Whispers (Argent Springs) Page 9

  If only Rick wasn’t so underfoot. He was the thorn in an otherwise perfect rose.

  Her feet crunched on fallen twigs and leaves as she moved deeper into the forest. But not too deep. Despite the temptation to irritate Rick, she intended to remain responsible.

  Erin walked for a while following the path marked by others, inhaling bigger breaths to compensate for the thin air. Occasionally, she stopped to shoot a picture of a wicked looking pine or an amazing outcropping of rock. Every now and then, she’d hear a dog howl, and she guessed it probably belonged to the owners of the white SUV parked near her.

  When she came across a large flat stone, she stopped and opened her backpack pulling out her lunch. She was grateful Annabelle had suggested bringing a sandwich along because that gave her a longer amount of time to stay in the beautiful setting.

  She nearly inhaled her ham sandwich, not realizing she’d grown so hungry. For whatever reason everything tasted better when she ate outside. Perhaps the fresh air somehow enhanced the flavor. She slugged down half her water bottle and then tossed that along with her apple back inside her backpack for later.

  She kept an even pace as she walked higher and deeper into the woods. She kept telling herself she’d turn back after five more minutes, but the whole experience of being alone in the fresh mountain air compelled her to stay just a bit longer. She was about to turn back when she spied a hulking gray object between the trees ahead of her.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered. Had she made it all the way to the cross? She really hadn’t been walking that long. Her feet moved a little faster in an effort to get a better view.

  She slowed and then stopped as she reached the circular clearing. In the middle, stood a nine-foot tall cross. Ornate details had been carved into the stone, making it seem as though a tangle of barbed vines twisted around it. Was that to signify the crown of thorns that had supposedly been placed on Jesus’s head? Or maybe to show the trials a person must face before he could be admitted to heaven?

  Erin walked forward. The reverent hush that occupied the place seemed almost tangible. She placed her fingers on the cold, hard stone, tracing the winding vine. A shiver raced over her.

  The sculptor must have come up here every day for months, maybe even longer to complete it in such detail. What had life done to him that he would be compelled to do such a thing? Had he lost a love? Or had he been trying to find himself like Erin?

  Maybe he was just crazy. Definitely talented though.

  She pulled out her camera and snapped a bunch of pictures from different angles, taking the time to get a few close ones that really showcased the detail of the cross. When she was satisfied, she took a step back and appreciated its beauty one last time.

  An eerie howl made the hairs on her arms stiffen.

  That wasn’t a dog barking like she’d thought earlier. It couldn’t be.

  Were there wolves up here? Rick had mentioned bears and mountain lions the other day, but not wolves. And Annabelle had said she’d be safe, but that didn’t reassure her now.

  She took stock of what she had for protection if she needed it. Nothing but a stupid camera and a half-empty water bottle.

  She cursed as she turned toward the path, her feet moving in rapid succession.

  The howl came again, and she reassured herself that it wasn’t in close proximity to her. She’d be fine.

  Then she began to run. Not long after she did, soft snowflakes started to fall, giving her another reason to head out. Her path was downhill which made it easier to inhale enough oxygen, and she alternated her gaze between the rocky path beneath her feet and what lie ahead of her. She stumbled once on the uneven ground, sending a swift pain shooting through her ankle, but the adrenaline racing through her veins quickly expelled the feeling.

  By the time she reached her car, her lungs burned. Still, she let out a laugh, feeling exhilarated. She’d made it to the cross and back all on her own. Take that, Rick.

  “Woo!” she said to the vast wilderness. She brushed off the fluffy snowflakes before she climbed into her car and started it. A twinge shot through her ankle as she pushed on the brake before putting the car into gear. She ignored the feeling as she headed back down the mountain toward Aunt Annabelle’s house.

  There were several cars in front of the bed and breakfast when she arrived, causing her to park farther down the street. Another annoying pain shot through her ankle when she stepped out of her car and into the fluttering snow.

  When she entered the house, the sound of boisterous feminine laughter came from the atrium. She hobbled her way back, trying to ignore the pain radiating from her foot.

  Erin peeked around the corner to see three older women plus Aunt Annabelle sitting at a card table that had been set up in the corner of the atrium. They all wore flamboyant dresses in jewel-tone shades with gems sparkling at their necks and earlobes. One even had a feather plume pinned in her hair.

  It took an extreme amount of effort to not laugh in appreciation.

  A woman with spiky white hair and an emerald dress stood and slapped her cards down on the table, causing Erin to startle. “Take that.”

  The other ladies all leaned forward and peered through their glasses to see the winning hand of cards.

  “A royal flush?” the woman in red exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Did you cheat, Agnes?” Annabelle asked.

  Agnes snorted. “Won it fair and square. Now give me my loot.”

  One by one, the women removed earrings, a necklace or a ring and passed them to Agnes. Erin noticed a similar pile of booty in front of Annabelle, too.

  “Damn it, Agnes,” said another woman wearing a gown of deep sapphire. “Do you always have to win?”

  “You need to work on your poker face, Dottie, or I’ll take you for everything you have.”

  Dottie rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that Erin couldn’t quite understand. “Give me another shot of whiskey,” she said in a louder voice.

  “Of course, love. I wish I would have seized a bottle of that Sinatra stuff my nephew had. You would have loved it.” Annabelle pulled a bottle from the floor and removed the lid, pouring a good-sized shot of Jack Daniels into Dottie’s glass. “Anyone else?”

  Just as she asked the question, Annabelle caught sight of Erin standing in the doorway, and a smile burst on her lips. She stood and held out a hand toward her. “Erin, love. Come meet my friends.”

  Erin walked into the room as three wrinkled faces turned in her direction. “Hello,” she said to the group, wondering if this was why she’d suggested that Erin take a lunch and stay out for longer.

  Annabelle linked an arm through hers. “I’d like you to meet, Agnes, Dottie and Sakima. Ladies, this is my great-niece, Erin Silvestri.”

  “About damn time you made it to town. Annabelle’s been talking about you forever.” Agnes stuck out a hand, and Erin shook it. Her grip was firm, her mouth a bit caustic, but she exhibited a genuineness that Erin enjoyed.

  “Nice to meet you, Agnes.”

  Erin took turns shaking Dottie’s and Sakima’s hands as well.

  “It looks like you ladies are having a good time.” Erin eyed the cards and whiskey with a raised brow.

  “Just a little old-fashioned fun,” Annabelle responded.

  “You’re playing for jewelry?” It seemed like an odd choice of winnings.

  Agnes put a casual yet obvious hand over her recently acquired loot as Dottie stepped between Erin and the table, blocking Erin’s view.

  “This is how the ladies played back then,” Sakima said, her voice somehow sleeker, possibly more educated than the others. “Some of their gents paid in jewelry, and every Monday night after a wild weekend, the girls would shut down the house and have a little girl time. Depending on how much silver the guys were bringing down from the mountain, the girls would gamble with trinkets like thimbles or jewels.”

  Erin tried to step around Dottie to get a better look at the ta
ble, but Sakima and Annabelle had joined forces.

  “We’re just indulging in our ancestors’ traditions. Nothing serious,” Dottie said.

  “Whiskey and gemstones?” Erin asked, now curious at what they were really hiding.

  The four ladies glanced at each other with guilty looks.

  The jewelry must be costume, or else... “Are you playing with real jewels?” She reached out and lifted the gaudy red necklace that had rested near her aunt’s throat. It looked like real rubies, but then again, fakes were so realistic these days. It would take a trained eye to tell the difference.

  “What does it matter? They’re ours,” Agnes said.

  “We inherited them rightly, so we can do what we want,” Dottie added.

  Sakima gave her a warning look, but it was too late. Erin couldn’t contain her laugh.

  “Am I to understand that you ladies dress up like former inhabitants of this town and pretend you’re the prostitutes that used to live here? And you’re using their jewels as bets in your weekly game of poker?” These women were headed one way down the crazy road.

  “Not just former inhabitants, our great grandmothers,” Sakima said in an almost-insulted tone. “Most of the jewelry is just costume stuff anyway.”

  “Your great-grandmothers were Rosa’s cohorts?” Unbelievable.

  Agnes wrapped an arm around Dottie’s shoulder. “You bet your sweet ass they were.”

  “That’s amazing that you’d all be friends now.” Erin would be checking out Annabelle’s jewelry collection later on. Crazy? Quite possibly, but that didn’t mean the jewelry wasn’t real. In fact, she wasn’t so sure they manufactured that much costume jewelry over a hundred years ago. The settings at least would be silver. These ladies could be sitting on a gold mine and not even know it.

  “Not that surprising.” Sakima sat, her expression no longer guarded. “This is a small town, and we all have deep roots here.”

  Annabelle beamed a smile at her friends. “For whatever reason, these ladies and I felt compelled to return to our childhood homes. And once here, none of us ever left. You might also be surprised to know you’ve met their granddaughters. Livia belongs to Sakima.”

  Now that Annabelle mentioned it, she could see a definite resemblance.

  “And Piper is Dottie’s granddaughter.” Annabelle focused clear hazel eyes on Erin. “You’re not my granddaughter, but close enough.”

  Loving warmth filled Erin, and she could understand why these women stayed. To have friends like this was a gift. Their eccentricities made them all the more lovable.

  “Now that we have that out of the way,” Annabelle said as she slipped an arm through Erin’s and tugged her toward the doorway. “Could you be a dear, love, and start dinner? Beef stroganoff. The recipe and most of the fixings are on the counter. I’d like to say goodbye to my friends and clean up.”

  “Sure,” she said before looking over her shoulder at Annabelle’s friends. “I enjoyed meeting all of you.”

  Sakima nodded her head in what Erin was sure she must have meant as a friendly gesture while the others waved goodbye.

  Erin took a few steps toward the kitchen before she turned around. She remembered she wanted to tell Annabelle that it had started to snow.

  “She said she’s smelled lavender a couple of times.” Annabelle’s voice reached out into the hallway, stopping Erin in her tracks.

  “Lavender? No one has smelled that for years,” Agnes said in lowered tones. “Do you think it’s a coincidence?”

  “When is anything in life a coincidence, Agnes?” Annabelle asked. “Besides, I’ve smelled it a couple of times myself recently.”

  “Maybe Rosa wants Erin to stay,” Dottie said in a lowered voice. She said it as though Rosa had actually made her wishes known in the past. The agreeing voices in the room didn’t seem surprised by her statement either.

  A shiver raced over her. A ghost in the house? A real ghost? Perhaps her Aunt Annabelle hadn’t been exactly truthful with her when she’d downplayed not really knowing if Rosa was still around.

  On the other hand, she had to admit that although Rosa’s spirit might be in the house, she’d never felt threatened or scared. Still, the thought of ethereal guests freaked her out.

  She wanted to confront Annabelle and her friends now and demand some answers, but she didn’t want them to know she’d been eavesdropping. However, the first minute she could get Annabelle alone, she had some explaining to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Erin had just popped dinner into the oven when the front door slammed. A cold breeze whipped through the house as hurried footsteps approached. She glanced up to find Rick bundled in a sleek black ski jacket. “Where’s Annabelle?”

  “Atrium. What’s wrong?”

  “A couple of kids are missing.” He turned and headed toward the back of the house.

  She followed, doing her best to hide her limp and pretend her ankle wasn’t still throbbing. Concern for these two unknown citizens of Argent Springs upped her heart rate, and she hoped they’d be okay. Rick had warned her how dangerous the mountains could be after dark and most certainly in a snow storm.

  Annabelle was alone in the atrium, her friends having left a good fifteen minutes before. She glanced up as she placed a deck of cards into the drawer of an old chest near the doorway. “Rick,” she said with a surprised voice.

  “Gert’s girl is missing along with that Cannon kid. Apparently, she snuck off with him this afternoon, and now no one can find them. The storm that’s coming in is huge, and Gert is afraid they’ve gone up one of the side roads into the hills, probably to get drunk or high.”

  “Oh, dear. That girl is always giving her mamma fits. Are you helping?”

  “Yeah. A few of the townsfolk are putting together some search parties. We’ll search the best we can and hopefully find them before the weather knocks us down.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Erin asked. She hadn’t forgiven Gert for what she’d done at the bar, but she didn’t want anyone to get hurt, either. “An extra pair of eyes is good, right?”

  Rick eyed her up and down. “Do you have a warm coat?”

  She nodded. “Annabelle told me to be prepared for any weather.” A snarky little part of her wanted to tell him that was part of the reason she’d had so much luggage when she’d arrived, but she stayed silent.

  “Fine. Grab your coat.”

  Erin turned to Annabelle. “I just put dinner in the oven. The timer’s set.”

  “I can take care of that. You two go find those kids.” Annabelle shooed them out into the hallway.

  “My coat’s upstairs. It will just take me a second.” She headed for the staircase.

  When she came down, she found Rick standing exactly where he’d been when she’d headed up, an austere look on his face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice demanding.

  His tone set her back. “Nothing.” She glanced at her clothes and the hiking boots she still wore. She’d experienced plenty of snow storms and cold temps in Utah and felt she was more than appropriately dressed.

  “You’re limping.”

  Ah, hell. “I’m not.”

  He raised his brows, challenging her denial.

  “Fine. I twisted my ankle when I was out earlier today. It’s nothing.”

  “How far did you go up in the mountains?”

  Somehow, he read her mind. “Not far.” If she told him the truth, she’d never hear the end of it.

  He stared at her for a moment as though he was deciding if she was honest, and she kept her gaze trained on him, keeping her eyes as wide and innocent as possible.

  After a few seconds, he shook his head, disappointment obvious in his features as he headed out the front door.

  A frigid wind nipped at her as she stepped out onto the porch. The fat flakes that had fluttered down earlier had been whipped into a wicked frenzy by the cold front that had moved in. They drove at her, hitting her with enough force to sting as they a
ttacked her cheeks and hands.

  A solid-looking dark blue pickup truck sat running in front of Annabelle’s house with the headlight beams punching their way through the heavy snow. Rick stood next to the passenger door, and she had the distinct feeling he considered her a liability. He said nothing, just opened the door as she approached and helped her inside. The heater cranked out a lovely amount of warm air, and she was grateful to be inside out of the weather.

  Seconds later, Rick climbed onto the driver’s seat, and the calmness of the interior immediately flipped to an intense awareness of the man sitting next to her. His cologne teased her senses, trying to draw her closer to him. She resisted.

  He didn’t say anything as they drove the block and a half and parked in front of an old red brick building that Annabelle had pointed out as the town hall. Various other four-wheel drive vehicles had parked on both sides of the corner lot.

  He turned off the engine, and she opened her door.

  “Wait,” he said with a stern voice, and she turned in his direction, expecting him to say more.

  Instead, he jumped out of the cab. Wind whipped at the hood of his coat as he walked around the front of his truck. He finished opening her door and held out a hand to her. She took it, and he helped her down from the truck.

  “I wouldn’t want you to slip in the snow and hurt yourself again.” His voice was gruff, but it warmed her all the same. Most of the guys she’d dated back home wouldn’t have given her injury a second thought.

  She followed him up the front steps and into the first floor of the city building. The scent of aged wood masked by wax and polish struck her, and she was reminded of how long this little town had been in existence. Lights and voices came from a room at the back, and they stepped inside to find a handful of people surrounding a thirty-something man suited up in a padded red coat and a black beanie. To the side of the crowd, a hulking man hugged a teary-eyed Gert, making her seem almost human.