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I walked along the rise, debating about going down to the lodge to introduce myself and find out once and for all who had bought the place. After all, I was their only neighbor for miles, and it was the nice thing to do. Then, of course, I could ask some of the contractors about the new owner since I knew most of them.

Zelda, the owner of the Star Diner, not a café but a diner that makes to-die-for meat loaf, had said she had it on good authority that the property had been bought by a private security firm that planned to use it as a training facility for their elite force.

I didn’t care for that either, though Amy didn’t think it would be so bad having a bunch of brawny guys running around, training in the woods. I reminded her that there would probably be women as well, and they no doubt would be in better shape than the two of us.

Amy was a good five feet nine inches, maybe ten, and her generous curves caught most men’s notice. And she had the most beautiful wavy, natural blonde hair. I was short compared to her, five feet four in my bare feet, and skinny, though not by choice but by nature. One thing Amy and I shared was our curiosity, which usually got us into sticky situations to my dad’s embarrassment. I sometimes think he was relieved to see me go away to college, though Amy was ecstatic when I returned home. However, she would, at this moment, be telling me to go home and not bother the new neighbors. She would argue that I knew nothing about them, and it wouldn’t be safe to approach them until I did.

But my curiosity, not to mention my impatience, was stirring since I was the one who would be living next to them and the one thing I learned from experience was that neighbors were essential during a catastrophe. And snowfalls in this area could get you stuck in the house for days. My dad had some real worries when I inherited the property in the woods from my great-aunt Euphemia or as everyone called her, Effie. I am his only daughter and the youngest in the family and he has a hard time thinking of me as anything other than his baby girl. After I survived one winter snowstorm that stranded me alone for three days, I think he finally stopped worrying about me… or maybe he just worried a little less. Now with new neighbors close by my dad just might sleep a little easier, though I didn’t think that was likely.

The thought brought a smile to my face, though I never lacked for one and it was with a light step that I started down the small hill. My moccasin caught on something and I stumbled down the rest of the way though kept on my feet until I reached the bottom. I lost my balance and fell, bumping my head against a fallen tree. I thought it was a fallen tree until I looked up. It wasn’t a fallen tree—it was a body.

I stared at it. Leaves covered some of him, but it was obvious to see it was a man in a business suit and the worst part was I recognized him. It was Mr. Stevenson, from a surveying company, who had mistakenly stopped at my house yesterday. He had taken the wrong road, having thought he turned down the road to the lodge.

I thought it odd that he took a wrong turn since the numbers on my mailbox are large enough to read from a distance and there’s also a sign that reads Skunk Hollow—the name itself you would think would stop people from entering—Private Property Keep Out! My dad had made it in his woodshop, and I had obligingly nailed it to the post.

My curiosity had me wondering what had happened to the man and that was when I realized his body wasn’t stiff which meant it hadn’t been that long since he had died. Or was he even dead? I had assumed so, but what if…

I struggled to get up and see if he was actually dead, my uncoordinated movements disturbing the leaves that had partially covered him and revealing that his throat had been cut and indeed he was most definitely dead.

I scrambled to get away from him much too fast and collapsed once again, not a good thing since I face-planted in the leaf-strewn dirt. I raised my head, spitting away the leaves stuck to my lips, and my eyes landed on a pair of black boots to the right of the dead guy’s body.

Where had they come from?

I followed them up to where they met green camouflage pants. As my eyes drifted farther up the long legs, they caught on an empty leather sheath strapped to a black leather belt that circled a slim waist that led to a green tee shirt that clung to a lean muscled chest, to…


Tags: Donna Fletcher Romance