www.millsandboon.co.uk
For the old Lakewood gang,
those still with us and those gone,
who made trips to the Smokies so much fun.
Chapter One
Rachel Davenport knew she was being watched, and she hated it, though the gazes directed her way that cool Oc-tober morning appeared kind and full of sympathy. Only a few of her fellow mourners knew the full truth about why shed disappeared for almost a year after her moth-ers sudden death fifteen years ago, but that didnt change the self-consciousness descending over her like a pall.
She locked her spine and lifted her head, refusing to give anyone reason to doubt her strength. Shed survived so far and didnt intend to fall apart now. She wasnt going to give anyone a show.
Its a lovely gathering, isnt it? Diane, her fathers wife of the past eight years, dabbed her eyes with a delicate lace-rimmed handkerchief. So many people.
Yes, Rachel agreed, feeling a stab of shame. She wasnt the only person whod lost someone she loved. Diane might be flighty and benignly self-absorbed, but shed made George Davenports last days happy ones. Hed loved Diane dearly and indulged her happily, and shed been nothing but a caring, cheerful and devoted wife in his dying days. Even if Rachel had resented the other woman in her fathers lifeand she hadntshe would have loved Diane for giving her father joy for the past eight years.
I sometimes forget that he touched so many lives. With me he was just Georgie. Not the businessman, you know? Just a sweet, sweet man who liked to garden and sing to me at night. Fresh tears trickled from Dianes eyes. She blotted them away with the handkerchief, saved from a streaky face by good waterproof mascara. She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to Rachel. Im going to miss the hell out of that man.
Rachel gave her a swift, fierce hug. So am I.
The preacher took his place at the side of the casket and spoke the scripture verses her father had chosen, hopeful words from the book of Ephesians, her fathers favorite. Rachel wanted to find comfort in them, but a shroud of loss seemed to smother her whole.
She couldnt remember ever feeling quite so alone. Her father had been her rock for as long as she could remember, and now he was gone. There was her uncle Rafe, of course, but he lived two hours away and spent much of his time on the road looking for new acts for his music hall.
And as much as she liked and appreciated Diane, they had too little in common to be true friends, much less family. Nor did she really consider her stepbrother, Dianes son, Paul, anything more than a casual friend, though theyd become closer since shed quit her job with the Maryville Public Library to take over as office manager for her fathers trucking company.
She sometimes wondered why her father hadnt ceded control of the business to Paul instead of her. Hed worked at Davenport Trucking for over a decade. Her father had met Diane through her son, not the other way around. He had been assistant operations manager for several years now and knew the business about as well as anyone else.
Far better than she did, even though shed learned a lot in the past year.
She watched her stepbrother edge closer to the casket. As his lips began moving, as if he was speaking to the man encased in shiny oak and satin, a dark-clad figure a few yards behind him snagged Rachels attention. He was lean and composed, dressed in a suit that fit him well enough but seemed completely at odds with his slightly spiky dark hair and feral looks. A pair of dark sunglasses obscured his eyes but not the belligerently square jaw and high cheekbones.
It was Seth Hammond, one of the mechanics from the trucking company. Other Davenport Trucking employees had attended the funeral, of course, so she wasnt sure why she was surprised to see Seth here. Except hed never been close to her father, or to anyone else at the company for that matter. Shed always figured him for a loner.
As her gaze started to slide away from him, he lifted the glasses up on his head, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers.
A zapping sensation jolted through her chest, stopping her cold. His gaze locked with hers, daring her to look away. The air in her lungs froze, then burned until she forced it out in a deep, shaky sigh.
He looked away, and she felt as if someone had cut all the strings holding her upright. Her knees wobbled, and she gripped Dianes arm.
What is it? Diane asked softly.
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment to regain her sense of equilibrium, then looked up at the man again.
But he was gone.
I DONT KNOW. She looks okay, I guess. From his parking spot near the edge of the cemetery, Seth Hammond kept an eye on Rachel Davenport. The cemetery workers had lowered the oak casket into the gaping grave nearly twenty minutes ago, and most of the gathered mourners had dispersed, leaving the immediate family to say their final private goodbyes to George Davenport.
Its not a coincidence that everyone around her is gone. The deep voice rumbling through the cell phone receiver like an annoying fly in Seths ear belonged to Adam Brand, FBI special agent in charge. Seth had no idea why the D.C.-based federal agent was so interested in a trucking company heiress from the Smoky Moun-tains of Tennessee, but Brand paid well, and Seth wasnt in a position to say no to an honest job.
The only alternative was a dishonest job, and while hed once been damned good at dishonesty, hed found little satisfaction in those endeavors. It was a curse, he supposed, when the thing you could do the best was something that sucked the soul right out of you.
I agree. Its not a coincidence. Seths viewpoint from the car several yards away wasnt ideal, but the last thing a man with his reputation needed was to be spotted watching a woman through binoculars. So he had to make do with body language rather than facial expressions to get a sense of what Rachel Davenport was thinking and feeling. Grief, obviously. It covered her like morning fog in the Smokies, deceptively ephemeral. She stood straight, her chin high, her movements composed and measured. But he had a strong feeling that the slightest nudge would send her crumbling into ruins.
Everyone was gone now. Her mother by her own hand fifteen years ago, her father by cancer three days ago. No brothers or sisters, save for her stepbrother, Paul, and it wasnt like theyd grown up together as real siblings the way Seth and his sister had.
Have you seen Delilah recently? Brand asked with his usual uncanny way of knowing the paths Seths mind was traveling at any given moment.
Ran into her at Ledbetters Café over the weekend, Seth answered. He left it at that. He wasnt going to gossip about his sister.
Brand had never said, and Seth had never asked, why he didnt just call up Delilah himself if he wanted to know how she was doing. Seth assumed things had gone sideways between them at some point. Probably why Dee had left the FBI years ago and eventually gone to work for Cooper Security. At the time, Seth had felt relieved by his sisters choice, well aware of the risk that, sooner or later, his sisters job and his own less savory choice of occupations might collide.
Of course, now that hed found his way onto the straight and narrow, she was having trouble believing in the new, improved Seth Hammond.
I got some good snaps of the funeral-goers, I think. Ill check them out when I get a chance. A hard thud on the passenger window made him jerk. He looked up to find Delilahs sharp brown eyes burning holes into the glass window separating them. Gotta go, he said to Brand and hung up, shoving the cell phone into his pocket. He slanted a quick look at the backseat to make sure hed concealed the surveillance glasses hed been using to take images of the funeral. They were safely hidden in his gym bag on the floorboard.
With a silent sigh, he lowered the passenger window. Hey, Dee.
What are you doin here? His sister had been back in Tennessee for two weeks and already shed shed her citified accent for the hard Appalachian twang of her childhood. Up to somethin?
Her suspicious tone poked at his defensive side. I was attending my bosss funeral.
Funerals over, and yet here you are. Delilah looked over the top of the car toward the Davenport family. You thinking of conning a poor, grieving heiress out of her daddys money?
Funny.
Im serious as a heart attack. Her voice rose slightly, making him wince.
He glanced at the Davenport family, wondering if they had heard. Youre making a scene, Dee.
Hammonds are good at making scenes, Seth. You know that. Delilah reached into the open window, unlatched the car door and pulled it open, sliding into the passenger seat. Better?
You ran into Mama, did you? he asked drily, not missing the bleak expression in her dark eyes.
The Bitterwood P.D. called me to come pick her up or they were throwing her in the drunk tank. Delilah grimaced. Who the hell told them I was back in town, anyway?
Sugar, there aint no lyin low in Bitterwood. Too damned small and too damned nosy. Unlike his sister, hed never really left the hills, though hed kept clear of Bitterwood for a few years to let the dust settle. If not for Cleve Calhouns stroke five years ago, he might never have come back. But Cleve had needed him, and Seth had found a bittersweet sort of satisfaction in trying to live clean in the place where hed first learned the taste of iniquity.
He sneaked a glance at George Davenports grave. The family had dispersed, Paul Bailey and his mother, Diane, walking arm in arm toward Pauls car, while Ra-chel headed slowly across the cemetery toward another grave nearby. Marjorie Kenners, if he remembered correctly. Mark Bramletts last victim.
I know vulnerable marks are your catnip, Delilah drawled, but cant you let the girl have a few days of unmolested grief before you bilk her out of her millions?
You have such a high opinion of me, he murmured, dragging his gaze away from Rachels stiffened spine.
Well-earned, darlin, she answered, just as quietly.
I dont suppose it would do any good to tell you I dont do that sort of thing anymore?
Yeah, and Mama swore shed drunk her last, too, as I was puttin her ginned-up backside to bed. Bitter resignation edged her voice.
Oh, Dee, he thought. People keep lettin you down, dont they?
Tell me youre not up to something.
Im done with that life, Dee. Ive been done with it a few years now.
Her wary but hopeful look made his heart hurt. I left the truck over on the other side of the cemetery. Why dont you drive me over there?
He spared one more glance at Rachel Davenport, wondering how much longer shed be able to remain upright. Someone had been working overtime the past few weeks, making sure shed come tumbling down sooner or later.
The question was, why?
I DIDNT GET to talk to you at the service.
Rachels nervous system jolted at the sound of a familiar voice a few feet away. She turned from Marjo-ries grave to look into a pair of concerned brown eyes.
Davis Rogers hadnt changed a bit since their breakup five years ago. With his clean-cut good looks and effortless poise, hed always come across as a confident, successful lawyer, even when he was still in law school at the University of Virginia.
Shed been sucked in by that easy self-composure, such a contrast to her own lack of confidence. It had been so easy to bask in his reflected successes.
For a while at least.
Then shed found her own feet and realized his all-encompassing influence over her life had become less a shelter and more a shackle.
Easy lesson to forget on a day like today, she thought, battered by the familiar urge to enclose herself in his arms and let him make the rest of the world go away. She straightened her spine and resisted the temptation. I didnt realize youd even heard about my father.
It made the papers in Raleigh. I wanted to pay my respects and see how you were holding up. He brushed a piece of hair away from her face. How are you holding up?
Im fine. His touch left her feeling little more than mild comfort. Im sad, she added at his skeptical look. And Ill be sad for a while. But Im okay.
It wasnt a lie. She was going to be okay. Despite her crushing sense of grief, she felt confident she wasnt in danger of losing herself.
Maybe what you need is to get out and get your mind off things. Davis cupped her elbow with his large hand. The clerk at the bed-and-breakfast where Im staying suggested a great bar near the university in Knoxville where we can listen to college bands and relive our misspent youth. What do you say, Rach? Itll be like Char-lottesville all over again.
She grimaced. I never really liked those bars, you know. I just went because you liked them.