Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [29]
Caleb shrugged. “He went bankrupt and killed himself. That’s his blood you’re standing on.”
She looked down at the dark stain, and to her credit she didn’t leap away with a squeal. “And you left it there?”
“It’s a helpful reminder of knowing your limitations. Hubris and all—you can’t reach too high or the gods will smite you.”
“In your case I’m not sure it sank in,” she said, moving past the stain to look out the framing that should have held a window. “You don’t seem particularly meek and humble.”
“No, that’s never been my particular character defect.” He moved closer to her, carefully, so as not to startle her. “You can see your house quite clearly if there’s no rain.”
“Which means never,” she said gloomily. “Why did you buy a house just like David’s?”
“Maybe you should ask him. Maybe the question is…why did he buy a house like mine.”
She turned her head to look at him. She was a tall woman, almost his height, and her eyes were clear and bright. “Why are you here?”
For one brief, crazy moment he considered telling her the truth. She wouldn’t believe him, of course. No one ever had, though his mother had suspected the truth. And he couldn’t risk her telling David.
So he lied. “I haven’t seen my father in years. I thought it was about time.”
“And David?”
“He’s visited me occasionally when I’ve been on assignment. He’s more sentimental than I am—he’s always made sure our brotherly connection remains strong. I last saw him in Tunisia.”
“I didn’t realize David traveled that much.” She unzipped her coat. He had a good fire going in the woodstove, and despite the gaping windows, the room was warm.
“There are a lot of things about David you don’t know. Why don’t I get you some clean clothes and you can change? If your daughter sees you like that she’s going to worry.”
She looked down at her muddy clothes, considering. “Mud dries.”
“During the rainy season? You’re more optimistic than I would have thought,” Caleb said.
“What do you mean, rainy season? Does the sun ever shine in this misbegotten place?”
“It’s been known to happen,” he said. “We’ve got four distinct seasons. Less rain. More rain. A lot more rain. And the deluge.”
“Nevertheless…”
He ignored her, disappearing into the far room, returning with his baggiest pair of jeans and an oversized flannel shirt. “Here.”
She made no move to take them, so he simply dumped them in her arms. “The bathroom’s behind that door. It even locks.”
“I really need to get back down to my car.”
“You have time.”
“Then I have time to get to my own house and change my clothes.”
“But again, I’m not putting you in my car in that condition,” he said, all breezy sweetness that he didn’t expect to fool her for one moment.
It didn’t. She made a low noise, somewhere between a snarl and a growl, and stomped off away from him, slamming the bathroom door behind her.
He found himself grinning. She was a firecracker, red hair and all, a fighter. This would be so much easier with a frail flower, but Rachel wasn’t the type to wilt.
Once more he considered telling her the truth. He could tell her what kind of danger she was in, but she wouldn’t believe him. For the moment she was safe. And what he had told her was the simple truth. The women had all been the same physical type—thin, average height, long, straight blond hair. A far cry from Rachel Middleton’s Amazonian proportions.
Sophie was a different matter, but she was way too young. In a couple of years or so she might be at risk, making him doubly grateful he’d finally chosen to face his worst fears. If he’d put it off, if she’d died, he’d never forgive himself.
In a way he was already at that point. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had suspicions, doubts, but the truth of it was unacceptable even to a hard-core cynic like himself. But maybe, just maybe, the girl on the mountain wouldn’t have died if he’d come sooner. Maybe Libba, maybe