Windswept Way


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Half Title Page
 
 
 
 
 Books by Irene Hannon
 
 HEROES OF QUANTICO
 
 Against All Odds
 
 An Eye for an Eye
 
 In Harm’s Way
 
 GUARDIANS OF JUSTICE
 
 Fatal Judgment
 
 Deadly Pursuit
 
 Lethal Legacy
 
 PRIVATE JUSTICE
 
 Vanished
 
 Trapped
 
 Deceived
 
 MEN OF VALOR
 
 Buried Secrets
 
 Thin Ice
 
 Tangled Webs
 
 CODE OF HONOR
 
 Dangerous Illusions
 
 Hidden Peril
 
 Dark Ambitions
 
 TRIPLE THREAT
 
 Point of Danger
 
 Labyrinth of Lies
 
 Body of Evidence
 
 HOPE HARBOR
 
 Hope Harbor
 
 Sea Rose Lane
 
 Sandpiper Cove
 
 Pelican Point
 
 Driftwood Bay
 
 Starfish Pier
 
 Blackberry Beach
 
 Sea Glass Cottage
 
 Windswept Way
 
 STANDALONE NOVELS
 
 That Certain Summer
 
 One Perfect Spring
 
 
 
 
 Title Page
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright Page
 
 © 2023 by Irene Hannon
 
 Published by Revell
 
 a division of Baker Publishing Group
 
 PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
 
 www.revellbooks.com
 
 Ebook edition created 2023
 
 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
 
 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
 
 ISBN 978-1-4934-3975-1
 
 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
 
 Baker Publishing Group publications use paper produced from sustainable forestry practices and post-consumer waste whenever possible.
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 
 In loving memory of my parents, James and Dorothy Hannon.
 
 Though you are both gone now, your legacy of love lives on in my heart— timeless and treasured.
 
 Until we meet again.
 
 
 1
 
 Maybe buying a haunted house wasn’t her best idea.
 
 Stomach churning, Ashley Scott braked as Windswept Way dead-ended at two open but imposing iron gates bookended by a tall, overgrown hedge. Surveyed the large, faded “Private Property—Keep Out” and “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted” signs posted at the entrance. Read the word carved into the weathered stone block on the left.
 
 Edgecliff.
 
 Also known as Fitzgerald’s Folly, according to local lore. A place with a storied past filled with triumph and tragedy. Where nocturnal sightings of a woman in white and ethereal music seeping from the house fed the rumors that the estate was haunted.
 
 Ashley massaged her forehead and blew out a breath.
 
 No wonder her mother thought she’d gone off the deep end.
 
 But after forking out the money for a cross-country trek to Hope Harbor, Oregon, it would be even crazier to turn tail and run without keeping the appointment she’d made last week with the owner.
 
 Besides, after all the times she and her father had driven by these then-closed gates during summer vacations and speculated about what lay on the other side, she owed it to both of them to check the place out.
 
 Especially since the money that might or might not be used to buy a stake in Edgecliff had come from the inheritance Dad had left her.
 
 Tightening her grip on the wheel of the rental car, Ashley transferred her foot to the gas pedal and—
 
 Sweet mercy!
 
 Gasping, she mashed the brake to the floor again as a tall, muscular man emerged from behind the hedge, brandishing a chain saw and wearing a black, Covid-style mask that covered his nose and the bottom half of his face. The brim of a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead shadowed the rest of his features.
 
 Ashley groped for the auto lock button and secured the doors as he stopped in the center of the driveway, blocking the entrance.
 
 Now what?
 
 Before she could decide, he began walking toward her.
 
 Pulse skyrocketing, she raised her window. Scanned both sides of the shoulderless narrow lane.
 
 No room for a U-turn.
 
 All she could do was put the car in reverse and back away.
 
 Fast.
 
 As she fumbled with the gears, the man picked up his pace, heading straight for the hood.
 
 Heart galloping, she tried to engage the left side of her brain.
 
 Did she have a weapon?
 
 No. Not unless a nail file or three-inch dress-shoe heel counted. But both were in her luggage in the trunk anyway. And her key-chain pepper gel was languishing in a bin of confiscated items at the airport back in Tennessee.
 
 Ruing the day she’d decided to embark on this uncharacteristic adventure, she tried to coax the unfamiliar gearshift into reverse with one hand and lifted the other to the horn, prepared to press and hold on the off chance someone would—
 
 All at once, the intimidating stranger veered toward the passenger side of the car, brushed past the door, and strode away.
 
 What?
 
 For a long moment . . . or two . . . or three . . . Ashley remained frozen in place.
 
 Only after the thundering in her chest subsided did she peek in the rearview mirror.
 
 The guy had vanished.
 
 Meaning he hadn’t had any nefarious intent after all.
 
 Sagging in her seat, she lowered her forehead to the steering wheel and faced the truth.
 
 She’d overreacted. Big time. Jumped to the wrong conclusion, thanks to every nerve-racking headline she’d ever read about lone women in isolated places meeting untimely and gruesome ends.
 
 No wonder Jason had preferred someone who was more daring and exciting and bold.