Haven (3 page)

“This is such a bad idea.”

Jessie Rayburn pulled her car over to the side of the road and put it into park just at the top of the hill in front of the First Baptist Church. It was a spot always considered to be the start of downtown, a spot where most of downtown was visible.

She rested her forearms on the steering wheel, gazing down on Main Street, Baron Hollow, North Carolina. Almost picture-postcard perfect, a small town nestled in a valley of the Appalachian Mountains, a place where just about everybody knew everybody else. The locals, at least. Tourists were another matter entirely, passing through pretty much year-round with their cameras and curiosity, leaving no mark of their visit behind.

Jessie had done a quick Web check before setting out, curious to
find out if there had been any important changes in the town she’d left behind.

With no major industry to support its work force, Baron Hollow’s economic strength was its beautiful scenery and the charm of a small town where numerous shops and galleries offered locally created art and textiles and crafts, much of it renowned throughout the Southeast for its beauty and value. Mountain craftsmanship.

Well, all that and the reputed hauntings in various local areas, since ghost “hunting” had become so very popular in recent years. Baron Hollow had a long history of violence and odd events despite its peaceful, pretty appearance, which made it a prime location for paranormal researchers. Especially since so many of its buildings, commercial and residential, had been standing for a couple of centuries.

Once, the town had boasted giant textile mills, and a paper mill out on the river, and even a few plastics plants, and nobody had cared very much about ghosts or old legends, except to scare kids into behaving themselves. But the mills and plants had been dwindling even when Jessie had left. They were gone now, the paper mill abandoned and useless, and the textile mill buildings “repurposed” into pricy lofts or quaint arts centers where visitors could watch sculptures and pots and rugs and jewelry being made.

And any building or area that could claim even the hint of a ghost or some kind of paranormal energy had a sign out front now, advertising the fact.

There were even walking ghost tours.

Still, the appearance of downtown Baron Hollow hadn’t changed all that much, Jessie thought. Quite a few of the buildings appeared
to have undergone face-lifts of fresh paint or stucco or stone, and there were bright awnings and signs beckoning visitors, but otherwise it looked much the same. On the outside, at least.

Home.
Well, once. Not now.

Fifteen years was a long time. A lifetime, really. She wasn’t the seventeen-year-old girl who had fled Baron Hollow with all her worldly possessions stuffed in the trunk of her beat-up Mustang, a riot of wild emotions driving her, nothing in her mind except the need to escape.

Get away. Run away.

Escape something she couldn’t remember except in fuzzy flashes that made no sense to her. Loud music. Voices and laughter. The smell of whiskey. The smell of sweat. Overwhelming shame. Guilt. The feeling of—

And it was gone. As quickly as that. Leaving behind it nothing except an urge to turn her car around and get as far away from this place as she possibly could.

It was an urge she could fight now. But not one she could ignore, as she had ignored the fear behind it for so many years. She couldn’t pretend whatever had happened was only a dream. Or a nightmare. She couldn’t block it out. Not now, not anymore. Fifteen years of blocking it out had left problems and scars she had to face if she had any hope of moving on with a normal life.

She wasn’t even sure if she had consciously known, then, what she’d been running from. Because all she clearly remembered was the need to escape, to run away.

“Damn. What the hell am I doing back here?” Her own voice startled her, but the question didn’t. She’d been asking herself that all during the drive east.

It wasn’t her inheritance; Emma could have that, and was welcome to it. God knew she’d earned it, staying here.

Jessie drew a breath and let it out slowly. Soon enough they’d talk about all that, if Emma wanted to talk. And that was a big
if
, since they hadn’t been at all close as kids and Emma had been only fifteen when Jessie had left. Without saying good-bye.

To anyone.

But this whole trip was about…closing the door on the past. Letting go of baggage so Jessie could move on with her life. So she could sleep without nightmares and do her damned job.

Whatever she had to do in order to accomplish that, she would do. Had to do. Because she was happy in her life now, in her job; it was work she loved and which had, finally, given her an identity and a place in the world she was proud of.

That was worth risking a lot for. It was certainly worth risking a trip back to the town where she’d spent the first seventeen years of her life.

She pulled in a deep breath, then closed her eyes and let it out slowly, concentrating. Doing her best to drop her guards so she could
feel
this place instead of just seeing it.

But…nothing. And she knew why.

She didn’t want to feel what she knew she would feel here. Remember what she knew she had to remember.

Which meant she was buttoned up tight and sensing nothing.

For now, at least.

She gazed down on the busy scene that was Baron Hollow on a Saturday morning and drew another breath in an attempt to steady her nerve. No choice now. She was here. And she’d driven a long way.

And what was there to be afraid of, after all? She was hardly that frightened, defenseless seventeen-year-old girl now.

Far from it.

Whatever had driven her away from this place, she was certain she could handle it now. Certain.

She reached into her bag and found her cell phone, protected in its specially designed case from the sometimes erratic energy of a psychic. Not that Jessie had to worry about that at the moment, because she was all buttoned up. So tightly, in fact, that she was rather grimly certain she didn’t even display an aura.

She hit a speed-dial button, and the call was almost immediately answered. “There so soon?”

“I didn’t stop for much,” Jessie told her boss. “Maggie, are you sure this is necessary? The checking-in shit? I’m not on a case, after all, just a vacation. It’s a little Southern town with almost no crime rate. Hell, I don’t think there’s ever been a mugging in Baron Hollow. Ever.”

“Humor me, okay? Just a quick call every day to let me know you’re all right. Going home is sometimes the hardest thing we ever have to do, especially when we’re in search of memories. And you know me. I worry.”

“Okay, okay.” Jessie thought of her nightmares, the ones she could never remember, and her mind shied away. Determinedly keeping her voice light, she said, “I’ll call. I promise.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Jessie ended the call and dropped her phone back into her bag. She reached to put the car in gear, then froze, staring at her hand. For just an instant, so briefly she was…almost…certain she had
imagined it, there had seemed to be the outline and faint color of a flower on the back of her hand.

A rose.

She stared at her hand, lifting it away from the gearshift to study what was now only smooth flesh.

But she was sure she had seen something. Almost sure.

“A rose,” she murmured.

And she had no idea what that meant.

Jessie put the car back in gear and pulled away from the curb. It was only two short blocks to Rayburn House, built back in the days when this end of Main Street had boasted several large houses where the wealthy of Baron Hollow had lived.

Now, of course, the remaining wealthy families wanted larger lots and quieter streets, and built their mansions on mountain slopes to look down on the quaint little town. And what had once been large houses had mostly been turned into businesses of one kind or another, with a few divided into apartments or condos.

Jessie turned her car into the driveway of what was now an inn rather than the family home, reflecting that if it had been Emma’s idea to turn Rayburn House into a paying proposition, it had been a good one.

Judging by the parking lot Jessie could see, off to the side and
nicely landscaped so it wasn’t ugly, Rayburn House was doing good business, at least on this weekend.

There was a rather unobtrusive sign that read
VALET PARKING
, so she left the keys in the car when she got out.

The long and wide front porch held several rocking chairs and small tables; one middle-aged couple was enjoying the summer morning with iced tea and a plate of cookies.

They nodded politely to Jessie and said hi, and she returned the greeting, equally polite.

It was warm, but not hot, so the big double doors were standing open, but the inn was protected from summer insects by a double screen door, decorative as well as practical.

The screen door was opened for her by a middle-aged man, neat in jeans and a crisp white shirt with a name tag that read
DAVID
. “I’ll bring in your luggage, ma’am,” he said, courteous. “And park the car.”

“Thank you.” Even as she said it, Jessie reflected wryly that she had left her bag in the car less because she’d expected someone to carry it for her than because she was still fighting the urge to bolt.

She could feel the pulse beating in her throat as she passed through the doorway and went into Rayburn House.

“Hi, welcome to—”

Approaching the registration desk, Jessie noted without surprise the other woman’s surprise. “Hi,” she said simply. “I’m Jessie Rayburn.”

The woman behind the desk was about Jessie’s own age, brown haired and brown eyed, and pretty in a pleasantly unremarkable sort of way. But her smile was friendly and her voice was innately warm, which undoubtedly made her the perfect innkeeper.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and looked apologetic. “I’m sorry,
Miss Rayburn. I was just caught off guard by the resemblance. I mean, you’re fair and Emma is dark, but otherwise…”

“Night and day,” Jessie said, keeping her voice light. “People always said. I spoke to my sister a few days ago to let her know I was coming, so—”

“Oh, of course. I’m Penny Willis, the innkeeper, and we were certainly expecting you. Your room is ready. David will take your luggage up as soon as he parks the car.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re up on the family floor, of course,” Penny said to Jessie in that warm, friendly tone. She came around the desk and led the way toward the stairs. “I know Emma wanted to be here to meet you, but she’s out right now. Every morning and afternoon, she walks to the park with her dog. I’ll call her cell—”

“No, don’t disturb her.” Jessie softened that with a faint smile. “I’ll take the chance to get settled in. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

She followed the innkeeper up the curving staircase, wondering just how significant it was that Emma wasn’t here when she had known exactly when Jessie expected to arrive at Rayburn House.

And Jessie was right on time.

IT HADN’T OCCURRED
to him, when he’d first heard about it, that the homecoming of Jessie Rayburn would cause him any problems at all. Why should it? He’d been a clumsy brute back then, true enough, and things had not gone according to plan, but it was a long time ago, and besides, he’d taken care to make sure anything she did remember would be…confused.

Assuming she hadn’t simply forgotten the whole thing completely, pushing it into the back of her consciousness where she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

It was a characteristic of hers, if he remembered correctly. Ignore what she didn’t want to face. Pretend it hadn’t happened. And if that failed, run away from it, as she had several times run away from home as a child.

She had definitely run away from something all those years ago. And if she had run because of what had happened at the party…if she was back now because she was beginning to remember…then she might just prove to be trouble, after all.

So when he saw her arriving on Saturday, he quashed the reckless voice urging him to pay a casual visit to Rayburn House and say hello to her.

No need to push his luck.

If he encountered her casually during the two weeks or so she was supposed to be here, then so be it. But seeking her out struck him as a bad idea. For now, at least.

Besides, he was a busy man.

EMMA RAYBURN CHECKED
her watch for at least the third time, then threw the Frisbee again for her eager Sheltie to race after. They had the small park to themselves, which was a bit unusual on a Saturday in June, but since the new children’s interactive “museum” was opening downtown this weekend, Emma assumed most of the kids were there. Snacks, entertainment, lots of interesting stuff to look
at and do…It was any mother’s dream summer destination for kids out of school.

The place was bound to be a hit.

Emma should have been there herself, she knew, to show her support both as a patron of the museum and as a community leader.

Funny how that label had stuck to her.

She wondered if Jessie would laugh.

They hadn’t been close even as kids, not the sort of sisters who shared confidences and borrowed each other’s clothes. Emma had been the tomboy, the one always out on a horse or hiking in the mountains or playing sports at school. Jessie had been more of a girly girl, interested in clothes and makeup and hair even before she hit her teens.

Outgoing when part of a team, Emma had otherwise been a bit of a loner and casual about friends, letting none get too close; raised to be self-reliant, her first impulse was never to confide in others or ask for help.

Jessie, on the other hand, had worn her heart on her sleeve. Impulsive and emotional, she had “run away” from home half a dozen times in childhood, and was always discovered hiking determinedly a mile or two from home, heading for anywhere but here. As a teenager, she had been flirty, with more male “friends” than girlfriends, always dressing to draw attention and seemingly comfortable handling that attention.