"It's so good to see you both here," Holly said to the two of them.
"And you, as well," Reginald replied. "Holly Newman, isn't it?"
Holly smiled. "I'm surprised you remember!"
"I try to make it a point to know all my neighbors." The man was thin, his face harsh and lined, but he still had that star quality that had made him so famous, and the distinctive appearance with the sculpted features and angular brows. His hair was silver now, but his eyes were just as clear and blue as ever they had been on the big screen. And he still spoke in that unidentifiable accent that was some cross between British and Romanian. "How is your dear mother?" he asked.
"Oh, she's great. She's here," Holly gestured toward her mom, who was unloading a picnic basket with help from Chief Mallory. She leaned down to Bethany. "My mom brought some of those oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies you like so much."
"Really?" The little girl's eyes widened. Then she spun on her heel and ran toward Doris and the chief.
Reginald laughed softly, a deep, quiet sound she'd heard a thousand times in his films. Usually with a diabolical undertone to it, though. There was none tonight. "Your mother is luring my audience away with those cookies," he said, his tone teasing. "She shouldn't make me angry." And that time he used his most menacing inflection, narrowing his eyes and bending those angular brows in a way that had sent shivers up countless spines in the past. The kids seated on the ground around him laughed with delight.
Amanda shook her head. "Uncle Reggie, you're impossible."
He patted her slender hand on his shoulder. "Fortunately, I'm quite possible. Now, as for you,"—he said, addressing Holly again—"do you intend to introduce us to your companion or did you bring him as some kind of offering?"
"Oh, yes, right," she said with an apologetic glance at Vince. "This is Vincent O'Mally. Vince, Reginald D'Voe, and his niece, Amanda."
Vince extended a hand, and Reginald took it, still smiling. But his smile seemed to freeze when Holly said, "Vince is a detective from the Syracuse Police Department."
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. D'Voe," Vince was saying, his tone reserved, his eyes watchful. "I'm a longtime fan." Then he turned slightly, offering his hand to Amanda as well. But before he could touch her, Reginald reached up and grabbed hold of her wrist.
"Amanda, I seem to have left my books in the car. Do you mind?" Reginald asked.
"Of course not," Amanda replied in her soft voice. "It's very nice to meet you. Detective. Good to see you again, too, Holly." She leaned down to kiss her uncle's cheek before rushing off to the parking area.
Vince's eyes followed her, the look in them intense. Holly felt suddenly like so much chopped liver. Oh, great. What was up with that?
"'Again'?" Reginald asked, addressing Holly. "I wasn't aware you and Amanda were acquainted."
Holly tried to stop watching Vince watch Amanda, and drew her gaze back to Reggie. "We only knew each other in passing, up until a couple of weeks ago. Mom was late for our lunch date, and Amanda was in the cafe picking up takeout. We ended up having coffee together while she waited for her order."
"I see," Reggie said.
"She came to live with you as a small child, Holly tells me," Vince said, his gaze returning to D'Voe only when Amanda was out of sight.
"That's right." D'Voe pulled his blanket closer and changed the subject. "What are you doing in Dilmun, Detective?"
"I'm here on vacation."
"How nice. I hope you enjoy your stay." Reggie turned his attention to Holly so totally, so firmly, it felt as if Vince had been dismissed. Holly had never seen the retired actor behave so rudely. It was completely unlike him—at least, she thought it was. She didn't know him well, but any time she had run into him he'd always been polite. Almost exaggeratedly so. "Do tell your mother to come over and say hello, Holly. I haven't spoken with her in months."
"I will," she said.
"And now ..." He looked at the children all around him. "That story I promised you, hmm?" The kids cheered and shouted requests. Holly turned to go, realizing it was time. But Vince didn't seem inclined to follow. Amanda was on her way back now, three or four books in her hands, and Vince's attention seemed riveted. Holly finally grabbed his arm and gave a tug, snapping his reverie. He followed her as she left the group.
***
THE DARKNESS WAS complete, and someone put a torch to the pile of brush. The fire caught and blazed hot, snapping and sending sparks and flames high into the night sky. The band, which consisted of two guys with acoustic guitars and passably decent voices, and a third guy on drums, began to play. Vince walked around with Holly, let her introduce him to people, tried to sound mildly interested in their small-town small talk, but he kept his eyes on Amanda D'Voe and her famous uncle. Something wasn't right there. The old man had tensed up the minute Holly told him Vince was a cop. Why? What did he have to hide? And why had he sent his timid niece scurrying away?
Vince sat on a blanket with Holly, her mother, and the chief. He ate cold fried chicken and potato salad. He said all the right things, complimented the cooking, talked shop with Chief Mallory, kept it light, and steered conversation away from anything to do the alleged break-in at the cabin, or the real reason he was in town. He thought he was doing great, right up until the chief of police took Doris's hand and led her out to where people were pairing up to dance. That was when Holly turned to him and said, "Do you want to dance?"
Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes sparkling with something. Not excitement Not happiness. Something else. He didn't think his dancing with her was all that great an idea, but didn't know how to say so without offending her, so he nodded. "Sure, why not?" He got to his feet. Holly didn't. He held out a hand. But Holly remained sitting.
"I thought you wanted to dance," he said, confused.
"Who me? No, Vince, not me. Amanda."
He blinked. "I... I'm not following."
"Go ask Amanda to dance," she said. "You've been staring at her all evening. Don't rein yourself in on my account, Vince, I really couldn't care less."
Okay, so maybe he hadn't been handling things as well as he'd thought. And this was a problem. Because, while he didn't want to alienate Holly Newman until he'd learned what the hell she was hiding, he didn't want her getting ideas about him either. She was the furthest thing from the kind of involvement he wanted or needed right now. And that edge in her voice just now had sounded like a hint of jealousy. He was walking a goddamned tightrope here. But, solving this case was the most important thing. More important than anything else, and if she wound up getting her feelings hurt in the process, that was a small price to pay. He had resolved to do what he had to in order to find the truth, and that included using Holly Newman. If it seemed slightly heartless to his more compassionate side, all he had to do was remember the Prague kids. The way they'd ended up. The nightmare he'd walked in on in that abandoned house less than a week ago.
He gripped Holly's hand and pulled her to her feet. "If I wanted to dance with Amanda D'Voe, I'd have asked her. What do you think, I'm shy or something?"
She shrugged, but let him pull her along into the area where couples were dancing. "Hey, it's nothing to me either way."
He claimed a spot for them, and the band immediately ended the upbeat ditty they'd been playing and switched to their rendition of "Lying Eyes." Slow and mellow. He almost groaned because he knew slow dancing with her was an even worse idea, but he couldn't very well say so. So he pulled her closer. Not too close, though. He fit his hands to her waist, and tried not to notice any physical reaction to her arms linking around his neck as they started moving to the music.
Although he felt one. And he attributed that to it having been a long time between one-night stands.
"So what is it then?" she was asking.
"What is what?"
"The reason you've been watching Amanda all night"
He looked at her sharply. "Just curious, I guess."
"Why?"
; "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
"Just curious, I guess."
She was good at sparring, witty and quick. This was not the same Holly Newman who'd been damn close to hysterics over thinking she had glimpsed an intruder at his place. She was complicated. He had to remember that. When he'd met her he had labeled her weak and fragile, then he had decided she was a snoop. More recently he'd been thinking of her as fearful and troubled. Now she was something altogether different yet again.
Finally, she sighed as if in capitulation. "Fine, I'll fill you in. Amanda was orphaned when she was a little girl. Of course I didn't live here then, but gossip has an unlimited life span in this town, so I've heard all the stories. She came out here to live with Reginald after her family died, and they say she wasn't quite right. Probably just the trauma of losing her parents, but the rumor is that she didn't speak at all when she first moved in with Reggie. Doc Graycloud spent a lot of time with her when they still lived here. Then they moved out west somewhere. The press said L.A., but the locals say it was Arizona and the California story was just to keep the paparazzi off their backs. The move was for Amanda's health, they said. And now they're back. End of story."
Vince nodded. On the far side of the fire, Reginald D'Voe was still surrounded by kids, his niece at his side, as he read to them from one of the books. He used his hands expressively, and his face, bathed in the red-orange glow of the firelight, conveyed one emotion after another. Vince couldn't hear him, but found himself almost wanting to pull up a lawn chair and listen in. Amanda seemed rapt. "How old is she?"
"I don't know. Around my age, I guess." Holly tipped her head up slightly so she was looking him in the eye. "You really can go talk to her if you want. I wasn't being flip when I said I didn't care. I only asked you to come here tonight because my mother backed me into a corner. It won't bother me in the least."
He arched a brow, focusing on Holly now. "I think I've just been insulted."
She dropped her gaze. "Don't take it personally, Vince. You're just not my type."
He almost smiled. She was a lousy liar. When he'd first arrived, he'd seen her watching the cabin so hard her eyes must have been watering. She was attracted to him. He felt it like an energy sparking from her skin when she got within a few feet of him. He felt it now. It was setting off his warning systems, telling him to back off. Hell, he was attracted to her, too. There was an almost magnetic pull between them as they slow danced to the old Eagles tune. He had to exert an effort to keep space between their bodies. But he'd expected that. She was needy. He was always drawn to women like her. Usually to his own detriment. It was good she was denying the heat. Nothing could come of it.
"So, tell me how your mother managed to force you into inviting me to this thing, Red."
She sighed. "Mom wanted to know what I was doing out at your place earlier, when 1 saw ... whatever the hell I saw."
"And you didn't want to tell her you were snooping?"
She widened her eyes and put on the phoniest innocent expression he'd ever seen—and he'd seen plenty—then she quickly lowered her head. As if she knew he could see through the act. "I wasn't snooping. Exactly. But Mom would have blown it all out of proportion and started worrying about me if I had tried to explain."
"Seems like a lot of people do a lot of worrying about you," he said.
She shook her head. "Not because I enjoy it, believe me. At any rate, my mother assumed I'd been at your place because I had a crush on you. I decided to let her go with that. It's better for her than the alternative. And that led to this."
He nodded slowly. "That almost makes sense."
"What do you mean, almost?"
She tipped her face up to ask the question, and he felt his body react again. He hadn't noticed the ripeness of her lips before. They were full. Plump and juicy looking. He forced his eyes up to hers instead. He was a cop and she knew something connected to the crime he was here to investigate. He felt it right to his toes. He needed to focus on that and nothing else. Anything else was too dangerous. She was too dangerous. She had secrets. Those haunted eyes told him so. Maybe he needed to remind himself of that—maybe once she verified it for him, his body would listen to the warnings his mind was sending. And maybe her secrets were all tied in with his case.
"Why does your mom worry so much about you, Red? I mean, what would she have thought about your coming out to my place to spy on me that would have caused her undue concern?"
She only shrugged, but she looked away from his eyes, he noticed. "Mom's a worrier."
"I think there's more to it than that."
"What makes you think so?"
"I've seen enough to know a woman with a past when I see one. I think you have a history, Holly Newman."
She shot him a look that should have knocked him flat. Like a bullet. "So what if I do?"
"I want to know about it"
She shook her head. "Don't go there, Vince."
He held her gaze for a long moment. It was deep and shuttered. And more. It was afraid. "Why not? What do you have to hide?"
She jerked free of him, stood there with her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I don't want to talk about it."
He shrugged. "I am a cop, you know. I can find out anyway."
She looked suddenly stricken. As if he'd scraped a nerve with a sharp blade. A throat cleared beside them, but Vince didn't shift his gaze. It was still locked with hers.
"Is, uh, everything okay here? Holly?"
She looked away first. "Fine, Uncle Marty," she said. Her voice was a little coarse.
"You don't look fine." He glanced at Vince. "This guy giving you a hard time, honey?"
Vince waited, watched her face. It was amazing the way she could compose it. Within a second the agitation was gone, and an easy smile replaced it. She looked at her uncle, and sighed. "Oh, it's not him. Heck, him I can handle. But I'm not feeling very well for some reason. I think I'm going to go on home."
"Want me to call Doc Graycloud over here? Have him take a look at you?"
"No. I'll just go say good night to Mom. Enjoy the rest of the party, you two." She didn't look at Vince again before she turned and walked away.
Her uncle did, however. And his expression wasn't kind. "You know, her father died in ninety-four," Marty said. "So it's up to me to look out for her."
Vince met the guy's stare. "Look, I know where this is going—"
"Do you? Then you know that I'm going to tell you I don't think it's a real good idea for you to be seeing my niece. I tried to tell you to be gentle, take it slow, but it doesn't look to me like you listened very well."
Vince shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. She's not my type, Marty."
"No? Then it shouldn't be any hardship to stay away from her. Look, Vince, I like you. But Holly—she's been through a lot. I'm not going to stand by and see her get hurt again. I'm not sure she could take it."
"What, exactly, is it that she's been through that has everyone in this town hovering over her as if she might crack at any moment?" Vince snapped. "If you don't mind my asking, I mean," he added, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
"I do mind your asking." Marty looked mean for just a moment, leaning closer. Then he caught himself, backed off and pushed a hand through his scant hair while blowing out a sigh. "Sorry. It's a family matter. A private one, and we don't talk about it. Just do what I tell you, okay? Trust me on this, Vince. It's for the best." He patted Vince once on the shoulder, then turned and headed back to where his wife was talking and laughing with some neighbors near the fire.
Okay, fine, Vince thought. He had a big fat envelope in his car right now that might very well have plenty to say on the matter. In fact, judging from Holly's reaction when he'd suggested checking official records to get her story, he was ninety-nine percent sure he would find something. Maybe everything. And suddenly he was dying to get some down time so he could read every word. He started to leave, but got waylaid every ten steps by locals wanting t
o chat. Friendly bunch, or maybe just curious. They all asked plenty of questions, he thought. Any one of them could have ulterior motives.
Ernie Graycloud held him up the longest. He was obviously Native American—he reminded Vince of the fellow who used to do the pollution commericals in the seventies. Long hair, black with streaks of silver, pulled behind his head and tied with a leather band. He wore faded jeans and a denim jacket.
"You're the cop, right?" he asked. He stepped into Vince's path and asked the question. Just like that
"Did someone pin a sign on my back, or what?"
"No need. Small town. I'm the local M.D., Ernie Gray-cloud." He thrust out a hand.
"Vince O'Mally, in case you didn't know." Vince shook his hand.
"You look like you're leaving," Graycloud said.
"Yeah, I was hoping to turn in early," he lied.
"But you don't want to do that yet. You'll miss the best part of the autumn bonfire if you do. I bring my drums every year, lead the kids, and most of the grown-ups, too, around the bonfire in a tribal dance taught to me by my grandmother."
"Wow, that must be something to see."
"Oh, it is." He leaned closer, as if sharing a deep secret. "Now D'Voe, over there, he thinks his spooky stories are the highlight of the bonfire. But in truth, it's the drumming and the dance."
"Sounds like you have a little friendly rivalry going."
Graycloud nodded, grinning. "You shouldn't miss it."
He was honestly tempted to hang around. But those files were calling to him. Before he had to make up an excuse, though, someone called his name.
He turned at the soft voice. Doris Newman stood behind him. "I need a word with you."
He glanced back at Graycloud, who nodded once, and walked away with a wave. Then he turned back to Doris, noting her tight expression. "What is it?" he asked.
"I'm worried about Holly," she said.
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. She said she didn't feel well and wanted to go home." He looked past Doris but didn't see Holly anywhere in the crowd.
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