The Secret of Cherokee Cove

“That’s what I asked Bolen.” Doyle covered her hand where it lay on the edge of his bed. “That’s when Bolen said something strange. He told me I was a Cumberland, and everybody in Bitterwood knows the Cumberlands are crooks and swindlers and baby-killers. He said no good ever came from a Cumberland in these parts.”

Dana frowned. “Mom’s maiden name was Cumberland.”

“I know.”

“She never talked much about her past.” Dana looked thoughtfully at her brother. “But we knew she came from somewhere around here, didn’t we? That’s why she and Dad were here when they had their accident.”

“Yes. So I’ve been doing a little asking around. And while I don’t put a whole lot of stock in much of what Craig Bolen has to say these days, he was right about one thing.” Doyle’s brow furrowed as his troubled gaze met hers. “People around here seem ready to believe the Cumberlands are capable of just about anything bad.”

* * *

NIX CHECKED HIS WATCH, wondering how much longer Dana Massey intended to stay in the room with her brother. He’d already worked a full day and his night hadn’t exactly been uneventful. He could use some sleep.

But if he was honest with himself, his growing impatience had less to do with going home and getting some shut-eye and more about getting another eyeful of Dana Massey’s long legs, shapely figure and intelligent green eyes.

She is not the woman for you, he reminded himself, closing his gritty eyes against the harsh artificial light in the otherwise empty waiting room. And not just because she’s leaving town in a few days.

He wasn’t sure that such a woman existed, for that matter. He’d gone thirty-six years without finding a woman who would put up with his cynicism or his emotional reserve. It had been easier to live with that knowledge when he was full-time military, because war was hell on marriages. He’d seen the corrosive effects of long tours of duty, the stress on families trying to stoke the home fires when any moment could bring devastating news from a world away.

But he’d been a civilian for five years now without finding a good woman and settling down.

What’s your excuse now, hotshot?

“Falling asleep on me, Detective?”

He opened his eyes at the sound of Dana’s low voice. She stood in front of him, the hint of a smile on her lips. But her amusement didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. Her night had been even worse than his, and it showed in the faint pallor beneath her tan and the dark shadows under her eyes. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, and he pushed to his feet, falling into step with her as they headed for the elevator. She was quiet all the way to the car, buckling in without speaking. But there was an edge to her silence, hints of a gathering storm.

It struck halfway back to Bitterwood.

“What do you know about the Cumberlands?”

His back stiffened for a second at the sound of the name, and he shot Dana a quick look. In the blue glow of the dashboard lights, her strong profile seemed carved in cool marble, both beautiful and unapproachable.

He’d like to paint her like that, too, he thought.

“Why do you ask?” he said.

“Do you know anything about my family background?”

He didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “No.”

“My mother’s maiden name was Tallie Cumberland. Ever heard of her?”

The stiffness in his back returned, flowing all the way to his hands until they white-knuckled the steering wheel. The dread ran through him like ice in his blood, freezing him as if he were still that little boy from Cherokee Cove who believed every tale his mama told him, especially the scary ones.

“Don’t even look at a Cumberland,” she’d warned him from the time he was old enough to walk around on his own two feet. “They’re cursed, and they’ll spread their sickness on you.”

His father hadn’t been superstitious at all, but even he had spoken of the Cumberlands in hushed tones, dire warnings blazing in his eyes.

“You have heard of her,” Dana said.

“I’ve heard of the Cumberlands,” he admitted.

“Doyle says that when he mentioned the name, people reacted as if he’d just said a curse word.”

“Does he know why?”

“Not specifically. The most anyone would tell him is that the Cumberlands are nothing but trouble.”

“Does that sound anything like your mother?” he asked carefully.

“No.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Dana didn’t say anything else until they reached the Bitterwood city limits. Even then, she merely said she’d told Doyle she was going to stay at his house. “He didn’t like it, but I’m older than he is, so I win.”

Nix smiled, thinking of his own younger brother and how often he’d invoked the older-sibling rule when they were growing up. “Are you sure you feel safe there? Someone was able to get into the house pretty easily.”

“I’m armed and I’m too wired to sleep,” she answered, slanting a look of raw determination his way. “Bring it on.”

“I could stick around.”

“And protect the poor, defenseless girl?”

“Not what I said.”

She sighed. “I’m usually not this prickly. It’s been an unsettling night.”

“I’m serious about sticking around. And not because I don’t think you can take care of yourself. But you said there were two intruders. Couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of ears to listen out for danger.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra firepower,” she admitted. “But it’s a lot to ask.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

“So you did.” Her lips curved in a smile that softened her features, making her look far more approachable than she had seemed for most of the drive.

Far more dangerous, too, he reminded himself.

The TBI technicians were still there when they arrived, but they were packing up to leave. Laney was outside with them, talking to Brady Moreland. She squinted at the headlights, smiling when she recognized Nix’s truck.

“Good timing,” she said. “The van will be out of your way in just a minute.”

“Actually, I’m staying here tonight after all,” Dana told her as she slid out of the cab of the truck. “I ran by to see Doyle and told him I’d keep an eye on the place.”

“Oh.” Laney looked surprised. “Okay. I need to run home and get some notes for a court case that starts Monday, but I can be back here in a half hour—”