taunt him. 'Caged? Yeah, caged. That's exactly what it's like in jail, what it would be like at Arrendale. I nearly went nuts being locked up so many months.'
'You couldn't post bail?'
'The district attorney persuaded the judge that I was a poor risk. The Stantons were generous supporters during the D.A.'s reelection bid. He owed the family a favor.'
Elizabeth clutched Reece's hand. She longed to put her arms around him and comfort him. Something told her that it had been a long time since anyone had comforted Reece Landry. When she glanced at him, he was staring off into the distance.
'You won't be caged again, Reece.' Tears sprang into Elizabeth's eyes. 'I promise I'll do whatever I can to help you find the real murderer.'
'Lady, why the hell would you do anything to help me? How can you believe that I'm innocent when you don't even know me?'
'I feel as if I know you, as if I've known you for months.'
Reece turned sharply, staring at Elizabeth again. Her eyes were filled with tears. Was she crying for him? No one had ever cried for him. No one except his mother. Hesitantly, almost fearfully, Reece touched his fingertip to the corner of her eye, brushing away the tears.
'Elizabeth?' A tight knot formed in his throat.
'I'm all right.'
'You're crying for me, aren't you?' He gripped her chin in his big hand, tilting her face upward. 'Why?'
She gazed at him with such undisguised concern, such genuine human compassion. 'Because you can't cry for yourself.'
He kissed her then. He hadn't thought about it, certainly hadn't planned it. But nothing on earth could have kept him from tasting those sweet, rosy lips. Nothing short of being struck down dead would have prevented him from pulling her into his arms and devouring her with the heat of his passion. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to lift this woman into his arms and carry her back inside the house and to her bed. His body ached with the need for release, for the ease he knew he could find in Elizabeth's loving warmth. There was a passion inside her equal to his own. He felt it when she returned his kiss with enthusiasm, opening her mouth for his invasion, as surely as she had unlocked her door for him the other night.
He ended the kiss when the realization hit him that she had, indeed, left her door unlocked for him. How he could be so certain he didn't know, but certain he was. He grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders, pushing her away from him and at the same time holding on to her.
'You left your door unlocked the night I came here.'
'Yes.'
'Do you usually leave your door unlocked?'
'No.'
'Why did you leave it unlocked that night?'
Would he believe the truth or would he prefer a lie? she asked herself. 'I left it unlocked because I was expecting you.'
Reece glared at her, confused by her admission, wondering how the hell she could have known he was headed in her direction and why she would have left her door unlocked for an escaped convict.
'I don't understand you, lady. How could you have been expecting me?'
'Reece...' When she reached out to touch his face, he dropped his hands from her shoulders and backed away from her.
'What the hell are you, some sort of hillbilly witch?'
'Some people would call me a psychic. I was born with special abilities.'
Reece looked her over from head to toe, his perusal stopping when he reached her face. 'What sort of abilities?'
'I can sense things, see things. Sometimes I know things before they happen. I'm clairvoyant and precognitive. However, my telepathic abilities are limited.'
''Are you kidding me?'
'I'm trying to explain why I knew you would be coming to me, and why you need me to help you.'
'This is a bunch of bull, lady. If you think for one minute that I'll buy into this crap, then you've got another thought coming.'
'Five months ago I began having dreams about you, then brief visions. I could see your face, sense your pain and anger and bitterness. I knew you were caged, that you were being punished for something you hadn't done. These dreams, these visions continued up until you arrived on my doorstep the night before last.'
Reece stood rigid and silent, staring at Elizabeth, astonishment in his amber eyes. 'Are you trying to tell me that you've been messing around inside my head?'
'I'm telling you that I can help you, that I want to help you.' When he didn't respond, she went on. 'Don't you see that you were sent to me because-'
'Cut the crap, lady. I told you I don't believe you.' Reece held up a hand in restraint as if warning her off.
'Stay out here as long as you need to,' Elizabeth told him. 'I have things to do inside, then I'll have to make a trip out to the greenhouses. Make yourself at home.'
Reece watched her disappear back inside the house. The frigid air began to chill him through his thermal top and flannel shirt.
He heard the back door open, then close again and realized MacDatho had followed his mistress inside. There was something damned strange about Elizabeth and her MacDatho. They didn't seem to belong in this century. Were they real or were they ghosts from some bygone era? Reece wondered if he was hallucinating. Could it be that he was actually lying out in the snow on the mountainside, dying slowly, freezing to death, and he had imagined the beautiful woman and her wolf-dog? Was Elizabeth a figment of his imagination? Had he dreamed her, as she claimed she had dreamed him?
If she and the wolf-dog and this cabin were real, then maybe she was a little bit crazy, living up here in the woods all alone. That would explain why she didn't lock her doors and why she didn't seem afraid of an escaped convict. Whatever the truth might be, Reece knew one thing for sure and certain-he had to find a way to get off this damned mountain and back to Newell. He wasn't going to get caught. He wasn't going to prison. Whatever he had to do to stay free, he'd do it. And if that meant using Elizabeth Mallory, if she even existed, then so be it.
Elizabeth had successfully avoided Reece Landry for most of the day, keeping busy with light housekeeping chores and necessary work in the greenhouses. His attitude toward her psychic abilities was nothing new. People who didn't know her tended to be skeptical; then once they accepted her unusual powers, people often treated her like a freak. She could never adjust in the world outside Sequana Falls. She'd learned that when she'd gone away to college.
She knew Reece had searched the house for the 9 mm belonging to the deceased deputy. He'd never find it. After sealing the gun in a plastic bag, she'd taken it with her when she'd gone to the greenhouses, finding a perfect spot for it between her two compost bins.
When Reece left, she would return the gun to him. She didn't like the idea of his using it, but knew it would offer him a small sense of security. If only he would accept her help, would open up to her and allow her to discover any possible knowledge of which he might not be aware.
Elizabeth removed the homemade beef pot pie from the oven, placing it atop the hotpad on the counter. Spooning generous helpings of the pie onto two Blue Willow plates, she laid the plates on a large tray already set with silverware and cloth napkins, piping hot coffee, small green salads and slices of made-from-scratch pound cake. Aunt Margaret had baked the pound cake before Christmas, and Elizabeth had frozen it for future use.
Picking up MacDatho's bowl from the floor, Elizabeth filled it with the remainder of the pot pie, then set it back down on the floor.
'I spoil you shamefully, you know that, don't you?'
MacDatho gazed up at her, his look telling her that he was worthy of being spoiled, then he wolfed down the warm meal.
Using her hip to shove open doors, Elizabeth carried the tray from the kitchen to the living room. Reece sat on the overstuffed plaid chair to the right of the fireplace. The sight of him sitting there, looking so at home, sent a fission of awareness through Elizabeth. A premonition? Or wishful thinking? Did she want her home to become
