he told her. “I’m going with Jacob to check it out. But you have to promise to stay here under the deputy’s watch.”
Emotions glittered in Peyton’s eyes. “I’ll be here with Mama.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I mean it, Peyton. Don’t go anywhere. The deputy is outside the door. He’ll keep you and your mother safe until I return.”
The temptation to kiss her seized him. But that would have to wait.
First, he had to find a killer.
* * *
PEYTON WATCHED LIAM LEAVE with a seed of longing. The night before, his touch, his kiss, his tenderness had awakened desires that had been dormant for too long.
Desires she had no business thinking about with her mother on her deathbed.
Shaking herself back to reality, she squeezed her mother’s frail hand. “Mama, you have to keep fighting,” Peyton murmured. “It won’t be long until Thanksgiving. I was thinking I’ll make the sweet-potato casserole you like so much with the crumb topping. And if you’re up to it, you can make your homemade dressing and gravy. And how about an apple pie? It’s apple-picking season now. When you wake up, we can drive to the apple orchards and pick a bushel to make the pie with.” Her mother loved choosing from the selection of homemade jams and jellies, apple butter and apple bread sold at the stands on the property.
Memories flooded Peyton. “Remember when Val and I were little and you took us to the orchard, and they had that petting farm and the pig races.” On the weekends, the orchard hosted u-pick apple festivals, cow milking, wagon rides, mini golf, museums, an apple-tree maze and playgrounds. Once Val had gotten lost in the maze, and it had taken Peyton almost an hour to find her and lead her out.
Her phone dinged. She startled, her pulse clamoring as she read the text.
Meet me at the goat man’s house. And come alone. No cops. Remember, you can’t trust anyone. Val.
An image of the wiry little man with the white beard that hung down his chest flashed in Peyton’s mind. People in the mountains said he wandered the hills with his entourage of goats, living like a nomad. Sometimes, he appeared at the festivals and let the children pet the goats.
One day she and Val followed him to an old shack near the gorge. After that, they dubbed the shanty as the goat man’s house.
She sent a return text. Will come ASAP.
Although a seed of doubt crept in. How had Val gotten her phone number? Could she be walking into a trap?
Deciding she had to go anyway, that no one but she and Val knew about the goat man’s house, she snatched her purse, kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered that she was going to find her sister. Then she stepped into the hallway.
“Restroom,” she said when the deputy looked up.
He acknowledged her with a small nod, then she hurried down the hallway. She glanced back at him as she neared the corner, but he was facing her mother’s doorway, so she darted past the ladies’ room and into the elevator.
Knowing she needed a car, she called an Uber driver, then had him drive her to the rental-car business in town that was attached to the local garage. Twenty minutes later, she wove into the hills toward the goat man’s house, checking over her shoulder as she drove to make sure no one was following her.
Dark clouds rumbled, and rain began to drizzle down. A fog spread over the ridges, the gray skies dreary, adding to her frayed nerves. She switched on her wipers and the defroster, then the radio to listen to the weather. “Temperatures are supposed to drop into the low forties tonight,” the weatherman said. “With heavy rain at times, road conditions could get dangerous and flooding may occur in the lower areas of the valley.”
Her tires skidded, and Peyton slowed as she rounded a sharp curve. The next mile went uphill, the drop off the shoulder of the road at least seventy-five feet. She clenched the steering wheel with clammy hands, careful not to cross the center line as she maneuvered the switchbacks. Occasionally she passed another vehicle, but the area seemed deserted, not one of the usual tourist spots.
Three more miles, and the old shanty slipped into view. Rain slackened, but the wind battered the SUV, forcing her to work to keep it on the graveled road as she climbed toward the house. A dismal gray bathed the property