Whispering Springs

“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.”

“I will, thanks.”

He waited until she was out of sight and then exited the store with a nod to the curious shopkeeper. He moved down the street, keeping to the shady side until he caught a glimpse of her. She was getting into a white SUV with the Whispering Springs logo on the side. Leaning his back against a building, he watched the vehicle pull out of the gas station and onto the road. After the dust cloud settled, he walked back to his own car, following at a discreet distance, although it didn’t much matter if he was spotted. He’d already checked into his room at the ranch, and his client would make certain the others bought his cover.

As he navigated the winding road, he rolled down his window, allowing the scents and sounds of the rugged countryside to settle over him. It had taken a long time after three tours of duty in the Middle East to silence the noise of war in his head. When he first came back, he’d had no plan beyond finding a little peace and quiet. With his undergrad degree and service record, he’d had no shortage of opportunities, but for a while, he’d used the money left to him by his grandmother to hibernate.

For nearly a year, he’d done nothing but camp and hike and read. Then dinner with an army buddy had brought him to Houston and to an informal interview with Ezra Blackthorn, the founder and CEO of the Blackthorn Agency, a global security firm. Dylan had turned down the offer of overseas assignments despite the generous bonus incentives. He’d had his fill of foreign chaos. The domestic side of the agency was more to his liking, in particular surveillance where he could blend into the woodwork.

He’d settled quietly into his new life in Houston. He completed his assignments, kept to himself and that was that. Then one day he’d walked into Ezra Blackthorn’s office and been confronted by his past. Blair Redding had heard about his work at the agency through a friend of a friend. She was in need of protection for her CEO husband who had received a series of threats in the wake of a rumored merger.

Tony Redding had refused to take the threats seriously, but for Blair, a line had been crossed when someone had broken into their home and scribbled a troubling message across the bathroom mirror. She wanted to hire the Blackthorn Agency and Dylan in particular to provide covert protection during their upcoming stay at Whispering Springs.

Dylan had received a list of guests and staff, and he’d noted with relief the absence of Ava’s name. Would he have backed out of the assignment if he’d known she would come? He couldn’t answer that question and it didn’t matter anyway, because he was here now and he had a job to do.

Pulling off the main road, he drove through the arched entrance to the ranch and slowed his vehicle as he took stock of his surroundings. Nestled against a verdant hillside of wildflowers and rushing creeks, Whispering Springs was bordered on one side by a line of rugged live oaks, cedars and Texas pinions and on the other side by a natural barrier of arroyos and canyons carved from the walls of limestone bluffs.

The white SUV was parked on the circular drive when Dylan arrived at the house. He pulled to the rear and grabbed his backpack before heading up into the hills. According to Blair, her husband was due to arrive at the ranch around dinnertime that evening. As far as Tony Redding and the others knew, Dylan was just another invited guest. But instead of mingling or relaxing, he’d spent the last few days getting the lay of the land. He’d explored the ranch house and outbuildings, the walking trails, the creek beds, the ravines and outcroppings—anywhere a perpetrator might hide.

Leaving the trail, he continued to climb until he had a panoramic view of the area. He lifted his binoculars, trailing his gaze along the tree line, peering into the evergreen thicket before zeroing in on the ranch house, a sprawling limestone structure with rough-hewn beams and outside arbors. No one was about. The chairs and gliders placed strategically around the property for sunrise and sunset viewings were all empty and the porches sat forlornly deserted. It would be dinnertime soon. Maybe everyone was inside getting ready for the evening meal.

As he turned to store his gear, something flashed in his peripheral vision. He turned back, scouring the valley with a naked eye before once again lifting his binoculars. He didn’t see anything at first, but he’d long ago learned the value of patience.

After a moment, the flash came again from one of the upstairs windows. He made note of the location even though the glare seemed nothing more than sunlight bouncing off glass. But the longer he lingered, the more convinced he became that someone stood just beyond his line of sight, watching him back through binoculars.

* * *

AVA LEANED AGAINST the balcony rail of her second-floor bedroom and surveyed the breathtaking scenery. The sun was just setting, gilding the jagged ridges that rose beyond the tree line. A breeze ruffled her hair, and she absently tucked back the wayward strands as her gaze lit on a lone hiker making his way toward the ranch. He was still some distance away, too far to make out his features, but his confident gait seemed familiar.

Recognition mingled with unease as Ava stepped back into the shadows. As he drew closer, she could see that he was tall and lean with close-cropped brown hair. She even imagined a slight auburn tinge to his five o’clock shadow. He had on sunglasses, but she knew behind those dark lenses his eyes were a piercing blue.

A memory came to her now of those electric eyes peering down at her intently as she held fast to her determination.

“Please don’t look at me that way. We both know it’s over.”

“It’s not over for me, Ava. I still love you. I still want us to be together. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed! When we’re together, all I can think about—”

“Don’t. You’re hurt and confused and you feel guilty. But what happened wasn’t our fault. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are we still keeping secrets?”

He was crossing the grounds now, and for a moment, Ava had the strongest urge to step out of the shadows and call down to him. I loved you, too, Dylan. I was wrong about us. It doesn’t matter now, of course, but I thought you should know.

She held her ground and in the next instant, he paused as if sensing her scrutiny. His right hand dropped to his side as he turned casually to observe the path behind him. Then he scanned the woods, the canyon and finally the house. His gaze slowly lifted. Ava was certain he couldn’t spot her in the shadows, and yet she could have sworn their eyes connected a split second before he crossed the grounds and entered through one of the side doors.

Her head fell back against the wall as she let out a shaky breath. Crazy to feel so stunned by the mere glimpse of an old boyfriend, but the sight of Dylan Burkhart had caught her completely off guard. He was the last person she’d expected to see here. Ava didn’t really care about the how or the why of his presence at the ranch. Her only concern was her reaction to him.