She grimaced. I never really liked those bars, you know. I just went because you liked them.
His expression of surprise was almost comical. You didnt?
Im a Tennessee girl. I liked country music and bluegrass, she said with a smile.
He looked mildly horrified, but he managed to smile. Im sure we can find a honky-tonk in Knoxville.
Theres a little place here in Bitterwood we could go. They have a house bluegrass band and really good loaded potato skins. After the past few months of watching her father dying one painful inch at a time, maybe what she needed was to indulge herself. Get her mind off her losses, if only for a little while.
And why not go with Davis? She wasnt still in love with him, but shed always liked and trusted him. It was safer than going alone. The man whod killed four of her friends might be dead and gone, but the world was still full of danger. A woman alone had to be careful.
And she was alone, she knew, bleakness seeping into her momentary optimism.
So very alone.
FOR THE FIRST time in years, Seth Hammond had a place to himself. It wasnt much to talk about, a ramshackle bungalow halfway up Smoky Ridge, but for the next few weeks, he wouldnt have to share it with anyone else. The houses owner, Cleve Calhoun, was in Knoxville for therapy to help him regain some of the faculties hed lost to a stroke five years ago.
By seven oclock, Seth had decided that alone time wasnt all it was cracked up to be. Even if the satellite reception wasnt terrible, there wasnt much on TV worth watching these days. The Vols game wasnt until Satur-day, and with the Braves out of play-off contention, there wasnt much point in watching baseball, either.
Hed already gone through the photos from the funeral hed taken with his high-tech camera glasses, but as far as he could tell, there was nobody stalking Ra-chel Davenport at the funeral except himself. He supposed he could go through the photos one more time, but hed seen enough of Rachels grief for one day. Hed uploaded the images to the FTP site Adam Brand had given him. Maybe the FBI agent would have better luck than he had. Brand, after all, at least knew what it was he was looking for.
He certainly hadnt bothered to let Seth in on the secret.
You have turned into a dull old coot, Seth told himself, eyeing the frozen dinner hed just pulled from Cleves freezer with a look of dismay. There was a time when you couldve walked into any bar in Maryville and gone home with a beautiful woman. What the hell happened to you?
The straight and narrow, he thought. Hed given up more than just the con game, it appeared.
To hell with that. He shoved the frozen dinner back into the frost-lined freezer compartment. He was thirty-two years old, not sixty. Playing nursemaid to a crippled old man had, ironically, kept him lean and strong, since hed had to haul Cleve Calhoun around like a baby. And while he wasnt going to win any beauty pageants, hed never had trouble catching a womans eye.
An image of Rachel Davenports cool blue eyes meeting his that morning at the funeral punched him in the gut. He couldnt remember if shed ever looked him in the eye before that moment.
Probably not. At the trucking company, he was more a part of the scenery than a person. A chair or a desk or one of the trucks he repaired, maybe. Hed become good at blending in. It had been his best asset as a con artist, enabling him to learn a marks vulnerabilities without drawing attention to himself. Cleve had nicknamed him Chameleon because of his skill at becoming part of the background.
That same skill had served him well as a paid FBI informant, though there had been a few times, most recently in a dangerous backwoods enclave of meth dealers, when hed come close to breaking cover.
But looking into Rachel Davenports eyes that morning, hed felt the full weight of being invisible. For a second, shed seen him. Her blue eyes had widened and her soft pink lips had parted in surprise, as if shed felt the same electric zing that had shot through his body when their gazes connected.
Maybe that was the longing driving him now, propelling him out of the shack and into Cleves old red Charger in search of another connection. It was a night to stand out from the crowd, not blend in, and he knew just the honky-tonk to do it in.
The road into Bitterwood proper from the mountains was a winding series of switchbacks and straightaways called Old Purgatory Road. Back in the day, when they were just kids, Delilah, a couple of years older and eons wiser, had told Seth that it was named so because hell was located in a deep, dark cavern in the heart of Smoky Ridge, their mountain home, and the only way to get in or out was Purgatory Road.
Of course, later hed learned that Purgatory was actually a town about ten miles to the northeast, and the road had once been the only road between there and Bitterwood, but Delilahs story had stuck with him anyway. Even now, there were times when he thought shed been right all along. Hell did reside in the black heart of Smoky Ridge, and it was all too easy for a person to find himself on a fast track there.
Purgatory Road flattened out as it crossed Vesper Road and wound gently through the valley, where Bit-terwoods small, four-block downtown lay. There was little there of notethe two-story brick building that housed the town administrative offices, including the Bitterwood Police Department, a tiny postage stamp of a post office and a few old shops and boutiques that stubbornly resisted the destructive sands of time.
Bitterwood closed shop at five in the evening. Ev-erything was dark and shuttered as Seth drove through. All the nighttime action happened in the outskirts. Bit-terwood had years ago voted to allow liquor sales by the drink as well as package sales, hoping to keep up with the nearby tourist traps. While the tourist boom had bypassed the little mountain town despite the effort, the gin-guzzling horse was out of the barn, and the occasional attempts by civic-minded folks to rescind the liquor ordinances never garnered enough votes to pass.
Seth had never been much of a drinker himself. Cleve had taught him that lesson. A man who lived by his instincts couldnt afford to let anything impair them. Plus, hed grown up dodging the blows of his mean, drug-addled father. And all liquor had done for his mother was dull the pain of her husbands abuse and leave her a shell of a woman long after the old bastard had blown himself up in a meth lab accident.
Hed never have gone to Smoky Joes Saloon for the drinks anyway. They watered down the stuff too much, as much to limit the drunken brawls as to make an extra buck. But they had a great house band that played old-style Tennessee bluegrass, and some of the prettiest girls in the county went there for the music.
He saw the neon lights of Smoky Joes ahead across Purgatory Bridge, the steel-and-concrete truss bridge spanning Bitterwood Creek, which meandered through a narrow gorge thirty feet below. The lights distracted him for only a second, but that was almost all it took. He slammed on the brakes as the darkened form of a car loomed in his headlights, dead ahead.
The Chargers brakes squealed but held, and the muscle car shuddered to a stop with inches to spare.
Son of a bitch! he growled as he found his breath again. Who the hell had parked a car in the middle of the bridge without even turning on emergency signals?
Son of a bitch! he growled as he found his breath again. Who the hell had parked a car in the middle of the bridge without even turning on emergency signals?
With a start, he recognized the vehicle, a silver Honda Accord. Hed seen Rachel Davenport drive that car in and out of the employee parking lot at Davenport Trucking every day for the past year.
His chest tightening with alarm, he put on his own emergency flashers and got out of the car, approaching the Honda with caution.
Out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement in the darkness. He whipped his gaze in that direction.
She stood atop the narrow steel railing, her small hands curled in the decorative lacework of the old truss bridge. She swayed a little, like a tree limb buffeted by the light breeze blowing through the girders. The air ruffled her skirt and fluttered her long hair.
Ms. Davenport? Seths heart squeezed as one of her feet slid along the thin metal support and she sagged toward the thirty-foot drop below.
Ms. Davenport is dead, she said in a faint, mournful tone. Killed herself, you know.
Seth edged toward her, careful not to move too quickly for fear of spooking her. Rachel, that girders not real steady. Dont you want to come down here to the nice, solid ground?
She laughed softly. Solid. Solid. She said the word with comical gusto. Shes solid. What does that mean? It makes you sound stiff and heavy, doesnt it? Solid.
Okay, not suicidal, he decided as he took a couple more steps toward her. Drunk?
Do you think Im cursed? There was none of her earlier amusement in that question.
I dont think so, no. He was almost close enough to touch her. But he had to be careful. If he grabbed at her and missed, she could go over the side in a heartbeat.
I think I am, she said. Her voice had taken on a definite slurring cadence. But he decided she didnt sound drunk so much as drugged. Had someone given her a sedative after the funeral? Maybe shed had a bad reaction to it.
I dont think youre cursed, Seth disagreed, easing his hand toward her in the dark. I think youre tired and sad. And, you know, thats okay. It means youre human.
Her eyes glittered in the reflected light of the Char-gers flashers. I wish I were a bird, she said plaintively. Then I could fly away over the mountains and never have to land again. She took a sudden turn outward, teetering atop the rail as if preparing to take flight. She said I should fly.
Then, in heart-stopping slow motion, she began to fall forward, off the bridge.
Chapter Two
He wasnt going to reach her in time.
A nightmare played out in his head as he threw himself toward her. His hands clawing at the air where shed been a split second earlier. His body slamming into the rail that stopped him just short of throwing himself after her over the side of the bridge. He could see her plummeting, her slender body dancing like a feather in the cold October breeze until it shattered on the rocks below.
Then his fingers met flesh; his arms snaked around her hips, anchoring her to him. Though she was tall and thin, she was heavy enough to fill the next few seconds of Seths life with sheer terror as he struggled to keep her from tumbling into the gorge and taking him with her.
He finally brought her down to the ground and crushed her close, his heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in his ears. She pressed closer to him, her nose nuzzling against the side of his neck.
This is nice, she said, her fingers playing over the muscles of his chest. You smell nice.
His bodys reaction was quick and fierce. He struggled to regain control, but she wasnt helping him a bit. Her exploring hands slid downward to rest against his hips. His heart gave a jolt as her mouth brushed over the tendon at the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue flicking against the flesh.
Taste good, too.
He dragged her away, holding her at arms length in a gentle but firm grip. I need to get you home.
She smiled at him, but he could see in the dim light that her eyes were glassy. Clearly she had no idea where she was or maybe even who she was. Whatever chemical had driven her up on the girder was still in control.
Rachel, do you have the key to your car? He didnt want to leave her car there to be a hazard to other drivers trying to cross the bridge.
She shook her head drunkenly.
Keeping a grip on one of her arms, he crossed and checked the vehicle. The key was in the ignition. At least she hadnt locked the door, so he could move it off the bridge. But did he dare let Rachel go long enough to do so?
Rachel, lets take a ride, okay?
Kay. She got into the passenger seat willingly enough when he directed her there, and she was fumbling with the radio dials when he slid in behind the steering wheel. Wheres the music?
Just a minute, sugar. He started the car. A second later, hard-edged bluegrass poured through the CD speak-ersKasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson. He had that album in his own car.
She started singing along with no-holds gusto, her voice a raspy alto, and complained when he parked the car off the road and cut the engine.
Just a minute and well make the music come back, he promised, keeping an eye on the road. There had been no traffic so far, but his luck wouldnt hold much longer. He needed to get her out of there before anyone else saw the condition she was in.
He almost laughed at himself as he realized what he was thinking. Hed been a cover-up artist from way back, trying to hide the ugly face of his home life from the people around them. Hed gotten good at telling lies.
Then hed gotten good at running cons.
Still, he thought it was smart to protect Rachel Dav-enport from prying eyes until she was in some sort of condition to defend herself. He didnt know what had happened to her tonight, or how big a part shed played in her own troubles, but he didnt care. Everybody made mistakes, and shed been under a hell of a lot more pressure than most folks these past few weeks.
She could sort things out with her conscience when she was sober. He wasnt going to add to her problems by parading her in front of other people.
He buckled her safely into the passenger seat of the Charger and slid behind the wheel, pulling the bluegrass CD from a holder attached to his sun visor. He put the CD in the player and punched the skip button until the song shed been singing earlier came on. She picked up the tune happily, and he let her serenade him while he thought through what to do next.
Delivering her to her family was the most obvious answer, but Seth didnt like that idea. Someone had gone to deadly lengths in the past few weeks to rip away her emotional underpinnings, and Seth didnt know enough about her relationship with her stepmother and stepbrother to risk taking her home in this condition. She seemed friendly enough with them, but they didnt appear particularly close. In fact, there was some speculation at work whether Paul Bailey was annoyed at being bypassed as acting CEO. He might not have Rachels best interests at heart.
The particulars of George Davenports will had become an open secret around the office ever since hed changed it shortly after his terminal liver cancer diagnosis a year ago. Everybody at the trucking company knew hed specified that his daughter, Rachel, should be the companys CEO. It had been a bit of a scandal, since until that point in her life, Rachel Davenport had been happy working as a librarian in Maryville. What did she know about running a business?