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“Hello?” I banged on the door with the side of my fist. A solid thunk of flesh on wood was my only reward.
I glanced around for a doorbell or a knocker. Nothing.
The wind picked up again, whistling along the eaves of the house like an unruly ghost.
I swore under my breath and knocked again. “Is anyone home? I’m Elise Vale from the university. I just have a few questions.”
No luck. The house remained silent, watching me. Turning, I walked along the front porch, past the rusted swing, and to a set of dusty windows. I bent over to peek inside.
The interior was so dark that what little sunlight filtered through the surrounding trees was still too much. The gold reflection blinded more than it illuminated. I dropped my note pad onto the swing and cupped my hands on the chilly glass to peer inside.
When I saw a face only inches away from mine, I shrieked and stumbled backwards, falling on my ass with a thump.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FRONT DOOR CREAKED OPEN, but not enough for me to enter or the man to come out. Relief flooded my veins. The man I saw through the window wasn’t someone I wanted to meet face to face, not when I was out in the boonies alone.
I scrambled to my feet and clutched my notebook. The county records indicated the land was still in the Blackwood family, now owned by Garrett Blackwood, thirty-two years old. Could this be the same man? Surely not.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“What do you want?” The voice was low and gruff, scratchy from disuse.
“I’m Elise Vale from the university.” I brushed off my pants.
“I’m not deaf, Red.” His voice boomed through the crack in the door. “I heard that part. What do you want?”
I took a few hesitant steps closer. “I’m working on my Ph.D. in archaeology, and my focus is on Choctaw culture.” Usually that was enough to shake loose a question or an expression of interest from the landowners I spoke with. Not this one. I continued, “The woods and fields here in the Delta are littered with artifacts, and the university has made some great finds over the past few years in several of the areas near here. I was hoping you’d allow me to survey your land and perform a few digs—all with your express permission, of course. I wouldn’t do anything or dig anywhere without first gaining your approval.”
A few beats went by. I tried to see into the dim interior of the house, but the darkness was all-consuming. Only his voice and the tips of his fingers—the nails dirty and black—along the edge of the door proved that a man stood just inside.
“Go.” He pushed the door, closing the narrow pathway between us.
I put my hand out and stopped the door before it closed all the way, only a sliver of space left. “Please. I’m counting on this to finish my Ph.D. Most of the land around here has already been searched and studied. The Blackwood”—I gestured to the skeletal forest encroaching on the house—“is the only untouched site in this part of the eastern Delta.”
A harsh laugh cut through the air. “Untouched? Nothing here is untouched. Everything is spoiled, ruined. You want to hunt for remains of a murdered civilization? Look around; you’re surrounded by ghosts. No digging necessary.” He pushed the door all the way shut, and the clink of a lock sounded from within the thick wood. “Leave.” His voice barely made it to my ears, though I suspected he leaned against the door when he spoke. It was as if I could feel him through the surface, the fibers separating at microscopic levels to carry his cruel voice to my ears. “Stay off my land or I’ll call the sheriff.”
My stomach sank. I needed to dig on this property.
And not just for my Ph.D. project.
“Please reconsider, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll leave the papers in the letterbox out here if you change your mind.” I opened the rusted letterbox next to the door, the hinges squeaking angrily, then slid the permission documents inside. “My phone number is on the first page, and you can call my thesis advisor, Dr. Stallings, if you have any questions. His number is there, too.”
“Go!”
I jumped as the door rattled and boomed. He must have banged his fists on it.
The sun hid behind the trees as the chill wind picked up again. I turned, disheartened, and trudged down the stairs and back out to my car. After one more glance at the faded mansion in the woods, I backed up and headed down the driveway toward the road. The windows remained empty in my rear view, no sign of life or hope to light any of them.
I gripped the steering wheel hard, too hard, and came to a stop at the main road. This had been my chance, my one chance to find the truth. I stared into the woods ahead of me, my headlights barely penetrating the surface of their shaded depths.
Blackwood had taken the truth away from me, along with so much more. I knew without a doubt those documents would rot in the letterbox, and I would never be allowed to dig on the property.
I was so close. I looked at my stack of signed permission papers in the passenger seat and chewed my lip. I had to have express approval from each landowner before Dr. Stallings would release funds for my digs. I’d hyped up the Blackwood site so much—too much—that it was pivotal for me. Dr. Stallings warned me that the university wouldn’t pay for me to dig in tracts that had already been surveyed unless I had something fresh to investigate.
It was Blackwood or nothing. I slapped my palm on the steering wheel, the resulting ache in my hand letting me know I was still alive, still in the game, and still able to continue my search.
I pulled a copy of the Blackwood permission papers from my stack and took a pen from my bag. Putting pen to paper, the name “Garrett Blackwood” flowed out easily in black ink. His property was expansive. I could dig without him ever knowing, Professor Stallings would have his paperwork, and I would finally be able to discover the truth about my father’s disappearance.
CHAPTER THREE
DR. STALLINGS FLIPPED THROUGH my approval papers, his sandy blond eyebrows drawn down as he checked each signature.
“They’re all there.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to calm my skittering nerves.
“I see.” He glanced at the last page—Blackwood’s page—then leaned back in his chair. “I see you got the Blackwood permission.”
“Yes.” I dropped my gaze to my sensible flats. “I think I’ll start there.”
“I’ve tried for years to get permission to dig out there. No dice.” He gave me a half-smile. “I should have realized all I had to do was send a sexy student to ask.” His light brown eyes scanned me with a cursory sweep. I used to think they were the color of honey, and the man who owned them just as sweet. Not anymore. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you on some of the scouting?”
“And interrupt your classes?” I shook my head. “No. I can handle this.”
He narrowed his gaze and motioned toward the door, silently telling me to close it. I stood and pushed it shut, even though acid began to rise in my throat. Even though I knew what was coming next.
“Are you okay?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he asked, the buttons on his light blue dress shirt straining.
“Yes.” I sank into the leather chair in front of his desk and silently prayed he wouldn’t ask me to chat with him on the couch. I’d heard too many stories about that couch.
The wrinkles around his eyes tripled as he gave me a look of faux concern. “I wish you’d let me take you to dinner where we could talk quietly.” He glanced at the door. “More privately. I know it’s hard for you to share your feelings in this setting.”
I had to play this carefully. One wrong move and he’d think I was interested in his advances. A move too far in the other direction and he’d threaten funding for my digs again. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.
“I’m still not ready. I’m sorry.” I sank into my chair with a sigh.
He stood and walked around his desk. The skin on the back of my neck crawled as he hovered behind me. “Your mother would want you to be happy.”
Don’t you dare talk about her. “You’re
right.”
“I can make you happy.” He slid his hands onto my shoulders, the fingers digging into my flesh like tenterhooks.
“Doctor—”
“Call me Frank. You know you can talk to me.”
I remembered the last time he wanted to “talk.” The memory of his hot breath on my neck made me shudder. “Frank—”
“Come sit with me.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the sting of pain keeping me grounded. “I’m fine here.”
He squeezed my shoulders hard, too hard. “Come on. You’ll feel better.”
I bit my lip and rose as he released me. He sank onto his couch, one arm slung along the back. He was handsome, his sandy hair and clean-cut features screaming “All-American guy.” I’d never seen him with so much as a shadow along his jaw. Never a hair out of place, his clothes always perfectly pressed. He wore a uniform, a costume designed to lull me into a false sense of security. It failed to hide the fact that he was forty, married, and a known student-fucker.
This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get close to me. But I’d heard plenty of stories about his conquests, and I wouldn’t be the next. All the same, I had to do this. For Dad. One last gauntlet before I could investigate his disappearance.
I eased down next to him, but not close enough to touch. “It’s going to take time. I still think about her a lot.”
“I know.” He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me into his side. “Shh.” He kissed my hair. “I know it hurts.”
I stared at the door, willing someone to knock. “I think getting out and doing the surveying will help me. Maybe once I get back…” I shrugged and let the carrot dangle in the air.
He ran his hand through my hair, then down to my waist. “You think you’d be ready to talk about it then?” His thumb stroked the bare patch of skin between my pants and my shirt.
I swallowed hard. “I think so, yes. Doing the legwork will help me clear my head.”
“But that will be months.” He sighed and slid his fingers under my shirt.
I froze. “I know.”
