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Cynthia leaped to her feet. “I refuse to believe any of this nonsense. Lambert and other convicts are just scumbags. The dregs of society. They’ll say anything to cause trouble.”

  Sammy pulled out his cell phone. “Be that as it may, take a look at this latest mug shot of Dorsey Lambert. Wouldn’t hurt for you to be aware of his appearance, so you can be on the lookout.”

  Cynthia gave it a quick glance, her lips curled in a sneer. “He looks thoroughly disreputable. I can’t believe you’d entertain him, or others like him, for one minute. Do you really think my husband could have done such a despicable thing?

  Sammy tucked the cell phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know, ma’am. We might never know the full truth given his untimely death.”

  “I know the truth. You didn’t know him like I did. Like we knew him. How dare you come in my home and besmirch Edward’s name?”

  “Sammy’s only doing his job,” Beth said, gently patting Cynthia’s arm. “He’s not accusing Dad. He came here to warn us.”

  “Fine. I’ve been warned.” Cynthia stood and lifted her chin at Sammy. “Now I want you to leave my house. And Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night? Forget it.”

  Beth’s face flamed with heat. It was one thing for her stepmother to assume that superior air with her, but she wouldn’t tolerate it being aimed at someone she cared about. Sammy started to rise, apparently unruffled at Cynthia’s outburst, but Beth gestured for him to stay seated.

  “Actually, Cynthia, if you want to get technical about it, this is my house. Dad left this place to me and the Atlanta home to you. So Sammy is staying and he’s having dinner with us tomorrow, too.”

  Cynthia’s haughty mien crumbled in an instant. She opened her mouth to speak, and then clamped it shut. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  Damn. She hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings; she’d only wanted to stop her from trying to order Sammy around. Cynthia spun on her heel and headed to the stairs.

  “Wait a minute, I’m sorry,” Beth began. But Cynthia held up a palm, warding off her apology. She disappeared from sight, and seconds later the door slammed shut behind her.

  Sammy gave a low whistle. “Didn’t mean to cause trouble for you. Is it always this tense between the two of you?”

  “Without Dad as a buffer—yes. It’s not like we have a whole lot in common. Things are better when Aiden’s around. He keeps the conversation going and smooths out any friction. Thank heavens he’s coming in tomorrow and staying over the weekend.”

  “You know, you’re always welcome to spend the holiday with my family,” he offered. “It’s a large, boisterous household when we all get together. There’s my uncle and his bunch, and several cousins and their kids. Always plenty of commotion and conversation,” Sammy said with a grin. “It may make you want to come running back here for a little peace and quiet.”

  No, what it sounded like was a loving family who enjoyed getting together. Would they really appreciate an outsider horning in on their celebration? “I’m already spending Christmas Day with you at your dad’s. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “You won’t be.” He hugged her and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. She rested the side of her face against the crisp cotton fabric of his uniform shirt, inhaling the clean linen smell mixed with a hint of a leathery aftershave. Her dismay at Cynthia’s outburst seeped out of her body. She’d work things out with her stepmother. They always had before. She could suck it up a few more days until Cynthia returned to Atlanta and she to Boston.

  Boston.

  She pulled Sammy to her a little tighter, wanting to savor every possible moment they were together.

  “You okay?” he asked in a husky voice that sent shivers—the good kind—down her back.

  Beth pasted on a bright smile. “Fine. Guess you need to get back to work, huh?”

  He held her shoulders, gazing deep into her eyes. “I have a few things to check on, but if you need me, I’m all yours.”

  “No, you should go. I’ll talk to Cynthia now.”

  It took a few minutes to reassure him all was well, but at last she waved at him from the doorway as he drove off. Cynthia was nowhere in sight. Beth walked through the kitchen, noting that the oven had been turned off and all the baking supplies put away. Cynthia wasn’t in the dining room or den, either. Had she been so upset that she’d packed up her things and left?

  She opened the door and peeked into the garage. Cynthia’s silver Town Car was still there. Perhaps she’d retired to her bedroom, unwilling to face her. She should apologize for sounding so harsh. Beneath her somewhat icy exterior, Cynthia was an emotional woman.

  As she passed by the French doors in the den, a movement from outside froze her midstride. A camo-colored ATV motored by the edge of the woods. On her property.

  Anger infused her body and without thinking, she hurried to the door and opened it. “Hey,” she called out. “What are you doing?”

  The driver braked and stared at her for an instant. He was tall and wore a large brown parka. A black ski cap covered his head, but strings of long red hair peeked out.

  Not Dorsey, but he could definitely be a member of the Lambert clan. Her breath caught, and she hastily stepped back inside. In a burst of engine pedal-hitting-metal noise, the man drove the ATV into the woods and out of sight.

  But not out of mind. Beth slammed the door shut and locked it, remembering how recently two men had broken into her home and destroyed the previous door. She placed a hand on her heart, feeling it pound inside her rib cage. Should she call Sammy? Grab Cynthia and insist they leave at once and spend the holidays in Atlanta?

  In the end, she did neither. Probably only a hunter scouting locations, she told herself. Or somebody just bored and out for a ride. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d seen people along the tree line of Blood Mountain. ATV riding was a popular activity in the area.

  Beth rubbed her arms, relieved she wasn’t alone in the house. There was safety in numbers. Maybe she should give Aiden a call and see if he could come earlier than originally planned. It would soothe Cynthia and lighten the mood. Impulsively, she lifted the receiver of the landline to call him.

  “I miss you so much, baby. I hate we’re so far apart.”

  Oops. Cynthia was already on the line. She must have wanted Aiden to come home earlier, as well. Beth started to hang up the phone when an unfamiliar, deep voice spoke.

  “Ditch the family. It’s been a year. Bad enough we had to sneak around when your husband was alive. But now?”

  Surprise rooted Beth to the spot, hand gripped on the phone that she held to an ear. Who the hell was this man? Cynthia was a cheater. Had Dad discovered this before he died?

  “Just a little longer, sweetheart,” her stepmother murmured. “If we’re seen together too soon, people might start to wonder how long we’ve been a thing.”

  “I don’t give a damn what people think and neither—”

  “And from there, some might even speculate how convenient it was for us that Edward died while I was having an affair. After all, I did end up collecting some of his money in the will.”

  Beth held her breath and an ominous chill ghosted across her flesh. She could hardly reconcile the grief-stricken Cynthia at her father’s funeral with this woman speaking so casually to her lover about the will. She hoped Dad had never suspected. That until the very end he’d been happily married and blissfully ignorant of his wife’s deceit.

  “You should have gotten all the money,” the mystery man groused.

  Cynthia laughed. A high-pitched artificial sound that grated on Beth’s ears. “I couldn’t agree more. But what’s done is done. I had no idea I wouldn’t collect everything. If I’d known seven months earlier that Edward would leave Beth most of his estate, then I would have done things differently.”

  Things? What things? What had her stepmother done?


  “Did you hear something on the line?” Cynthia asked sharply.

  Beth bit her lip and wildly glanced around the room. If she hung up now, they’d definitely hear a click as the call disconnected. She raised a shaky hand to her mouth to stifle any betraying gasp.

  “Nope. You’re paranoid,” the man said, barking out a small chuckle. “Always worried others will discover your little secrets. Why the hell did you call me on the landline anyway?”

  “I forgot to charge my cell phone battery last night. Anyway, I should get off the phone, just to be safe. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  “Come home soon,” he said.

  The line went dead. Beth immediately placed the phone back on the receiver. That’s what you get when you eavesdrop on people, she heard her father’s reproving voice scold in her mind. It will never be anything good. But it wasn’t like she’d meant to listen in on a private conversation. Not really. Not until the conversation had taken such a dark, twisty path. Then she’d been hooked and there was no going back.

  The scent of chocolate and caramelized sugar suddenly turned cloyingly sweet. The air felt oppressively hot and humid from all the residual heat still radiating from the oven.

  She had to get out of there. She couldn’t face Cynthia. Not now. Not until she’d worked out everything she’d overheard. Beth scrambled through a kitchen drawer, searching for pen and paper. She’d leave Cynthia a note that she’d gone out for a bit.

  A door screeched open upstairs. Cynthia was coming.

  Floorboards creaked, and footsteps started down the hallway, then onto the stairs leading to the den. Strange to think of all the times she’d ever spent with Cynthia and now the idea of being alone with her filled her with disgust and anxiety. Beth desperately snatched her purse from the counter and stole a quick glance up.

  Cynthia stood at the top of the stairs, looking cool and composed again, a slight smile curving her lips. As though she hadn’t stormed out of the recreation room ten minutes ago. As though she hadn’t been on the phone with the lover she’d been cheating with while married. As though she bore no ill feelings for her stepdaughter.

  A lie. Everything about her was a lie.

  Beth rushed to the foyer and pulled on a coat.

  “Where are you going?” Cynthia asked.

  “Out.” Beth didn’t dare glance her way, afraid her emotions would be written all over her face.

  “Listen, don’t go. I want to apologize for losing my temper. Of course, Sammy was only doing his job. He’s always welcome here.”

  A jolt of irritation pricked through Beth’s nervousness. How many times did she have to remind Cynthia this was her home, not her stepmother’s. And it was her decision who came and went.

  “Good to know,” Beth commented wryly.

  “You’re still upset.”

  “Of course I am.” Beth unlocked the dead bolt and buttoned her coat. “I need to run to the store. Be back later.”

  Cynthia reached her and ran a hand through Beth’s errant locks. It took all of her willpower not to cringe from the woman’s touch.

  “Okay. I hope you realize I was only upset because of the slur to your father’s name.”

  As if you care, Beth wanted to scream. Had Cynthia ever really loved her father? Or had it always been about the money from day one? Another one of those mysteries she’d probably never learn the answer to.

  Without responding, Beth hurried out the door and into the cool, bracing air. After the stifling hot kitchen, the fresh winter breeze was as refreshing as a gulp of iced tea in the heat of a Georgia summer. She felt Cynthia’s assessing eyes upon her as she opened the rental car door and slipped inside. Thank goodness Lilah had been so thoughtful to arrange a rental for her to use temporarily.

  Her mind swirled, recalling every word of the overheard conversation.

  Always worried others will discover your little secrets...

  How convenient it was for us that Edward died while I was having an affair...

  If I’d known seven months earlier that he’d leave Beth half of his estate, then I would have done things differently.

  The more she ruminated, the more sinister the implications grew. Could Cynthia have played a part in her father’s death? Perhaps his heart attack was brought on by the shock of discovering her affair. She had to concede that if that were the case, his heart probably wasn’t in good condition to begin with.

  How could Cynthia have betrayed him like this? Dad had rescued her from a minimum-wage job as a nurse’s aide where she’d struggled to make ends meet for herself and her young son, Aiden. Dad had given her everything—a beautiful home, a first-class education for her son, a lifestyle that included travel and security—and all his love and loyalty.

  The security guard at the gate waved at her as she passed through. Not that he’d done much good when her house had been broken into the first time. It was way too easy to access the Falling Rock houses via the woods at the back of the subdivision.

  Beth shook her head as she left the gated community. What was she doing driving out of her own neighborhood? Instead of fleeing, she should have booted Cynthia out of the house. It had been such a shock to learn of her deceit that her first instinct had been to get away until she was more in control of her feelings. To hell with that. Next opportunity to turn around, she’d take it.

  She started down the narrow mountain road and tapped the brakes as she came to the first bend. Nothing. She pressed her foot down until the pedal jammed against the floorboard. The car only gathered speed as it began its descent.

  Panic bore down her, squeezing her chest with dread and fear. The car sped faster with every turn. To keep from going over the edge of the mountain, she had to drive in the middle of the road. If someone else came around a curve, they were both toast.

  Be calm. Think.

  She was already over halfway down. An S curve loomed about fifty feet ahead—bad news—but the good news was that the side of the road broadened at the curve’s end. If she could just manage this last curve, she could pull over onto flat land and hope that the car would eventually stop in the wide plain before she crashed into a tree.

  If, if, if.

  But there was no time to speculate on her chance of survival. She desperately jerked one way on the steering wheel, then the opposite, trying to keep the vehicle from either veering off the mountain or crashing against its rocky side.

  This was it. The last bend in the curve. She only had seconds to exit off the road and into flat terrain. Beth yanked at the steering wheel and the car bounced as it traversed the bumpy field. But at least she was losing speed and not endangering anyone else’s life. Too soon, the open field ended, and trees jutted the landscape. She was headed straight on to a collision with a copse of pine trees.

  Should she open the door and try to roll away from the car’s path? Or would she risk injury by staying in the car and jerking the wheel in time to either avoid the tree or have it only hit the rear?

  Beth opted to remain in the car. She gripped the steering wheel and twisted it. Her muscles tensed, anticipating impact.

  Bang!

  Metal crashed against bark and the car fishtailed. She held on to the steering wheel, praying that the force of the collision didn’t send her body flying through the front window. Her torso strained against the seat belt. An explosion of sound and force slammed into her consciousness, so powerful her teeth rattled.

  The world went white. It was as though she’d been thrown into a blinding snowstorm, so thick that it smothered, choking out the rest of the universe. Only this snow scalded. She breathed in hot fumes of dust. Beth struggled to understand what was happening.

  The ivory veil abruptly dropped. She blinked. Dazedly, she glanced down and noted a deflated bag and broken sunglasses on her lap. How did they get there? Pale yellow smoke curled up from the bag and a film of
dust coated the dashboard.

  The dashboard...she was seated in an unmoving car. How strange. She looked out the shattered window and took in the snowy field and green pines. Where was she? Beth pulled at the door handle, but it was jammed shut. She was trapped.

  Yet the idea didn’t fill her with alarm. The observation merely floated through her mind like a cloud on a windy day. Again, she glanced down and saw her purse on the passenger floorboard, its contents spilled. The black screen of the cell phone seemed to blink at her as it caught a gleam of sunlight.

  She undid her seat belt and leaned over to collect it, wincing as her banged-up muscles protested the movement. The solid weight of it in her palm brought her slowly back into focus, grounding her to the present reality. She’d driven off the road and hit a tree.

  The moment of blankness and scalding heat she’d felt was from where the deployed airbag had punched her upper torso. In the dashboard mirror she saw several abrasions to her face and chest.

  But she was alive.

  And then she remembered the suddenly defective brakes. The terrifying sensation of being at the mercy of four tons of metal careening down a mountain. Had it been a freak accident or had someone tampered with them? Someone who wanted her dead. Someone named Dorsey Lambert.

  Fear sharpened her dull senses and she spun her head left to right, searching for anyone lying in wait. To her immense relief, she appeared to be utterly alone. Beth turned off the sputtering engine and punched in Sammy’s number.

  He answered almost immediately, and she filled him in on the situation.

  “I’ll be right there,” he assured her. “I’ll send an ambulance, too. Just to make sure you’re really okay.”

  Beth huddled deeper into her coat, the outside chill beginning to seep inside the idle, smashed car.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Here you go.” Charlotte placed a Dixie Diner to-go bag on his desk. Sammy’s stomach grumbled at the aroma of fried chicken and cornbread, reminding him that he’d missed lunch. He pushed aside paperwork and pulled out the container.