Chapter 1

     “You can’t be serious!”

     Morgan Gaddison peered over the top of his reading glasses. “As your mother’s attorney, I can assure you I’m quite serious. If there’s one thing I never kid about, it’s a Last Will and Testament. Your mother did indeed leave you the homestead in Riverside, West Virginia.”

     Kellen Brand glanced at her brother seated next to her. Joey looked as shocked as she felt.

     “We thought she sold the old place when she married John Wiggins and took us to live in Virginia,” he said.

     Kellen nodded.

     Gaddison shook his head. “Your mother told me she couldn’t bear to sell the place, so she’s been renting it out since you all moved to Virginia. She would go back periodically to check on things.”

     “I can’t believe it,” Kellen exclaimed. “We had no idea.”

     “Caroline saved the rental money and used it for her living expenses, so she could save every dime the two of you have been sending her every month.”

     Kellen’s jaw dropped. “She told you about that?”

     “Your mother was quite proud of your concern for her welfare. In fact, your monthly stipends make up most of the money in her estate.”

     The siblings stared dumbfounded.

     Gaddison cleared his throat. “Your mother was a remarkable woman, and I’m proud to have known her.”

     “You don’t have to tell us how remarkable our mother was,” Joey said. “We lived it. She kept us alive more than once with little or nothing.”

     Tears burned at the backs of Kellen’s eyelids. With Joey’s sandy hair and the spray of faint freckles across his nose and cheeks, he still looked like the little boy she had tried so hard to protect in her youth.

     “According to your mother, her farm shared a dirt road with a church, a vacant parcel, an old grist mill, and one other homestead. Your property is presently vacant,” Gaddison was saying. “It hasn’t been rented in over a year. I checked.”

     “I wonder what kind of shape it’s in,” Kellen mused.

     “Evidently, property values have increased, and a developer is interested in your farm. I’ve already spoken with him on the phone—a Mr. Corazon. He’s interested in building a whitewater rafting resort on the river. Your place needs to be cleaned up a bit, and one or both of you will have to go to Riverside and meet with Corazon. I can set that up, of course.” He removed a document from the folder in front of him. “He was a little disappointed to find your property so close to the old church and its cemetery, but he still wishes to pursue the sale.”

     Joey chuckled. “Most folks think cemeteries are creepy. Not Kell and me. We used that cemetery as our own personal playground. We built forts and played hide and seek.”

     Kellen smiled at his memories. “Is that all, Mr. Gaddison?”

     “Not quite. There’s a letter that I’m to read to you—from your mother.” He held up the paper he had taken from the folder. “She wanted to be sure you were together for the reading and said I was to answer any questions you might have. If you’d rather read it in private?”

     “No,” Kellen said quickly. “If Mom wanted you to read it, go ahead.”

     Joey nodded.

     Gaddison cleared his throat and then read aloud:

     To my darling children,

     By the time Morgan reads this to you, I will be in heaven and comforted by a peace that surpasses our human understanding. I worried about leaving the two of you alone, so I prayed for a Watcher to keep you safe until you each find the right path for your life.

     No worries. I’ve left you in good hands.

     The homestead is yours to share. Keep it or sell it. The choice is yours. The most important thing I’ve left you is the Watcher.

     I will love you always,

     Mom

     “So she told you about the Watchers?” Kellen asked.

     The lawyer nodded gravely.

     “She told us stories growing up about how the Watchers were angelic beings who took earthly form in order to guard certain individuals—even children—here on earth and keep them safe.”

     “She told me that too,” Gaddison admitted. “Your mother was a little . . . How should I say?”

     “Eccentric?” Joey offered.

     Gaddison shrugged.

     “Did she also tell you how the Watchers got into trouble in heaven when they sided with Satan for control?” Kellen asked. “How together they fought a great battle against the archangel Michael and his angelic forces and then lost? Michael threw them all out of heaven and back to earth. Some of those fallen angels—dragged late into the game by Satan’s lies—doubled back to seek redemption, a second chance. Mom believed the penitent ones were paroled and reassigned. To watch again like before. To earn trust again.”

     “I never liked those Watcher stories,” Joey confessed. “They were dark, and the Watchers sounded like creepy stalkers. Spooky shadow people.”

     Gaddison chuckled. “Your mother was definitely eccentric. I have to say I was a bit surprised when she laid out her intentions for this will.”

     “I’ll bet you were,” Kellen agreed. “I’ll bet no one ever had you put a Watcher in a will before.” Her fingers made quotes around the word Watcher.

     “No, I have to say this was a first.”

     “I’m just so shocked Mom kept the farm after all these years and that she hired an attorney to put a will together.”

     “She didn’t hire one,” Gaddison said. “Her friend did it for her as a favor. Every morning I stopped and had breakfast at the diner where your mother worked. Did it for years.” He shrugged. “In time, we became good friends.”

     “So that’s how—”

     He nodded. “Yes, that’s how she ended up with an attorney and a formal will. I insisted on it. So what will you two do now?”

     Kellen sighed and faced her brother.

     “I have to get back to the Globe,” Joey told her. “I told them I’d only be gone a week. Besides, you’re the best financial consultant Providence ever had. They’d let you work from home forever. Me? I just hope my job at the newspaper is still there when I get back.”

     She nibbled her lower lip. “The bank did tell me to take all the time I need, and now it looks like I need to go to Riverside. They can get me by cell phone or email if they need something. A few more days won’t kill me, I guess.”

     “You don’t need me to put the old farm on the market,” Joey urged.

     Gaddison’s head jerked up. “You’re going to sell it?”

     “Absolutely,” the siblings said in unison.

     “Just like that?”

     They both nodded.

     Gaddison held up the letter. “But what about this?”

     “What about it?” Kellen replied.

     “Well . . . the Watcher, I guess.”

      She huffed out a sigh. “Come on, Mr. Gaddison. You don’t really believe Mom could leave us some Watcher for protection, do you? I’m not even certain they weren’t just a figment of her imagination. I mean, seriously? Fallen angels seeking redemption by being some kind of protection vigilantes?”

     Gaddison frowned. “Caroline claimed the Watchers and their fate were explained in the book of Enoch.”

     Kellen stared. “Enoch?”

     He nodded. “She said it was one of the books left out of the Bible.”

     “And maybe they had a good reason for that,” Joey muttered.

     Poor Gaddison looked uncomfortable and twice started to say something but stopped both times.

     “Relax. You read us the letter and the will,” Kellen assured him. “We understand our mother’s intentions. You fulfilled any obligation you had.”

     She and Joey stood and exchanged handshakes with the lawyer. “Thank you for looking after our mother,” Kellen told him. “And especially for being a good friend.”

     “Keep a watch out for dust devils.” Gaddison grinned at their puzzled expressions. “Something Caroline once told me. She said Watchers come in whirlwinds.”

     Joey winked as they made their exit. “Eccentric, Mr. Gaddison. Remember?”

     “Kellen, wait.”

     She paused at the door.

     “Since you’re going to Riverside, I should tell you that Corazon is also interested in the ranch to the north of your farm and the old mill property to the south. He mentioned the rancher playing hardball and refusing to sell. You be careful. Your mother would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”

     She gave him an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Gaddison. Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing ever happens in Riverside.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

     Kellen crossed the West Virginia state line near Blacksburg and caught brief glimpses of the Tanawoc River from Highway 60, as she drew near her hometown. Clearing the last curve high on a bluff, she could see the entire eight blocks of Riverside stretched before her with the river curling alongside. She slowed her car almost to a crawl. Sunlight glistened off the water, visible through gaps in the trees lined up like sentinels along the riverbank. Rocks created riffles where they broke the water’s surface.

     She buzzed down her window to draw in a deep breath of fresh air. The smell of the river brought back memories of playing with Joey in those same riffles, collecting crawfish and dragonfly larvae. Just up ahead, a narrow road veered off to the right and snaked down toward the riverbank. On a whim, Kellen drove down the twisting lane. The river had been her playground and the only place in Riverside where she remembered being happy. She needed to get closer, to touch the water if she could.

     Slowing near the treeline to get her bearings, she focused on a spot where the bank jutted out over the water. Climbing out of the car, she scanned the shoreline. To her right, the slope flattened out and provided easy access to the water. The Tanawoc River maintained a good current, sending soggy leaves and debris speeding past in its flow. Grassy hills rolled back from the opposite riverbank, and she wondered if the Clandestine Mining Company still owned all that property.

     A familiar aroma wafted up from the river, a combination of humus, plant material, microscopic plankton, and a touch of fish. Unable to stop the smile slowly stretching across her face, she untied her sneakers, rolled up her jeans, and slipped into the icy water. She immediately gasped and felt her smile deepen to a grin. Remaining in the soothing current for a long time, she absorbed her surroundings as trout darted in and around the submerged rocks to grab their plankton lunch.

     A horse suddenly whickered behind her, followed by the telltale creak of a saddle. Too close for comfort. The back of her neck prickled. Ankle deep in the water, she couldn’t make a decent sprint for the car, and Kellen regretted her impulse to visit this deserted stretch of riverbank.

     Easing around, she spied the towering silhouette of a powerfully built man astride a huge black stallion no more than ten yards away. The rider’s face lay shadowed beneath a wide-brimmed Stetson. The cowboy made an impressive and, at this moment, intimidating sight—a throwback from the frontier days of the Wild West.

     The horse whickered again and sidestepped away from the edge of the embankment, forcing the cowboy to twist around to keep her in sight. She could feel his dark eyes scanning every inch of her. The intensity in his gaze raised goose bumps on her arms, and a tiny shiver edged up her spine. Trapped here along the edge of the river, she felt vulnerable yet strangely unafraid. Would he come any closer?

     A horn blared up on the highway, and she jumped with a yelp. The big horse reared at the sound of her cry, and Kellen caught a brief glimpse of the cowboy’s dark eyes, eyes that could stare right through to a girl’s soul. She scrunched her own eyes shut and forced herself to breathe. When she opened them, the rider was gone. Had she imagined him? Another mild shiver rifled up her spine. No, the fearsome rider was definitely real.

     Scrambling up the embankment, she scanned the twisting riverside lane in both directions, but the cowboy had vanished. A wave of inexplicable disappointment caught her unawares, but she shook it off. She had no business sharing this deserted stretch of riverbank with a complete stranger. Better if she climbed back in her car and drove through Riverside. Eight blocks wouldn’t take long to see.

     The same dozen businesses she remembered from her youth still reigned along Riverside’s main street, with two-story Victorian houses sandwiched in between and all begging for a fresh coat of paint. She shook her head in amazement. The tiny town hadn’t grown or changed in almost twenty years. She was relieved to see McRae’s still occupied the center corner in town. The combination general store and restaurant provided a rest stop for visitors and a place for residents to catch up on local gossip. At least it had when her family lived here.

     Though she still had a half tank of gas, she turned into Ray’s Texaco at the far end of town. The gas station had a small office and two open service bays with a plain white sedan up on a hoist in the far one. A dented red pickup truck with rust spots on the back fender sat parked at the side of the building, and a rotund man in a greasy T-shirt sauntered from the garage half of the station.

     “Fill ‘er up?” he called through her open window. A Full-Service sign sat propped atop the closest of the two gas pumps.

     “Yeah, sure.”

     “Nice Buick,” the man said as he unscrewed her gas cap and reached for the pump.

     “It’s a rental.”

     She opened her door and climbed out to the overwhelming stench of gasoline and grease.

      “Just passing through?”

     The guy seemed intent on making conversation, and since she had no intention of using the restroom at this dingy station, she was trapped.

     “No, I—” No way would she share her plans with a perfect stranger.

     “Name’s Ray,” he said and broke into a wide smile. His teeth were straight and white, his smile warm and friendly.

     She couldn’t help grinning back. “I’m Kellen Brand, and I’m here to—” Still she hesitated. “—to check on my mother’s place down by the mill.”

     Ray gaped at her. “You mean the old Brand place out on Laden Mill Road?” He pointed his chin toward the west end of town. “By the old church?”

     “Yes. I haven’t been here in almost twenty years.”

     His warm smile flashed again. “Well, I’ll be a son of a gun. Folks around here still talk about your mom. Caroline, wasn’t it? Guess you got her red hair and green eyes.” His smile turned sheepish. “I mean that’s what folks said and all.”

     Kellen caught her jaw before it sagged open. She didn’t know what surprised her more. The fact that folks in Riverside still talked about her mother or that this man remembered what they had said.

     “We got somethin’ in common. I’m kinda new here myself. Just bought this gas station a while back. Always wanted one and it’s the only one in all of West Virginia I could afford.” His bright smile flashed again.

     She gave Ray a polite nod and gazed off toward the river. She didn’t want to know anyone in Riverside and certainly didn’t want to have anything in common with Texaco Ray. She intended to get in and get out of here fast.

     He seemed to realize the conversation was over and made no further attempts.

     She paid for her gas and headed west out of town. The GPS led her to Laden Mill Road a half mile up the highway, and her heart beat faster as the dilapidated road sign came into view. The afternoon sun had turned the clay road to a brilliant pale orange, and she could feel each heartbeat in her throat. Would she recognize the old homestead? She had been eleven when her mother remarried and moved them in with her stepfather. Kellen had never returned to Riverside. Painful memories had kept her away, memories of her father dying and memories of that one horrible winter.

     She reached the turnoff to the farm, guarded by a single fencepost with a crossbar supporting a mailbox. Beneath the mailbox hung a warped wooden sign with Angel Wind in faded white letters, and the sight sent goose bumps to prickling on her forearms. Kellen pondered briefly whether her mother really could bequeath her a Watcher for protection. Nah. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she turned down the long, dirt drive.

     Her first glimpse of the cabin stretched her smile to a full-out grin. Painted recently, the clapboard sides shone bright white, and she recalled her phone conversation with Gaddison the night before. “Your mother left instructions for me to take care of a couple things around the place in preparation for the sale or occupancy,” he’d said.

     She steered her rental sedan to a stop next to the cabin and climbed out. The old barn sat back about fifty yards closer to the river, its wood panels, once a dark red, now had a mahogany hue. Harsh West Virginia winters had faded and warped the panels, leaving a multitude of gaps between boards. A sudden gust of wind brought the damp smell of humus wafting up from the river, and she promised herself an excursion back down to the water as soon as she got settled in.

     Memories flooded in like ice melt to the river when she turned to face the cabin. She saw a little girl holding envelopes of seeds while her mother planted a vegetable garden on the side of the house. She saw a first-grader washing the lower glass panes on the front windows while her mother cleaned the higher ones. She saw a nine-year-old patiently teaching her younger brother how to catch a baseball—her father’s baseball.

     Ugly images suddenly sprang from her vault of memories: schoolchildren pointing and laughing at her tattered and patched dress; running away from the mean Reilly boys as they chucked dirt clods at her and Joey on their way home from school; Christmas with no tree and no lights, and worse still, no presents; and always, always, the ever-present hunger.

     The afternoon sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds, and a dust devil swirled in the patchwork of grass and dirt near the front steps. Her breath caught in her throat. Stunned, she followed the path of the swirling wind and remembered Gaddison’s comment about the Watchers traveling in whirlwinds. Spent leaves, dried grass, and dust spun upward together in a tight vortex that carried the debris as far as the barn before releasing the particles and fading into oblivion. At that very moment, the sun broke free of the smothering clouds and brightened the front of the cabin, inviting Kellen’s approach.

     “I made it, Momma,” she declared aloud when she reached the first step and felt her mother’s spirit close by. “And I’m successful too. I’m just as good as the rest of them.”

     She dug around in her purse for the key Gaddison had given her and opened the front door. Curtains were tied back from the two front windows, and the afternoon sun sent beams of light across the hardwood floor. Sheets covered the couch and two chairs that occupied the left half of the room. An oak hutch with a dining table and hardwood chairs occupied the right half, each covered with a thick coating of dust. Beyond lay the kitchen.

     Kellen set her purse and coat down on the sheet-covered couch and tried to remember the way the cabin looked when she’d lived there as a child. The present appliances were newer, but the cabinets were the same beautiful oak cabinets her father had built so long ago. She traced her index finger down one of the cabinet doors she saw so often in her dreams—dreams of cabinet doors with empty shelves behind them and a gut-twisting hunger entwined by the fear that tomorrow would bring no food and no relief from the hunger pains.

     She shook off the morbid memories and flipped up the light switch. Nothing. She checked the other lights in the house. All were out. She located the fuse box in the small pantry near the back door, but all the switches sat in the proper alignment. Outside, she discovered an empty meter housing on the clapboard siding and a red Tanawoc Utility Company tag tied to the conduit beneath. She groaned. Gaddison had failed to pay the electrical bill.

     Striding back into the cabin, she grabbed her purse, intent on reaching the utility office before it closed for the night. The red tag listed an address in Benton, the county seat just north of Riverside. Car keys in hand, she made it as far as the porch and stopped. Today was Sunday. The utility office was closed. Worse still, a check of the cabinets and drawers offered up no flashlights, candles, or oil lamps. Her only course of action now was a return trip to town to McRae’s and hope they weren’t closed too. With a resigned sigh, she headed down the front steps toward her car.

     Bang!

     The old wooden barn door swung out and smashed hard against the outer wall, startling her into a yelp. That barn door had been closed when she drove in. She was sure of it. Before she could catch her breath, another stiff breeze whirled in off the river and tossed the door back into its frame only to slam it back open against the outer wall a second time. Willing her heart rate to slow, she trotted over to tug the door shut. As she reached for the latch, a loud thunk resounded against the far end of the barn, followed a split-second later by an echoing pop from the distant hill. She instinctively ducked.

     A gunshot.

     Afraid to move, she hunkered down for several minutes, her arms protectively covering her head. Her breath whooshed in and out in a staccatoed pant. When no second shot rang out, she twisted around in a crouch to search for a shooter. Her property appeared deserted. The pasture across the road disappeared into a stand of trees at the crest of the hill, and she squinted to see if the trees harbored a shooter. Her heart sledgehammered against her sternum. The individual beats echoed in her ears. Vulnerable and exposed squatting next to the barn, she gazed swiftly in every direction for any sign of movement.

     Nothing.

     No one.

     Maybe she was wrong, and the sound hadn’t been a gunshot.

     She waited several more minutes. Her heart rate eased to a canter.

     Still crouching, she inched her way down the side of the barn, careful to keep an eye on the distant pasture and stand of trees. Splinters of wood protruded from the edges of a very visible and very fresh bullet hole decorating a wooden plank at her exact head height not twenty feet from the barn door. Her heart skipped one desperately needed beat, and she whipped around to scan the empty hills one more time.

     Nothing.

     She sucked in a ragged breath as her fingers traced the jagged edges of the bullet hole. Why would someone shoot at her? No one knew she was here except Ray back at the Texaco. She pressed her eye up to the bullet hole to peer into the darkened barn, then spun around for one more reconnoiter of the far pasture.

     Still no movement. Nothing out of the ordinary.

     This seemed crazy. People get mugged in New York City. People don’t get mugged in the tiny Appalachian town of Riverside. She couldn’t even go to the police. Riverside had only the county sheriff up in Benton.

      No matter, she would head to town and report the gunshot to somebody. She latched the barn door, climbed into her car, and smacked the door locks button. Someone at McRae’s would know what to do.