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A Secret to Die For

By Cynthia Hickey

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Chapter 1
Darcie Thayer’s legs wobbled as fear choked her.
She didn’t want to run anymore. Life didn’t matter. What they’d do to her before they killed her scared Darcie the most. Once they had what Tony had hid, they’d have no further need of her.
She stared at the quaint town spread in a kaleidoscope-pattern a thousand feet below. She couldn’t find a safe place. Not even a small town in the middle of Nowhere, Arkansas would provide the refuge she sought, not this place. But, she had run out of options.
Grasping the want ads with her right hand, she clutched the fence rail constructed to keep the Ozark Mountain tourists from plunging to their deaths. Despite her queasiness of heights, Darcie wished she were a bird that could soar at will.
The wind grabbed the paper and sent it twisting and twirling off to the valley below. Her cotton skirt whipped around her knees, and she swayed forward. She stumbled back, her heart in her throat.
Lightning shot across the sky like the tentacles of an octopus. The air crackled with electricity. Thunder crashed. Darcie lifted the long peasant-style skirt above her knees and sprinted for her ‘69 Chevy Impala. She hated the car. Detested it really, but she’d lost everything when Tony died. Money, home, security, car…and her unborn child. This monstrous boat was all she owned.
Her hand rubbed across her stomach as she envisioned the baby she’d carried. She stopped beside the car and lifted her face to heaven to let the rain wash away her guilt. The sky grumbled louder. She ducked and yanked the vehicle door open and scrambled inside.
Tony had promised her a new life. One filled with hope. With promise. Empty promises. One selfish act and her world lay shattered at her feet like a bashed mirror. The future didn’t seem worth pursuing.
Her grandmother’s voice emerged from the recesses of her mind. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Today has enough problems of its own.” If so, then reliving the past was just as much a waste of time.
“Now what?” Darcie asked her reflection in the rearview mirror. “I’ve lost the address to my new job. All I know is the guy’s name. York Wardell. An author who wants a live-in nanny to care for his kids. Probably while he writes the next great American novel.” She scoffed and brushed wet bangs from her face. “Well, ready or not, here I come. Somebody around here is bound to know where the guy lives.”
The drive down the mountain, with thunder booming around her, left Darcie’s hands white-knuckled and shaking. She glanced at her watch and groaned. An hour late. She’d told the man she’d arrive for dinner. They’d agreed it would be a perfect time for her to get acquainted with the children. Would her new boss buy her excuse that she got lost?
She maneuvered her four-wheeled monstrosity into the first fast food drive-through she came to. Along with placing an order for a hamburger and fries, she asked the kid behind the window whether he knew of a York Wardell.
“Sure. He coaches the high school football team. At least until they get someone else hired.” The pimply-faced youth pointed west and spouted off a list of directions as twisting as a country road.
“Thanks. I think I’ll find it.” Darcie peeled rubber out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of yet another mountain. “Great,” she mumbled around a mouthful of ground beef. “It’s getting dark, it’s raining, and I’ve got to find this guy’s house during a storm. Can life get any better?”
She’d almost made it to the top when her tire blew. Darcie stomped the brakes and sent the car into a skid. She dropped her hamburger.
Which way were you supposed to steer? Into the skid or away? Left? Right? She decided on left and jerked the wheel.
The Impala fishtailed on the wet blacktop. The steel divider between the road and emptiness loomed. Her stomach plunged like Niagra Falls. A scream ripped free of her throat.
The car skidded along the rail. Metal against metal screeched as piercing as a siren. She closed her eyes and prayed, even though she’d convinced herself God no longer cared.
The car finally shuddered to a stop. Darcie cut the ignition and slammed against the door. Locked. Pain radiated up her shoulder. After a few more lunges and grasping of slippery fingers on the lock, she got the door open and slid from the seat.
She slipped through the mud as she circled the car to check for damage. The passenger side sported a curved-in wide swatch of unpainted metal.
“And I thought you were ugly before.” Darcie sniffed and leaned against the hood. “Now what do I do?”
She folded her arms across her chest, stared into the dark sky, and blinked against the falling drops. “Did you hear me, God? What do I do now? Could you maybe make it rain harder? How about some closer lightning? You know how much I love storms.”
The sky lit in a brilliant display of fire. Darcie dove inside the car.
Rain pounded the roof, deafening in its ferocity. She wrapped her arms around her middle, hoping to find warmth. She sulked, shivered, and yelled. At God. When her watch showed ten o’clock, she grabbed her purse, suitcase, and keys, then exited into a drizzle.
Her feet slipped in her wet sandals. The sodden skirt tangled around her legs. Thighs trembling from the uphill climb, she stopped before collapsing in a soggy heap beside the road.
It’s too soon. I’m not ready to begin life again. A year wasn’t enough. I need five years. Ten years. The ever-present risk of danger hovered over her. How could she subject someone else’s family to potential threat? Hiding on top of a mountain didn’t guarantee they wouldn’t find her. Especially since they’d come for her at the hospital. She shrugged. Finding what her husband had hid was top priority. She’d do whatever it took.
Darcie wrapped her arms around her knees and clenched her chattering teeth. Where did she go from here? Farther up apparently, but the clouds covered the moon and stars. She sat in darkness.
The drizzle finally stopped. Sounds seemed magnified. Not being a country girl since she’d left home at eighteen, Darcie’s heart beat an unnatural rhythm every time the woods around her popped, splashed, or snapped. You’ve got to move, girl. If you don’t, you’ll be a bear’s dinner.
With that encouraging thought, she rose and continued. Blisters formed between her toes from the prong of the sandals. Her temper smoldered, and her rolling suitcase weighed five hundred pounds. She stumbled on a rock, stubbing her toe. Pain shot through her foot, and she gasped.
Headlight beams sliced through the night. Darcie squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes.
The truck, an older model, passed. Water sprayed from its tires. drenching her further. Darcie gritted her teeth and turned to glare. She ought to do more than stare. Flee, in case the truck held her pursuers. But exhaustion hovered just under the surface.
Relief mingled with fear flooded her body as the vehicle turned back in her direction. Too tired to care, Darcie collapsed. Let them kill her.
The Ford stopped. Its beams dimmed. The driver-side door opened, and a cowboy boot-covered foot emerged to plant firmly on the ground. Darcie allowed her gaze to travel up the denim-clad legs as the man stepped in front of the lights. He towered above her. Her heart accelerated.
“Are you all right?” A rich baritone swept over her. The apparent knight in shining truck knelt before her.
Darcie glanced into dark eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. The eyes were set into the most handsome face she’d ever seen. A face so good-looking, it should only appear on the pages of a magazine. Her breath caught. She had to be hallucinating.
“Miss?”
She shook her head to clear it. “I’ve had an accident.”
“You wouldn’t be Darcie Thayer by any chance, would you?” He placed a hand beneath her elbow and helped her to her feet.
“York Wardell?” This couldn’t be her boss. Luck didn’t run that way for her. Or maybe it did. What a wonderful way to meet a new employer. Wet and bedraggled.
“The one and only. Where’s your car?”
“About a mile back with a flat tire.”
York led her to the passenger side of the pickup. “I’ll take you to the house. We’ll pick up your car tomorrow.”
Darcie folded her arms and sank back into the seat. “I got lost. Then I got the flat tire and almost went sailing off the mountain. I apologize for being late.”
“The kids have gone to bed. The housekeeper is watching them.” He glanced at her. “You’ll have to meet them tomorrow.”
“It was really out of my control.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “It’s fine.”
Okay, how fitting. A beautiful face with a nasty attitude. Her spirit sank. She wanted Tony back. Faults and all. At least they’d understood each other.
~
“The main thing is, you’re okay.” She looked like a drowned rat and, in spite of himself, York felt a tug on his heart as he stared at her. She looked too young to be a nanny. She’d said twenty-eight, but he swore she couldn’t be older than nineteen. Red hair hung limp around a face with sparkling golden eyes and just a sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
When he’d driven past and noticed her slumped like a lump on the side of the road, he’d thought at first she was injured. After he discovered she’d only been stupid enough to walk in the dark, he’d felt the first stirrings of anger—at himself for feeling pity and for her—he shrugged. No reason to be mad at her. It was nothing but bad timing with a flat tire.
It didn’t help that she was pretty, despite her drenching. After Michelle’s betrayal, the last thing he needed, or wanted, was to entertain thoughts of another woman. He definitely didn’t need a tiny slip of a woman complicating things. And York knew his weaknesses. The major one: a pretty face or a damsel in distress.
“How did you know where to find me?” Darcie swiped wet hair out of her face.
“There’s only one road on and off this mountain unless you drive all the way around. It wasn’t hard.”
“Oh.” Her hand cradled her stomach, almost protectively, as she glanced behind them.
“Are you hurt? Sick? Looking for someone?” York peered in the rearview mirror.
No, why?” Darcie straightened.
“Just wondering.” She’d touched her stomach the way Michelle had when she was pregnant with Sam and Sarah. Please don’t let her be pregnant. There isn’t exactly a cornucopia of nannies in this part of the state. And, forgive me, Lord, but he had a deadline to meet.
York sighed. When had he gotten so mean? When Michelle died, that’s when. With someone new living in the house, he vowed to work on his attitude.
They made the rest of the drive in silence. Occasionally, she’d shiver and wrap her arms tightly around her middle. York’s gut clenched as sympathy for her increased. He ought to be more compassionate. Isn’t that what the Bible taught? “I’m sorry I don’t have a blanket or jacket, but we’ll be home soon. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, thank you. I grabbed a burger when I stopped for directions. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I really appreciate you coming to look for me.” Darcie turned to face him. “I’ll have breakfast ready by seven a.m., and the children dropped off at school by eight. If I can borrow a car, that is. Then what do I do?”
“Whatever you want. Cooking isn’t part of your job description. I have a housekeeper. You’ll be free until you pick the kids up at three. School is out in a week. You’ll be plenty busy then.”
“Great.” She stared into the side mirror.
“Are you sure you aren’t looking for someone?” Car lights pierced the night behind them.
“Positive. I’m just tired.”
She sounded obstinate, her voice soft, yet hard as steel. York struggled to keep from smiling. He’d have difficulty taking such a small thing serious if she got really angry. Like a furious forest sprite. He’d known the woman five minutes, and she’d already shown she had two sides to her.
Two sides that traded places faster than a tornado could blow apart a trailer park. But, could she handle a couple of hurricanes named Sam and Sarah?

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