ESTRELLAS DESHILACHADAS

CATHERINE COWLES
 CONTENIDO

Prólogo
1. Everly
2. Hayes
3. Everly
4. Hayes
5. Everly
6. Hayes
7. Everly
8. Hayes
9. Everly
10. Hayes
11. Everly
12. Hayes
13. Everly
14. Hayes
15. Everly
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17. Everly
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19. Everly
20. Hayes
21. Everly
22. Everly
23. Hayes
24. Everly
25. Hayes
26. Everly
27. Hayes
28. Everly
29. Hayes
30. Everly
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32. Everly
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36. Everly
37. Hayes
38. Everly
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40. Everly
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42. Everly
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44. Everly
45. Hayes
46. Everly
47. Hayes
Epílogo

Por favor, disfruta de esta vista previa de Falling Embers

Prólogo
Capítulo Uno
Agradecimientos
También de Catherine Cowles
Mantente Conectado
Acerca de Catherine Cowles
Estrellas Deshilachadas

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Editor: Susan Barnes Editor de copia: Chelle Olson Revisión:

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, Champagne Book Designs Diseño de portada: Hang Le Fo-

tografía de portada: Michaela Mangum

 PRÓLOGO

EVERLY

PASADO

S E VALIENTE . Por sesenta segundos. Veinte respiraciones. Podría hacer cualquier

cosa por veinte entradas y salidas. Los resortes de mi colchón crujieron cuando
pasé las piernas por el borde de mi cama. Me congelé. Y escuché.
Había muchas cosas que odiaba de crecer aquí. Pero también había cosas
que amaba. Cosas por las que estaba agradecida. Como lo atenta que estaba
a cada susurro. Sabría en un instante si un sonido no pertenecía.
Esperé. Escuché el golpeteo de la puerta de la pantalla en el viento.
El canto de un búho. Incluso el zumbido de nuestro refrigerador en la co-
cina. No escuché a mi hermano ni a mi papá. Mamá había estado fuera
por días, ayudando a un bebé a nacer. Pero la deseaba ahora. Ella era la
única que tenía la posibilidad de detener la locura. Pero no estaba aquí,
y no estaba segura de lo que traería el mañana.
Me puse de pie, rezando para que mi colchón se mantuviera callado
y no me delatara. Los resortes no me traicionaron de nuevo. Me moví ha-
cia mi armario, con cuidado de evitar cualquier tabla del piso que crujiera
. Sacando un par de jeans usados de un estante, me los puse. Me quité
la bata de dormir por la cabeza y busqué una camiseta.
 La brisa se intensificó por mi ventana abierta. Había hecho un calor inso-
portable hoy, pero a pocas horas de la noche y el frío se había instalado. Yo
me agarré una franela por si acaso. Poniéndome los calcetines, recogí mis
botas. Sabía que era mejor no poner suelas duras en este piso.
Mi papá me había enseñado a moverme sin hacer ruido para evitar cualquier
tipo de depredador. Y esta noche, estaba agradecida por cada una de las lecciones
, incluso las en las que tenía que rodar en el barro para disfrazarme.
Llegué al pomo de la puerta, pero mi mano se detuvo en el metal
. Podía volver a la cama. Olvidar mi intento de ser valiente y esperar
a que mamá volviera a casa. Para bajar a mi papá de su estado pa-
ranoico donde todos eran el enemigo y estábamos en riesgo de
todo: el gobierno, los vecinos, incluso mis maestros.
Había visto cómo nuestras vidas se hacían más pequeñas y más peque-
ñas, con menos y menos personas en las que confiar. No recordaba mucho
de lo normal. Pero recordaba algo. Segundo grado y la señorita Christie
antes de que papá sacara a Ian y a mí de la escuela. Visitar a la familia de
mamá en Portland antes de que decidiera que eran paganos. La feria del
pueblo antes de que se convenciera de que era malvada.
I closed my eyes and turned the knob. Stepping out into the hall, I
listened again. Nothing out of place. I created a dance to avoid every
problematic board in my path, sometimes tiptoeing, other times stretching
my legs to the point I worried I’d tip over.
Finally, I reached the front door. Our old dog, Bruiser, raised his head,
but I held a single finger to my lips, begging for silence. Feeding him table
scraps must’ve paid off because he lay back down and let out a soft snore.
I eased open the door and stepped through to the first true rebellion I’d
ever embarked on. One that might make me like my older sister—an
outcast. I closed the door behind me with a soft snick, but it was deafening
to my ears, echoing off the mountain itself. I let the screen door fall closed,
too, only a small rattle in my wake.
 I hopped over the porch steps entirely, knowing each and every one
would give me away. I landed with an oomph but held in my cry of pain.
Slipping on my boots, I glanced at the shed in the distance. The motion
lights on its exterior meant I didn’t dare try for it. So, I started for the barn
instead.
One of the doors was open a hair to let some of the night air in, and I
pulled it a bit more, just wide enough so Storm and I had a path. As I
moved down the aisle, our few horses nickered or lifted their heads to see
who was about. I paused at the tack room, picked up a bridle, and then
continued until I reached Storm’s stall.
She must have scented me coming because her head was already over
the stall door. I gave her nose a rub and then urged her back. “Gotta let me
in.” She did as I asked, and I left the door open, knowing she wasn’t going
anywhere…not without me.
I eased the bridle over her head, and she accepted the bit without
complaint. “What do you say we go for a ride?” She seemed to nod her
head in agreement. It would’ve been so much simpler if we were just taking
off for one of our afternoon adventures, exploring the mountains.
I led her out of the stall and towards the exit. We made our way out, and
I hoisted myself onto the fence so I could climb onto her back. She stayed
steady as I threw a leg over and adjusted my grip on the reins. “Nice and
easy.”
I guided her down the path that stayed far away from the house. One
that led to the mountain switchbacks. I glanced up at the sky, thanking the
heavens for a nearly full moon. I just prayed my sense of direction was as
good as I thought.
I’d never ridden all the way to town before. It was at least fifteen miles,
and several paths ebbed and flowed. But I knew where I was headed. I’d
memorized these mountains every day of my life. They were both a refuge
and a prison. Solace and tormentor.
 Tonight, they were on my side. Each trail’s crossroads seemed to give
me the next logical step until switchbacks turned to wide, worn paths, the
dirt packed by hikers and riders. Soon, I reached the road into town. I
stayed just off it, my heart hammering against my ribs as the forests turned
to neighborhoods.
I adjusted my grip on the reins, seeking out a peek at the lake on the
outskirts of town. The moon made the water almost glitter. “Just a few more
minutes,” I whispered to myself. I could be brave for a little longer.
I moved Storm onto the blacktop, her hooves echoing against the
buildings along Aspen Street. Every store was dark with limited streetlights
so residents and visitors alike could see the stars. Normally, I loved seeing
them, too, but tonight I fought a shiver. Wolf Gap felt like a ghost town.
I slowed Storm as we approached the street I knew held my next battle
for bravery. I wondered if I was already past the point of no return or if I
could guide Storm back up the mountain and go home. I turned her onto
Spruce.
The light from a building poured out into the night. It wasn’t harsh,
more like a soft beacon, guiding me home. Only if I walked inside, I had a
feeling I’d never see home again.
I halted Storm in front of that soft light and slid off her back. My hands
trembled as I tied her reins to a lamppost. Patting her neck, I nuzzled in
close. “I’m doing the right thing. Right?” She pushed into me as if to agree.
“I’ll see if we can get you some water.”
I didn’t want to step away from Storm’s warmth and comfort. I wanted
to stay there forever and ignore the rest of the world. Instead, I took a giant
step back and turned. “Twenty more breaths.” It would all be over in just
twenty more breaths.
I felt the harshness of each concrete step through my boots. I paused as I
reached the glass doors, glancing to my left, seeing a bulletin board with all
sorts of notices. Missing pets. Town functions. An event at the library. But
one piece of paper made my chest tighten.
I reached out and plucked it from the board. My empty hand reached for
the door, but when I pulled, I found it locked. A young man behind a desk
looked up at the rattle of metal and glass. His eyes widened for a moment,
and then he must’ve pushed a button because the door made a sound.
I pulled again, and it opened with ease. The soles of my boots echoed
on the linoleum floor. Just a few more breaths.
“Are you okay?” the man asked.
I laid the paper on his desk, the photo on it staring up at us, the stark
letters—Missing —a glaring accusation. The face on it was only a little
younger than mine, but it was smiling and carefree. It had been a long time
since I’d been that. It was too exhausting trying to read Dad’s moods or
being on alert for one of his drills that could happen at any time.
I touched a finger to the side of the photo, not wanting to get dirt on the
girl’s face. “I know where she is.”
The man’s mouth opened and closed. “Where?”
“At my house. In the shed with the green roof.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
His gaze traveled over my shoulder, out the glass doors. “Did you come
here alone? This isn’t something to joke about. Is that a horse?”
A side door opened. “What’s all the fuss out here, Nick?”
A man with tanned skin and salt-and-pepper hair appeared, and his gaze
immediately moved to me. “Now, who’s this?”
Nick scowled. “She says she knows where Shiloh Easton is. Probably a
prank. You know how these kids are.”
The older man came towards me and crouched. “What’s your name,
little one?”
“Everly. Everly Kemper.” I did my best to keep my voice from shaking.
 The man shared a look with Nick. “You live up on the mountain?”
I nodded. “The girl. She’s there. My dad…he said he had to save her
from the evil and that she would be in our family now. But she doesn’t want
to be there. She wants to go home. And Mom’s gone. She had to go
midwifing, and no one can talk Dad down when he’s like this. But it’s been
five days, and the girl…she won’t eat or drink. And Dad keeps getting
madder. I didn’t know what to do.”
All the words tumbled out of me. It wasn’t anything like I’d practiced
on my long ride into town. I fisted my hands, my nails biting into my
palms, to keep from letting everything else fly.
The man’s jaw looked as if it were carved out of granite, but he patted
me on the shoulder. “Everything’s going to be just fine. I’m Sheriff Hearst.
I’ll figure everything out.” He turned to Nick. “Let’s call in our team. As
fast as they can get here.”
Nick jumped on the phone, and Sheriff Hearst guided me towards the
side door, but I halted halfway there, looking towards the doors. “Storm, my
horse. She needs some water.”
“Did you ride all the way here?”
I nodded. “She’s probably thirsty.”
“And I’m sure you are, too.” The sheriff waved at Nick. “Get the horse
some water.” Nick gave a lift of his chin, and the sheriff looked down at me.
“Let’s get you something to drink and maybe a snack, too.”
He seated me in a room with two vending machines and a little kitchen.
“Have a seat.”
The chair made an ugly sound as I pulled it back, and by the time I sat
down, the room was getting a little fuzzy. I barely registered Sheriff Hearst
placing an array of items in front of me. Water and a soda. Some crackers,
and a candy bar.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had packaged food. Maybe when I
was seven? About the time Dad pulled me and Ian out of school. He’d
demanded that we live off the land as much as possible. Nothing store-
bought. Those companies were trying to poison us.
But I remembered the chips Mom used to pack in my lunch, and they
were my favorite. My hands trembled as I went for the crackers. But I could
barely taste them.
Everything went in and out of focus as a female deputy came to sit with
me. I watched from my spot at the table as officers assembled in the main
room. They donned vests and guns. My stomach cramped, and I squeezed
my eyes closed. I did the right thing. I said it over and over in my mind, just
hoping I might believe it.
When I opened my eyes, the armed men and women were gone. I toyed
with the crackers as the woman asked me questions. “Has your dad ever
hurt you?”
I shook my head. He’d been strict, but his punishments were training.
Teaching us to go without because we might not always have access to the
comforts of home.
The woman shifted in her chair. “Has he ever touched you anywhere
that made you feel uncomfortable?”
I blanched. “No. He’s not like that. He just…” I didn’t know how to
finish the sentence. “His mind plays tricks on him.”
It was the best way I could think to explain him. His brain told him lies.
Like the one that decided a family was evil because they were going to a
town fair, but their daughter could be saved because she hadn’t wanted to
go. So, he’d stolen her away.
I tuned the deputy out and stared into the main room, letting my eyes go
unfocused. That same side door opened, and a group of people filed in—a
family. The mother was red-eyed and panicked, while the father tried to
calm her and hold onto the girl in his arms, who couldn’t have been more
than six or seven.
 Two boys followed, looking around the room. The oldest was probably
in high school. His fists clenched and flexed, and anger lit his eyes. But the
younger wasn’t more than a few years older than me. Worry lined his face.
He looked from the room back to his parents, taking his mother’s hand and
squeezing it.
It had to be the little girl’s family. Shiloh Easton. I said the name in my
mind, shaped it with my mouth. She would go home to this family who
loved her.
I watched as the mom kissed the boy on his head. He didn’t dodge away
like Ian did when my mom showed him affection. This boy let her love on
him, seeming to understand that she needed it.
Our gazes locked from across the room. There were a million questions
in his eyes. I wasn’t sure I had any of the answers he needed, but I couldn’t
look away. I stared into those dark depths as if he held me hostage.
The bang of the door against the wall broke our trance. The entire
Easton family was on their feet in a flash, surrounding Sheriff Hearst. He
held Shiloh in his arms. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the mother wept,
and I caught tears streaming down the father’s face, as well. The siblings
hugged their sister tightly. But the boy with the haunting eyes kept looking
back at me where I sat. All alone.
 1

EVERLY

PRESENT

M Y HANDS TIGHTENED on the wheel as I guided my SUV onto Aspen Street.

Everything looked remarkably the same. The slight Old West feel still clung
to the buildings and antique lampposts. Many of the institution spots like
The Cowboy Inn and Wolf Gap Bar & Grill were still here, just with a fresh
coat of paint.
But while it looked as if there were some new restaurants and shops, as
well, I knew hoping for a spot to order my favorite Thai dishes might be too
much to ask. There was no question that coming back to eastern Oregon
meant I’d be giving up some things.
My older sister, Jacey, thought I was crazy. Sure, that I’d step back into
town limits and get sucked back into all the drama that surrounded our
family. I understood her fear. Especially since she’d been more mother to
me than a sister, taking custody of me after my father went to jail, and I’d
begged my mom to let me leave this place.
All that determination to break free, and here I was, a decade and a half
later, coming right back to where I started. My pulse picked up speed as I
drove past Spruce Street and caught sight of the sheriff’s station. I knew
Sheriff Hearst had to be far into retirement, but I wished I’d have at least
one friendly face to count on.
It didn’t take long for me to pass through downtown. No more than
twenty of those brave breaths I’d come to rely on. I’d need them now more
than ever.
I thought about stopping at the hardware and grocery stores but knew I
needed to get the lay of the land first. I’d called the water and power
companies and had them check the lines to our old property, making sure
things were still in working order. After a few repairs, they assured me that
all was good on their end.
That meant the rest was up to me. The letter from my mother burned a
hole in my pocket, but I hadn’t been able to simply keep it in my purse. It
was as if the words inside could give me the final kick I needed to finish my
task.
I hadn’t been crazy enough to think that Jacey would help. She had two
children and a husband who had a solid job in Seattle. They’d given me
more than I’d ever expected. A safe and stable home. One where I was free
to go to school and didn’t have to fear being woken up in the middle of the
night to practice for a raid. They’d made sure I knew that I was loved and
cared for. But I wasn’t theirs .
As soon as Jacey became pregnant, I’d started to feel like an interloper.
They were building their family, but they were still stuck caring for me. I’d
tried to be helpful. Cooking and cleaning. Babysitting when they needed a
break. But I always felt like a guest. Like I never truly fit. It was as if I
didn’t quite belong anywhere. It was part of the reason I was back. To see if
I could finally lay it all to rest and find my place in the world again.
The main road turned into a two-lane highway, and within a few
minutes, I was looking for my turnoff. Street signs on these kinds of roads
weren’t exactly common, and I was sure the landmarks I’d known as a child