Their kiss grew more passionate and he slid his hands under her shirt, up to dip the tops of his fingers into her bra. Her nipples were large and hard and she quivered with wanting him.
She wanted him so badly she ached inside. Her breasts seemed to thrust themselves into his hands as his fingers undid the front clasp to free them. Her quick tremble made him groan deep in his throat. His touch was magic, as though he knew exactly how to arouse her. But she didn’t need much. Stacey was a virtual fire, waiting for him to consume her.
He lifted his lips from hers moving to her ear, whispering. “I want you, Stacey. I want you so damn bad.”
She slid her arms under his sweater touching the skin of his chest, his back feeling the edges of his scars and wishing she could heal his insides as they had healed. “Me too, Mack,” she admitted. “I’ve been wanting you…”
Her lower body became molten, pained with wanting him inside her. He kissed her again, their tongues dancing together, exploring and thrusting as though he was already inside her. They were both breathless as he broke the kiss and held her close to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I keep fighting this.”
“Then don’t,” she urged his lips before moving hers to explore his ear and nibble on the lobe. She’d never felt so forward before, as though she wanted to devour a man or have him devour her.
He pulled back with a slight moan and opened her blouse and gazed down at her breasts. She could see the flames of desire in his eyes and it only made her shiver more.
“I want you,” he said. “But not here.” He drew a deep breath and shut his eyes and then closed her blouse. “And unfortunately, not like this.”
Instead of feeling warm as the night air was cut off from her skin, she felt cold. “What? Why?”
He lurched away from her, turning and picking up his drink and downing it. He looked back at her and Stacey realized her blouse had fallen open. But she wanted him to see her. She wanted to see that fiery look in his eyes again.
“I know you have a boyfriend…”
“What? Boyfriend?”
“Carlos told me.” She leaned back against the couch. Damn Carlos for telling him. She didn’t want Phil. She wanted Mack. She’d never felt like she wanted a man before. She had spent many weekends with Phil, but he’d never ignited sparks like Mack could. He had never sent hot fires burning through her.
“It’s over with Phil,” she admitted.
He held up his hand. “You say that now, tonight in front of a fire, but we need to think about tomorrow. That’s what I keep thinking about.”
She inhaled sharply. How could she make him understand it had been over even before this night? But she had not given that impression to Carlos. She had lied to him. Did she want to admit to Mack that she had lied?
“So now what?” she asked.
He turned away from her. “To be honest, I don’t know. I guess we both need to think. We need to get through this work and then…then…talk.”
“Or kiss?” she asked, her fingers touching her lips that had grown wildly sensitive.
His laugh was quick and harsh. “Something like that. I guess I see you as living in that pretend world you build with Kenny. Everything is fiction and fun and no one really gets hurt.” He shook his head. “I see the real side. The pain. Even you can’t hide that, and I don’t want you to feel that pain. Like Lily.”
Lily. Of course. That was what was behind this all. Maybe that damn ghost was even behind his thoughts about her. He was right. If they made love, then what? What would Mack expect of her? Brief moments of passion? He wasn’t in love with her. He was probably thinking of that damn first meeting—her body. And that comparison he had once made of her thoughts to Lily’s as they stood in Lily’s room that day they’d visited it.
Lily. That was who was really between them. He might have stopped wearing his wedding band, but how could she compete with the ghost of that damn Lily Feeney? She could become his physical lover, but would he ever see her as anything but the woman he really wanted?
She began to button her blouse. “I better go to bed. We have a lot of work to do.”
He moved toward her and caught her hand. “You can see that I’m right. A personal relationship would spoil what we have going. I want you to think. Seriously. And maybe when we’re finished, we can talk again.” He dropped her hand and turned away.
Stacey walked to the door on shaking legs. They were every bit as wobbly as when she’d fallen into the quarry. At the door she stopped. “Mack, one thing… It really is over with Phil. I thought it was over before I got here, but I’m really sure about it now.” She turned and hurried out the door before he could reply.
Chapter Nine
“Say, Miss?” Del appeared at the door to the gym as Stacey finished working with Joe. To her surprise Mack had not appeared that morning. Maybe he’d slept in after being gone all day with Carlos. Or maybe he didn’t want to face her after their intimate evening.
Stacey walked over to greet Del. “Good morning.”
“What about your car?” he asked in a grumpy tone, without returning her greeting. “They called me again. It’s ready to be picked up.”
Oh, rats. She had forgotten all about his telling her that the previous day. “Thanks for reminding me”
“If you need a ride to pick it up, let me know. My cousin’s working down at the shop and he said there wasn’t much wrong with it, so don’t let Bodie try to scam you into paying more.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Given her bad times with Mack and Peg, Stacey knew she couldn’t afford to ask for time off, but she would like to pick up her car. And she didn’t want to wait to ask Mack.
“Maybe after breakfast?”
“Sure. Just let me know.”
She watched him shuffle away and thought about whether she should trust him to drive her into town. Ever since her close brush she’d been studying everyone closely, but she was having a difficult time thinking Del might be the culprit. While he and Mrs. D had seemed to want her to leave, he had become nicer to her in the past two weeks. She’d taken coffee to him several times and offered to help him start transferring plants from the greenhouse to flower beds along the veranda.
She tossed down her gloves and looked at Joe who was eyeing her from across the gym. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to hurt her. In some ways she felt like they had bonded during their kick boxing lessons.
She wasn’t even sure about Mrs. D as she sat down to breakfast and told him about Del taking her into town.
“Can I get a sweet roll for him?” she asked.
“You’re going to spoil the old coot,” Mrs. D said with a frown.
“Like I haven’t seen you take him the left over breakfast rolls,” Stacey teased.
“Someone’s got to eat ’em.”
“I think he likes you,” Stacey teased.
Mrs. D. stopped rolling dough for bread and gave Stacey a fierce look, but to her surprise the woman blushed. “Don’t be silly.”
Stacey still hadn’t figured out whether Mrs. D would have wanted to hurt her. She seemed to be pushing her to quit, but as she stared at the blush spreading on the woman’s face, she doubted that Mrs. D could hurt anyone. That flush was so familiar—a woman who was interested in a man. Was she interested in Del? Stacey stifled a giggle at her protest.
“He always sees that you get the prettiest flowers for the kitchen and dining room. And he takes special care with the herb garden. You think he does that for Peg?”
“You are a silly girl,” she said, but now a slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
Stacey left the kitchen laughing. Why did this place have to be cursed? Why had someone tried to get rid of her? She was starting to think she wanted to stay. She was growing used to the old house and its creaks. She might even be getting used to Mrs. D and Del and their quirks. And then there was Mack….
She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about
him. The night before Kendra had truly fallen in love with her cartoon hero and before going to bed, Stacey had drawn another sketch of Mack. Hopefully he never saw it because she feared it showed her true feelings about him. Could he have wanted to hurt her? No, not after the way he’d kissed her. He had admitted wanting her. And she more than wanted him. She knew now she was in love with him. Totally, fully, and more than she could ever imagine wanting or loving anyone. He might not love her—yet, but was there a chance she could teach him to love again? She wanted that more than anything. At least she knew he was not the person out to get her.
So that left Carlos and Peg. Actually it left Peg as the most likely assailant. Carlos had nothing against her. He seemed to find her amusing, and he even hinted she might help Mack out of his depression. Was he concerned because of that drawing he’d seen of her and Helen? He’d never mentioned it before he left Evergreen Island. Wouldn’t he have told Mack the truth if he wanted to be rid of her? Why push her off a cliff?
Back to Peg. Had she hurt Mack’s old assistants out of jealousy? Had she tried to get rid of Helen but Helen had fought back? Or had Helen—like her—decided she wanted to stay?
There was no way of knowing. Maybe Del could help with answers and she decided to run through her list of possible suspects with him and see if she could figure anything out. She started with Mary Delaney.
He appeared not to notice what she was doing, but then she was always asking questions. “Nice woman. Lost her husband in the war when Kenny was just a baby.
“Do you ever see her socially?”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever taken her out?”
He gave her a quick look of disbelief. “Why would she wanna go any place with me?”
“Why not? You ought to take her for dinner at the Gull’s Roost or something.” She couldn’t imagine Mary Delaney wanting to go to the formal French restaurant in town.
He chuckled suddenly, surprising her. “Well, hell’s bells. What are you doing? Playing matchmaker?”
“Why not?”
He looked over at her and shook his head. “Let me give you a piece of advice. After we pick up your car today, if I was you I wouldn’t worry about me and Mary. I’d drive back to that house and give Mack Warren your letter of resignation and be on the next ferry out of here.”
“Why?”
All traces of good humor were gone from his face as he studied her. “Because I don’t think Helen Stanton jumped off that cliff. I can’t prove it, but I’d hate to see you found the same way. And don’t ask me to explain any of that, because I can’t. Except you and I both know it’s true.”
****
Stacey barely listened to the explanation of what was wrong with her car. She was too fascinated by the lean blonde man who stood behind Bodie Lewis. Slim, lean and still handsome though he was over fifty, Ray Gibson didn’t resemble a convict. He looked more like a Hollywood leading man, playing the role of a mechanic—except for the tattoos that ran up the side of his arms and peeked out from the neckline of his t-shirt.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked after signing the bill for her car and Bodie Lewis told him to take her to it.
“About what?”
“Did you talk to Helen Stanton?”
He stopped, standing in a defensive stance, faded green eyes wary. “Why do you care?”
“I replaced her.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, I looked through her notes and I saw that she wanted to talk to you about Lily Feeney.”
His grunt was cold. “Too bad. It’s not like Warren is telling the truth anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I talked to him. His questions were different than hers. She wanted to know about LA and all that crap. I talked to him a long time ago while I was in jail and what he wanted to know was about the stuff here when we were in high school. He wanted me to talk about what a sweet kid she was. He don’t want to know about her life once she left and what she did in Hollywood.”
Stacey knew that, but she didn’t correct him. “He’s trying to get an overall picture…”
“Uh-uh. He’s painting a picture of some perfect angel. Not Lily and not what she wanted to be. I was with her for two weeks and I found out the truth. The real truth. Not that pretty picture. And you don’t want to know the truth.”
“So you think she fit into that profile of the girls Kevin Greenlee killed.”
“Totally, but I don’t think he killed her. I think one of those guys she hung out with and cheated on killed her.”
Stacey gulped, chills running through her. While she had read as much in Helen’s notes, she was talking to someone who had been there. Who might know the truth. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I was with her. I coulda killed her.” He turned and walked away and Stacey stared after him. She pulled her coat tightly around her as she slid into her car and turned on the heat full blast.
****
Stacey started back toward Redfern Manor but then pulled into a parking space at the post office. There was no telling when she would be able to get back to town and check her mail. Not that she was expecting anything. She was surprised to see a notice for a package inside her box. The contents of the package were even more surprising.
A purple backpack slid out. The note from her mother was cryptic.
Here is that backpack you were looking for. It fell behind the bed. Might wanna clean when you come back. Also putting in another letter from Helen. Looks like she mailed it just before she died.
Stacey had not told her it was Helen’s backpack, only that she needed to find it. Wonderful. Now what would she do with it? She’d have to send it to Helen’s parents. She fingered the letter from Helen. Somehow she knew this was the final letter.
With shaking fingers she opened it.
Stace,
I wish you had come. I need your help and counsel now like never before. This has not turned out at all as I had hoped. I’ve stumbled into a mess and now I’m really scared I’ve discovered something meant to stay hidden. Mack Warren has uncovered a bees’ nest and I don’t know if he doesn’t realize it or if he’s hoping to hide it. There are times I think he’ll do anything to hide the truth about Lily Feeney.
I don’t know if it’s his guilt because he was piloting the plane that killed his wife so he wants to write something good about this woman, but he’s building her into an unreal goddess that he worships. It scares me. And I fear he might even hurt me if I try to tell the truth about Lily. I want out, but I don’t see how it can happen.
Please come. Please help me. You’ve always been my rock. I need you now. Bring the backpack. It has all the answers.
H
Fear invaded Stacey. Had Helen discovered the truth about Lily so Mack had gotten rid of her? Had she been going in that same direction and was that why someone or maybe even Mack had pushed her off the cliff?
She undid the clip on the backpack and opened it, but she felt like she always knew what was inside. John Scotti’s handwritten notes spilled out into the seat of the car. She fingered the scribbled notes. They didn’t make much sense to her. She started to put them back into the folder they’d fallen out of and then saw the page of a black and white sketch. Hadn’t one of Helen’s notes said something about a composite?
She studied it. The lean face with the baseball cap was familiar. Ray in his twenties? Could Ray have killed Lily? Or was this a bad picture of Kevin Greenlee? She didn’t even remember what the man looked like, but Mack would have pictures.
Should she go back to Redfern Manor? Her lips were dry and she feared she was going to choke, but Stacey could not just run away. She looked at the ferry terminal where a ferry was coming into port. Maybe she should follow Del’s advice and go catch it when it boarded in half an hour.
Passengers began to spill from the decks and she watched them walk off. Bike riders and cars followed. For an instant as she watched the steady stream, she thought she w
as seeing things. A bearded man in a yellow slicker carrying a black back pack turned his bicycle toward the road that led toward Three Mile Walk. His loping gait reminded her of Carlos. No, Mack had put him on the ferry the previous day. Had gone into town with him. She was seeing things.
She turned away from the ferry, started her car and began driving away from the post office. What should she do? Call Mack from Anacortes when the ferry docked?
No, she had not helped Helen before. She needed to see this through. If someone had been responsible for her friend’s death, she needed to find out who it was and see that justice was done.
Even if it was Mack? Was that what Helen’s letter charged?
Stacey’s mind raced as she drove back toward Redfern Manor. She had grown to love Mack. How could he be a killer? But women fell in love with killers all the time. It could happen. He said he cared about her, but he had often stated his disdain for Helen.
The rain began in earnest as she rounded the turn toward the house and it jumped out at her with its gargoyle ugliness. But it was no longer ugly to her. In some ways she was growing used to its split personality. It was almost like her and Kendra. She parked her car outside the garage and went up the back steps.
Mrs. D. looked up from stirring a pot on the stove, surprised to see her.
“I got my car back,” Stacey said, waving her key ring.
She nodded. “You better get to work, girl. Mr. Mack’s been screaming for you since he got up.”
Stacey sighed. She should never have gone off without leaving him a note or telling Peg. She glanced at her watch. It was only 9:30. Heck, she was only an hour late and she could put in extra hours on the other end. And she’d worked the previous day when he was gone. Hadn’t he told her the night before she didn’t need to work?
Stacey walked to the parlor and was surprised to discover he wasn’t there. She touched the intercom. “Mack?”
“Come up here,” he ordered, his voice cold.
Yikes, that didn’t sound good. He must really be upset that she’d just taken off. As she lifted the purple backpack, she realized she held a trump card. Wait until he heard about John Scotti’s notes! How would she explain that? Maybe she should tell him she found it in an unopened box after his anger blew off. Picking up a box, she emptied the contents on a chair and deposited the backpack inside before heading upstairs. She knocked at his door and entered at his tense command.
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