Page 1 of Point of Mercy

PROLOGUE

Gold Creek, California

The Present

Prologue

Some men younever forget.

Heather Leonetti parked her Mercedes beneath a deep green canopy of pine branches. Her head pounded and her heart beat an icy tempo. Through the windshield, she stared at the calm waters of Whitefire Lake and wondered how she would find the strength to undo the string of lies that had started six years before—lies she hadn’t meant to utter, lies that weren’t supposed to hurt anyone, lies that had her so bound, she didn’t know if she could untangle them.

Her mother had said it all, years ago. “The trouble with lyin’ is, once you start, you never can seem to stop. Your father, for example. Just one lie after another, one Jezebel of a woman after the next….”

Heather closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.Soon her mother would know the truth, as would everyone in Gold Creek. As would Turner.

She had to tell him first. He deserved to know. Too late, she realized. He should have known six years before. She should have found a way to reach him, to let him know that he had become a father. Instead, after a few feeble attempts to reach him, she’d taken the easy way out. And now, Adam, her son, her reason for living, was paying. It just wasn’t fair.

Tears collected behind her eyes and clogged her throat, but she wouldn’t give in to the pain. Not yet. Not while there was hope. She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute and sent up a prayer for strength. Somehow she had to undo all the wrongs; somehow she had to give her boy a chance to live a normal life. And Turner might be the answer. Although the horrid disease was now in remission and the doctors seemed to think that Adam had as good a chance as any for beating leukemia, Heather was scared to death…as she had been for nearly two years. It was time to face Turner.

Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes open and knew she had to face Turner again.

Some men you never forget.Turner Brooks was that kind of man—all bristle and gruffness with brown hair streaked with gold, a rugged profile too cynical for his years and eyes that saw far too much. A cowboy. A rodeo rider. A penniless no-good, as her mother would say.

Heather hadn’t seen him in six years. She couldn’t imagine his reaction when she showed up on his doorstep, trying to undo those cloying lies, and begging for his help. She knew that he hadn’t returned her calls, that her letter had gone unanswered.He obviously didn’t want her to be a part of his life. But he couldn’t reject his son.

Or could he?

Heather’s heart cracked, because she didn’t really know the man who was her son’s father, had barely known him six years before.

“Help me,” she whispered, refusing to break down. Pocketing her keys, she climbed out of the car and left the door ajar. A quiet bell reminded her that she should close and lock the Mercedes, but she didn’t care. Pine needles muted her footsteps as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and walked the short distance to the shore.

From the boughs overhead a hidden squirrel scolded brashly and a flock of quail rose in a thunder of feathers into the thin fog. The lake was quiet; there were only a few fishing boats in the misty dawn. Heather was reminded of the old legend about the waters of Whitefire Lake as she crouched down among the sun-bleached stones of the bank and ran her fingers through the cool depths. Her left hand mocked her. Naked, stripped of her diamonds when she and Dennis were divorced nearly two years before, it waved ghostlike beneath the clear surface.

She sent up a silent prayer for her son, then skimmed a handful of the lake water and drizzled it against her lips. She’d been greedy in the past and she’d taken too much from life—too much for granted. Her expensive car, her house in San Francisco, her studio and all her clothes and jewels meant nothing to her now. All that mattered was Adam.

She didn’t really believe in the legend of the lake, but she was willing to try anything,anything,to save her son’s life.

Even if it meant confronting Turner.

She shivered, feeling a tiny icicle of dread against her spine. As she stared into the clear waters of Whitefire Lake, she remembered the summer six years ago so clearly, it was almost as if she were still eighteen and working at the Lazy K Ranch….

BOOK ONE

Lazy K Ranch, California

Six Years Earlier

Chapter One

The air wasthick and sultry, filled with horseflies and bees that buzzed around Heather’s head as she shook the old rag rug. Dinner was long over and the guests of the Lazy K had broken into groups. Some had retired early, others were learning to play the guitar in the main hall and still others were involved in games of checkers or poker in the dining room. Laughter and music spilled from the windows, floating on a thin evening breeze.

Every bone in Heather’s body ached from the twelve-hour days she worked in the kitchen. Her feet were swollen and she smelled as bad as some of the ranch hands. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t cut out for ranch life, and yet here she was, kitchen maid at an obscure dude ranch in the foothills of the Siskiyou Mountains. Well, things could be worse. She could be back in Gold Creek.

Shuddering at the thought of the sleepy little town where she’d been born and raised, she stared at the distant hills. There were too many painful memories in Gold Creek for her to ever want to stay there. Even though some families like the Fitzpatricks and Monroes seemed to spawn generation after generation of citizens of Gold Creek, Heather wasn’t planning on putting her roots down in a town so small…so full of gossip.

Her family, the Tremonts, had been the subject of the Gold Creek gossip mill for years. First there had been her father and his affair with a younger woman. Eventually her parents had divorced, her mother bitter and unhappy to this day, her father involved with his new young wife. And then there had been the incident involving Heather’s sister, Rachelle, and the boy she’d been involved with—Jackson Moore.

Heather remembered all too vividly some of her mother’s “friends” and how they’d whispered just loud enough so that Heather could catch a few of the key words. “… Never believe…all their hopes on that one, you know…no scholarship now…so hard on Ellen. Poor woman. First that no-good skirt-chasing husband and now this…and the younger one doesn’t have a lick of sense…if there’s a God in heaventhatone will marry the Leonetti boy and give her mother some peace!”

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