CHAPTER ONE

Callie Thompson stepped on the accelerator of the Mustang and felt the powerful engine surge. A grin broke out on her face as her hair whipped in the wind. It was almost too chilly to be driving with the top down, but she didn’t care. The nip in the air was invigorating.

Taking a deep breath, she let her body melt back against the plush leather seat. Now, this was the life—sunshine, a powerful car, and an open road. What more could a girl want? Oh, wait. That was right. She had a list. Add a ruggedly handsome man, a house with hardwood floors, a never-ending supply of peanut butter, and everything would be perfect.

“I’m a homeowner!” she yelled as she lifted both hands into the air. The wind carried her words away down the two-lane road.

With a laugh, she caught the steering wheel again. She couldn’t believe how Lady Luck was smiling upon her. She’d inherited a house. Not a flat, an apartment, a brownstone, or a condo, mind you. She didn’t care what you called any of those places where people lived smack dab on top of the other. Fate had given her a house.

She still couldn’t believe the surprise that an elderly relative had left in her will. She hadn’t known Aunt Jeanne well. She was a great-aunt, three times removed, or something along those lines. Callie had no idea why the woman had thought of her when she’d been divvying up her estate. She was just happy she had. The timing certainly couldn’t have been better. To say she was sick of city life would be putting it mildly. Boston had been big and exciting for a while, but its charms had worn thin. The relentless noise, the traffic, the constant press of buildings... She didn’t know exactly what had pushed her over the edge; she’d just known she’d been getting more and more claustrophobic. Instead of being fed by the city’s energy, she’d felt trapped.

With work going well, she was mobile. She didn’t have to live in the city. With email, the Internet, and smartphones, she could live anywhere she pleased. Right now, a house in the middle of Western Massachusetts pleased her very much.

She rested her elbow atop the door and opened her fingers to catch the wind. She liked the rolling Berkshire mountains, the trees, and the birds. Most of all, she loved the fact that she shared the road with early leaf peepers, not harried commuters. People were out just to enjoy themselves. What a concept.

The road took her over the crest of a hill, and her grin turned into a thousand-watt smile.

Excitement unfurled in her stomach and, on impulse, she pulled over to the side of the road. She put the Mustang in park and scooted up the leather seat until she was perched on the headrest. She liked the look of the town as much as she liked the name.

Shadow Valley was tiny and quaint. It sat nestled amongst the hills, filling up the bowl of the valley. It appeared as if houses had tried to make their way up the hillsides, but nature had finally staked her claim and allowed no further advancement. The trees were so thick around the edge of the town that she wondered if a person could walk between them. Either way, they’d be surrounded by beauty. The autumn hues were just starting to appear. Soon the entire landscape would be a riot of color.

But she could see how the town got its name. When the sun went down, darkness would fall quickly. Shadows from the hills would sweep over the town like a protective blanket, and all that color would change to black.

Smiling to herself, Callie plopped back down into the driver’s seat and buckled her seatbelt. This was exactly what she’d been looking for. This was a place where she could relax and settle in.

A news report came over the radio, and she changed channels. A rock station suited her mood. Checking her mirror, she pulled back out and began to cruise. The road snaked down into the valley with twists and turns. The rock-and-roll beat a heavy rhythm, and she stepped harder on the gas.

Her gaze flashed to the radio. That was a terrible guitar solo. Wait... The wailing got louder, and she glanced at the rearview mirror.

She pulled over to the side of the road. The police car swung in behind her, and she grimaced. This was not the new beginning she’d planned. The police car came to a textbook stop, a few feet back and slightly off-center. She watched as the policeman opened his door. One foot settled on the pavement, and her eyes widened as he emerged from his cruiser.

Now that was a big guy. Big, solid, and intimidating. His height continued to grow until he filled up her rearview mirror. With the way he stalked toward her, he looked like a jungle cat approaching his prey. Callie licked her dry lips. Why did she suddenly feel like lunch?

He approached her car carefully, and she rubbed her damp palms against the steering wheel. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the mirrored sunglasses he wore, but she could feel him watching her as closely as she watched him. Suddenly self-conscious, she ran her hand through her tangled hair and tried to make herself presentable.

“Ma’am,” he said in a low voice as he stepped up to her door. The rumbling tone made a shiver go down her spine.

“Officer.” She tilted her head back to look him in the face, but with the way he towered over her, it nearly put a kink in her neck. When their gazes finally connected, she didn’t care.

Awareness sizzled deep down in her belly. So help her, if the man had a jar of peanut butter stuffed in his pocket, she would not be held accountable for her actions.

“Oh, sure.” She took them off. Giving in to a bit of feminine primping, she ran a hand through her hair again. With the way it had been whipping around in the wind, she must look like a maniac. “Sorry,” she said, looking up at him through the fan of her eyelashes.

For a moment, he went still as he looked at her. Then his weight shifted. “Do you know what the speed limit is on this road, ma’am?”

She flashed him one of her best smiles. “My second-grade teacher was a ‘ma’am,’ but she had blue hair. Could you try miss or even miz?”

Callie’s smile faltered. What? What had she said wrong? Wasn’t a bit of flirtation expected under these circumstances? Especially when he looked like that? She couldn’t see his eyes, but the line of his lips had gone flat. His jaw had somehow become firmer, and she shivered as the nip in the air became more pronounced.

Abruptly, she realized he wasn’t paying attention to her. He was listening to yet another news report on the radio.

“Authorities are still on the lookout for two escaped convicts from the correctional institute at Concord. People in surrounding areas are warned to be on the lookout. The convicts are thought to be unarmed, but should be considered dangerous. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of—”

She hit the power button. “I hope I don’t look like an escaped convict to you,” she teased.

If anything, the lines on his face became even sterner. “Can I see your driver’s license, miz?”

He said it in such a deadpanned tone, she almost missed it. She looked up at him, hoping to see a smile, but the expression on his face hadn’t changed. “Yes, officer,” she muttered.

“Sorry.” She pulled her purse off the floorboard and onto her lap. She felt his attention sharpen, so she kept her movements slow so he could see what she was doing. She pulled out her wallet, but the plastic slot where her license was usually housed was empty.

“I know it’s here somewhere.” She threw him yet another apologetic look that bounced right off those reflective sunglasses.

She finally decided that discretion was not the best policy, and flirting with him was definitely out of the question. The man might be drool-worthy, but he also appeared to be a by-the-book type of lawman.

She grabbed a handful of things out of her purse and began flipping through the business cards, punch cards, and coupons. When that proved unsuccessful, she put the handful of items on top of the box in the passenger seat and reached for another.

Handful number two didn’t provide any better results. She was reaching for a third when he finally broke down and asked, “Are you licensed to drive?”

“Of course I am.” Callie refused to look at him. Looking at him made butterflies swirl in her stomach, and she was unsettled enough as it was. She searched through her latest collection and found a ten-dollar bill, an expired library card, and two tubes of lipstick.

She’d had it out a lot. She’d been filling out so much paperwork with her address change. For a second, her heart tripped. Could she have left it at the lawyer’s office or any one of the utilities she’d had to cancel and/or set up? She had such a hard time keeping track of things.

She held it out to him and tilted her head, purposely letting her hair flow over her shoulder. Her blond hair. It was time to get this situation back in hand. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong, sir.”

Trying harder, she gave him her best doe-eyed look. “The countryside is just so pretty, I got distracted.”

She wished she could see his eyes. Sweet-talking worked much better when she could read an officer—or a police chief’s—reaction. At least, it had in the past. She needed every advantage she could get with this guy.

“So, Ms. Calina Thompson,” he said, reading her name, “you never answered my question. Do you know what the speed limit is on this road?”

Damn. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what that tone of voice meant. She was getting a ticket. She squinted down the road and saw a speed limit sign. “Thirty-five,” she said glumly.

“I didn’t think you’d have an answer for that.” He looked at the contents of her impractically small back seat. “Looks like you’re loaded down pretty well.”

“You should have those things secured with a rope or have the top up. It’s a hazard, especially with as fast as you were going.”

Which, apparently, he wasn’t going to tell her. Callie sank deeper into the seat. Not only was she getting a ticket, it was going to be an expensive one.

The way he said “Boston” made it sound like something that made his nose hairs curl. Great. That was just what she needed, some cocky small-time chief of police trying to show his muscles.

A sharp reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to hold it back. “I was.”

The abrupt change in the direction of the conversation threw her. Was he actually trying to socialize with her now? After he’d decided to give her a ticket? Didn’t this guy know how the game was played? “My aunt Jeanne left the house to me in her will.”

Callie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. She’d heard about small towns being cliquish, but this was ridiculous. Was he checking her pedigree or something? Were outsiders not allowed? “Aunt Jeanne was a Thompson. I don’t know anything about any Calhouns.”

“That’s good.” He turned on his heel. “Real good. Hold on, I need to run this.”

She watched him in the mirror as he walked away. She could usually charm people without lifting a finger—and, with him, she’d definitely been willing to let her fingers do the walking—but he’d been immune. In fact, he’d been downright surly. Apparently, her list needed a bit of tweaking. Ruggedly handsome or not, she didn’t like the man. She hoped the townspeople were friendlier, because their police chief had the personality of a rock.

She ripped her gaze away from the mirror once she realized what she was doing. Forcing herself, she stared straight out the front window.

Really, would it be so hard for him to let her go with a warning? It wasn’t as if she’d been speeding intentionally. Sometimes her foot tended to get a little heavy. She’d had a long drive, and she was excited about seeing the town. Did that warrant a ticket?

Her mood deteriorated as he let her sit there. And sit and sit and sit. She was stewing by the time he deigned to walk back to her car.

She snatched the electronic doohickey, scribbled her name, and passed it back to him.

“That’s quite a list of infractions you’ve gathered,” he said. He lifted his head, and she felt the force of his gaze. “I’m warning you right now that Shadow Valley isn’t Boston. You won’t be doing that here.”

Callie felt her blood pressure rise. Was that a threat or a warning? “I’m sure I won’t have to. The town’s not about to have the traffic problems Boston does.”

“That’s not the only difference you’ll find.” He looked over her muscle car. “There’s very little entertainment here.”

She mentally counted to ten. Her friends had told her the same thing. Now, this Podunk police chief was trying to chase her off using the same logic? She’d had just about enough of people telling her how she should live her life.

“Well, we have plenty of that.” He handed her the ticket, along with her license. “Welcome to Shadow Valley, Ms. Thompson. Try to keep it under the speed limit.”

She glanced down at her ticket, and her eyes rounded when she saw just how fast she’d been going. And he’d fined her for not having her boxes tied down! With a growl, she dropped everything into her purse. “Jerk.”

She was from the big city so he had to let her know who was the boss around these parts. She glanced up to her rearview mirror and saw that he was waiting for her to pull out first. Of course. He wanted to make sure she’d gotten the message. She scrunched her nose in annoyance.

She hit her turn signal and pulled back onto the road. The police chief followed two car lengths behind. Callie fought to ignore the tingle at the back of her neck. If he wanted her to be aware of him, the strategy was working. He followed her to the edge of town, but before she could pull over and ask him to just lead her to her new home, he turned and was gone.

Being unwelcoming to new residents... Prying into their personal lives... Setting fines when a warning would do... It was a downright shame that all that ruggedness was wasted on such a bullheaded man.

Well, she refused to let him spoil this day for her. Reaching into her pocket, she found the directions that the real estate agent had given her. She held them in front of her, got her bearings, and headed out to find her house on her own.

The old Calhoun place, huh? She’d see about that. “The Thompson place” had a much better ring to it.

Determinedly, she pushed her irritation with the police chief to the back of her mind. As she drove into town, it became easier and easier. Shadow Valley was too pretty for her to stay upset. With each block, her excitement returned.

The town looked as inviting up close as it had from afar. Little houses with pretty lawns dotted the main road into town. Overhead, fall decorations hung from the light posts. A little red-haired girl raced her bike down the sidewalk with the streamers flapping, and Callie had to grin. It was like a postcard.

Eager to explore, she continued down the road straight into the so-called business district. There was a hardware store, a post office, a library, a beauty salon, and a diner. She looked at the sign. Mamie’s. Perfect.

Taking a right, she headed back up into the hills. Anxiously, she began looking at the house numbers. It couldn’t be much farther... 1023, 1101, 1215... It turned out to be as far as she could go.

“Twelve fifty-five.” She pulled into the long driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac, killed the engine, and, for a moment, just sat there.

A mixture of happiness and dismay collected in her chest as she looked at the place. No wonder the police chief had been surprised that she was moving here. The property didn’t look like the picture the executor of the will had given her.

She let out a calming breath. On the one hand, the house was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. The old Victorian sat far off the road, making it seem aloof, but somehow regal. It was painted white, and picturesque blue shutters surrounded every window. A porch led up to the front door. She could just imagine a swing and potted plants hanging from the rafters.

“Ah.” A glare flashed off the porthole window of the attic. Automatically, she lifted her hand to shield her eyes. She squinted at the house again, this time without her rose-colored glasses.

The real view of the house was much less impressive. The realtor had warned her that the house had been vacant for years, but she hadn’t expected to find it in such disrepair. Half the shutters were hanging cockeyed. The paint was peeling, the lawn had grown wild, and the garage looked lopsided. In a word, the old Calhoun place was a dump.

Callie sat a little straighter in the bucket seat of the Mustang. Forget Hardass and his condescending attitude. She’d never been afraid of a little work—although this was definitely going to take more than a little work. She could make this place into something; she knew it.

She grabbed her purse and the box from the passenger seat. It was time to see what the inside looked like.

She pawed through her purse for the key to the house as she followed the sidewalk up to the front door. The long grass along both sides swayed with the wind, lashing around her calves and grabbing at her feet. Her excitement grew as she found the envelope stuffed near the bottom of her bag. The lock was stubborn from disuse, but it finally turned with a squeal.

Butterflies swirled through her stomach as she pushed open the door. She found herself in an open entryway. The only word that came close to describing it was majestic. In awe, she took a deep breath—and immediately started coughing.

She set her box down in front of the door to keep it open and began searching for windows. Staircases curved up both sides of the entryway walls, and she wandered through the open arch underneath them. A large living room spanned the width of the house. There, she found the boxes of belongings that she’d shipped over the week before. The room had a ton of windows, three on each side, and she opened them all as wide as they would go. Which for some, wasn’t far...

The inside of the house was in just as bad a shape as the outside. Dust and cobwebs coated everything. The fireplace was a disaster area with about half a foot of soot. A thick coating of gunk hid what was surely a gorgeous hardwood floor. And the windows... Yes, she was going to have to do windows.

Her creative juices began to flow. The place just needed a good cleaning. The wood itself was in good shape. She didn’t notice any decay, although that would take somebody with more expertise than her to decide. The floor plan was wonderful. Her furniture was placed haphazardly around the room and boxes were stacked two, sometimes three deep. Still, her entire apartment full of belongings didn’t fill the room.

Her smile returned, even brighter than before. Space. Opening her arms wide, she spun in a circle. She had space to move. Space to breathe.

She started off to explore the kitchen, but stopped when she stepped on something that crinkled. It was a curled-up piece of packing tape. She peeled it off the heel of her boot, but hadn’t taken two more steps before she stepped on another. Her brow furrowed. With as sticky as that stuff was, it shouldn’t have come off her boxes like this.

Confused, she looked around the room. She’d been so interested in the house that she hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. Now that she actually looked, she could see that boxes had been opened. The tape she’d so carefully applied was curled on the floor like snakes.

Slowly, she stepped to the side so she could see into the kitchen. Her box of kitchenware had been ripped open, and dishes were strewn about on the counter. Feeling more than a little unnerved, she walked over to one of the open plastic storage bins. It looked like somebody had gone through her linens, too.

Could the movers have done this? No, something like this would surely get them sued. The neighbors, maybe? How snoopy did small-town people get?

The invasion of privacy made Callie’s skin crawl. Something was wrong here. Uncertain what to do, she reached for her phone.

She spotted it perched on a window ledge. She hurried to get it, but came to a standstill when she saw the bedroom door standing open down the hallway. She took a step back to look inside. The bed had been made... or someone had tried to make the bed. It looked like a six-year-old had taken on the job—or a man.

A long, drawn-out squeak sounded overhead. Her head snapped up, but the sound didn’t stop. It echoed down through the walls and reverberated in the air. Forgetting the purse, she spun for the front door instead.

And promptly ran into a stack of boxes. A piece of paper flew off the top and right into her face. Sputtering, she fought it off, but then she saw it was a note.

I hope your drive was enjoyable. I’ve left a bottle of champagne and some food in the refrigerator to welcome you to your new house. Please feel free to call me if you have any questions.

Sincerely,

Tom Henderson

She looked around the room again. Boxes had been opened, but she couldn’t say if anything was missing. Had Henderson tried to make the big, run-down house homier by putting a few of her things away? She shook off a shudder. He’d volunteered to open the house for the movers when she’d been trying to figure out logistics, but she’d never given him permission to go that far. But he had fawned all over her ever since their first phone discussion... Knowing him, he’d think he was being thoughtful.

“None, you goofball.” She tried to think rationally. The place had been locked up solid as Fort Knox. The deadbolt hadn’t even wanted to turn to let her in.

Just to be safe, she went outside to double-check. All the windows, even those on the second floor, were shut tight—yet a shutter way up high was moving back and forth in the wind. She stared at it. A squeaky shutter. Of course the house was going to have creaks and groans. It was over a century and a half old. Her knees should sound so good.

She let herself in through the back door and evaluated the kitchen. Boxes had been opened, but it seemed as if her things were still here. She opened a drawer and saw that her cooking utensils had already been stowed, although they were in the drawer furthest away from the stove. Another sure sign of a man.

She was going to have to have a stern talk with her over-friendly realtor. Maybe his boss, too. She tilted her head when she heard the humming of the refrigerator. Although, what was that he’d said about bubbly?

She opened the door and found a nice bottle of champagne as well as a meat and cheese platter. “Henderson, for the moment, you are forgiven.”

She let out a self-conscious laugh. She’d almost been ready to call 911. Wouldn’t that have just been wonderful? Making a false emergency call on the same day she’d gotten a speeding ticket? Chief Hardass would have loved that. The thought of him showing up on her doorstep was enough to make her scowl.

She grabbed the bottle of champagne and opened a cupboard. A coffee mug suited her needs. She laughed when the cork popped out of the bottle and white foam spilled over onto the dusty floor. The antiseptic wouldn’t hurt.

The rhythmic squeak from upstairs started again, and she raised her mug of champagne in salute. She didn’t care what the police chief or the rest of the town thought; she liked the old Calhoun place.