Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Elias stared at him. “Her father? What does he have to do with anything?”

  A shrug. “Just wondered if she made up stories about you, say.”

  What the hell? “Not as far as I know.”

  “All right,” Daniel said. “Best guess, when did the rumor first surface?”

  He almost had to count on his fingers. He’d been twenty-four when he returned home to Cape Trouble, so… “I suspect the first outbreak was thirteen years ago, but I can’t be sure, because nobody would have told me. I’d have been twenty-six then.”

  A private man, he didn’t like sharing any of this, and he liked even less that Hannah was listening, and entitled to hear.

  Pretty, single women were often open to some fun when they were on vacation. Occasional sex, no real draw on his time, and he’d been happy. That had been enough for him until he’d met a nurse at the hospital, Willow Dykstra. A fine-boned, slim blonde, of course. Whether the relationship would have become serious, Elias didn’t know. After a couple of months, she became cool almost overnight, told him she’d found a new job and was moving.

  “I couldn’t figure out what went wrong,” he admitted. “One minute, we were fine, the next she’d packed up and was gone. Six or eight months later, I had a gallery opening in Seattle, where she had supposedly moved. I called Willow’s mother to ask for her phone number. She said, ‘My daughter does not want to hear from you. Please don’t call here again.’” He remembered the message word for word.

  A couple more relationships had ended as abruptly.

  “I confronted one of the woman. Selena Montgomery.” His interest in her had been tepid enough, he probably wouldn’t even recall her name had it not been for the way she cut him off. “She said she knew I’d been lucky to avoid jail for battery, and she wasn’t having any of it.” Her expression of contempt tinged with fear had felt like a blow. When he tried to argue, she slammed the door in his face. “That’s when I asked around.”

  His friends admitted they’d heard the shit. All insisted they ignored it because they knew none of it was true. But he’d seen gazes slide away a few times, and discovered it could destroy you to know even long-time friends couldn’t help speculating.

  So far, Elias couldn’t read Hannah. Her gaze stayed on him, but he didn’t like meeting her eyes when he was laying out his entire sexual and romantic history. So far, he’d covered the pathetic part. Now he’d reached the tragic.

  He ached to shift, to fidget, to somehow release this tension, but he felt vulnerable enough already. So he just kept talking.

  “I figured someone had just been stirring the pot. Then I started seeing Polly. Jennberg,” he added, when Daniel’s pen paused over the page. “She’d finished grad school, was just passing through, doing the same kind of thing I had except she intended to be a writer. We hit it off, I let her stay with me. The couple weeks she’d intended to be here turned into a couple months. Then one day she came home pissed because someone told her she should be careful, that I had a history of abusing women.”

  “Someone?”

  “A couple of women. Polly had taken a job as a waitress at the Waves.” The restaurant was attached to a local resort. “She handed these women menus, and one of them said, ‘Oh, I’ve seen you with Elias Burton.’ It went downhill from there. Polly didn’t know either of their names, so I couldn’t call and say, What the hell? We shrugged it off, but then another time she overheard some people talking at one of the booths. No indication they knew she was there, or who she was.”

  “She start to wonder?” Daniel asked.

  “No. She knew me. I drink in moderation, I rarely raise my voice, and if I’m angry, I get quieter and go off alone. I have never in my life hit a woman.”

  Daniel contemplated him. “A man?”

  Elias shrugged. “I did play football. Pick-up basketball games. And, yeah, I was in a few fights in high school. Aren’t most guys?”

  “I’ll take the fifth on that.”

  Hannah mumbled something that might have been “Testosterone.”

  Elias said abruptly, “Polly was driving that stretch of highway just north of town. Way above the ocean, only a guardrail to keep a car from plunging over.”

  Apprehension parted Hannah’s lips. She looked like she might not be breathing.

  “Someone forced her off the road. Vehicle the same color as my Land Rover. ‘Sort of an SUV’ was the best she could come up with. Her car almost went over, but by some miracle the rear axle snagged on the guardrail. They had to winch her car up before they dared try to get her out. She was injured badly enough, once she was released from the hospital she decided to go home to recuperate. She knew investigators had looked at my Land Rover and found no scratches, but she was skittish, and how could I blame her?”

  “She never came back,” Hannah said softly.

  He hoped that was sympathy and not pity in her beautiful brown eyes.

  “No.”

  Daniel crossed his arms on the table. “You must have made some effort to find out what was being said about you and where it originated.”

  “I did, and so did my mother. People remembered who’d told them, so we’d work our way up the line until someone would shake his head and say, ‘I just heard. Maybe at a party or something? Sorry, no idea.’”

  “Bet your mother was steamed.”

  Elias grunted. “That’s putting it mildly. She quit speaking to some friends because they’d heard that crap and probably even passed it along without telling her.”

  Daniel nodded, then glanced down at his notes. “Okay. Anyone else before, uh—” he flipped pages until he found what he was looking for “—Amy?”

  Elias had to unclench his teeth. “No. I kept my distance from women for a good while. And she didn’t go by Amy. Apparently that was too ordinary for an artist. She was Mackenzie. I only heard her real name…later.”

  Now wary, Hannah looked from one to the other of them. “Who is Amy?”

  Daniel spared Elias by answering. “She’s the one who died.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Daniel’s voice drifted in from the front porch. “You have to figure out who hates you so much.”

  Hannah let everything she’d heard, not just this, percolate in her head.

  Elias had followed Daniel out, leaving her alone while he shifted her car into the garage. She wanted to believe having both their cars out of sight for the night would confuse him, but not make him too angry. She’d already spent the day agonizing over what he might have done to Ian out of frustration over the failed ransom drop.

  Was Ian trapped in a small, dark place? Tied up? Had he been fed or given anything to drink? Dear Lord, please, keep him safe.

  It didn’t even occur to her to stand up, to explore while she waited for Elias. Arms crossed tightly, she only sat in the same place at the kitchen table where Elias had placed her. She had to deal with the knowledge that Ian had been abducted not out of anger at her, but to lash out at Elias. Or maybe both of them. Right before he left, Daniel had reminded her about the two women in town who had had a secret admirer before her.

  “Best guess, you compounded this guy’s rage by turning to Elias. But even if you hadn’t, we might be in the same place. He became enraged with both those women. Not enough evidence was saved for me ever to prove it, but I don’t think Lori Dressler killed herself. I’m convinced she was murdered. And Beth Stanford was smart to get out of town when she did.”

  “But this,” Hannah said in bewilderment. “Taking a child.” He could have done anything to her. Anything at all, if only he’d left Ian alone.

  “This is about money.” Daniel’s tone was soft, his expression grim. “He wants revenge and money this time. We’ll get Ian back, Hannah. You need to have faith.”

  Right this moment, she felt like a dry husk. For all the prayers she had offered up, faith was an impossible concept.

  Elias looked ten years older when he walked back into the kitchen. “You’ll be safest
here for the night,” he said abruptly.

  With her mind moving so slowly, she had to think about what he was trying to say. Finally, she said, “You mean…you think I should go somewhere else in the morning?”

  “No!” His head fell forward and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No,” he said again, hoarsely. “But you can’t be feeling very positive about me right now.”

  “You think I blame you.”

  “Shouldn’t you?” His eyes, bleak, met hers. “I knew I should stay away from you. I tried. But somehow I convinced myself everything that had gone wrong before was just shit happening. Nasty gossip. Mackenzie – Amy – was careless. At the time, I worried. I’d warned her enough times about tides, but there was no solid reason to believe her death was anything but an accident.”

  Daniel seemed to agree. Too all appearances, Mackenzie had been caught by the incoming tide on the rocks that jutted out from Cape Trouble Point. Her battered body washed up on Jasper Beach, and parts of her easel were found broken, wedged between rocks when the tide receded.

  Still watching her, Elias said, “It’s been long enough, I thought…maybe I could have you.” Muscles jumped in his jaw. His voice was harsh with self-condemnation. “If I had tied it all together before I ever said a word to you but ‘Coffee, please’, you’d be tucking Ian into bed right now, maybe planning to give yourself a little time to read, a chance to stand outside and admire the stars while Jack-Jack peed. You and Ian wouldn’t—” He shook his head hard and swung away, presenting his back to her.

  If it weren’t such an effort to hold herself together, she would have gone to him, hugged him from behind. She couldn’t do that, but she could say something.

  “Didn’t you hear what Daniel said about Lori Dressler and Beth Stanford? Neither of them had ever even met you.” Seeing that the rigidity in his shoulders hadn’t eased, Hannah took a deep breath, swallowed and said, “And I’d have been alone through all this. If you’d never been anything but a customer, I wouldn’t have you when I need you so much.”

  For a moment, he stayed still, as if he hadn’t heard her. Or she hadn’t said the right thing. But then he turned slowly, the devastation on his face bringing a cry from her.

  “Elias?”

  “Thank you—” his chest rose and fell with a rasping breath “—for saying that. For trusting me.”

  Because of the other women. This deeply solitary man had suffered so much loss. Every time he made himself vulnerable by lowering his guard, allowing himself to care, he’d been betrayed, and not just by an enemy whose motives were unimaginable. How could any woman who knew him well believe for a single second that Elias Burton would ever hurt her?

  In the face of her silence, he said, “I would do anything for you. Or for Ian. I hope you believe that.”

  “I do.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know that, Elias.”

  Maybe it wasn’t just her; maybe he was trying to redeem himself because he hadn’t been able to do anything to save Amy. No, more than that, Hannah realized; as a child, how could he not have wondered if somehow his sister’s death, his father’s, were his fault? And then there was Michelle.

  “God.” He was suddenly on his knees beside her chair, his arms wrapped around her, his face buried against her belly. His shoulders shook.

  Face wet, she bent over him the way she had that damn duffel bag today. Protecting. She stroked his broad back, let her fingers slide into the thick silk of his gilt hair.

  They stayed like that for a long time. She felt when the rigidity left his muscles, when he quit crying, if that’s what he had been doing. I love you, she thought, but couldn’t say, not now. Not yet. And maybe the words weren’t even true. Her emotions were so raw right now, Hannah reminded herself. Her gratitude could be influencing her.

  With a heavy sigh, he straightened, his arms falling away from her. His eyes were dry when they met hers, but reddened. “Hell of a guardian I’ve been so far.”

  Her smile shook. “What else could you have done? An unseen enemy is the worst.”

  “The adult’s version of the monster under the bed.” He shook his head and got to his feet without his customary grace, even staggering a little. The stress was taking a toll on him, just as it was on her. “I keep waiting to be hit by a bolt of lightning that will tell me who could possibly be doing this, but it hasn’t come yet. There are people who don’t like me, but that’s not the same thing. This has been a concentrated campaign to destroy my life, and it’s been going on for…” He appeared to count. “At least twelve years. But what could I do? If I’d gone to the cops, they’d have thought I was crazy. And all this time, he’s been around. Does he say hello when he sees me? Do I play football with him, have an occasional beer with him? Does he pretend to be a friend, or is he someone I hardly know who hates me for doing something that seemed trivial enough to me at the time, I don’t even remember it? Who is he?”

  Hannah couldn’t bear his torment. She found the strength to rise to her feet and put her arms around him. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

  Still vibrating with frustration, he looked down at her with eyes darker than usual. “How? Tell me how, Hannah? And will it be in time?”

  *****

  Elias regained his outward composure, but the words stuck with him.

  Hannah had gone off to take a hot bath in his jacuzzi tub. She had to sleep if she were to keep functioning. Maybe the bath would help.

  Listening to the hot water run, he imagined her peeling off her clothes and finally stepping into the tub. All that creamy skin, the lush curves. The pictures in his head had him painfully aroused. He was only glad Hannah was shut in the bathroom and not in the kitchen to notice. She’d have every reason to be offended. Being male meant he couldn’t seem to control his reaction to the small sounds that meant she was naked, and so close he could stand up and walk into the bathroom.

  No, she’d have locked the door.

  Maybe.

  Elias groaned and buried his face in his hands, scraping his fingernails into his scalp. Thinking about sex right now made him feel like a creep. Anyway, he had to concentrate. Somewhere in his head was the one memory that would end this insanity.

  Who had he hurt? When?

  In his years of driving, he’d had two car accidents. The time his Land Rover was rear-ended wasn’t his fault. He stopped for a red light, the idiot behind him had assumed neither had to stop. The Land Rover was a solid vehicle; the car that hit him suffered more damage, as did the other driver, who had also had to be taken to the hospital. But he’d been a North Fork resident at the time. Elias had never set eyes on the guy again. And, anyway – that happened maybe ten years ago. He hadn’t yet heard about the ugly rumors, but he thought now they had already been spreading.

  The other accident, he had been responsible, but only out of inexperience. He’d had his clunker of a car packed with buddies when he misjudged distances turning onto the highway. They’d been hammered by a pickup unable to stop soon enough. Elias had been a little embarrassed at the time because he walked away without any damage while all of his friends suffered bruises at the least. The two most seriously injured had been sitting on the side of the car that had taken the brunt of the impact. Kenny Carruthers suffered a broken collarbone, Fletch a broken leg. Elias wasn’t sure they’d all realized then how lucky they had been.

  Not an athlete, Kenny wallowed in sympathy from the girls and had once thanked Elias. Fletch was a little more pissed because he missed most of the football season their senior year. He, too, probably had more attention from the girls than usual, however, and it wasn’t as if they’d been scouted by major college football programs. Or as if he’d have been recruited if any scouts had seen him.

  Fletch got maddest when he developed an itch inside the cast. Since he lived with Elias that year, after his own family disintegrated, he had plenty of opportunities to give Elias a hard time. They’d been friends long enough, that’s all it amounted to.

&n
bsp; Okay, what else?

  Laurel had been plenty mad at him as well as hurt after their breakup, but to the best of his knowledge, she’d never come home to Cape Trouble except for visits to her parents. She also wasn’t male, and that voice on the phone, however muffled, definitely was. Anyway – she was pretty, no genius but had been happy to go to Oregon State, and had already gone through another boyfriend before she left. Elias knew she’d been married. Whether she still was, he had no idea.

  There’d been moments in college. One of his professors in particular treated him differently than he did anyone else. A fellow student who was used to being the star felt slighted and complained constantly. Rylan Garvey. A few years back, out of curiosity Elias had searched his name on the internet. He hadn’t popped up, which suggested he hadn’t achieved success as an artist. That didn’t mean he wasn’t making big bucks designing graphics for games or logos for corporations.

  In retrospect, Elias knew he hadn’t handled the jealousy well. He hadn’t come right out and said, I’m more talented, but he might as well have. Twenty-year-old kids weren’t known for sensitivity. An excuse, but also true.

  I’m reaching, he thought, but would mention the name to Daniel anyway.

  At least his erection had subsided.

  If the trouble really had begun with Hannah, the name that would have jumped to the top of his list was Randall Bresler’s.

  Elias hadn’t joined the group standing out on the highway waving signs at passing motorists in protest of the resort being built, but he had expressed his unhappiness about it. He’d spoken at a couple of county council hearings and worked his way up the administrative chain of the Oregon State Parks Department. The lighthouse on Cape Trouble Point was a state scenic outlook. Having deteriorated, the lighthouse itself wasn’t open to the public, but it drew tourists and was often photographed. The gift shops and galleries in town featured endless paintings of the lighthouse. A local woman screen-printed pictures of it on scarves and T-shirts. Elias still didn’t understand how Bresler had received the necessary permits to build a major resort on the same point and so close to it, even if the resort buildings climbed down the steep slope to Jasper Beach and weren’t visible from the trail circling the lighthouse itself. Nobody would be photographing it again from that side, however.