Appalachian Prey. Debbie Herbert

course. You go on to bed.”

      Beat didn’t even begin to cover how exhausted she felt. For the first time since she was a little kid, Lilah had begun taking afternoon naps. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said.

      Darla slipped off the leather bracelet and clasped it around Lilah’s wrist. “And you keep this. Stand up for yourself now and then, girl.”

      Unexpected tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them back. Every once in a blue moon, Darla surprised her. Nodding, she got up from the table and went to the bedroom. Without bothering to change into her nightgown, she slipped between the covers and fell into the black abyss of sleep.

      * * *

      COLD.

      Lilah rubbed the goose bumps on her arm. Wind rustled through the pines and whooshed into the cabin. Darla must have opened a window, she surmised, clambering out of bed.

      The scrape of a heavy boot on the wooden floor brought her to an abrupt halt. The back of her neck prickled. Another step creaked in the hallway, and her mind raced. The shotgun was by the front door, so that was of no use. She hesitated, torn between locking her door or opening her bedroom window and hightailing it into the dark night.

      But she couldn’t leave Darla alone to face the menace.

      Lilah unplugged the lamp on her nightstand and wrapped her hand around the base like a club. Not much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. She stepped into the hallway and flattened herself against the wall, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.

      Moonbeams cast a silvery glow in the den, and the shadows shifted, forming the silhouette of a man in black. He wasn’t aware of her presence and crept from the rocking chair to the coffee table, picking up magazines and searching for...something. Did others know about the large amount of cash her father had stockpiled in the cabin? This could get ugly, deadly even. Maybe someone who’d been searching for the money had murdered her dad. Damn it, Harlan was right to warn her away from this place. Darla spending the night calmed her fears, but unless her sister was packing heat, she was of no help.

      Lilah peeled herself away from the wall and stepped into the hallway to warn Darla of the danger. At the slight sound, the man straightened and spun around.

      He had no face. Where eyes and nose and mouth should have been, there was nothing but inchoate blackness.

      Lilah’s pulse pounded furiously in her taut body. It was a nightmare come to life—paralysis rooted her feet to the floor and she could hardly breathe. The scream in her throat choked her lungs, refusing to unloose in the deathly quiet.

      Suddenly, the intruder turned and ran for the open window.

      A piercing cry vibrated her ears and brain. It took several seconds before she realized it was her own voice screaming. She stumbled to the front of the cabin on numb feet and dropped the lamp on the sofa, exchanging porcelain for the cold steel of the shotgun’s barrel. A bolt of courage rippled down her spine, and she raced to the window and slammed it shut.

      “What the hell is going on?” Darla rushed into the room and flipped on the light switch, revealing her baby doll nightie with its feathered neckline. Her mouth was devoid of the usual red lipstick, but pink sponge curlers dangled loosely in her brown hair. Oddly enough, the scanty attire only made her appear like an adolescent. A vulnerable, confused teenager.

      “Somebody broke in. Did you open the window in here before you went to bed?”

      “No. Is that how they got in? Did you get a good look at him?”

      “He wore a mask.”

      “Oh, my God. I’m calling Ed to get out here.”

      “No sense rousing him and your kids out of bed. The man’s gone.”

      “Are you crazy? I’m not staying here.”

      “We could drive into town and stay at a motel. But I don’t relish the thought of going outside to get in the car.”

      “Call your Harlan. Tell him to get here ASAP.”

      Her Harlan. She wished he was. Not the mean, stupid Harlan who’d dumped her but the old Harlan who couldn’t keep his hands off her and whose kisses had made her feel wild and cherished. She lifted her chin. “No. I won’t bother him.”

      “Bother him? Isn’t responding to break-ins, like, his job?”

      She could call someone else in the sheriff’s office, but Harlan would get word and come immediately. Lilah thought fast. “We could call Uncle Thad.”

      Darla grumbled. “Okay. But the only reason I’m not calling Ed is ’cause I don’t wanna put my kids in danger.”

      “I’ll make the call while you get dressed.”

      Darla sped to the bedroom, mumbling under her breath—something about the crazy gene in their family, Lilah thought.

      Lilah grabbed the cell phone and punched in her uncle’s number with her left hand, still clutching the gun in her right. She turned off the overhead light and stood by the window. Was he out there in the darkness, waiting for another night, another opportunity?

      She would never feel safe here again. Maybe Harlan was right. Maybe Dad had gotten mixed up in some new dangerous scheme. A new gamble, a new adventure—one that had cost him his life. Who knew what desperate secrets lived in another’s heart? She had to think about her own future, her own sad secret.

      As soon as she’d settled her dad’s affairs, she would leave Lavender Mountain.

       Chapter Three

      This was going to kill Darla.

      She’d put off bringing up the matter of the missing money, imagining Darla’s furious reaction at the news. For the past couple of days, she’d stayed tied up with all the paperwork concerning the robbery and fixing up Dad’s old place. Darla was much too busy to be bothered. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true or fair—she’d been avoiding this scene with her sister.

      Tired as she was from the drama and all her duties, Lilah couldn’t up and leave the mountain without letting her sister know the money was gone. She sped down Dark Corners Road to the homestead where Darla, Ed and their three children lived. Her sister would be devastated about the stolen money. If only she’d just let her have it that morning like Darla had begged. And she could kiss goodbye that sisterly chat she’d planned on. After the news, Darla would be in no mood to offer advice and comfort over the matter that had weighed on Lilah for weeks. It wasn’t like there’d been much chance of Darla being supportive, anyway, if she was being honest with herself.

      At the last sharp bend before hitting town, she pulled into Darla and Ed’s gravel driveway. An unfamiliar red pickup truck was parked near the side porch. Maybe Ed had traded in his old clunker. She picked her way through a barrage of mangy dogs and mewling cats that barked or hissed their displeasure at the invasion of their territory.

      Old toys and broken furniture almost barricaded the doorway, and she impatiently scooted a rusted table out of her path. Through the screen door she heard Darla talking on the phone.

      “Yes, I’ll hold. But only for a minute. Longer than that and I’ll take my business elsewhere,” Darla huffed.

      Lilah pushed open the door and entered the kitchen where her sister held a tape measure stretched across the lower cabinets. “You back, sir? I want mahogany,” Darla said. “Only the best. And I want it pronto.”

      Lilah blinked. Wow. This was a change. Ed must have been working overtime.

      Darla retracted the tape and scribbled on a scrap sheet of paper, her face puckered in concentration.

      “New cabinets, huh? Nice.”

      Her sister snapped her head up, pencil poised.