paint her friendly, mildly flirtatious, desperate-to-meet-a-deadline-at-the-office husband as a carousing ladies’ man who cheated on her regularly. The owner of a small company, upon seeing an occasionally rabble-rousing employee driving an expensive new car, would assume the employee was stealing from him in some way.
Or a wealthy man who had recently lost his only son would insist without the slightest hesitation that his grandson’s life was being endangered by a scheming, psychotic mother who insisted on forcing the child to live in poverty, isolation and quite possibly even degradation.
Evan had talked to Randall James first by telephone and then face-to-face when he had met with the man at his office in Charlotte. Evan had asked questions and Randall had answered in a seemingly forthright manner, his gaze direct, hands resting quietly on the arms of his chair. Not once had he resorted to histrionics. Yet Randall’s concern had been more than evident, and understandable, as well, to Evan.
Quite understandable, in fact, considering the kind of childhood he’d had, living in debilitating poverty in the so-called care of a mother who had been anything but loving and protective, especially when she was busy drinking herself into oblivion. Rescuing children from similar circumstances involving parental abuse had been a top priority of Evan’s for many years.
But Hannah and her son weren’t living in debilitating poverty. Her home was warm and inviting, as well as sturdy and secure, not some run-down shack barely providing a roof over her head. He wondered if Randall James had ever actually been there, then decided he couldn’t possibly have been and still describe the place in such a derogatory way.
Nor had Evan been able to detect the slightest sign of either scheming or psychosis in Hannah James. She had seemed a little shy, but in an endearing kind of way. And she’d been wary of him, of course, as any woman living on her own with any sense at all would be wary of a strange man, no matter how presentable he appeared to be.
She would have to take some chances in order to find the help she needed, though. That she seemed interested in taking a chance on him certainly worked in his favor.
But if Randall James had lied to him about Hannah, was there really any need for him to sign on with her in the guise of hired help?
Evan still found it hard to believe that he had been fooled so completely by the man. Had his usually sharp and savvy instincts taken a temporary powder during his meeting with Randall James? Or was Hannah James a highly skilled actress, masterfully hiding her conniving and her craziness behind a mask of normalcy edged with sweetness and light?
It would take a huge amount of talent to pull off such a performance for more than a few days—a week at the most. Though why she would feel the need to impress the likes of him Evan couldn’t say. She knew him only as a man in search of a job and a place to live. And forcing a five-year-old child to appear happy when he wasn’t had to be almost impossible to do.
Seeing Hannah, Will and Nellie the dog step out of the house onto the porch, Evan hesitated a moment longer, eyeing the threesome thoughtfully, trying to decide whether to stay or to go. When Hannah caught sight of him, raised her hand and waved to him, he finished fastening the snaps down the front of his jacket, his decision finally made.
He could see no immediate harm in investigating Hannah James a little further. She had been living with the boy in relative isolation, not only according to Randall, but also according to the few people he’d managed to question in Boone, and that did cause Evan some concern. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t be able to hide her true nature from him for long, living in the house with her, as he’d be. It wouldn’t cost him anything except a week of his time, and Randall James was paying him quite handsomely for that already.
Though Evan wasn’t choosing to continue his charade awhile longer out of any sense of duty to the man. Instead he felt a responsibility toward young Will to determine whether he really was a happy, healthy child, safe and secure in his widowed mother’s care.
Pulling up the hood of his jacket to fend off the heavy mist in the mountain air as Hannah and Will had done, Evan joined them at the foot of the porch steps. Nellie wriggled up to him, poked her cold nose into the palm of his hand, snuffled a moment, then loped off along an overgrown stone path that led around the far side of the house. Will took off after her, as well, calling her name to no apparent good.
“It’s pretty wet out here, and muddy, too. Are you sure you want to risk ruining your new boots?” Hannah asked, peering up at him from under the brim of the dark green hood framing her face.
The hesitation Evan heard in her voice coupled with the concern that shadowed her soft brown eyes reminded him anew of how the real Hannah James didn’t jibe with the Hannah James he’d expected to find there. She was considerate almost to a fault, and in a way that spoke to him of caution. It was almost as if she were trying to guess at what might upset or annoy him so as to avoid having it happen.
“They’re meant to be work boots and I was told they’re waterproof. Might as well put them to the test,” he replied.
“All right, then,” she said with obvious relief. “Let’s start with the greenhouses.”
As Hannah turned and headed down the stone path, Evan realized how easily and how naturally she blended into the lush spring landscape. She moved with grace and confidence, head up and shoulders squared, leading him wordlessly into her world. He followed after her with a willingness that had more to do with her womanly allure than his real reason for being there.
Evan had already noted the sturdiness of her cedar-plank house. He had also seen that although her property was situated on the gentle slope of a heavily wooded mountain, the area around the house had been neatly carved into a series of clearings. These clearings led in terraced steps from the main road to the house, then on past the house for a good way before running, once again, into dense forest growth.
Years of hard work had obviously gone into creating this quiet, peaceful place that seemed to him like a hidden jewel. But the neglect Hannah had mentioned was obvious, as well. Barely able to discern the borders of various beds almost hidden by an odd mix of deadfall and new vegetation now running rampant, Evan understood immediately just how desperate she had to be for help.
“It’s really gotten away from me,” she said, gesturing all around her with one hand as she glanced back at him. “But I guess you can see that for yourself.”
“Everything looks very green and lush to me. But I admit I’m not much good at telling weeds from whatever’s worth cultivating,” Evan replied.
“There are perennials coming up under all the stuff that died off over the winter, but there are lots of weeds, too. We’ll have to clear out the dead stuff first, of course, then get rid of the weeds, divide the perennials for replanting as necessary and turn compost into the soil.”
She gestured again at a large, square, wooden box about four feet tall that Evan assumed held her compost heap.
“The vegetable gardens and apple trees are on the slope down from the house,” she continued. “I’ve pruned the trees already, but the vegetable gardens have to be cleared and composted, as well. Then we’ll have to plant the seedlings I’ve started in the greenhouses.”
“Sounds like you’ve done a lot of work already,” Evan acknowledged.
“Actually, I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Hannah admitted with another glance over her shoulder, concern still evident in her eyes. “The really hard work is yet to be done.”
“I’ve never minded hard work,” Evan said, wanting to reassure her.
Too late he realized that he was actually leading her on. He was only there to find out if she was endangering her son in any way, and he wouldn’t likely need more than a week to make that determination. Then he would return to his office in Charlotte, write up a report for Randall James, collect the remainder of his fee and immediately get busy on another case.
He would only be able to help Hannah make a small dent in all the work that needed to be done before he left her on her own again. The thought