The soft whir of ceiling fans overhead and the cool saltillo tile floor beneath her sandals were a welcome respite to the outside heat. As Anna gazed around, she had the strangest feeling of having stepped back in time. Like the tile roof, the heavy antique furnishings, ornate wall sconces and tasseled drapery had a faded, yesteryear patina that was at once quaint and faintly unsettling, as if the world had decided to stop turning in this one tiny oasis.
A large room opened up to the right of the lobby, and through a wall of windows on the far side, Anna glimpsed the wide, green slope of the lawn and just beyond, the silver glimmer of the San Miguel River.
No one was around to help her so she stepped up to the desk and rang the bell. After a few moments, a woman came through an arched doorway behind the desk, her gaze meeting Anna’s and then, in one sweeping glance, taking in her slim skirt, sleeveless top, and sandals. She made no effort to disguise her disapproval, although Anna’s attire was far from revealing.
She thought at first the woman was elderly, but on closer inspection, decided she was probably no more than fifty-five or so, around the same age as Laurel. But the similarity ended there. Laurel prided herself on her youthful appearance, and was always decked out in chic ensembles from her favorite boutique on South Post Oak. And she visited an expensive Galleria hair salon at least once a month for a cut and color.
The woman behind the counter did nothing to play up her rather striking features. She was very slender, but the shapeless, long-sleeve dress she wore all but disguised her figure. Her once black hair had gone almost completely gray, and she’d pulled it back in a severe bun at her nape, a style that seemed to detract from rather than enhance her truly beautiful obsidian eyes, and the high cheekbones and prominent nose that hinted at a Mayan ancestry.
“May I help you?” Her tone and expression were completely devoid of warmth, and Anna wondered fleetingly if she might be better off to get back in her car and drive out to one of the motels she’d seen on the freeway.
But chain motels left her cold, and even though the woman behind the desk was less than welcoming, the hotel itself had peaked Anna’s interest. It was just the sort of picturesque, out-of-the-way place she’d always wanted to stay in, but had never taken the time to seek out.
“I’d like a room for the night.” Anna automatically reverted to the curt, businesslike tone she’d used in dealing with difficult clients. “Preferably something with a view of the river,” she added.
“For just one night?” The woman spoke carefully, with the barest trace of an accent, leading Anna to believe that English wasn’t her first language.
“Yes.”
“A single?” She pulled an old-fashioned registration ledger from beneath the counter and slid it toward Anna.
“A single is fine.” Anna, in turn, handed the woman a credit card which elicited yet another look of disapproval before she plucked it from Anna’s fingers and processed it in a machine she kept hidden beneath the desk.
The transaction completed, she returned Anna’s card. “If you’ll give me your car keys, I’ll have your vehicle moved to the back.”
“I’ll need to get my bag out of the trunk first.”
“Amador can bring it up to your room a little later.” The woman took a key from one of the cubbyholes on the back wall. “I’ve put you in Room 209. It has a nice view of the river. Turn right at the top of the stairs. It’s all the way at the end.”
“Thanks.”
As she handed Anna the key, her gaze flickered over her once more. “Is this your first stay in San Miguel?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”
“You have business here?”
Was the woman merely curious, or was that suspicion Anna saw glinting in her eyes? “Actually, I came here to pay my respects to the family of someone who died last year. You may have known her. Katherine Sprague?”
A startled, almost frightened look flashed across the woman’s face before the hostile mask settled back into place. “Enjoy your stay,” she said crisply. “Checkout is at 11:00 a.m. sharp.”
ANNA COUNTED THE DOORS along the narrow hallway. Three on each side, and assuming the left wing contained the same number, that would make only twelve guest rooms on the entire second level. The Casa del Gatos was indeed a small hotel, and in spite of her less than friendly welcome from the woman downstairs, Anna was charmed by the old world atmosphere.
She wanted to make the most of her short stay, but her pleasure was dimmed by the woman’s attitude. Why had she been so suspicious? Was it merely a natural distrust of all strangers? And why had she reacted so curiously when Anna had mentioned Katherine Sprague?
Anna had no idea, but she was suddenly too tired to worry about it. She opened the door of her room, leaving it ajar for the man bringing up her bag.
Taking a few steps inside, she gazed around. The room was small and sparsely furnished with a dresser, nightstand and a narrow bed fitted with a plain white coverlet. The walls were a stark white plaster, the only adornment a heavy wooden crucifix that hung directly over the bed.
The wide plank flooring creaked as Anna crossed the room. French doors led out to a common balcony that ran the entire length of the hotel and overlooked the lush lawn and river. A stray breeze whispered through Spanish moss dripping like liquid silver from heavy, ancient live oaks.
Opening the doors, Anna stepped out, hoping the breeze would be cooled by the water, but the day was still hot and muggy. She lingered for a moment, her gaze moving along the banks of the river where, in the distance, the stones of some old structure glowed in rustic hues in the late afternoon sunlight.
She glimpsed something red through one of the arched openings in the ruins and lifted a hand to shade her eyes. Someone was walking along the loggia.
A girl came through one of the archways and paused for a moment, glancing up and down the river as if sensing someone’s eyes on her. Then she turned to disappear in the deep shadows of the ruins, and when she came back out, Anna almost missed her because she was no longer dressed in red, but in some drab color that blended perfectly with her surroundings.
She moved quickly down a stone trail that traced along the river, and after a moment or two, vanished into a dense stand of trees.
Anna continued to watch for a moment, intrigued by the girl’s rather furtive movements, and then she turned to go back inside. It would soon be time for her evening medications.
Closing the door against the heat, Anna walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, removing all the medicine bottles from her purse and lining them up like toy soldiers on the nightstand.
Something rustled behind her, and she turned, expecting to find Amador with her bag. Instead, a tall young woman in her early twenties stood in the doorway, her blue gaze fastened unblinkingly on the parade of pill bottles across the nightstand.
She must think I’m a junkie, Anna thought in amusement. She got up from the bed. “Yes?”
The young woman’s gaze, startled and repentant, shot to Anna’s. “I’m sorry.” She wiped a nervous hand down the side of her jeans. “I was just about to knock.”
“May I help you?” Anna asked coolly.
Struggling to regain her shattered poise, the woman smiled in a self-deprecating manner that was completely disarming. “I really wasn’t trying to spy on you,” she said ruefully. “Margarete asked me to tell you that dinner is served in the dining room between 7:00 and 10:00 p.m.”
“Margarete?”
“She owns the hotel. She and her daughter, Acacia.”
Margarete must have been the woman behind the desk, Anna decided. In which case, the woman’s no-nonsense attitude, not to mention her obvious disapproval, didn’t bode well for the room service Anna had been hoping for.
“Do you work here?” she asked the young woman.
“Oh, no.” She gestured over her shoulder. “My room is just across the hall. I’m Emily Winsome.”
A more fitting name, Anna couldn’
t imagine. The young woman was slender and delicate-looking with short, flippy blond hair and wide, cornflower eyes.
“I’m Anna Sebastian.”
Emily smiled. “Welcome to the house of cats, Anna, although you’re not likely to spot one around here these days. It’s good to finally have someone else in the hotel. I was starting to get a little creeped out having this place all to myself.”
Anna lifted a brow in surprise. “We’re not the only guests here surely?”
“Unless you count Dwight Gump, but he’s in and out a lot. Mostly out. He’s a land man or something so he travels constantly. His room is in the other wing.” She paused and smiled. “Don’t let the silence freak you out too much. Things usually pick up on the weekends. There’s an antique mall in town and a new water park out by the interstate if you like that sort of thing.” She paused again, as if running out of steam, and Anna decided it was a good idea to let the conversation die a natural death. She was desperately tired, and a nap before dinner was almost a necessity.
Luckily, the man bringing her bag spared her from an awkward dismissal. He was the same man Anna had seen earlier with the wheelbarrow, and when Emily saw him, she nodded and spoke, then turned back to Anna. “I’ll leave you to get settled. Maybe I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Maybe.” Anna smiled, but didn’t commit herself. Instead she busied herself fishing money out of her purse.
“Gracias,” the man muttered, tucking the bills into his pocket. The silver cross hanging from his ear sparkled as he moved his head.
“De nada.” Anna followed him to the door and closed and locked it behind him.
A cool shower would have been a refreshing precursor to her nap, but she didn’t even have the energy for that. Instead, she stepped quickly out of her skirt and top, and then, in panties and bra, crawled between the cool, cotton sheets.
Within minutes, Anna was dead to the world.
Chapter Five
Darkness swallowed the last of the light, and the shadows in the yard deepened. Luckily, the house was at the top of a hill, and from the veranda, Ben could see approaching cars for at least half a mile, but the night would hide anyone on foot.
An uneasy shiver snaked up his spine. He’d kept an almost constant vigil since he’d learned of the circumstances surrounding Dr. Michael English’s murder, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He couldn’t watch the road and the river and the woods in back of the house. He couldn’t catch a killer when that killer might be nothing more than a ghost.
But Ben didn’t think that was the case. Even if Scorpio was dead, her partner could still be alive and on the hunt.
He had a theory about that. The woman he’d glimpsed in the shadows of his apartment that night—the real Scorpio, as he’d come to think of her—had derived her pleasure from watching the kill. She couldn’t or wouldn’t perform the act herself, might even have considered herself above it, so she had to seek out someone willing to do the wet work. Someone whose bloodlust equaled or exceeded her own, but for very different reasons. A missionary or visionary type killer, perhaps. One who followed the commands of some dark, inner voice….
Ben had been spared because he was a part of the game. Once the game was over…
A slight noise sounded from the end of the veranda, and Ben spun, almost expecting to find that his nemesis had managed to sneak up on him again. He let out a breath of relief when he spotted his stepdaughter hiding in the shadows.
“Gabby? Is that you?”
“Why do you always call me that?” she demanded, moving toward him. “You know Mother hated it.”
“But you never seemed to mind it. In fact, I thought you liked it.”
She shrugged, lifting a hand to shove back a hank of stringy dark hair. “Did you ever notice that Gabriella sounds a lot like Cinderella?”
“Hmm.” Ben took a moment to consider her question. “Now that you mention it, I guess it does at that. But instead of two wicked stepsisters, you have just one clueless stepfather.”
“You aren’t clueless. Not completely, anyway,” she allowed.
He sighed. “I am when it comes to kids, I’m afraid.”
“But I’m not really a kid. I’m fourteen now.”
“Yes, and I know even less about teenagers.” Ben had grown up with two younger sisters, but Paige and Taylor had been nothing like Gabby. When they hadn’t been on the phone gossiping and giggling about boys with their friends, they’d been in their rooms sulking about one thing or another. To Gabby’s credit, she rarely sulked, but Ben had never heard her giggle, either. In fact, he’d hardly seen her smile, and he couldn’t remember a time when she’d had friends over.
She spent most of her time on the computer, which worried him a great deal. But when he’d tried to counsel her on the dangers of online predators, she’d scoffed at his concern. “Do you really think I’m that dumb? I know better than to use my real name or give out my address. Besides, I can spot the real sickos a mile off.”
And that assurance had made him feel so much better, Ben thought dryly.
He studied her now as she came out of the shadows, a tall gangly girl with a plain face and awkward mannerisms. Even in the darkness, he could see that she was dressed in her trademark drab beige, and he wondered again why Gwen didn’t take the girl under her wing and try to get her out of those dowdy clothes and into something more age appropriate. Gwen wasn’t exactly the clotheshorse her sister had been, but she had a sense of style. She could help the girl out if she wanted to.
But the sad truth was that no one in the household had ever taken much notice of Gabby, least of all her mother. Ben’s late wife had been a gorgeous, charming, completely self-absorbed hedonist who’d had no business anywhere near a child, much less raising one.
“Who was that woman who was here earlier?” Gabby asked suddenly.
“Didn’t Gwen tell you? She was a friend of your mother’s.”
“What did she want?”
Ben shrugged. “She’d just heard about your mother’s death and wanted to stop by to pay her respects.”
“What’s her name?”
“Anna Sebastian.”
Gabby glanced up at him. “You don’t think it’s weird that she waited so long to come?”
Her question mirrored Ben’s own uneasiness, but he shrugged again. “She said she’d been ill.”
Gabby was silent for a moment. “Did you think she was pretty?”
Ben frowned. “Attractive, I guess.”
“As beautiful as Mother?”
“No one is as beautiful as your mother was.” That much he could say truthfully about his dead wife.
Gabby sighed. “I wonder why she waited so long.”
“Does it really matter? She’s gone now.”
Gabby’s gaze searched the darkness. “But she’ll be back, Ben. We both know that.”
Something in her voice raised the hair at the back of Ben’s neck. He had the sudden, spine-tingling notion that his stepdaughter was no longer referring to Anna Sebastian, but to her mother.
ANNA DREAMED about Ben and Katherine. They were together in a candlelit room scented with jasmine and wild orchids. Anna was there, too, a reluctant voyeur to their wild passion. As she watched them embrace, candlelight dancing over their nude bodies, her breath quickened, her blood heated, and suddenly it was she in Ben’s arms, she who was kissing him with a wanton abandon she never would have imagined possible.
He kissed her as no man had kissed her before, held her as if he would never let her go, and when they fell back against the tangled sheets, their bodies melding, straining, she didn’t know where her soul ended and his began. They were one, in every sense of the word.
Then he drew back, staring down at her. When he saw her scar, something dark moved in his eyes, something Anna didn’t want to name.
He vanished like vapor before her very eyes, and when she reached out to draw him back, her hands touched nothing but air….
She woke up, gas
ping for breath, aroused by the dream and vaguely disturbed by it.
Squeezing her eyes closed, Anna willed away the unwanted images. She didn’t want to be attracted to Ben Porter, knew that she was asking for trouble by indulging in such fantasies. And yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force the forbidden visions from her head. It was as if she and Ben had been lovers, somewhere, in some other time, and he was in her blood now and always would be.
Her pulse gradually settling back to normal, Anna stared at the ceiling. She had no idea what time it was, but she thought it must be very late. Her room had grown dim and shadowy while she slept, but as she turned her head to glance at the bedside clock, she saw that it was only a little before nine. She hadn’t missed dinner after all, which was a good thing. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she knew better than to miss a meal. Low blood sugar could wreak havoc on her strength.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat on the edge for a moment, trying to summon enough energy to shower and dress. Gradually, she became aware of the distant tinkle of a piano. She thought it might be her imagination at first, or the remnant of a dream, but when she pushed herself off the bed and crossed the room to open the French doors, the sound grew louder, more distinct.
She recognized the melody at once. It was the same one that had been played to her over her phone late at night. The same one she’d heard in Katherine’s house. The same one, she realized now, that had helped lure her to San Miguel.
Heart and Soul.
A dark premonition settled over her then, and she quickly stepped back inside and locked the door. Hurrying across the room, she checked the lock on the door to the hallway, as well. Satisfied that the room was secure, Anna leaned against the wall and closed her eyes briefly.
Whether the music was a coincidence or something more sinister, she didn’t know. But suddenly coming to San Miguel didn’t seem like such a great idea after all.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, she walked into the dining room downstairs, surprised to find the tiny space crowded with people. With only two guests in the entire hotel, she’d expected the place to be empty, but the two dozen or so tables were all occupied. She started to turn away, resigned to locating another restaurant in town, when she saw Emily Winsome waving to her from a table near the windows. The younger woman smiled and motioned her over.
Confessions of the Heart Page 6