by Rebecca York
Lexie simply couldn’t imagine Simon putting down roots here.
More likely, he’d just leave Jenkins Cove in search of the action he’d gotten so used to. Then what would she tell their daughter?
Chapter Seven
On the way back to his digs at the fishing shack, Simon donned an earpiece and called Bray Sloane on his cell. “Any problems getting your men here?”
“None. The one watching the grandparents’ home knows that if your daughter leaves for any reason, he isn’t to let her out of his sight.”
“I saw your other man when I left Lexie’s place. You’re sure she won’t spot him?”
“He’ll be invisible.”
“Listen, Bray, I owe you.”
Bray laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get my bill.” And then his voice sobered. “Afghanistan was hell, but a hell I signed up for. What happened to you and those poor people who came to the United States thinking they were going to get a new, safe life. No one deserves that.”
“Yeah.” Simon didn’t know what else to say.
“I’ve got to see a potential new client later this morning, so I’ll be in Easton, about twenty minutes from Jenkins Cove. If you need me for anything, give me a call and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Bray.”
He ended the conversation just as the narrow asphalt road to the hiding place for his truck came into view. Halfway there, he switched from asphalt to dirt and soon turned into a thick stand of pine trees where he parked and left the truck. He needed to catch a few hours’ sleep before putting his plan into action.
His thoughts wandered from ghostly pursuits to Lexie to the daughter he’d never seen. A daughter who looked like the woman he loved. Who had his eyes. A yearning came over him and Simon had to shake it away. He needed to stay focused. Emotions were messy and would make him sloppy. Sloppiness could get someone killed, and not necessarily him.
He’d seen enough death to last him a lifetime.
The only deaths he wanted to see were those of the people responsible for ruining his life and the lives of so many others.
As he neared the swampy area, Simon’s mind wandered back to the wars he’d fought, and he didn’t at first hear the voices until he was almost exposed.
“You’re sure you don’t own this land?”
“Perry, you’re becoming a nuisance.”
Simon stopped himself from stepping into the clearing. He stayed within the protection of the pines and the shadows they provided. This Perry guy was of medium height with brown hair combed to the side — no one familiar to Simon. But the other guy — dark-haired, tall and thin — seemed familiar, though his face was scarred and he was leaning heavily on a cane as he walked toward the two vehicles parked nearby.
“If you tell me who owns this land, I’ll stop bugging you about your waterfront property.”
“You can’t build here anyway. It’s a graveyard, for Pete’s sake.”
Simon realized that, again, there was no cop on site. Considering that the holidays were upon them, the police were probably shorthanded.
“They’ll get all the bodies out,” the guy named Perry was saying. “No one else will have the guts to buy it. I can get it cheap, and once I get a development going, no one will even remember what went on here.”
“I’ve told you before that your schemes don’t interest me. Now I’m even more certain.”
“Look, Drake, if you don’t cooperate one way or the other, I can ruin things for you.”
Drake? Simon started. This was Brandon Drake. Scarred and on a cane!
What the hell had happened to him?
Simon had known Brandon since he was a kid. Four years older than Simon, Brandon had been one of the high school leaders for summer programs meant to keep the Jenkins Cove kids out of trouble. Simon remembered him being a little too overbearing. Or maybe he’d just seemed that way to a kid who resented anyone telling him what to do and who already had a chip on his shoulder because of his crappy home life.
“What? Now you’re trying to blackmail me?” Brandon’s outraged question was barely discernable as they neared the vehicles.
“I need this deal! You sell me that shoreline property I want and I won’t talk.”
Simon couldn’t hear Brandon’s response. He stayed hidden until the men drove off.
He stepped away from the trees and considered what he’d heard. This Perry guy seemed way too desperate to buy land; he didn’t even care if it was a mass grave. What was up with that? And Brandon Drake most certainly was hiding something. What could Perry know about Brandon that he could use as blackmail?
And did it have something to do with Drake Enterprises being involved in human trafficking?
***
When she approached the gated entrance that led up to Drake House later that morning, Lexie was wondering about the nondescript silver sedan that seemed to have been following her for several miles. She turned through the opening between the pillars and onto the drive, and glanced up into her rearview mirror. When the other car kept going without slowing, Lexie took a relieved breath and relaxed.
For a few moments, she’d thought her assailant was back for attack number three. This time, Simon was nowhere nearby to save her butt.
The thought jogged her into thinking about Simon, seeing his face in her mind, remembering how good it felt to be in his arms even on a hard floor in front of a wood stove. It also made her wonder what she should do about Simon in relation to their daughter. Should she let Katie know her father was alive?
It was a decision that could wait until later.
Her crew arrived right behind her. Lexie got them organized, hauling in the truckload of mums, gerbera daisies and more greenery right away. She glanced up at the burned part of the mansion, the reason for the flowers. She might be able to hide the remaining scent of burned wood, but she wouldn’t be able to hide the visual evidence. Thankfully, guests wouldn’t be arriving for the ball until after dark.
All the basics had to be in place before they left today, Lexie thought, on her way to the entry. The next day would be spent decorating the second-floor parlors and the outside entry to the house. Then there shouldn’t be much more to do on the day of the ball than to haul in fresh flowers and cover the tables with linens and candles. Not that there wouldn’t be a few last-minute details that needed to be taken care of, but that was always to be expected.
Lexie was just about to the front door when her cell rang. Checking the ID and seeing that it was Simon, she decided to stay outside a few minutes longer to take the call so that she could have some privacy. Circling along the drive toward the bay, she flipped the cell open.
A little thrill running through her, she said, “Hey. I thought you were going to get some sleep.” Something she could use herself.
“I will, but I just overheard an interesting conversation between Brandon Drake and some guy named Perry.”
“Where?”
“The mass grave.”
“What the heck was Brandon doing out there?” And with Ned Perry, of all people.
“Something I wondered myself. This Perry guy wanted to know who owned the land.”
“I heard he’s been bugging people about it,” Lexie said, gazing onto the bay whose shore was barely dotted with large houses and mansions, keeping the area from being overpopulated. “He can’t get anyone else to sell him shoreline land so I guess he figures that since that land has partial access to the water, he could build his development there.”
A shiver shot through her. If Ned succeeded in finding the owner and convinced him to sell, would future condo buyers be warned they were going to be living over a former mass grave?
Simon broke into her thoughts. “That’s not actually why I called, though.”
“What’s up?”
“Brandon is hiding something.”
“As in?”
“Don’t know. But Perry was putting the squeeze on him.”
>
“What kind of squeeze?”
“Blackmail.”
“I don’t believe it.” Simon didn’t respond and Lexie realized that he was serious. “You think it could be about Drake Enterprises involvement with the human trafficking?”
“What else?”
Lexie’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want to believe that Brandon had been involved or that he was hiding something to protect the family name. But as they had discussed earlier, Brandon had to be considered a suspect, along with Cliff and Doug Heller. She turned and gazed at the east wing again, the visible damage from the fire an immediate reminder that someone else had thought Brandon was involved with the human trafficking operation.
“All right,” she said, then glanced around to make sure no one was around to overhear. “I have the key with me. I’ll see what I can find out.”
The lighting team had arrived. They would create pools of light to accentuate particular areas of the ballroom — the fireplace, the trio of trees, the silent auction area, among others — plus they’d create a special effect so that it would seem as if it were snowing inside. The first thing they needed to do was to figure out the power situation in case they had to add a generator.
“Can we see the breaker boxes?” the older man named Rick asked.
Isabella had entered the room and Lexie waved the maid over. “Rick needs to check on the electrical situation. Can you show him where the breakers are?”
Isabella gave her a sour expression, but said, “This way,” and moved off, Rick and his young assistant following.
The high school kids arrived, and Lexie got them started decorating the already-lit balsam trees with white icicles and red and gold ornaments.
Another crew arrived with the tables and chairs. Food service would be confined to two other public rooms — the reception parlor for the buffet and the grand dining room for eating the festive meal. Lexie handed them computer printouts that showed how to set up the myriad tables.
Everyone was hard at work, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Lexie relaxed a little, certain all would be ready in time for the ball the next evening.
Good, because she had some snooping to do.
Brandon had been gone when she arrived and Marie had left the house to run some errands, so there was no time like the present.
With her unlimited access to Drake House, Lexie could move through any of the rooms in the public wing without raising suspicions. When Marie had turned over the key to her, she’d said it didn’t fit any of the doors in the house, but she had probably just checked the key against the room doors, not against the furniture.
Lexie started with the first-floor rooms she’d been hired to decorate and checked for locked cabinets. No luck until she found a buffet with a drawer with a lock. Unfortunately, the key barrel was too big to insert.
She strolled through the kitchen, which at the moment was empty. Did she dare check out the rooms Marie’s father had used before his death, which now were occupied by the housekeeper?
Lexie’s hand was on the door handle when she heard a noise behind her and whirled around guiltily.
Shelley Zachary had just come from one of the back rooms used for laundry and storage. The housekeeper was balancing a tray filled with crystal serving dishes that she put on a stainless steel counter.
“Can I help you with something, Lexie?”
“I was looking for you, actually,” Lexie lied, her heart thundering. “I just wondered if you knew when Marie was going to be back.”
Shelley’s narrow face pulled tight and her penciled eyebrows rose, making her look suspicious. “Why don’t you just call her on her cell?”
“I tried.” Lexie hated lying and wasn’t very good at it. She only hoped her voice sounded steady and convincing. “Signal’s not going through or something.”
Shelley stared at her for a moment, then started moving the crystal serving pieces from the tray to the counter. “I imagine Marie will be here within the hour. Not that I keep track of her comings and goings.”
While Lexie said, “Thank you, Shelley,” she was aware that the housekeeper was keeping track of everything that went on in this house. And in town. According to Marie, the housekeeper was quite a gossip. “Back to work,” she said softly as if to herself.
She felt Shelley’s eyes follow her to the ballroom door.
Shaking off the feeling undoubtedly caused by her own guilt, Lexie reconnoitered. She knew the second-floor parlors overlooking the ballroom had only a few tables and seating arrangements, so she didn’t need to check them.
Entering the empty foyer, she hesitated before going upstairs, to the third-floor rooms Marie and Brandon were using until the roof and other damage to the east wing was repaired. If she was to go up there, she needed a plausible explanation to cover her furtive actions.
Then it came to her. She grabbed extra greenery and a couple of plants that hadn’t been set out yet. If anyone saw her, she could say she was simply spreading some of the Christmas cheer to her best friend’s private quarters. Halfway up the staircase, she felt the small hairs at the back of her neck tickle and got a weird feeling that made her stomach do a flip. Had Shelley Zachary followed her from the kitchen? Though she glanced down, Lexie saw no one in the foyer.
She was probably feeling weird because of her friendship with Marie and therefore with Brandon.
What would her friend think if she caught Lexie in her private quarters and didn’t buy the decorating excuse? Pulse humming, she rushed up to the third floor. Surely Marie would believe her cover story, especially since she planned to spruce up the sitting room.
Lexie hadn’t been up here since she was a kid. She and Marie used to explore the house and play hide-and-seek and other games in the big rooms. Then one day Edwin had caught them. Marie’s father had been very big on propriety and had told them they were quite out of line going where they weren’t invited. She’d been scared straight then, but now thinking back on it, Lexie wondered if he hadn’t been secretly amused.
She entered the sitting room first, placed the gerbera daisies on the side table next to the sofa and the mums on a table between two chairs before the fireplace. After arranging the greenery on the mantel, she went back to her real purpose. She found only one lock on the cabinet holding crystal glasses and pitchers and bottles of liquor. The key proved too large for the opening.
Getting that feeling again, like interested eyes were following her, Lexie rechecked the foyer, thinking that if someone spotted her, she would have to give up the search and go back downstairs.
The foyer was clear. But not her sense of being watched. Guilt certainly put her imagination on overdrive.
Shaking away the unsettling feeling, she continued her search.
No furniture in the bedroom Marie and Brandon were now sharing required a key. Thankfully, Lexie thought, not wanting to invade her friend’s privacy any more than she had to.
In the rear of the wing, there were a couple of storerooms, one for linens, the other filled with boxes. Nothing that required a key in either.
Relieved, Lexie was about to return to work downstairs when she realized she needed to check the east wing, as well. Doing so might be dangerous. She didn’t know how extensive the damage was or how safe entering those rooms would be. But she couldn’t let it go unsearched.
The sense of being watched followed her down the stairs and across the gallery as she moved from one wing to the other, but no matter how intensely she searched for prying eyes, she saw no one, nothing out of place.
The damage was worst in the rear where the roof had collapsed. The fire had started in the second-floor nursery. Lexie couldn’t check that room, the one adjacent or above it, but she figured she could manage the rest. Even though she started at the front of the wing, she was more aware of the smoke damage than she was down in the ballroom, despite the clean-up crew that Brandon had brought in. She guessed the wing would need a new roof and possibly some new walls and floor
ing before the smell would be obliterated.
Just being in this part of the house now gave Lexie the creeps and she asked herself why she was doing this. Because she wanted to eliminate Brandon as a suspect and this was the only way she could do that. She kept thinking about the dead man who’d set fire to the east wing out of a need for revenge. He must have had some reason to suspect Brandon. Maybe he’d found something that, should she find it, as well, would lead her to the real killer.
That decided, she got to work.
An antique cabinet in a parlor had a lock, as did a walnut armoire in what she assumed was Brandon’s bedroom. Neither was a match to the key. She used the side stairs to get to the third floor, but stopped halfway up when she realized she was putting herself in physical danger. So she headed back down and continued investigating the abandoned first-floor rooms. No better luck there.
Soon, there was only one room left that she could get at, other than Shelley’s new quarters. Brandon’s office sat directly in plain sight of the foyer.
Just as she thought it, the entry door opened and Marie came in, carrying several packages. Before her friend could see her, Lexie backed up and around a corner to avoid the other woman, who headed directly upstairs. Thankfully, she hadn’t done so while Lexie was up there.
Waiting a minute to make certain the coast was clear, Lexie approached the door to the office. Just to play it safe, she knocked. Perhaps Brandon had returned and was sequestered in there.
No answer.
Even so, her pulse was racing as she tried the handle. It turned easily. She slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her before feeling for the light switch.
Brandon’s office looked just as it must have when his grandfather had first furnished it. The floor was covered with an old Oriental carpet and the furniture — serpentine partners’ desk with leather top, chest of file drawers with marquetry detail and matching credenza — were all of mahogany with brass accents, including locks.