She smiled. “No need to apologize. Your skepticism doesn’t offend me. I’ve lived with it all my life. I didn’t ask for this ability.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “There was a time when I would have gladly given it away, but now I just accept it. And if I can help someone along the way—someone like you—so much the better.”
“How do you think you can help me?” Paul asked doubtfully.
“Your son was with his mother when he died. She almost crossed over with him, didn’t she? That created a powerful bond between them.”
Paul’s heart began to hammer as he got to his feet. “Who the hell are you? How did you find out those things about my family? Who have you talked to?”
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she murmured.
Anger and disgust washed over him as he stared down at her, challenging her. “You don’t have to say another word. I’m familiar with what you do. You prey on grief,” he said coldly. “Do you think we haven’t been approached by vultures like you before?”
She looked at him, aghast. “I’m afraid you’ve somehow gotten the wrong impression—”
“I doubt that.” He took a moment to get his anger under control. “What I don’t know is how you found out about my son. You must have somehow gotten your hands on a guest list and researched everyone who would be at Fernhaven this weekend until you hit upon a likely pigeon. You and Audrey Sylvester must be in this together somehow. I’ll just bet she’s your most de voted fan.” The assistant manager at the hotel had to be in on it, too, Paul realized, since she’d sent him to Audrey Sylvester. That fit. They would need someone on the inside to provide them with a guest list. That also explained why Zoë had so enthusiastically welcomed a complete stranger into her home. No wonder she hadn’t been apprehensive. She already knew who he was.
Normally Paul wasn’t the conspiracy-theory type, but something was definitely going on here. He was being played for a sucker by these people and he didn’t like it one damn bit. And worse, they were attempting to run their scam on Elizabeth.
Paul could see right through them, but Elizabeth…she’d been susceptible to this type of con before. She’d wanted to believe so badly that she could somehow connect with Damon that she’d allowed herself to be taken in by a woman who claimed, just like Zoë Lindstrom, that she had the ability to communicate with the dead.
Elizabeth’s therapy had been set back weeks, maybe months, by the unscrupulous “medium,” and Paul wasn’t about to let that happen again. Elizabeth was stronger now. He could see that with his own eyes. But she was still vulnerable when it came to their son. They both were.
“What you’re trying to do is despicable,” Paul said with all the loathing he could muster. “If you or anyone else tries to contact my wife again, I’ll make you very, very sorry.”
Zoë lifted her palms in supplication. “But you came to me, Mr. Blackstone. I didn’t seek you out. All I want is to help you.”
“I’ll bet.”
She stood and took a step toward him. She was a tiny woman, but it was all Paul could do not to back away from her.
Her eyes…there was something strange about her eyes, he realized. She was looking right at him, but she wasn’t focused on him. It was as if she was seeing someone else. Or listening to someone else.
“I have a message from your son, Mr. Blackstone.”
Icy fingers traced up and down Paul’s spine. “Don’t,” he warned angrily. “Don’t use my son’s memory in your filthy business.”
A terrible sadness seemed to come over the woman then, and she suddenly looked much older than he’d originally thought. “All I want to do is help you.”
“You’ve already helped me by suggesting I go to the police. Under the circumstances, that seems a very good idea.”
“But that was before I knew,” she persisted. “The police can’t help you.”
“But you can, right? For a price? Or maybe you call it a donation.”
“I don’t want your money.” She put out a hand to touch him again, but Paul moved away from her. “Just listen to me, please,” she begged. “Your son is afraid for his mother.” She stopped as if listening for a moment, then said in a strange, whispery voice, “You promised, remember? You promised to watch out for her.”
Outrage and shock stormed through Paul as he turned and strode into the foyer. Flinging open the door, he rushed through, then took the porch steps two at a time, unable to get away from Zoë Lindstrom fast enough.
Behind him he heard her call out to him, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t slow down until he was all the way back to his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine, and the tires screamed as he shot away from the curb. But his hands were shaking so badly he was afraid to drive. Just before he reached the bridge, he pulled to the side of the road and parked.
Mist swirled over the hood of his car as he slumped in the seat and scrubbed his face with his hands. Anger drained out of him, leaving behind the grief he’d lived with for so long.
Zoë Lindstrom’s cruel game had unleashed a torrent of raw memories. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Damon’s face. In his mind he could still hear his son’s laughter, feel those sturdy little arms around his neck as if it had only been yesterday that he’d last held him.
Suddenly Paul remembered his son exactly the way he’d been the night before he’d left to go camping with the Braidens. Damon had been so excited about the trip, it was all he’d been able to talk about for weeks. But when Paul had gone into his room to help him pack that night, he’d sensed that his son was troubled about something.
“Damon.” Paul sat on the bed and drew the boy down beside him. “Is something wrong, son?”
Damon shook his dark head, refusing to look up.
“Are you sure? Because if something’s bothering you, you can tell me, you know.” When he still didn’t answer, Paul said softly, “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind about the camping trip. You don’t have to go.”
Damon looked up, his expression stricken. “But I want to go, Dad. I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just…”
“Just what, son?”
“I’m worried about Mom.”
“Why are you worried about your mother?” Paul asked in surprise. “She’ll be fine. You’ve been away from her before. Remember that fishing trip you and I took last year? We were gone almost a week, and she was perfectly fine when we got back.”
“She missed us, though, didn’t she?”
The look on his son’s face almost broke Paul’s heart. “Of course she missed us. We missed her, too. That’s what happens when you go away. You miss the people you leave behind. But then you start to have so much fun, you don’t even think about home anymore.” He squeezed Damon’s shoulders. “You’ll probably even be a little sad when it’s time to come back.”
Damon nodded, but he still didn’t look convinced.
“And as for your mother…she and I have plans, too. We’re going away for the weekend. But you can call us anytime you want. Day or night.”
Damon glanced up. “You’ll watch out for her, won’t you, Dad?”
“Of course, I will.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” Paul said as he pulled his son close. Damon slipped his arms around Paul’s neck and hugged him for a long, long time.
As the memory slipped away, Paul stared out at the mist. He’d thought about that night a lot since Damon’s death. The promise his son had asked of him, the way he had hugged Paul so fiercely…it was almost as if he’d somehow known that it would be one of their last times together.
But he couldn’t have known. The accident had happened out of the blue. It was one of those tragic, meaningless happenstances that no one could have predicted, least of all a seven-year-old boy who’d had his whole future ahead of him that morning.
Sometimes at night when Paul lay awake, he imagined that Damon was still close by, just down the hall from him. Sometimes,
like now, with the memories so vivid, he could almost sense his son’s presence. He could almost pretend that Damon was seated beside him and they were off on one of their adventures together. For a moment he even thought he heard his son’s voice.
Love you, Dad!
“I love you, too,” Paul whispered into the silence.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth’s bedroom door was closed when Paul got back, and he thought she might be taking a nap. He hated to disturb her, but something—his promise to Damon perhaps—compelled him to make sure that she was okay.
He walked over and knocked softly. She didn’t respond at first, but then he heard her moving about and knew that she was up. A moment later she drew back the door as she belted a robe around her waist. She’d tied her hair back, but a few damp tendrils curled about her nape. Paul wondered if he’d gotten her out of the tub.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to let you know that I’m back.” His gaze swept over her flushed skin. He could smell the perfume of her bath and he suddenly wanted more than anything to lean down and press his lips to her warm neck.
Then he saw her eyes. They were cold and remote, and his heart sank. He’d been optimistic earlier that he’d been making progress in tearing down the wall be tween them. He could have sworn last night in her bedroom and this morning at the waterfall that the bond between them had begun to strengthen. But now she seemed more withdrawn than ever. What had happened while he’d been gone?
Refusing to meet his gaze, she came out of her bedroom and closed the door. “It’s cold in here.” She shivered as she wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I’ll light a fire,” he offered.
“No, don’t bother. We’re going out in a little while.”
He’d forgotten about the dance later that night in the Glacier Ballroom. The black-tie event was to be a practice run for the staff in order to prepare for the more elaborate affair that had been planned for the hotel’s grand opening.
“We don’t have to go,” he said with a shrug. “We could order in. Have dinner by the fire.” He knelt and busied himself with the kindling.
“But that’s the whole point of this trip, isn’t it? To convince Boyd Carter that you and I are a happily married couple so he’ll agree to do business with you?”
Paul couldn’t believe she’d just said that. He’d already admitted that his real reason for bringing her up here was to work on their relationship.
Had she forgotten that conversation already? Or was she simply trying to pretend it had never happened?
Once he had the fire going, Elizabeth came over and warmed her hands over the blaze. Paul straightened slowly as he studied her profile. She still wouldn’t look at him.
“Is something wrong?” he finally asked.
Her attention remained on the fire. “Where were you this afternoon?”
“I had a meeting with Boyd Carter. I told you that.”
“He called two hours ago to let you know that you’d left some papers in his suite. Where did you go after the meeting? You obviously didn’t come back here.”
Paul hesitated. He didn’t really want to tell her that he’d been out looking for Roland Latimer after she’d asked him not to. He decided on a half-truth instead. “I took a drive.”
“Alone?”
Paul scowled. “Yes, alone. Why? Did something happen while I was gone?”
“I hiked back up to the waterfall.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. It’s dangerous up there. You shouldn’t go up there alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
Paul’s heart skipped a beat at her tone. “What do you mean? Someone went with you? Frankie?”
“No, not Frankie. Nina Wilson.”
Paul was shocked into silence for a moment. “You went up to the waterfall with Nina Wilson? Why, for God’s sakes?”
“We didn’t go up there together,” Elizabeth said in a strange voice. “I…think she followed me.”
Paul swore as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “She shouldn’t even still be here. I thought she would have checked out hours ago.”
“I don’t think she’s going back to Seattle,” Elizabeth said cryptically.
“She said that?”
“She said a lot of things.” Elizabeth finally turned to face him, and Paul caught his breath. The dancing flames reflecting in her eyes almost made them appear to glow. She suddenly looked very mysterious. Otherworldly.
Apprehension gripped him. She seemed so…different. He couldn’t explain it, but the change that had come over her since he’d left a few hours ago deepened his unease. “What else did she say?”
Elizabeth turned back to the fire. “She admitted that she’s in love with you. She said that you love her, too.”
The way she said it—almost matter-of-factly—worried Paul more than anything. It was as if she didn’t care anymore. “You have to know how ridiculous that is. You heard what I told her last night.”
Elizabeth barely lifted one shoulder. “I only heard your end of the conversation. I can’t know for sure you were talking to Nina.”
“For God’s sake, are we back to that?” he exploded in frustration. “I’m not in love with Nina Wilson! I don’t feel anything for her except disgust. Right now I’m furious enough to wring her neck for what she’s trying to pull.”
Elizabeth winced at his sudden anger. It was a relief to see a crack in her cold, indifferent facade. “She said you’d say and do anything to keep me appeased until after the divorce.”
Paul had been about to deny the charges once again, but he stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. How does she know about the divorce?”
Elizabeth’s expression turned accusing. “That’s what I’d like to know. She seemed to know a lot of things about our marriage. Intimate things.”
“She didn’t learn them from me. Elizabeth…” Paul tried to take her arm, but she pulled away from him. “I’m telling you the truth. There is nothing going on between Nina and me. I don’t know what kind of sick game she’s trying to play here, but I promise you one thing—I’m going to find out.”
He grabbed his jacket and strode to the door.
Behind him Elizabeth called anxiously, “Where are you going?”
“To have it out with her once and for all.”
“Paul, don’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t what?” he demanded angrily. “Don’t make waves? Don’t prove to you that I’m not an adulterer? Don’t make you have second thoughts about this divorce?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
He gave her a grim little smile. “That’s right. I know exactly what you’re trying to do. But I’m not going to make it easy for you, Elizabeth.”
AFTER THE DOOR SLAMMED behind him, Elizabeth remained frozen at the fireplace, her heart pounding in agitation and her head throbbing from pent-up tension. She lifted a hand to massage the pain at her temples.
Paul was right, of course. Ever since they’d arrived at Fernhaven she’d looked for any excuse not to get close to him because she’d convinced herself that divorce was the right answer.
But she was finding that it wasn’t so easy to let go of everything they’d once had together. Paul had been her first love, the father of her child. A part of her would always love him. But being with him…
She drew a deep breath as she gazed into the flames. Being with Paul was just too painful. The memories of what they’d had and what they’d lost were still too raw. There were times when Elizabeth could hardly bear to look at him.
What she felt was not that unusual, Dr. Summers had assured her. The death of a child was a terrible stressor for even the strongest of marriages. Grief and sorrow could either strengthen a couple or tear them apart because each person had his or her own way of coping. And those methods weren’t always compatible. Sometimes it was hard to understand or appreciate what the other was going through.
When Paul had gone back to work within a week of the tragedy, Elizabeth had become convinced that he couldn’t possibly have loved Damon as much as she. How could he even think about rejoining the land of the living when their only son was dead?
And when he’d eventually suggested that she might want to think about going back to the shop or at least to start sketching again, she’d resented him for trying to instill a sense of normalcy to their lives when nothing was ever going to be normal again.
In time, she’d come to realize that Paul’s throwing himself into his work was his own way of coping with grief, just as withdrawing from the world was hers. That the two didn’t mesh put an even greater strain on their relationship. They’d eventually drifted so far apart that it seemed pointless to even try and bridge the gulf.
Pointless…and much too painful. Because in order to repair their marriage, they would have to find a way to let go of the past, and Elizabeth didn’t think she was ready to do that yet. She might never be.
As the fire died down, the room grew chilly. Rather than throwing on another log, she hurried to the bedroom to dress. But when she opened the door, she stopped on the threshold with a gasp, her gaze frozen on the French doors across the room.
Roland Latimer stood just outside, gazing in at her.
Or…had she only imagined him?
Because suddenly there was nothing outside her door but a thick, rolling mist.
PAUL USED HIS CELL PHONE to call the front desk and asked to be connected to Nina Wilson’s room. She took so long to answer that he’d begun to hope that she might have already left for Seattle. When she finally picked up, she sounded out of breath, as if she’d had to hurry to the phone.
“Hello?”
“It’s Paul Blackstone. I need to talk to you.”
“Paul.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, as if someone might be in the room with her. “I was hoping you’d call. Are you coming up?”
As anxious as he was to have it out with her, Paul knew better than to confront the woman alone in her hotel room. She was either delusional or a very clever troublemaker, and at this point he had no idea what she might be up to. “I’m in the lobby,” he said coldly. “You come down.”
The Edge of Eternity Page 9