by Unknown
The owl went quiet. She couldn’t hear anything now, not a passing car, not even a breeze. She couldn’t see Duncan ever making his home in Knights Bridge. He’d seemed more suited to Los Angeles, where she’d first met him—after she’d heard about his interest in Knights Bridge and she’d ventured out here.
She lifted her documents pouch off the bedside table and opened it, pulling out the copy of the tri-folded, yellowed handwritten pages she’d found in her grandfather’s office closet. The original was still safe at his Boston house. As painstaking and tedious as it could be at times, Samantha had to admit that going through his cluttered house and apartment had brought her closer to him. She knew him better in some ways now than she ever had in his long life.
She smiled at the feminine cursive handwriting.
The Adventures of Captain Farraday and Lady Elizabeth
She had no idea how the captivating tale had ended up in her grandfather’s possession, or what it could possibly have to do with the real Benjamin Farraday or a painting of a nineteenth-century New England cider mill.
She put the pages aside and pulled out a 1903 map of the Swift River Valley, then an idyllic setting of picturesque towns and villages. She carefully unfolded the worn, yellowed sheet onto the comforter. The towns of Prescott, Enfield, Dana and Greenwich lay before her. By most accounts, they had been blissful places, but as early as the late-nineteenth century, engineers and politicians had eyed the valley as a potential site for a massive reservoir, given its abundance of streams, rivers and lakes. Less than a hundred miles from Boston, the valley’s upland location meant a reservoir there could deliver water through an elaborate aqueduct by gravity alone, eliminating the need for artificial filtration. The planners had been right. Damming Beaver Brook and the three branches of the Swift River that wound through the valley had solved Boston’s water problem for the foreseeable future. It had also dislocated thousands of people.
Samantha ran her fingertips over lakes, roads and landmarks that were long gone from the landscape. So few were left who remembered life in the lost towns. She touched hills where children once sledded that were now uninhabited islands surrounded by the beautiful waters of the reservoir. She traced the twists and turns of the middle branch of the Swift River, long before it had been allowed to overflow its banks and flood the surrounding valley.
She located the faded line that was Cider Brook.
What if she’d simply told Duncan McCaffrey the truth?
But she hadn’t, and not without reason.
Seven
Loretta Wrentham paced in her La Jolla living room. She didn’t want to fly back East to Knights Bridge. She’d been there recently, and it was a pleasant town and the people were nice—but she didn’t want to go again this soon. She would be flying out there for Dylan and Olivia’s Christmas wedding, and she had things to do at home.
Such as figure out what to do about this Hollywood private investigator.
Damn him.
His name was Julius Hartley, and he was a smart, sardonic, all-too-good-looking, all-too-knowing divorced father of two grown daughters. He was sitting on her butter-colored leather couch with one arm across the back and one leg thrown over the other as he watched her pace. He had on golf clothes and looked as if he’d just stepped out of an expensive country club. Loretta hated golf.
He was also a private investigator for a law firm in Los Angeles. She swore he knew where every skeleton in Southern California was buried, locked or cremated.
One of those skeletons had brought him to her attention in August and then led to her traveling with him to Knights Bridge.
It was all crazy, confusing, complicated and more fun than either of them had had in a long time.
Without pausing, Loretta threaded her fingers through her short gray hair. She’d stopped dyeing it when she’d turned fifty. Instead of thinking she was older because of the gray, people thought she was younger. Hell if she could figure out that one, but she was good with it.
Julius uncrossed his legs and put both feet flat on her floor. “What do you know about Samantha Bennett?”
Loretta stopped dead in her tracks. “Samantha Bennett? Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, all innocence. “I overheard you on the phone with Dylan.”
Of course. That made sense. Julius might not even have been eavesdropping, although she wouldn’t put it past him. But she’d shrieked. Samantha Bennett was the last name she’d expected to hear Dylan utter. She hadn’t uttered it herself in the two years since his father’s death.
“You have to fire her, Duncan. You have no choice.”
“I know, I know.”
Loretta composed herself. She hadn’t told Dylan all or even a lot of what she knew about Samantha. She needed time to get her bearings. She’d promised to call him later tonight or in the morning. He’d been intrigued but patient, obviously sensing that he’d stepped into another emotional minefield that involved his late father.
Samantha Bennett.
Of all the people from Duncan’s past to turn up, why her?
“You can tell me what’s going on,” Julius said. “I won’t tell Dylan.”
“I’m not keeping secrets. I’m just...” She reined in her irritation. She wasn’t one to be at a loss for words. “I need to think.”
“She’s a treasure hunter? This Samantha Bennett?”
Loretta gave a reluctant nod. “She specializes in pirates and privateers who roamed the East Coast and Caribbean in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”
“Jack Sparrow.”
“Real pirates, Julius. Blackbeard, William Kidd, ‘Black Sam’ Bellamy. That ilk.”
“Cool.”
“It’s not cool. Samantha lied to Duncan about herself, and he fired her.”
“She lied? About what? And what does this have to do with you?”
Although Loretta hadn’t known Julius that long and had told him little about her past with the McCaffreys, he was adept at picking up on clues. “I wasn’t Duncan’s attorney if that’s what you’re asking. I work for Dylan. I never worked for Duncan.”
“I get that. Did you tell Duncan this Samantha lied and suggest he fire her?”
“I didn’t give him legal advice of any kind.”
“Not what I’m asking, Loretta.”
She knew it wasn’t. “Duncan discovered Samantha had sneaked into Knights Bridge between his visits. She didn’t tell him. Then she showed up in his office in Los Angeles. He hired her on the spot to work on his Portugal project. Once he found out she’d neglected to tell him some important details about herself, he couldn’t take the chance that she was spying on him.”
“Spying on him? To what end?”
“To get information she could use for herself.”
“Do an end run around him you mean? Get to some lost treasure before he did?”
“Possibly. Or just ruin his reputation.”
“Why would she want to do that?”
“I’m not saying she did.” Loretta stood by the open patio door and let the breeze hit her. She was hot. It was all this emotion. She turned back to Julius. “I’m saying Duncan couldn’t take that risk once he knew she hadn’t told him the truth about herself.”
Julius stretched out his legs and leaned back against the comfortable couch. He didn’t look emotional at all. “People lie all the time. Doesn’t always mean they’re up to anything underhanded.”
“Knights Bridge was too important to Duncan. I didn’t understand why at the time, but it wasn’t a part of his work as a treasure hunter. That Samantha inserted herself there and then lied about it was too much for him to ignore.”
Julius nodded. “I get that, too.”
“Then what don’t you get?”
“Why you’re pacing. Dylan’s a big boy. He can handle this woman if she’s up to something in Sleepy Hollow.”
Loretta plopped onto a chair across from him. She worked at her house—she had an office in a front room, with view
s of the street. She liked to see who was pulling into her driveway, and it allowed her to keep her living area separate. This room was home, where she relaxed and enjoyed looking out at her pool and the Pacific. Both were glistening now, with roses and bougainvillea along the pool fence adding splashes of bright red. She’d moved here before she’d known anything about ice hockey—before she’d met a driven young hockey player named Dylan McCaffrey. She’d worked with him throughout his years with the National Hockey League and then when he’d joined forces with Noah Kendrick and his high-tech entertainment company, NAK, Inc.
Dylan hadn’t heeded all her advice, but he’d done fine for himself. He was like a son to her. Noah was, too.
And now both of them had fallen in love with women from little Knights Bridge.
Loretta leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped. She had to calm down. “There’s more. Samantha painted herself as a quiet researcher. Duncan hired her and took her under his wing.”
“I gather she isn’t a quiet researcher,” Julius said.
“She’s Harry Bennett’s granddaughter.”
Julius was silent a moment. “Ah. She’s not just any Bennett.”
“Her father is underwater explorer and salvage expert Malcolm Bennett. Her mother is Francesca Bennett, a prominent marine archaeologist, and her uncle is Caleb Bennett, a maritime historian and adventurer.”
“Didn’t Harry die in Antarctica?”
Loretta shook her head. “He survived a tough expedition fifty years ago and died three years ago at home in his bed at the ripe old age of ninety-six.”
“Duncan didn’t make the connection between his Bennett and the Bennetts?”
“He did not.”
“You’d think having a Bennett on his team would be an asset.”
“Maybe it would have been, but Samantha didn’t tell him—and he didn’t ask.”
“He didn’t check her out before he hired her? Why not?”
“He said he was distracted by his reasons for being in Knights Bridge—his search for his birth parents—but I think it had more to do with his nature. He didn’t like getting bogged down in details. He preferred to trust his instincts.”
“Did he have good instincts about people?” Julius asked.
“Sometimes. I don’t know.” Loretta sprang to her feet. “It’s a mess.”
Julius eyed her from the couch. “If Samantha slipped into Knights Bridge before she met Duncan, how did she know he was there?”
“She’s part of the treasure-hunting community.” Loretta realized she had resumed pacing in front of the patio doors. “Apparently word got out that he’d been to Knights Bridge. Everyone assumed it was for personal reasons, which it was.”
“So this Samantha heard he was there and tried to see him, missed him, and came out to L.A. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that she didn’t tell him. Duncan didn’t fire her because she’s a Bennett or because she sneaked into Knights Bridge. He fired her because she didn’t tell him the truth about herself. Trust is vital in the treasure-hunting world, given the stakes, the controversies.”
“It’s vital in any relationship,” Julius said.
Loretta frowned at him. “Yes. Right. I’m just pointing out its value in Duncan’s world.”
“He was worried this Bennett woman was a spy for her father or grandfather—”
“Her grandfather was already dead when she and Duncan met. He died the previous fall.”
“My point stands. Was she good at what she did for him?”
“Very good, apparently. She was in Portugal with him and his team right before he died. She was involved in planning that trip.”
“Not his fall, I hope.”
Loretta gave him a cool look. “Duncan had a heart attack. The heart attack caused his fall.”
Julius shrugged. “Don’t tell me it didn’t occur to you there was a connection.”
“You and I obviously live in different worlds, Julius, because you’re wrong, it didn’t occur to me. I knew this wouldn’t move your needle given the scandals and skulduggery you’ve unearthed up in Hollywood.”
“But this Samantha is sneaking around your Dylan, and that concerns you and therefore it definitely moves my needle.” He walked over to the patio doors and looked out at the pool, a classic kidney shape, its water sparkling under the blue sky. “How did Duncan find out what was up with Samantha? Did you investigate her for him?”
“Investigate isn’t the word I would use,” Loretta said, easing next to him. “I looked into her background once Duncan became aware she’d been to Knights Bridge. That by itself set off alarms. It wasn’t hard once I got started. She hadn’t lied so much as omitted things.”
“Why do you think she’s in Knights Bridge now?”
“Because Dylan’s there. Other than that, I don’t know.”
“Is she looking for treasure?”
“In Knights Bridge?”
Julius grimaced. “Right. What was I thinking? Goats, herbs, country roads, antique houses and hardheaded people. Although Duncan was after stolen British jewels. Think Samantha got wind of them?”
“I told you, I don’t know what she was up to then or now. I just know that she didn’t tell the truth, and Duncan fired her.”
“Did he give her a chance to explain?”
“Explain what? No. There was no point. He said he wanted her to go on her way.”
Julius looked at her. “Did you two discuss his work?”
His scrutiny made her feel self-conscious. It wasn’t like her. She shook off her discomfort and said, matter-of-fact, “I didn’t know Duncan that well. I’ve known Dylan for years, but I didn’t meet his father until a few months before his death.”
“Ah,” Julius said, knowing. “Regrets?”
“I don’t have a lot of serious regrets, but I’m in my fifties, Julius. You are, too.” She avoided his eye and watched the pool water ripple in a breeze. “If we don’t have regrets at our age, we haven’t been living.”
He slung an arm over her shoulders. “Does Dylan know about you and his father?”
She swallowed. “Yes, but we don’t discuss it.”
“Does that mean you’re not discussing it with me?”
“Tenfold.”
“Dylan had never heard the name Samantha Bennett until she showed up in Knights Bridge this afternoon?”
“That’s right. His father never told him about her. Neither did I. Why would I?”
Loretta didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she quickly relayed what Dylan had told her about the fire at an old cider mill up the road from Carriage Hill.
Julius grinned. “A cider mill? You’re kidding, right?”
“People could have been killed, Julius.”
“Yeah, but...” He shook his head. “All right, all right. I’m glad no one was hurt.”
“I haven’t told Dylan what I know about Samantha, but I will. Whatever she’s doing in Knights Bridge, he can handle her without my help.”
“You want to believe that, but you don’t.” Julius drew her close and kissed her on the top of her head. She was almost as tall as he was. “Let’s grab something to eat. You’re a desk lawyer, Loretta. You know contracts and money. You don’t have a sixth sense about people.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “And you do?”
“Damn straight. Come on. We can walk. It’ll be good for us.”
She grabbed a lightweight jacket, and they headed out. It was cool, but it would be cooler in Knights Bridge. She’d found she liked to check the weather there. She supposed it helped her feel as if she was still a part of Dylan’s life. The emotions of this new chapter in his life had hit her hard—harder than they would have, no doubt, if she hadn’t slept with his father during his last days. Duncan had died before their relationship had had a chance to move beyond a mad night of sex to wherever it could have gone.
Now, two years later, here she was holding hands with Julius Hartley. Was he a
new chapter in her life, or was he a passing fling? A distraction?
“How can you walk in those shoes?” he asked her, interrupting her thoughts.
She glanced down at her strappy sandals. “They’re fine. What’s wrong with them?”
“The heels. Don’t they kill you?”
“I’m used to them. I like them. I think they make my legs look sexier, don’t you?”
“Sexier than what?”
She sighed. “Than without heels.”
“That’s one of those ‘do these jeans make me look fat’ questions women should never ask men, and men should never answer if they do.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Julius—”
“Your legs always look sexy.” He winked at her. “How’s that?”
“You sound like a prepared witness.”
“But you’re laughing.”
She tugged him closer to her. “Yes, I’m laughing.”
They walked a few blocks to her favorite seafood restaurant. It was early for dinner, but she’d worked through lunch, after a late rising thanks to Julius turning up last night. He said he’d had business in San Diego. She hoped she wasn’t out of her mind getting involved with him. She wasn’t worried about getting hurt. If he decided she was nuts and moved on, she would manage. She just didn’t want to hurt him.
They sat at a cozy round table overlooking the water below them. She gazed down at the waves. She loved this place. She’d grown up here and had moved back after she’d graduated from law school. She had no desire to live anywhere else. Zip, zero. As far as she was concerned, the hillside, seaside community of La Jolla, California, was paradise, never mind the high cost of living.
But she found herself picturing Dylan on the sunlit stone terrace at The Farm at Carriage Hill, with the flower and herb gardens, the shade trees, the open fields and the old stone walls.
The leaves were turning in New England, he’d told her. She should come back out there and see them.
She pushed back the image and focused on the handsome man across the small table from her. “Why do you think Samantha Bennett is in Knights Bridge?”