Silver Falls by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

coincidental, and he never believed in coincidence.
    He went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a beer, twisting the cap off. It went flying, rolling across the floor and landing in the middle of the stained plywood. Any other man would have taken that part of the subfloor up and replaced it, replaced the reminder of the man who’d bled out there, in the ruins of his dream. Caleb liked it.
    It kept things in perspective. At one point that could have been him. But it wasn’t, and it never would be. He’d never stay in this goddamn town long enough for the darkness to reach him. He’d find out what he needed to know, the truth he’d been avoiding for most of his life, and then he’d move on.
    He was going to have to find a way to get to his brother, and the new wife looked like she was going to be the perfect venue. She had a temper, passion running deep—exactly the wrong kind of woman for someone like David. There must be a reason for such a colossal mismatch. She was unhappy, afraid she’d made the wrong choice but too stubborn to admit it. That would make her vulnerable, though she’d do her damnedest to hide it, but she was tough—he could see it in the back of her clear blue eyes. Funny that he’d noticed they were blue. Most of the time he’d been with her had been in the shadows.
    It would be no kindness to leave her alone. The truth always came with a heavy cost, but in the endit was worth it. He’d pay that cost, and so would she. She’d hate him, but she’d be alive. And in the end she just might be grateful. At least he’d make sure the two of them were safe before he left.
    He started a fire in the woodstove to take some of the damp chill from the air. There were enough construction scraps still lying around to keep him warm for a month or more. Though if he had to stay that long he’d probably just end up in a pool of blood like the architect.
    He shook out his sleeping bag, putting it near the fire. He was going to need to order a mattress. The one he’d left behind had been eaten by mice and christened by half the teenage population of Silver Falls. He was someone who could sleep anywhere—on rock-hard ground, in hammocks, on trains or boats, the desert or a snow cave. But there were ghosts in this house, ghosts in his soul when he came home, and he needed all the help he could get.
    He drained the last of his beer, put it on its side and sent it rolling away from him, then stretched out on the sleeping bag. It had been a hell of a day, and it was only just beginning. He was going to see that drowned face in his dreams, in his nightmares, and it would haunt him, like so many others.
    He closed his eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire, the pounding of the rain overhead, the whipping of the tarp in the wind.
    But he didn’t see the dead girl. All he could see was Rachel Middleton. Who didn’t realize she was dancing on the edge of a precipice. Or that the one person who could help her would just as likely shove her off.
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    Rachel dreamed about the black sheep. She tossed in the king-size bed, restless, troubled, and she could hear his voice in the back of her mind, low, raspy, so unlike David’s carefully modulated pitch.
    The covers were too hot, pressing down on her skin, and she kicked them off as she rolled onto her back, then onto her stomach again. The air felt stagnant, decaying, and opening the window would only make it worse. It was too cold for an air conditioner, but the thick air felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.
    She heard the sound, the tiny scratching noise at the door of her bedroom, and she was instantly awake, wary, as light began to filter into her bedroom. She could barely see his silhouette as he closed the door behind him, closed himself inside, with her. And her pulse began to quicken. Not in anticipation. David’s matrimonial visits were brief and pleasant, but a far cry from the