I'm sorry, I didn't see them."
His eyes narrowed as he advanced on her.
Time to beat a retreat.
"I'm going to leave now." Speaking calmly, in a rational
tone, Brie shifted her weight and began moving slowly
backward, wincing as dead leaves shuffled under her feet.
She'd make no sudden motions, nothing to alarm the now
furious man or bring out the predator instinct in him.
Predator instinct? Where had that come from? Some
melodramatic vein she hadn't known she possessed?
The greens and golds and shadows, no longer soothing, now
felt menacing. Even the birds had gone silent. The absence
of normal forest sounds told her more than anything her
fear was not entirely unfounded.
"I'll be out of your way in a moment. My car is just over
there." With a jerk of her chin she indicated the
direction. If she cut her eyes, she could see her Mazda's
bright red paint through the trees. A few more yards.
Foolish or not, she felt a full-fledged panic attack
coming on. No! Not now. Somehow, she needed to control it.
She needed to be able to think rationally.
He continued watching her, one corner of his lip curled in
a snarl. Still, he made no threatening moves toward her,
so she continued to back away slowly.
Five yards. Three. Breathing hard, she pressed the remote,
unlocking her car. Giving in to her panic, she crossed the
last two yards in a flat-out run. Fumbling with the
handle, she yanked open the door and jumped in, relocking
the vehicle. She took several deep breaths, tried to slow
her racing heart, and cursed panic attacks in general. Her
hands shook as she fumbled with the key and switched on
the ignition. Slamming the gearshift into Drive, she cast
one final look at the shadowy woods before peeling out.
The man hadn't followed her out of the trees. But he
watched her still — she'd bet on it.
Once back on the road, she found she'd been too hasty
earlier in thinking she was lost. As the map had promised,
she drove two more curves in the road and she saw a sign
proclaiming Leaning Tree City Limits. Half a mile more and
she arrived at her motel.
Still battling the edge of panic, she managed to check in
and make it to her room. Once there, Brie tossed her keys
on the double bed and took a deep, shaky breath, trying to
figure out what had just happened.
That man had mistaken her for her mother. Even worse, he'd
acted as though he'd loved her or, at the very least, had
some sort of relationship with her.
The sad, crazy man in the woods was bad enough. What
horrified her even more was her reaction. Panic attacks
again? No way. With the exception of the night she'd found
her father, dead of a massive heart attack, she hadn't had
a panic attack since she was seventeen. Why here? Why now?
Exhaustion made her stagger. She'd been driving nonstop
for sixteen hours and she needed to rest. Yanking off her
shoes, she sank onto the bed with a sigh. She'd try and
get some sleep.
Tomorrow, her new life would begin.
Police Chief Reed Hunter nodded patiently as he took Eldon
Brashear's report. Leaning on the front counter, he cursed
the bad timing that had made Eldon drop by while the guys
had taken Tammy, the receptionist, out to lunch for her
birthday. Normally, taking this kind of report was her
job. Hoping to catch up on paperwork, Reed had volunteered
to man the office, even though he could have gone along
and forwarded the phones to his cell.
So much for paperwork. "I thought I was seeing a ghost."
Eldon shook his head. "I'm telling you, you might have
been only a boy when Elizabeth Beswick died, but this girl
was her spitting image."
"You don't say," Reed repeated for the third time.
Everyone knew Eldon had been enamored of the woman, long
dead. Now the elderly man was seeing things. "Well, I'm
sure it was just a weird coincidence. No doubt the
trespasser drove on down the road."
"She claimed she was her daughter."
With a sigh, Reed wrote that information down. No one had
seen hide nor hair of Elizabeth's husband, Tom — or their
baby girl — in the twenty-odd years since her death.
Ignoring this, Eldon continued his invective against nosy
outsiders with no respect for laws. "I had No Trespassing
signs posted. She ignored them."
"Calm down," Reed interrupted, before Eldon got started
again. "No harm, no foul. I'll file the report. If she
shows up again, call me." He glanced at his watch. Tammy
and his three deputies should be returning any moment. It
was long past his own lunchtime and he was starving.
Still grumbling, Eldon finally took the hint and turned to
go.
The bell over the front door jingled. Reed looked up,
squinting as the bright sunlight reflected off the glass.
A slender young woman with spiky blond hair came inside.
Reed looked up, met eyes the clear blue of a summer sky,
and his gut tightened. He swallowed, momentarily unable to
catch his breath.
Eldon swore. "You."
"You!" She gasped at the same time. Backing away, she
stumbled, nearly tripping over the threshold.
"Wait." Reed regained enough equilibrium to use his best
policeman's voice. Kind, yet authoritative. He couldn't
seem to stop looking at her. Eldon was right — she did
look achingly familiar. And beautiful. He inhaled again,
wondering why she smelled like peaches.
"Can I help you, miss?"
Her gaze locked on his and he felt it again, that
sensation of something tugging at his gut. He wanted to
reach out and trace her delicately carved features, to
trail his fingers down the sensual curve of her neck, and
revel in the softness of her smooth skin.
"Reed! That's her," Eldon growled, stabbing a finger in
her direction. "She's the one I was telling you about. The
trespasser."
Twin spots of color rose in the woman's pale
cheeks. "Look." Lifting her chin, she took a step into the
room. "I've already apologized. I was lost. I didn't
realize I was trespassing on private property. I told you
that. What else do you want me to do, pay for taking a
walk on your land?"
Even her voice played on his insides. Reed shifted his
weight and scratched the back of his neck, wondering why.
"I don't want your money." Eyes narrowed, Eldon glared at
her. Muttering under his breath, he stalked to the exit.
The bell jangled again as he jerked on the door.