Spirited Away

by Lena Gregory

  “Positive. The owner is a client.”

  “Does anyone know what time Ellie gets off?” She couldn’t explain the sense of urgency prodding her, but she had a strong feeling she needed to get in touch with Ellie.

  Bee frowned. “What would Bruce Brinkman want with Ellie?”

  “We can’t be sure that’s the pad Bruce wrote on. He could very well be visiting the lighthouse while he’s in town, or he could have an appointment on Friday evening with anyone at all, including a perfectly legitimate meeting to get his father’s affairs in order.” Cass dialed Ellie’s cell phone number.

  “Or?” Bee asked.

  An image of Ellie, her long brown hair splayed around her, popped into Cass’s head. “Or it could be Jay Callahan had the nerve to show up at the hotel and used that pad to track down Ellie.”

  Ellie answered on the first ring. “Hey, Cass, is something wrong?”

  “Uh, no, not at all. Um . . .” Okay, that was lame. She hadn’t thought past getting in touch with Ellie and making sure she was okay. Now she had no clue what to say. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing and thank you for sending Willie over with the chairs and barrels.”

  “I’m fine, thank you, and you’re welcome.” Silence stretched between them.

  Should she tell her about the notepad? Probably not. With Ellie on the line, apparently fine, the urgency subsided. It was possible she’d overreacted. The antique shops on Bay Island often drew tourists who stayed at the hotel. “Okay, then. Just remember, I’m here if you need me, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Cass, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She disconnected and lay the phone on the table.

  “She’s okay?” Bee asked.

  “Seems like it.”

  “Okay, so what do we know that we didn’t already know?” Stephanie asked.

  Cass shrugged. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Cass brushed highlighter beneath her eyebrows for the third time, then accepted her attempts weren’t going to yield any better results. Giving up, she stuck the palette back in the vanity drawer. She didn’t often wear makeup, and she admired women who could put their faces together in a way that looked both sultry and natural. She didn’t share their talents.

  Luke had said he was taking her out for dinner, but he hadn’t said where. He also hadn’t called back since she’d asked him to check out the yacht. In some ways, she hoped it turned out to be a dead end, that the woman with the long dark hair would turn out to be a figment of her overactive imagination. No use thinking about it. Not like she could do anything other than wait.

  She studied herself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror and smoothed the clingy black dress. Hopefully, the dress wasn’t too casual, especially since she’d dressed it up with jewelry and a belt. She grabbed her high-heeled sandals and the lint roller from the closet shelf and carried them with her to the kitchen. “Still not here yet, huh, Beast?”

  If she sat down, she had no doubt she’d fall asleep within minutes. That’s all she needed, to have Luke finally get a night off, walk in to pick her up, and find her passed out on the couch, probably snoring with a line of drool running down her chin.

  She picked up a romance novel she’d started before the summer rush had begun and flipped through the pages. Though she could have used her e-reader, she preferred the weight of a real book in her hand when she curled up to read, and it definitely made it easier to skim the chapters and remind herself what had been going on.

  Satisfied she remembered the main characters and plot line, she turned on all the living room lights and sat on the couch, curling her feet beneath her.

  Beast curled up against her side.

  If Luke took too much longer, she might just decide not to go out after all. She started to read, tried her best to concentrate on the words, but her mind wandered back to the yacht and the woman in her vision and Rosa Dupree. After reading the first paragraph for the third time, she increased her efforts to focus. Maybe reading hadn’t been the best idea. Maybe she should get up and clean something. With her luck, she’d splash bleach all over her dress if she tried. As it was, she’d have to run the lint roller over the black dress on her way out the door to remove the coating of Beast’s hair.

  She rubbed her eyes. Exhaustion beat at her. Reading, or trying to anyway, was only adding to the problem, burning her eyes. She opened the book and tried again. The words jumbled on the page. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her body jerked, and she dropped the book onto her lap, then shot straight up on the couch. So much for reading. If she allowed herself just a minute or two to close her eyes, she’d probably get a second wind.

  Liar.

  Her mind drifted, beyond her control. Darkness tunneled her vision, and her eyes slid closed. Fragments of images flickered through her mind. A woman. Long brown hair fanned around her as she lay on what looked like concrete, her body bent at an awkward angle. Wait. Concrete? That wasn’t right. Was it? Not on the yacht then.

  The woman’s features swam in and out of focus, never quite clear enough to discern. Her eyes remained closed.

  “Help her.”

  “I don’t know how.” Safe in her own home, Cass reached for the voice, immersing herself fully in the vision. “Who is she?”

  “Help her.”

  Darkness swirled around the woman, obscuring any chance of recognition. “I can’t see—”

  “Help her, help her. Help her! Helpher, helpherhelpher . . .”

  Hands gripped Cass’s arms, tightening their hold, squeezing, vise-like, lifting her . . .

  Cass screamed and tore herself from the vision.

  Her book flew across the room, slammed into the wall, then dropped onto the floor with a thud.

  “Cass!” Bee held on to her arms, gripping her tight enough to keep her from falling to the floor when her legs gave out. He pulled her into his arms. “Cass, talk to me.”

  “What?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. She had to get the vision back, had to know who the woman was. Dark hair. Familiar. Someone she knew. Ellie? “Let go of me. I have to go back.”

  Bee gently lowered her to the couch and stepped back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Cass, you’re scaring me a little here.”

  She lay her head back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. She searched for the vision, tried to recreate it, pulling up every detail. It was no use. The image, never fully formed to begin with, faded, distorted, then disappeared completely. She opened her eyes.

  “Honey, I have no idea what’s happening here, but you’re not going to spin your head around or anything, are you?” Bee’s hands shook, and what he’d managed of a tan so far this summer had vanished, leaving him ghostly pale. He glanced between Cass and the paperback that had landed on the floor beside an armchair.

  Tears streaked down Cass’s cheeks, no doubt destroying her painstaking makeup job. She half sobbed, half laughed. “Oh, man, Bee. I’m so sorry.”

  He pursed his lips and backed across the room. When the armchair hit the backs of his knees, he dropped straight down onto it and lowered his head into his hands. He blew out a breath and shoved both hands through his hair before finally making eye contact. “What on earth was that?”

  “What was what?” She wasn’t even trying to feign innocence. She was fully aware something had just happened, but she honestly had no clue what had him so freaked out.

  He pointed at her and spun his finger around and around. “That thing. Episode. Whatever it was. You were babbling, the same phrase over and over again. ‘Helper’ or something like that. I’m not gonna lie, that was some freaky stuff.”

  “I’m sorry, Bee. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t know what happened exactly. I was reading, waiting for Luke to pick me up for dinner, and I must have drifted off for a second.”

  “Oh?” He shot out a breath and smiled. “A dream, then.”

  “Not exa—”

  “A dream I can
live with.” He stared hard, willing her to shut up and let it go at that.

  She buttoned her lips. If he wanted to think it was a dream, so be it. If she left his delusion alone, maybe he’d help her figure out what it meant. “I guess I must have dozed off for a minute or two, and I dreamed about a woman. It wasn’t ‘helper’ she was saying, it was ‘help her.’ She kept repeating it over and over again.”

  “Help whom?”

  “Isn’t that the million-dollar question.” And she wished she had an answer.

  Bee glanced at his watch. “Since when do you and Luke go out to dinner so late?”

  “Late? Says the man who eats dinner in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Beast lay his head in Bee’s lap and gazed up at him.

  Bee petted his head. “I know exactly how you feel, boy. That was really weird.”

  Cass stood and stretched her back. “Anyway, Luke was running a little late, I guess. He hasn’t called, but he said the dinner reservations were for eight o’clock, and I—”

  “Eight? Cass, that was more than two hours ago.”

  She lurched back. “What?”

  “It’s quarter after ten. I hate to be the one to tell you, but apparently you’ve been stood up.”

  “What?” Two hours? Pressure squeezed Cass’s chest. She’d lost two hours? How could that be?

  “Listen, hon, since you’re all dressed up anyway, and I’m starved since all I ate for lunch was a . . . ahem . . . salad, why don’t you go freshen up, and I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner?”

  Since she had no intention of going back to sleep anytime soon—or maybe ever—she agreed. “Just let me call Luke and see where he is.”

  She dialed Luke’s number as she headed for the bathroom, then left a message when his voice mail picked up. So much for a night off. Hopefully he’d gotten a break in the murder investigation or the art theft case and he’d get some free time soon. Not only because she missed him, but because he was clearly exhausted and needed the break. He’d admitted as much earlier. Giving up on salvaging her tear-streaked makeup, Cass washed her face, lined her lower lids with black eyeliner, swiped on a little mascara and called it a day.

  She took Beast out, then settled him with a peanut-butter-filled treat and petted his head. “You be a good boy for me, okay? No eating anything you’re not supposed to.”

  She poked her head into the living room to let Bee know she was ready. “You ready, Bee?”

  He jumped and whirled toward her, one large hand pressed against his chest. “Don’t do that to me.”

  “Do what?”

  “Startle me like that.” He fanned himself and tugged at his collar.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  He waved his hands. “Nothing, nothing. Let’s just go.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I just . . .” Patches of red popped up on his cheeks. “I just . . . I get a little spooked when . . . well . . . you know . . . that kind of stuff happens.”

  Cass clamped her lips tight to keep from teasing him, though it wasn’t easy when he made such an easy target of himself with all his proclamations that anything supernatural didn’t exist. Usually, given such a prime opportunity, she’d have pounced on him for being so afraid of something he didn’t believe in, but not tonight. Tonight, he’d been so sweet about taking her out for dinner after Luke hadn’t shown up that she went to him instead. She hooked his arm with hers and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry, Bee. I won’t let anything bother you.”

  He looked down at her. “Really? You can do that?”

  “Of course I can. If I can communicate with . . . whatever . . . why wouldn’t I be able to protect you from them?” And even if she couldn’t, she’d step between him and danger in a heartbeat without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Seriously?” He straightened up and patted her hand, then gripped it against his arm “Well, why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

  All right, maybe a little teasing. She looked up and widened her eyes in pretend innocence. “Because you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” He ran a hand through his already sticking-up hair. “That’s kind of like me saying these blond locks didn’t come from a bottle. You can’t admit it if you’re going to keep up appearances, you know?”

  “You never have to worry about keeping up appearances with me. I already know how kind you are and how brave. You have more courage than anyone I know, and you always look out for the people you care about, even at risk to yourself. Why do you think I love you so much?”

  He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Cass, more than you know.”

  She leaned into him for a moment, comforted by his strong embrace, by his broad chest beneath her cheek, by his faithful friendship, and was disappointed when he stepped back.

  “I’ll always take care of you, Cass. You know that, right?”

  “I do know it, and I appreciate it so much, appreciate you so much. Just don’t forget that street goes both ways. Don’t ever be afraid to share your feelings with me, or anything with me, because I will always have your back.”

  “Thank you, Cass. You are one of the first people in my life who’s ever simply accepted me for who I am, the good and the bad, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” His voice hitched, and he turned away for a moment. “Now, let’s go eat before I waste away. I asked you to help me with my diet, not starve me to death.”

  Satisfied he understood the depth of her feelings for him, she let it drop. Bee showed how he felt about his friends in so many ways, but he wasn’t always comfortable discussing his feelings, a trait probably borne of so many years trying to hide them. “Waste away, huh? It’s not like you didn’t eat lunch.”

  “Ha! You call that lunch? For a rabbit, maybe.” He waited for her to lock the door. “You want to take my car? I didn’t put the tops back in yet.”

  “Actually, let’s take mine.” She dug her keys out of her bag and held them out to him. Exhaustion had begun to encroach again, despite the nap—or whatever—she’d had earlier. The last thing she needed was to fall asleep driving.

  He paused. “Why do I have the feeling there’s an ulterior motive here?”

  The downside of having such a close friend. He knew her too well. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  He considered her another moment before taking the keys. They’d barely started backing out of the driveway before he pounced. “Where am I going?”

  “I just wanted to ride by Ellie’s house quick and make sure everything looks okay.”

  He nodded. “That I can do.”

  The fact that Ellie had eventually sold the house she and Jay had shared and moved into the home that had been her mother’s, which just so happened to sit directly across the street from Malcolm King’s parents, was just icing on the cake.

  The thought of cake made her stomach growl. As much as she hated to admit it, Bee might be right. The salad she’d had for lunch definitely wasn’t filling enough to last so many hours.

  Bee slowed as they approached Ellie’s house.

  A lone light shone from the living room window, and everything looked quiet. None of the cars lining the street appeared to be occupied. She didn’t see anyone lurking, nor did she get any kind of sinister vibe in her gut. “I guess everything looks okay. Would you mind turning around and driving down the road one more time?”

  He made a U-turn two blocks down and headed back down the road.

  The two-story colonial where Malcolm King had grown up was dark. There were no cars in the driveway or out front, although they could well be in the garage.

  Bee followed her gaze with his own. “Want to tell me what’s going on, since Ellie’s house is on the other side of the street?”

  “I did want to check on Ellie, and everything looks okay there.”

  “So, who does th
e house across the street belong to?”

  “Malcolm King’s parents.”

  “Are you crazy?” Bee sped up. “What are you trying to do, get me killed?”

  “Oh, please, I highly doubt Malcolm killed a man just to get even with me.”

  “Who’s talking about Malcolm? If Luke or Tank find out I’m assisting you in trying to investigate on your own, they’re going to kill me.”

  She laughed and relaxed. He was probably right.

  Her cell phone rang, and Luke’s name popped up on the screen.

  She swiped the screen. “Hey, Luke, what’s going on?”

  “Where are you?” His voice sounded strained.

  “I just left with Bee to get something to eat. When you didn’t show up and I couldn’t reach you, I figured something was going on with your case. Are you at my house? We could swing by and pick you up if you want?”

  “I need to talk to you. And Bee. Now.”

  How could he know they’d driven past Malcolm’s house? He couldn’t. Could he? Maybe Bee was right to be afraid. Or maybe he’d found out something about the yacht. “Do you want to meet up with us for dinner?”

  “No, I need to see you somewhere private and discreet.”

  “Bee was planning on going into Dreamweaver after dinner to work, do you want to meet up with us there?”

  “That’ll work, but not after dinner. I need to see you both immediately. We need to talk, Cass, and I’m concerned for your safety.” Something had happened. It must have. Had they found the woman with the dark hair? Could she have been on the yacht? She couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t think about what it would mean if they had.

  While she might have blown off his concern for her, since he tended to worry excessively, she’d never take a chance of putting Bee in danger. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Don’t stop anywhere, you hear me? Go straight there, and if you get there before us, go in and lock the door. Got it?”

  Did the yacht and the woman have any connection to each other? To Dirk’s murder? Was the woman alive if they’d found her? “Sure.”