A Deadly Love

by Jannine Gallant

  “There is no but. I like you, Brooke. I like having you around.”

  “So we can date occasionally, maybe make out on the sly like a couple of teenagers when Zack isn’t nearby, but that’s all?”

  He sighed. “Why does it sound like such a bad thing when you say it?”

  She ground her teeth together. “I’m angry because you’re assuming I want more than you’re willing to give. Did I ask for a commitment? I don’t remember having that particular conversation.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “No, but you’ve been so terrific—”

  “So I must have an ulterior motive,” she interrupted. “Did it ever occur to you I just want to be nice? I know you’re going through hell, and I was trying to ease the burden a little.”

  He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass. You’ve helped me tremendously, and I’m not talking about watching Zack. Just holding you makes me feel better.” He let out a deep breath. “I want to lash out at someone. I want to make someone pay for what happened to Cybil.”

  “And it doesn’t help that you’re worried about Marnie.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  She turned in his arms and cupped his face in her hands. “Please don’t stress out over me. I have no intention of being a burden.” She traced his lips with her finger. “I’m attracted to you. I like kissing you.” She smiled and touched her mouth to his. “Hey, I even like your kid, but I’m not looking for a husband. I jumped off that bandwagon when Gavin broke my heart. I’m not anxious for a repeat performance.”

  He kissed her, his lips sliding in a path along her jaw. His voice whispered in her ear. “Are we good now?”

  “Of course we are, but since I have no intention of spending another night on this swing, I think you should go home. You need to get some sleep.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me that. I must look like shit.”

  Brooke laughed. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I still think you’re hot?”

  He stood and pulled her up off the swing. “You shouldn’t have said that. Now I’ll need a cold shower before I get any sleep tonight.”

  After Dillon thanked June for dinner and herded Zack out the door, Brooke settled into a corner of the settee to watch Jeopardy! with her grandmother, wondering why anyone would know the year the Spanish American war started or who invented the micro chip. When the show was over, she picked up the mystery she was reading, but put it down after reading the same page three times. Walking to the window, she lifted the lace curtain and peered out at the dark night.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” June asked. She turned off the home decorating program she’d been watching and regarded Brooke with worried eyes.

  She dropped the curtain. “Do you think the psycho who killed Cybil has Marnie? Do you think he’s still out there somewhere?”

  “There’s no point in borrowing trouble.” June looked down at the dog asleep in front of the fireplace. “I’m glad we have this big brute around, just in case.”

  Brooke rubbed the toe of her slipper through Otis’s thick fur. The dog moaned in his sleep and stretched. “You’re right, Grandma. No one is going to bother us with him around. Do you mind if I turn in early? I’m pretty tired.”

  “I imagine you are, sleeping all night on that porch swing.” Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “You and Dillon certainly seem to be getting along well.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  June snorted. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  She crouched down and scratched Otis’s belly, avoiding her grandmother’s sharp gaze. “Maybe there’s a little more to it, but he’s made it crystal clear he isn’t looking for a commitment.”

  “Dillon can be a stubborn fool.”

  “It’s fine, Grandma. I’m not ready for another relationship, either.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to let myself get hurt. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Chapter Six

  The bell rang, and children of all ages crowded through the front door of the old schoolhouse, shrieking and laughing with their friends. Many of the older students dispersed across the yard on foot, while a line formed to board the single bus waiting by the curb. Others were collected by their parents.

  Brooke waved to Zack, and he raced across the grass, his backpack thumping against his small frame. “Are you here to pick me up?”

  She smiled at his hopeful expression. “I am. I needed a break from painting, so I offered to come get you.”

  “That’s so awesome. The bus driver wants us to sit really still and use inside voices.” He frowned and absently scratched his chest. “Sometimes I forget, and she makes me sit in the seat right behind her.”

  “A fate worse than death. Today you’re spared.”

  “Huh?”

  Brooke laughed. “Never mind. Do you have everything?”

  “Yep. How come you didn’t bring Otis?”

  She glanced around the emptying yard. “I did bring him. He must have run around the back of the school.”

  Zack dropped his backpack. “I’ll go get him,” he shouted and raced off before she could stop him.

  A woman with long, brown hair pulled back in a clip exited the school and walked toward her. When she smiled, she looked vaguely familiar.

  “I’m Caroline Farnsworth.” She held out her hand. “Zack’s teacher.”

  Brooke shook her hand. “I’m sorry, Caroline, I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a few years.”

  “Yes it has. Elliot told me you moved in with your grandmother.”

  “And he told me the two of you are getting married. Congratulations.”

  A smile lit up her plain features. “We’re planning a June wedding right after school lets out for the summer.”

  “Well, I’m delighted for you both.”

  “Thank you.” Caroline’s sunny expression faded. “It seems wrong to be over the moon with happiness when Marnie is missing and poor Cybil—” She clamped her lips together and sighed deeply.

  Brooke tucked her hands into the front pocket of her paint-stained sweatshirt. “Still no word on Marnie?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. I can’t imagine what’s happened to her.” She looked up. Her eyes brightened as Elliot approached.

  He swung his arm around his fiancée’s shoulders and smiled at Brooke. “I see you two are getting reacquainted.”

  “We are, but right now I’d better go find Zack.”

  His eyebrows shot up above his glasses. “I hope we haven’t lost a student.”

  “No, he ran behind the school to search for my dog. He probably just got sidetracked.”

  Elliot’s arm slid off Caroline’s shoulders, and he stepped forward. “I’ll help you look for him.”

  “Thanks, although I don’t think he’ll be very hard to find. It was great seeing you again, Caroline.”

  “You, too, Brooke. Have a nice afternoon.”

  She looked up at the three story schoolhouse as she headed toward the back of the building, admiring the gracefully arched windows. “This is a wonderful old house. It must be nearly as old as my grandmother’s.”

  “I believe they were both built in the early nineteen hundreds. The original owner of this property donated his home to the town over fifty years ago, and it’s housed our school ever since. Maintenance on the place is costly, but I do what I can to help out.”

  She grinned at his tone. He sounded exactly like the school teacher he was, imparting a lesson to a less than brilliant student.

  “It’s nice to have a school with a little history. It’s generous of you to donate your time to take care of it, Elliot. Caroline is a lucky woman.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” A ray of sunlight glinted off his glasses as he studied her. “Why haven’t you married, Brooke?”

  She shrugged. “I never found the right man. I thought I had, but it didn’t work out.”


  He looked away. “No doubt you broke the poor sap’s heart.”

  “Not exactly. Ah, there’s Zack.”

  The boy stood in a small grove of trees several yards behind the building, tugging on Otis’s collar. The dog dug industriously, unfazed by his attempts to move him.

  “Hey, what’s he doing?” Elliot yelled, running forward.

  Brooke followed on his heels. She grabbed the dog by the collar and dragged him away from the hole. “I’m sorry. He must smell a gopher or a mole. I’ll clean up the mess.”

  His frown disappeared. “Don’t worry about it.” Elliot pushed dirt back into the hole with his foot. “It’ll only take me a minute to fill in the hole. I don’t want one of the kids to stumble and get injured.”

  “Luckily it isn’t very deep.” Her arms strained as she pulled Otis farther away.

  “That’s because he just got started.” Zack skipped along beside her. “He was sniffing around the back door when I found him, and then he ran over there and started to dig before I could stop him.”

  “Not much can stop Otis when he’s on the trail of a rodent.”

  Elliot tamped down the last of the dirt and hurried to catch up. “No harm was done.” They rounded the side of the building, and his gaze zeroed in on Caroline heading back into the school. The bus had departed, and all the children were gone.

  Brooke picked up Zack’s backpack. “I’ll see you later, Elliot.”

  He nodded and went inside. She smiled, wondering if a man had ever looked at her the way Elliot looked at his fiancée. Shouldering the backpack, she let go of the dog’s collar.

  “Come on, Zack. Let’s go home.”

  ****

  Brooke swished the paint rollers up and down in a bucket of water and glanced up when Dillon pulled into his driveway. He slammed the pickup door and crossed the lawn to her side. “It looks great.” He rocked back on his heels and tilted his head to study the house.

  “I’m about half finished. I’ll have to take a break for the next few days. It’s supposed to rain. This stretch of clear weather has been a blessing.”

  “It’s certainly made looking for Marnie a lot easier.” He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and met her gaze. “Harley is calling off the search. It’s been days now, and there’s no sign of her anywhere in the woods.”

  She sprayed out the paint trays with the hose and tipped them upside down on the grass to drain. “That’s good, right?”

  “I hope so. At this point I don’t know what to think.”

  Brooke studied him critically, noting the lines radiating from his tired eyes and the scruffy beard covering his jaw. “I think you need a break. No offense, but you look like hell.”

  He rubbed the side of his face. “It’s been a couple of days since I shaved. You’re right. I do need a break.”

  “Then take one. Exhausting yourself isn’t going to help Marnie.”

  Dillon sat on the bottom porch step and grabbed her hand, tugging her down next to him. “What I really need is a change of scenery.” He rubbed her paint stained fingers between his warm palms, and a tingle of awareness shot through her. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

  She leaned against his side. “Wednesday night is the pot roast special at the diner.”

  He grimaced. “I was thinking more along the lines of a nice seafood meal in Crescent City.”

  Her gaze met his, and she gasped at the barely suppressed heat glowing in his eyes. “I’d like that, but it’s a school night for Zack. Doesn’t he need to be in bed early?”

  “Jesse has been bugging me to let him spend the night. He can sleep over at his great-grandpa’s cabin, and that way it won’t matter how late we get home.”

  “Let’s do it. I could use a night out, too.”

  Dillon stood and pulled her to her feet. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and she shivered. “Tell June not to wait up.”

  She let out a shuddering breath. “I may tell her not to expect me at all.”

  ****

  They sat at a table by the window with a spectacular view of the ocean. Breakers lapped the shoreline, shining iridescent in the light of the waning moon. Seagulls and sandpipers walked along the damp sand left by the outgoing tide, and in the bay, sea lions barked from a rocky perch.

  Brooke ate a bite of arugula and smiled at Dillon. “Thank you for this.”

  He took a swallow from his vodka tonic and reached for a roll in the bread basket. His gaze met hers, and her heart rate accelerated. Freshly shaved and wearing a pair of Dockers and a green button down shirt, Dillon was so handsome, her breath caught in her throat.

  “I should be thanking you. The tension from the last few days was getting to me. Jesse nearly took a swing at me when I snapped at him earlier. He said I was grumpier than a winter starved bear, and I’d better do something about it.”

  Her brows rose. “Should I assume I’m the something you’re planning to do?”

  His laughter rang out over the hum of conversation in the room, and several diners glanced in their direction. “You could be if you play your cards right.”

  She smiled, enjoying his teasing. Their server, a young man with slicked back dark hair, brought the main course, and she inhaled the aroma of the creamy wine sauce coating her seafood pasta. She tasted her first bite, closed her eyes, and moaned. “This is heavenly.”

  Dillon reached across the table and picked up her hand. “Stop that.”

  Her gaze flew up to meet his. “What did I do?”

  “The way you’re looking at that prawn has me so turned on I can barely think straight.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks. “Hey, can I help it if I appreciate great food?”

  He laid her hand back on the tablecloth and picked up his fork. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re irritated?”

  She bared her teeth. “Not if they were hoping to get lucky later.”

  His smile lit his golden eyes, and her pulse raced in response. “At the risk of sounding cliché, where have you been all my life? You make me laugh, and humor is in short supply around here.”

  She sipped her chardonnay. “I’ve been around. You just never noticed.”

  His gaze met hers. “I’m noticing now.”

  They finished their meal, talking easily about favorite authors, the fact that she hated mushrooms and he loved them, and the perfect vacation spot, agreeing Hawaii was tough to beat. Brooke avoided any reference to movies, not wanting to spoil the evening with thoughts of Cybil’s death.

  Their server cleared the plates, and Dillon ordered coffee for them both. She pushed back her chair, dropped her napkin in her seat, and scooped up her purse. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  She walked through the small dining area to a short hallway at the back of the restaurant. The restroom was occupied, so she leaned against the wall, listening to the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen at the end of the passage. On the wall opposite her were photographs of last year’s employees of the month at the Ship’s Galley. She studied them absently, thinking about the remainder of the evening and wondering if she was truly ready to take her relationship with Dillon to the next level.

  Her gaze focused on the August employee, and she stiffened. The woman’s face was small and pointed, surrounded by a cloud of curly, dark hair. Brooke stepped closer and read the inscription on the card below the photograph. Tricia Eaton. The name seemed vaguely familiar, but the face was imprinted on her brain. Tricia Eaton was the woman who had run in front of her car the night she arrived in Woodvale.

  An older lady with short, silver hair swept out of the ladies’ room on a wave of perfume. Brooke went inside, her hands shaking as she pushed the lock on the door. She used the facilities, washed her hands, and ran a brush through her hair. Frowning at her reflection in the mirror, she added a little blush to her cheekbones before leaving the room. In the hallway she paused to study the photograph again and knew she wasn’t mistaken. Tr
icia Eaton was the woman she had nearly hit.

  Brooke slid into her seat and picked up her coffee cup. Sipping it, she grimaced, added a packet of sugar, and stirred. Coffee sloshed into the saucer. She took a deep breath.

  Dillon covered her trembling hand with his big, warm one. “What’s wrong?”

  She glanced up and bit her lip. “I know who the woman was on the road that night. She works here.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “The night you wrecked your car?”

  She nodded. “Her picture was up for employee of the month. Her name is Tricia Eaton.”

  Dillon set down his coffee cup and stared at her. “Are you certain?”

  “I’m positive. I thought there was something familiar about her. Maybe I’ve seen her here.”

  “If she looked familiar, it’s probably because Tricia grew up in Woodvale. Her family moved to Crescent City shortly after we graduated from high school.”

  She pleated the napkin in her lap. “I’ll admit it gave me an odd feeling when I saw her face, but at least the mystery is solved. I wonder what she was doing out in the fog on foot?”

  Dillon caught their server’s attention and raised his hand to signal for a bill. His lips were tight. “We can’t ask her because she disappeared not long ago.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “The night I hit the tree?”

  “No, it was several days before that. Harley thought she left town to get away from an abusive boyfriend.” He slid his wallet out of his jacket pocket and dropped several bills on the tray the young man delivered. Rounding the table, he pulled out her chair. “Let’s go outside. I want to call Harley before we head back.”

  Brooke slid her arms into her wool coat and looked up at him. “If she left town to get away from her boyfriend, what was she doing running around in the forest near Woodvale?”

  “I have no idea.” He ushered her toward the door and out into the chilly night. They crossed the parking lot, and walked down to the beach. Dillon pulled out his cell phone and pushed a couple of buttons.

  While he talked to the sheriff, Brooke sat on a huge driftwood log and watched the waves roll onto the shore. She breathed in the salt air and closed her eyes, listening to the baying of the sea lions. Dillon shut his phone and sat down next to her.