by B. J Daniels
Emma thought of her ex and the chance she’d taken to make sure the bastard went to prison for what he’d done. She also thought about her life right now and Hoyt’s. This had to end. Even if it only ended with Aggie being caught—and some woman who might look like Laura Chisholm being cleared.
“When?” she asked.
“You’re going to have to come up with some way to get Hoyt off your tail, so to speak. You think you can do that tomorrow?”
“It won’t be easy getting away from Hoyt,” Emma said. “He wouldn’t let me go into town by myself before I saw you. Now he will insist on going into the store with me.”
“That’s why I think we should meet on the ranch,” Aggie said.
“How would you suggest we do that?”
“There is a trail behind the house that goes down to the river. It’s not that far. All you have to do is figure out a way to get out of his sight for a few minutes. Once you’re in the trees, he won’t know where you’ve gone.”
“And when I come back up from the river?” Emma asked.
“I’m afraid you are going to have to lie about where you’ve been and why.”
“I don’t like doing that.” Especially when Hoyt was just trying to keep her safe.
“You haven’t told him about the note I left you—or this call, have you,” Aggie said. “You’re doing this for him as well as for yourself.”
Emma couldn’t argue that. She still questioned why they had to meet in person and said as much.
“I have to know I can trust you,” Aggie said. “Once you see the evidence I have, we’ll take the next step.”
The next step being the two of them taking this woman down? Emma knew she was taking a hell of a chance just meeting Aggie.
But, while she couldn’t tell Hoyt or the sheriff this, she believed Aggie was trying to help her. She thought if she met with Aggie, she could convince her to turn herself in.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Aggie said. “Try to come after lunch. I know Hoyt likes to go out and check his horses after lunch.”
Yes, Aggie knew a lot about them. The insurance company she used to work for said Aggie was the best investigator they’d ever had.
So wasn’t it possible she could be right about Laura Chisholm being alive?
“I’ll wait for you until two-thirty,” Aggie said and hung up.
When Emma came out of the bathroom, Hoyt was waiting for her.
Chapter Seven
Marshall looked up in surprise at the knock on his front door. He hadn’t heard a vehicle nor was he expecting anyone this late.
When he opened the door he was even more surprised. “Not another bad dream, I hope,” he said as he motioned Alexa in.
“I know it’s late, but you still had a light on….”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said as she stepped in. “How about you?” he asked, studying her. She was beautiful, so exotic and apparently wide-awake this time. But he still sensed a desperation in her like she’d had the first time she’d come to visit late at night.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, appearing uncomfortable. He guessed her showing up here had been impulsive and was something she was now regretting.
“Sit down. I’ll get us a beer. I bought extra, hoping you’d stop by,” he said and started toward the kitchen.
“None for me, thanks. But I would take a glass of water.”
He returned a few moments later, not sure she would still be there. She was. He felt relieved even though she was still standing. She took the glass of water he offered her and finally sat down.
“Are you all right after your fall?” he asked.
“Marshall…”
It was the first time she’d used his name. He liked the way she said it and found himself looking at her bow-shaped lips. Just the thought of kissing her—
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Do you really even have to ask?” he said as he dropped into the chair across from her.
“My brother thinks Wellington Manor is haunted,” she said.
“What makes you think it isn’t?” He could see she was surprised by his response.
“I’m sorry, but you don’t seem like a man who believes in ghosts,” she said.
He smiled at that. “Since we’re being honest, the first time I saw you, you could have made me a believer. I thought you were a ghost and—” He shook his head. “I still wasn’t sure when I saw you come running across my pasture.”
ALEXA HAD GLIMPSED SOMETHING cross Marshall’s features and remembered the first time she’d seen him— and that odd sense of desire and darkness she’d felt.
“What was it you were going to say a moment ago, but changed your mind?” she asked.
He was taken aback by the question.
“I’m sorry but I saw the change in your expression. Was it something about the first time you saw me?”
Marshall studied her for a moment. “Not much misses your attention, does it?”
“I told you. I’m a reporter. You have to be able to read people. You remembered something a moment ago that bothered you, maybe even scared you.”
He let out a chuckle but she could tell it was to hide the truth. He had seen something that had scared him the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
“You’re going to think I’m nuts. I do.”
“I might surprise you,” she said. “Please. Tell me.”
Marshall sighed, then met her gaze. “I saw something behind you that day. Someone.”
“My brother?”
He shook his head. “It was a woman.”
She felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. Goose bumps rippled across her flesh and it took all her will-power not to shudder. “What did this person look like?”
“This is where it gets crazy. It was a woman who looked exactly like you only…” He was the one to shudder. He laughed. “I’m sure it was probably nothing more than a shadow behind you.”
“But you sensed evil.”
MARSHALL OPENED HIS MOUTH to deny it. Saying it out loud would make it real. But when he looked into those amazing violet eyes of hers… “Yeah, that was the feeling I had. Something…dangerous. Or at least not of this world. Crazy, huh?”
He waited for her to tell him he’d merely been seeing things.
Instead, she chewed at her lower lip for a moment and when she lifted her glass to take a drink, he saw that her hand was shaking.
“Wait a minute. Are you telling me I really did see someone?”
She took a sip, then carefully put the glass down on the coffee table. “My mother.”
He couldn’t help his relief—or his embarrassment. “Your mother is here with you and your brother. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine why I thought—”
“My mother’s been dead for over a year.”
The rest of his words froze in his throat. “Whoa. I don’t know what to say.”
She hesitated but only for a moment. As her gaze met his, she said, “My mother was a clairvoyant.”
“A clairvoyant,” he repeated.
“A fortune-teller, if you like.”
“I know what a clairvoyant is.”
“She specialized in reaching those who had passed over and she made a tidy sum doing it.”
He heard anger in her tone. “You sound skeptical.”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I think she might have been the real thing.”
Marshall let that sink in for a moment. “That must have been interesting, growing up with a mother with that kind of…talent.”
Alexa laughed. “You might say that. I was her precious daughter until I told her that I didn’t have her gift. After that she centered her world around my brother.”
“I’m sorry. So your brother has—”
“No.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t have her abilities and while I’m being honest, I didn’t faint earlier today. Someone hit me.”
“What?” He listened as she told him about the Crying Woman. “Why
wouldn’t your brother believe you?” he asked when she’d finished.
“Because he thinks I’ve been lying to him for years,” she said and met his gaze. “My mother was convinced that I had her abilities.”
“You mean that you’re clairvoyant like her?”
She nodded.
“And you’re not?”
She looked away and he felt his heart drop even though he’d already suspected this was what had her so terrified—not just whatever was going on over at that house.
“I’m not like her,” Alexa said as she turned back to face him.
“But you’re a little like her,” he said carefully.
She looked as if she might try to deny it. Instead, tears filled her eyes.
He moved to sit on the couch next to her. “That’s why you’re so scared,” he said as he reached over to take her hands in his. “The nightmares? Is that part of it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked into his face. “This doesn’t scare you?”
He laughed. “Only if you tell me that you know what I’m thinking.”
She smiled through her tears. “I can’t read your mind.” She looked down at his large hands cradling her own. “I can’t see your future either. Or my own.” She sounded relieved by that and maybe a little worried.
He grinned. “That’s good. Then you don’t know that I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you.” He leaned toward her and gently kissed her full mouth. Desire raced through his veins, as hot as a summer day and just as wonderful. He drew back to look into those beautiful violet eyes of hers.
She was smiling. “Maybe I can see the future,” she said.
Marshall hoped he did too. But he felt her draw back and could see she was almost as afraid of getting involved with him as she was of that house and whatever was going on over there.
“You’ve been so understanding,” she said. “A lot of men—”
“I’m not like a lot of men.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“What I mean is that I don’t scare off easily. Tell me about this house you’re staying in.”
“That’s the problem. My brother doesn’t just think it’s haunted. He believes it is trying to kill him.”
Marshall saw it then. “He thinks you can save him.”
“He’s wrong.” She’d said it too quickly. He watched her look away, but not before he’d seen the pain in her expression and something else. Guilt.
“So they both blamed you for not having this alleged gift? Or at least not admitting that you might have it.”
She smiled at his insight. “That about covers it.”
He didn’t think so. He had a feeling there was a lot more going on, but he was thankful she had opened up to him and didn’t want to push it. She’d tell him, he hoped, when she trusted him more.
“Someone wants you to believe the house is haunted, but why?” Marshall asked.
“That’s what I have to find out. I need to know more about the Wellingtons. Can you help me?”
“I know someone you can talk to,” he said. “We could go visit him tomorrow in town. Maybe have supper afterward?”
“Thank you.” She touched his face, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed her again and she melted into his arms. If he had one wish, it would be that he never had to let her go.
“In the meantime,” he said as the kiss ended and she rose to leave, “I don’t like you staying over there.”
“I can’t leave. Not until I can get my brother to go as well. Maybe what we find out tomorrow will help.”
He sure hoped so as he walked her to the door, because he feared what was waiting for her in that old mansion. Ghosts? Or someone who would do anything to keep the truth from coming out?
ALEXA CAREFULLY OPENED THE back door and slipped inside, glad she’d gone over to Marshall’s tonight. She couldn’t believe she’d confided in him. Or how relieved she was that she had.
She felt warm and happy and realized it was because he was right. He wasn’t like other men. He hadn’t panicked when she’d told him about her mother. Or when he’d seen what could only have been her mother standing behind her that first day.
Instead, she was the one who’d felt panic. She’d wondered how long it would be before her mother contacted her.
As if that wasn’t enough to scare her off, someone wanted the people in this house, maybe especially Landon, to believe Wellington Manor was haunted. They’d been trying to run him off—and soon, she feared, herself as well.
But she was more afraid of what she’d been feeling. For Marshall Chisholm. And in this house. The sensations were growing stronger. She didn’t want to admit that even to herself, though. But she knew it was part of the reason she kept fleeing to Marshall’s farmhouse every night.
It wasn’t just fear driving her out of Wellington Manor and sending her straight for Marshall Chisholm. She’d also needed the levelheaded cowboy more than he could know. When she’d gone up to bed tonight, she’d seen his lights on and, on impulse, had been drawn to the place, hoping that the light didn’t go off before she reached it.
He and his house were a haven. She could sit in his old farmhouse with its warm essence and feel safe—and normal. She didn’t feel anything in his house but peace. There hadn’t been any violence inside those walls. There’d been hardship, as with any life that had lived within an old house, but there had also been an abundance of love.
While the house was definitely a draw, it was the man she’d needed to see. Desire stirred in her at the thought of him. She had always feared letting anyone get too close. But she’d never met a man quite like Marshall Chisholm. She sensed his strength, his integrity, his connection to the earth and living things.
All her senses told her this cowboy was a man she could trust—and that somehow they had become intricately linked. From the first time she’d seen him, Marshall Chisholm had gotten through the barriers she’d built around her.
With a start, Alexa realized something she hadn’t first noticed when she’d stepped into Wellington Manor.
The hallway was dark.
She’d purposely left a small lamp on so she didn’t crash into anything and wake the rest of the household. Someone had turned it out.
She reached out in the pitch blackness, found the small table by the back door and cautiously felt around for the lamp. The lamp wasn’t there. Why would some one—
She felt a warm hand, let out a cry and stumbled back. The lamp came on, blinding her for an instant. “Been out for another nightly run in the pasture?”
Alexa tried to still her pounding pulse as Jayden set down the lamp and turned to her. “You startled me.” She pressed her hands to her heart as she realized that Jayden had seen her leave the other night as well. Still, she told herself she had nothing to fear.
But the knot on her head from earlier was a painful reminder of what she had to fear in this house. Someone knew she had found the Crying Woman device. And that someone could very easily be Jayden.
“I should warn you that I’m not the only one in this house who knows about your late-night rendezvous,” Jayden said. “I get why you’d run off in the middle of the night to meet a handsome cowboy. But I don’t think your brother is as understanding as I am. He seems upset that you’re spending so much time away from the house.”
“What does my brother think of your late-night rendezvous down by the pond?” she asked before she could bite her tongue.
Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “Touché. Apparently I’m not the only one who has been keeping an eye on what goes on around here. Is that why your brother invited you to come stay with us? To spy on us?”
“I’m not here to spy on anyone,” she snapped. “I just don’t want to see my brother hurt.”
There was almost a sadness to his smile. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Jayden turned and strode down the dark hallway.
Alexa stared after him, mo
re convinced than ever that she needed to get her brother out of this house—and herself as well. The longer she stayed here, the harder it would be to keep lying to herself—let alone Landon—about what she was sensing among them.
She was relieved when she reached her room and quickly locked the door behind her. She desperately wanted to talk to her brother away from this house—and his wife. But that wasn’t going to happen if Sierra had anything to do with it.
As she stepped toward her bed, she saw the tray with milk and cookies—and the note. She felt her heart soften when she recognized Landon’s neat script.
Alexa,
I’m sorry. Tomorrow let’s get away from here and talk.
Love,
Landon
Relief and love for her brother made tears well in her eyes. If they could get away from Sierra and this house, maybe she could talk some sense into him. He was right about one thing. There was something in this house controlling him. But Alexa knew it was flesh and blood—not some avenging spirit.
She smiled as she sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up one of the cookies. Chocolate chip, her favorite. Landon remembered.
She took a bite. The cookie was delicious. When she was little, her father would have the housekeeper bake cookies for her in secret. Tallulah didn’t like her eating sugar, especially right before she went to bed. She swore it was the cause of Alexa’s nightmares. But her father called that poppycock and snuck cookies and milk in to her. They would share them and talk about their day. It was the best of her childhood memories.
Alexa wished she and Landon had shared the same father, since his had been little more than a sperm donor. She’d tried to make up for what he’d missed, not having a father, by baking chocolate chip cookies and sneaking them and milk in to her brother at night after their mother had gone to bed.
Touched by her brother’s thoughtfulness, she finished the cookies and milk. But as she started to get ready for bed, she suddenly felt lightheaded. A terrible thought wove itself through her muddled conscious. No. She lunged for the phone on the nightstand. It was the last thing she remembered.