Whispering Springs. Amanda Stevens
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like urban legends,” Ava said. “Why don’t you entertain me while we drive?” She settled back against the seat and tried to relax, but as their gazes connected again in the mirror, she felt another inexplicable shiver along her spine.
“There was a girl once, a college kid who worked at the ranch when it first opened. One evening after her shift, she went out to walk the trails and never came back. The cops were called in and a search party formed, but they didn’t find so much as a footprint. It was like she vanished into thin air.”
“Wait a minute,” Ava said with a frown. “I think I remember reading something about that disappearance. It happened while I was still in law school. The police suspected her boyfriend, but they could never find her body.”
“That was just an easy explanation to avoid a lot of bad publicity for the new retreat.”
“And I thought I was cynical,” Ava muttered. “What do you think happened to her?”
“Beats me, but no one who knew her bought that story. Her boyfriend had an airtight alibi. The police couldn’t pin it on him no matter how hard they tried.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t have something to do with it,” Ava said.
“He wasn’t even in the area. And if she ran away like some folks thought, she would have told her friends or at least left a note. A person doesn’t just walk out the door and disappear off the face of the earth.”
“It could happen.” Ava thought about Dylan. “Did you know her?”
“Before my time,” he said, but with an edge in his voice that made Ava wonder. “Anyway, to circle back to the urban legend part, when the wind blows down through the canyon, people claim they can hear her scream.”
“Have you heard her?”
“Me? No. But I don’t wander too far off the beaten path after dark. The terrain is deceptively rugged even for those of us who grew up around there. Don’t go out alone,” he advised. “Travel in a group or hire a guide. If you prefer solitude, then stick to the trails close to the house.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
They both fell silent after that. Ava leaned her head against the back of the seat and watched the passing scenery. Traffic thinned as they left the city, and the road wound through the countryside like a twisted gray ribbon. After a while, the fenced meadows gave way to a breathtaking vista of ridges and valleys in earthy hues of slate, ocher and moss.
Ava felt unaccountably anxious. She wanted to blame her disquiet on Noah’s story or even the mess she’d left behind in Houston. Deep down, she knew better. She hadn’t thought through this trip. Until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the consequences of facing her former friends and all their old demons.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the foreboding. The road noise lulled her and the next thing she knew, the car had pulled to a stop. She sat up abruptly. “Are we there?”
“Ten miles out,” Noah told her. “I need to gas up. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. Where are we, exactly?”
“Lawton. It’s the nearest town to the ranch. Not much to see, but you’re welcome to get out and stretch your legs if you want. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t mind a stroll.” Ava got out of the car and stretched, then set out in the direction she vaguely remembered as downtown. She passed a couple of eateries, a cluttered antiques shop, the post office, a hardware store and a handful of other businesses lined up along the main drag. There was no picturesque town square, no quaint gazebo or clock tower to attract passersby. The place had seen better days, but there was charm to the dusty windows and peeling paint. A stubborn resistance to the march of time that Ava found comforting.
At the edge of town, the cracked sidewalk gave way to a dirt footpath that disappeared into a cedar thicket. The sun beat down warm on her shoulders as she drank in the fresh air. The sky was very blue and mostly cloudless, but a shadow on the horizon warned of rain.
She stood for another moment enjoying the woodsy spice of the evergreens and the distant gurgle of a creek fed by underground springs. Then she turned to retrace her steps to the gas station. She hadn’t encountered a single soul on her short excursion, although she’d glimpsed a handful of patrons and shopkeepers through plate glass windows. Enough to know she was hardly alone, and yet the oddest sensation of isolation beset her. She wanted to hurry back as fast as she could to the car, but instead she halted and scanned her surroundings, searching for the reason for her sudden unease.
He stood on the opposite side of the street, sheltered beneath an old tin awning so that at first Ava could detect little more than a tall, lean silhouette. She told herself not to stare, move on, nothing to see here.
But she remained rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the stranger. As her eyes adjusted to the shade, she could make out his clothing and features. He had on jeans, boots and a plaid shirt common to the area, but Ava didn’t think him a local. There was something about the way he carried himself, about the slight tilt of his head that struck a chord. A memory.
It couldn’t be, she thought in near panic. Not after all this time. She was seeing things. A mirage, a dream, a trick of light and shadow. Why, after all these years, would Dylan Burkhart turn up in Lawton, Texas, of all places?
She resisted the urge to cross the street for a closer look and the even greater desire to flee in the opposite direction. Instead, she skimmed her surroundings yet again, testing her perception. She wasn’t dreaming or imagining things. She was fully cognizant.
But when she glanced across the street, the silhouette had vanished.
* * *
DYLAN BURKHART STEPPED BACK into the shop, moving quickly to the window, where he fastened his gaze on the woman across the street. For a moment, he wondered if she meant to come look for him. He could have sworn she took a step toward the curb. Then she turned with a shrug and moved on down the street.
He watched her walk away with a mixture of relief and regret, doused with icy shock. She wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d known there was a chance she’d show up, of course, but from everything he’d been able to ascertain, Ava North rarely took time off from her job. She’d become a workaholic, a tireless prosecutor who never used vacation or sick days and who rarely ventured beyond the triangle of her apartment, the courthouse and her office. And yet here she was.
She’d changed since their final parting. She could still turn heads, but there was a cynical twist in her smile that hadn’t been there in the old days. Not that he’d taken all that in from a quick observation across the street. In the year since he’d relocated to Houston, he’d seen her twice before—once in a restaurant and once from the shadows across the street from her apartment. The first time had been by chance, the second by design. He hadn’t set out to look her up. Told himself when he accepted the position in Houston that he would let sleeping dogs lie.
But then he’d started seeing mentions of her in the paper, along with an occasional photograph. She was a rising star in the DA’s office. No surprise there. She’d always been smart and driven, but the woman who stared up at him from the pages of the Chronicle seemed so different from the young crusader he’d known in college. She still had that wild mane of brown hair, but tamed for court in a loose bun. Her green eyes still sparkled, but now with a deadly determination.
He hadn’t approached her either time. He’d observed her from afar until he’d sated his curiosity, and then he’d gone about his business of starting a new job and finding a place to live. And he’d made certain they never traveled in the same circles. Until now.
“Something I can help you with?” the clerk asked from behind the counter.
“Just browsing,” Dylan replied absently, his gaze still on the street.
“Holler if you need anything.”