Reckless Hours: a Romantic Suspense novel (Heroes of Providence Book 3)

by Lisa Mondello

  “I have no idea. But it was the only one I found in my brother’s apartment after he vanished.”

  “Vanished? You haven’t heard from him at all?”

  “No. It’s been several months, and that’s not like him. He’s always been very close to me and our sister. He would check in with the family at least once a month even when…”

  He stopped himself from saying too much. Cash was secretive about some things but only because he worked undercover for the DEA. But these days, even that was something Dylan questioned.

  “Even when what?”

  Dylan held back details. “When he was working on a big project.”

  He squashed the guilt that had been eating at him ever since he made the decision to leave the Marines and come back stateside. He’d been ready to re-enlist after a twelve year span in the military in a position that had been exciting and rewarding.

  But then his kid sister Sonia had phoned him in Indonesia to tell him Cash was acting strange and he should think about not re-enlisting. She’d said it’d be better for him to come back to the States. For good.

  Sonny didn’t make requests like that. As beautiful as she was, Sonny was a nose-to-the-books computer geek and never cared much for his or Cash’s sense of adventure. But her message was clear. Come home.

  He’d ripped up his re-enlistment papers and submitted new paperwork to retire permanently from the Marines. As difficult as it was to leave what he loved doing, he hadn’t looked back. His family needed him.

  Tammie nodded, and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I think it’s time to go to this mansion where you say Serena Davco lives and see what she has to say. Do you know where the mansion is?”

  Dylan tossed a ten-dollar bill on top of the check the waitress had left in front of him. “Follow me.”

  Less than fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of 322 Riverview Road. Dylan had kept a close watch on the car as it drove behind him, making sure the woman didn’t try to ditch him by turning down one of the many winding country roads in these parts. He’d been caught on a few of them by accident these last few weeks.

  With a quick breath, he pushed the car door open and climbed outside. She was still sitting in her car, just staring at the mansion, which must have been grand at one time, but now looked like something out of a gothic movie. The brick walkway leading to the front steps was starting to crumble and was covered with moss. Although the flowers were well tended to and the shrubs were trimmed, the wooden gate and the siding on the main dwelling were in serious need of a several cans of paint. The curtains were drawn. They always were on the days he’d stood outside, trying to get in. His curiosity had him wondering if it was to keep people from looking in or keep whoever was inside from seeing what was out here.

  He’d never seen anyone come or go from the house. But hadn’t done surveillance on the place so it was possible he just missed seeing someone. But he had seen the housekeeper. He was counting on her being here again to face this woman.

  The flash of fear on Tammie’s face as she came up beside him didn’t make his resolve waiver. The key to finding his brother was getting this woman to talk to him about their relationship. This woman who claimed her name was Tammie Gardner.

  Well, maybe today it was. There had been some rumblings at the diner about mental health issues when he pushed for information about Serena Davco. He’d play the game a little while longer, earn her trust and then he’d get the answers he needed. Maybe being in her own surroundings would make her feel comfortable enough to talk.

  With a hand placed gently on her back, he walked with her over the brick pathway. At times, it felt as if he was even pushing her toward the front door.

  She flashed him a quick smile that hinted of nervousness as she twisted her hands together. Puzzled, he nodded toward the doorknob, but she surprised him by reaching out and ringing the doorbell.

  #

  Chapter Three

  Bill was right, Tammie thought. She needed serious therapy. In a week’s time, she’d quit her job, traveled clear across the country because of a letter that was well over twenty years old and hooked up with a crazy man who’d led her to an old house in the middle of nowhere.

  And she’d willingly followed him.

  He’d called it a mansion and it was. The house was huge.

  Heart pounding in her chest, she waited for someone to answer the bell. The bushes on both sides of the porch were tall, creating a tomblike enclosure in front of the door. A spring breeze shook the large shrubs and made a wind tunnel out of the covered entryway, adding to the cold dread consuming her. Old, dry leaves swirled around her feet.

  Tammie turned and forced a smile at Dylan, darting a glance to the street, where her rental car sat parked. She could leave now, end this nonsense and beg to get her job back.

  Sighing, she turned back to the door. Leaving now wouldn’t change anything. There’d always be questions that needed answering. And until she got those answers, she wouldn’t stop looking for them. She’d come this far. She had to go the distance.

  Her hand was poised to ring the bell again, but the heavy, carved wooden door swung open.

  Tammie didn’t know what she’d expected to see on the other side of the door, but the shocked look on the face of the young woman who looked outside echoed what Tammie had felt in the pit of her stomach earlier when she saw that picture of Serena Davco.

  “Miss Serena? What are you doing outside?” the woman, wearing a maid’s uniform, said. Her blond hair was pulled back and tucked underneath a white kerchief. The smell of lemon filtered out into the spring air. They’d probably interrupted her cleaning, Tammie surmised.

  Confusion mixed with anxiety within Tammie as the young woman continued to stare with wide eyes, and Tammie lost her tongue for a moment.

  “Is Serena Davco available?” Dylan said from behind her. The woman looked past Tammie to where Dylan was standing and scowled. “You again? What have you done? Aurore will not be happy about this.”

  Something prickled the back of Tammie’s neck. Aurore. Where had she heard that name before?

  “May we come in?” she asked.

  The woman was obviously flabbergasted, but she stepped aside. “Of course.”

  Once inside, Tammie looked around. The wide foyer was richly decorated, with an old drop-leaf table that held a large colorful pottery vase with flowers. Tammie knew nothing about antiques, but the pieces she saw looked quite old, though they seemed to have been well cared for over the years. None of them matched the contemporary style Tammie normally favored, but the room just off the foyer held a homey elegance that was inviting.

  Noise from the back of the house roused the young maid’s attention.

  “Susan?” a voice called out.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” the woman said to Dylan, then she disappeared down the hall to answer the call.

  Within seconds, voices were raised, but Tammie found it hard to hear anything that was being said in the other room. She gave her attention to the room where she and Dylan had been left, taking in all the ornate details.

  “Anything look familiar?” Dylan asked.

  The mantel in the dining room, adjacent to the room they’d entered, caught Tammie’s attention. There were pictures lined up along it. But as much as Tammie wanted to see the pictures, see the woman who lived in this house, they hadn’t been invited to go any farther than the room they were in.

  She turned to Dylan, who was leaning against the doorway with his arms folded. “No. Should it?”

  “You live here.”

  He was probing her with his dark eyes again, making her uncomfortable.

  Tammie’s shoulders sagged. “I told you—”

  “Yeah, your name is Tammie Gardner. I get that. But you’re also Serena Davco. The question I’m asking myself is why you’re continuing to use a different name? Why the pretense now that we’re in familiar surroundings?”

  She lifted her arms, but then let them fall to her s
ides again. “I don’t know this Serena Davco you’ve been talking about, and I’ve never been here in this house before in my life. I’ve never even been to Massachusetts. I’m just as curious about all this as you are.”

  “Yeah? If you’re not Serena Davco, who do you suppose posed for that picture?”

  Dylan pointed up the carpeted stairway, which led to a landing. Between two large stained glass windows sat an enormous painting of a pregnant woman with a little girl with dark brown curls sitting on the floor beside her legs. The woman’s face clearly matched her own. Even closer than the picture Dylan had showed her.

  A chill raced up Tammie’s spine, causing her to shiver. “I have no idea. But you can be sure I’m going to find out.”

  The voices in the hallway grew louder. “You just left her alone with him?” someone said.

  An older woman charged into the foyer on the heels of the young maid, who Tammie guessed was Susan. A sense of deja vu made her skin crawl. Nothing about this house or this town was familiar to Tammie—except this older woman. She’d seen her face somewhere before. Or rather, she’d seen the devastating scar that marred her cheek and neck. It had been sometime in her youth, but for the life of her, Tammie couldn’t remember the details. All she remembered was how frightened she’d been.

  The woman with the scar stopped short, eyes wide and gasped. “What on earth is going on here?”

  “What—? We’re here to see Serena Davco,” Tammie said. Although the woman tried to hide it, Tammie caught the almost imperceptible change in her expression before she shifted her attention to Dylan.

  “You again?”

  Tammie whispered to him, “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a funny way with people?”

  “I get that a lot,” Dylan said dryly, in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

  “So you’ve had a run-in at this house before?” Tammie asked.

  The scarred woman folded her arms across her chest. “I told you never to come here again.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Dylan said. “But this time I was invited.”

  “By whom?”

  Dylan gestured toward Tammie.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it, Aurore?” Susan said in a hushed tone.

  Eyeing Tammie again, the woman sneered. “You think bringing an imposter here is going to get you what you want? You’re mistaken.”

  Tammie blinked at her hostility. “Imposter? No, no, my name is Tammie Gardner. I wasn’t trying to fool anyone.” Turning to Dylan, she asked quietly, “What’s going on here?”

  “I don’t care what your name is or what your intentions are. You both need to leave here immediately. Susan, call the police.”

  Dylan sputtered and took a step into the room. “What little law enforcement Eastmeadow has is tied up in the center of town, getting ready for the auctions. I came here to get some answers about my brother. Don’t you worry, as soon as I get them, I’ll be leaving town and I won’t bother you again. But until then, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Aurore, Serena will be up soon,” Susan said quietly, darting a glance at the grand stairway.

  “Go upstairs and check on her while I handle this.”

  “Aurore.” Tammie reached out and touched the scarred woman’s arm—a gesture she never would have made as a child, because disfigurement frightened her so back then. But the years suddenly melted away, and the memory of this woman standing in the kitchen with her mother came rushing back. An eerie sense of excitement filled her. “Of course. I remember that name. I remember you. You knew my parents...”

  Susan stopped on the stairs and turned toward them, putting her hand to her mouth.

  “Susan! Upstairs!” Aurore said urgently. Turning back to Tammie, she said, “You need to leave and never come back.” The older woman gripped Tammie by the upper arm and firmly moved her toward the door, but Tammie held her ground.

  “Connie and Aaron Gardner. You knew them. You came to the house one night. My mother was crying and you were trying to comfort her, but she never told me why. I heard her call you Aurore, and I asked her what that was. She told me about the northern lights. She wouldn’t tell me why she was crying.” Tammie’s heart was pounding, and her eyes were fixed on Aurore’s face. “I remember you.”

  “You’re surely mistaken. I’ve never been to Oregon.”

  “I don’t believe the lady ever mentioned she was from Oregon,” Dylan said firmly, standing like a brick wall in front of the path to the door. “The only way I figure you’d know something like that is if what she’s saying is true.”

  The grip on her arm eased a fraction as Aurore took a controlled breath.

  “We moved to another house right after that. But you were definitely there, in Winchester.”

  It made sense now. After her parents’ death, she’d gone back to the house in Winchester to try to figure out why they’d been acting so strangely at the end. But it was only now that she recalled the night Aurore had come to visit them.

  “Did you go to see them again before they were killed? Is that why they wanted to leave on that boat trip so quickly?”

  Aurore’s face held no emotion, but when she spoke, her voice was hard. “Neither one of you belong here. This is the Davco home. You’re not welcome.”

  Tammie swallowed, found courage from somewhere deep in her soul. She glanced up at the painting on the wall, and then at the woman who so clearly wanted nothing to do with her. “Am I a Davco, as well? Tell me!”

  “You certainly are.”

  The room seemed to lose its air as all eyes turned to the woman standing at the top of the stairway. From behind her, Dylan gasped. Seeing a picture, even the portrait on the wall was one thing. Seeing the woman face-to-face was totally amazing.

  Susan stood behind the fragile woman at the top of the stairs, practically in tears. “Aurore, I tried to stop her...”

  “I thought... This is unbelievable,” Dylan said, expelling a quick breath. “You’re Serena Davco?”

  Tammie stared at the woman, whose face was so much like her own and yet so different. The differences might be minor, but to Tammie they were distinctive. Serena Davco’s nose had a slight hook at the tip, where hers was straight. The fullness of Tammie’s face lacked the exotic air that Serena’s thinner face seemed to have. They shared the same dark hair, cut at about the same length, but in different styles. Although they were tired-looking, Serena’s eyes were a mirror image of her own. The same eyes as the woman who sat with the little girl in the portrait.

  Tammie swallowed, nerves raising goose bumps on her arms.

  The woman pulled her terrycloth bathrobe tighter. “That’s right.”

  Guilt stabbed at Tammie as she took in Serena’s disheveled clothes and worn appearance. Still trembling, she said, “I’m sorry we disturbed you.”

  “Nonsense. I always enjoy company,” Serena said, her voice slightly slurred. Then she chuckled softly. “And surprises.”

  “This is one huge surprise, I’ll give you that,” Dylan chimed in from behind. “For me, anyway.”

  “They were just leaving, Miss Serena,” Susan said, taking the woman by the upper arm. But Serena quickly wrenched away and gripped the banister.

  “We have a few minutes to talk to the lady,” Dylan said. “If you’re up to it, that is.”

  Through tired eyes, Serena looked sharply at Susan, then at Aurore. Then she turned to Dylan and Tammie again. “They’re always t-trying to keep me from company.”

  Aurore sighed impatiently. “You’re not well, Serena. You need your rest. Now go with Susan to your room.”

  “It’s my house. My company.” Serena swayed, and Susan grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re both always hovering,” she said, pulling away. “I’m f-fine.”

  She didn’t look fine, and Tammie was far from fine herself. The room seemed airless now, and Tammie fought to take each breath as she looked up into that face that looked so much like her own. “Maybe we should come back another time, when you’re
feeling better, Serena.”

  With disappointment in her eyes, Serena shook her head. “Oh, you can’t leave now. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Susan, bring her to her room. It’s the medication talking,” Aurore said, turning to Tammie quickly.

  The hair that framed the older woman’s face drew back, revealing the extent of her scarring. The fear Tammie had felt as a child, when she caught her first glimpse of that scar, came crashing back to her now, shaming her. Whatever had happened to Aurore to cause such a scar must have been devastating.

  “She needs her rest,” the woman said sharply. “You both need to leave now.”

  “Don’t leave. Please... s-say you won’t leave,” Serena pleaded from the top of the stairs. “I’ve been waiting for you to come.”

  Something stirred deep inside Tammie. She felt a connection with this woman so powerful that she threw out all reason. Her pulse thrummed at her temple. “I won’t leave you, Serena.”

  Even as the words flew out of her mouth, uncertainty crashed forward, but she pushed it away. The answers she was looking for were here—as well as a whole slew of new questions.

  Then Tammie remembered what the clerk at the hotel had said. “But there are no hotels—”

  Serena’s face grew brighter. “Oh, but there is plenty of room here! This house is as much yours as it is mine.”

  “Serena!” the scarred woman said. “We don’t know these people. You can’t invite just anyone into the house.”

  Her determination seemed to make Serena stronger. “She’s not just anyone. She’s my s-sister. She belongs here!”

  “No, Serena,” Aurore said sympathetically. “Your sister died as a baby in the fire that killed your mother. You’ve always known that.”

  Serena shook her head. “I heard the baby cry.”

  As Aurore continued to argue gently with Serena, Tammie stared at the portrait. A whirl of emotions coursed through her, and for a split second she had the urge to run from the house. How could this be happening?

  From the outside, the mansion really did look as big as a hotel. But the only person welcoming her through the door was Serena, and it was clear that whatever medication she was taking was speaking for her.