CHAPTER ONE
For the briefest of seconds, Alane
Travis thought she saw someone looking out the front window of the
rented mountain cabin. As she pulled the Jeep Cherokee into what
she hoped was the cabin's driveway, the headlight beams penetrated
the near-blizzard storm to sweep across frosty windows and
Christmas garland swagged over the porch and balcony
railings.
Stress and fatigue, she told herself.
And it was hard to see anything through that solid curtain of snow.
Besides, the rental company said the cleaning lady would be there
the day before to decorate a little. No one should be there
now.
Pulling her hood over her hair, she
ducked her head, climbed out of the car, then grabbed two bags of
groceries from the back seat. In a blur of white, she slogged
through snow up to her knees then knocked the worst of the slush
off her boots as she stomped across the porch.
The welcome warmth of the cabin
engulfed her the moment she stepped across the threshold. The
interior was just as she'd hoped. Rustic, homey, loaded with
personality. She could already feel the knots in her muscles
dissolving.
She found her way to the kitchen,
dropped the groceries onto the scarred wooden table, then trudged
out for another load. On her return trip with her suitcases, she
raised her head to find the porch steps in the virtual white-out
and thought she saw a movement in the window again.
Had it been a reflection of something
outside? Had the wind moved the curtain through a drafty
window?
A hard knot of fear curled in her
stomach and inched its way up her throat. Should she run? Should
she drop her suitcases and make a dash for the safety of the
car?
She reasoned with herself at the bottom
of the porch steps. If someone was in there, surely they would have
already shown themselves, whether they meant her harm or not. She’d
made a mountain out of a molehill. Was she going to let a drafty
window and fluttering curtain keep her from the much needed
vacation?
Stiffening her spine and straightening
her shoulders, she tightened her grip on the suitcases and mounted
the steps to the porch. She had to work on her painting, as well as
use this opportunity to make a decision about her and David. She’d
chosen to spend Christmas alone so she wouldn’t be distracted from
either her work or her decision-making, and she’d be darned if
she’d let a little gust of wind scare her away.
In the distance a country church bell
chimed eight o'clock. She sent up a little prayer, only half
jokingly, that she'd live through the night.
Showing more courage than she actually
felt, she kicked open the door and swung the Samsonite ahead of her
into the cabin, half expecting to see some psycho in a goalie mask
with a chainsaw in his hand. But if the goalie came after her, he'd
have to hack his way through the luggage to get at her.
The living room couldn't
have been more peaceful. Logs and kindling lay stacked in the
fireplace, waiting for the touch of a match. No shadows moved. The
house didn't feel like someone was hiding from her. She hauled her bags over to
the tiny staircase leading to the bedroom, then peered up the
stairs. The dark, gaping blackness at the top of the stairs was
anything but inviting, but she forced herself to haul the suitcases
up the creaking steps, then fumbled in the dark until she found a
light switch and flicked it on. She jumped a foot in the air, with
a scream, dropping her luggage, at the sight of something sprawled
across the bed.
“Oh, good grief!” Her heart raced
beneath the palm she’d clapped to her chest, and then a timid
little giggle escaped her throat.
The creature lurking across the white
eyelet bedspread was a fake bearskin rug with a cuddly teddy bear
head grinning blankly up at her.
“Way too much imagination, Travis.”
She dragged her suitcases over to the
bed, then scanned her surroundings. The room took up the entire
second floor of the small cabin. Roomy, bright, and airy, it still
held a cozy,
For the briefest of seconds, Alane
Travis thought she saw someone looking out the front window of the
rented mountain cabin. As she pulled the Jeep Cherokee into what
she hoped was the cabin's driveway, the headlight beams penetrated
the near-blizzard storm to sweep across frosty windows and
Christmas garland swagged over the porch and balcony
railings.
Stress and fatigue, she told herself.
And it was hard to see anything through that solid curtain of snow.
Besides, the rental company said the cleaning lady would be there
the day before to decorate a little. No one should be there
now.
Pulling her hood over her hair, she
ducked her head, climbed out of the car, then grabbed two bags of
groceries from the back seat. In a blur of white, she slogged
through snow up to her knees then knocked the worst of the slush
off her boots as she stomped across the porch.
The welcome warmth of the cabin
engulfed her the moment she stepped across the threshold. The
interior was just as she'd hoped. Rustic, homey, loaded with
personality. She could already feel the knots in her muscles
dissolving.
She found her way to the kitchen,
dropped the groceries onto the scarred wooden table, then trudged
out for another load. On her return trip with her suitcases, she
raised her head to find the porch steps in the virtual white-out
and thought she saw a movement in the window again.
Had it been a reflection of something
outside? Had the wind moved the curtain through a drafty
window?
A hard knot of fear curled in her
stomach and inched its way up her throat. Should she run? Should
she drop her suitcases and make a dash for the safety of the
car?
She reasoned with herself at the bottom
of the porch steps. If someone was in there, surely they would have
already shown themselves, whether they meant her harm or not. She’d
made a mountain out of a molehill. Was she going to let a drafty
window and fluttering curtain keep her from the much needed
vacation?
Stiffening her spine and straightening
her shoulders, she tightened her grip on the suitcases and mounted
the steps to the porch. She had to work on her painting, as well as
use this opportunity to make a decision about her and David. She’d
chosen to spend Christmas alone so she wouldn’t be distracted from
either her work or her decision-making, and she’d be darned if
she’d let a little gust of wind scare her away.
In the distance a country church bell
chimed eight o'clock. She sent up a little prayer, only half
jokingly, that she'd live through the night.
Showing more courage than she actually
felt, she kicked open the door and swung the Samsonite ahead of her
into the cabin, half expecting to see some psycho in a goalie mask
with a chainsaw in his hand. But if the goalie came after her, he'd
have to hack his way through the luggage to get at her.
The living room couldn't
have been more peaceful. Logs and kindling lay stacked in the
fireplace, waiting for the touch of a match. No shadows moved. The
house didn't feel like someone was hiding from her. She hauled her bags over to
the tiny staircase leading to the bedroom, then peered up the
stairs. The dark, gaping blackness at the top of the stairs was
anything but inviting, but she forced herself to haul the suitcases
up the creaking steps, then fumbled in the dark until she found a
light switch and flicked it on. She jumped a foot in the air, with
a scream, dropping her luggage, at the sight of something sprawled
across the bed.
“Oh, good grief!” Her heart raced
beneath the palm she’d clapped to her chest, and then a timid
little giggle escaped her throat.
The creature lurking across the white
eyelet bedspread was a fake bearskin rug with a cuddly teddy bear
head grinning blankly up at her.
“Way too much imagination, Travis.”
She dragged her suitcases over to the
bed, then scanned her surroundings. The room took up the entire
second floor of the small cabin. Roomy, bright, and airy, it still
held a cozy,
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