by Brenda Novak
“I know. It’s just...it’s been stressful since you left. And I didn’t get any sleep last night. I was at the vet clinic with my dog. He cut himself on the fence out back.”
“I hope he’s okay. I wouldn’t ask this if I was any closer. But Scarlet’s life could be in danger. I need you to drive by her place, see if you can find some sign of her. Meanwhile, I’ll call the police and the hospitals.”
There was a slight hesitation, but when Marilyn responded, she sounded almost as concerned as he was. “You’re really worried.”
“Shit, yeah, I’m worried.”
He heard the jingle of her keys. “I’ll leave now. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. Higgins was listening to her Christmas music again and baking in the kitchen. Rex could smell the gingerbread and wished that Scarlet had taken his advice—and come to this safe haven when she’d had the chance.
* * *
No one had died in the attic, but it could be as unsettling as the basement, with its musty smell and all the dust and cobwebs, not to mention the clutter and nostalgic memorabilia. Eve’s own cradle was stored up here, along with several boxes of her old clothes and toys. Her parents had put her brothers’ childhood belongings here, too, hoping that any grandchildren they might have would benefit from what they’d saved.
Eve wondered if they might finally get the grandchild they’d been waiting for come August but wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that possibility. Because then she’d also think of Brent, and thinking about him weakened her resolve not to see him again.
Maybe it would be easier once he left....
“Look at this stuff,” she muttered aloud. She wasn’t even sure her parents were aware of everything that had been shoved up here, but they’d said that some of it hailed all the way back to when the Victorian was first built. Harriett Hatfield, one of the original owners, hadn’t taken much more than a suitcase full of clothes with her. And John’s nephew and his wife, Betsy, sold all the household furnishings before they left, but probably hadn’t been willing to drag several big boxes across the country with them, especially boxes full of stuff that was essentially worthless. The buildup had started there. Then Luddy had bought the place, refurnished it and piled her cast-off items on top of what John’s nephew and Betsy had abandoned. Toward the end of her life, she probably hadn’t been strong enough to haul box after box down the narrow stairs that were the attic’s only access.
When Luddy died—it was in the 1950s if Eve remembered right—her only son came from San Francisco. He tried to open a flower shop in Whiskey Creek but couldn’t get a foothold. According to what her parents had heard, he’d gone through the attic and sold the antiques, along with some of his mother’s possessions, before returning to the city. But even he didn’t go through all the boxes of journals and pictures. Or if he did, he didn’t know what to do with them so he just left them behind like everyone else.
The Victorian had changed hands quite a few times after that—until 1984, when her parents bought it in order to turn it into a B and B. No doubt more of the storage had been sold off or thrown away during the gap between Luddy’s ownership and the time the Victorian came into her family, but the attic was never completely cleaned out. Eve guessed no one wanted to toss things that might have some historical value. At least that was the reason her parents gave for not getting rid of it all.
Eve felt the time had come to put this place to rights, but she wasn’t in any hurry. A thorough cleaning would require a lot of work and time spent in the attic, which she couldn’t afford through the Christmas season. Besides, the attic wasn’t a comfortable place to be. It had no heat or air-conditioning, and several townspeople claimed, as far back as Mary’s death, to have seen a figure standing in the window up here—when no one would admit to being in the attic. Two years ago, the woman who owned the dress shop in town told the Gold Country Gazette, when they did their usual Halloween article about the haunted B and B in town, that she saw someone holding a candle in the highest window, late at night, just the previous summer.
Although Eve had always coped with the possibility that she shared the B and B with a ghost, she wasn’t eager to spend much time in the attic or the basement, especially alone. She didn’t think she’d ever grow accustomed to the unease that made her feel slightly clammy. But she hadn’t expected retrieving the records Unsolved Mysteries had left to take very long. She’d been fairly certain she’d put them close to the door, but she’d been searching for nearly thirty minutes and hadn’t been able to locate them.
“What the heck did I do with those things?” she muttered as she worked her way deeper into the stacks of tax records and old toys, baby items, photo albums and decorations for seasons other than Christmas. She and Deb had dragged all her Christmas decorations out of here and had moved other stuff around in order to do it. That must be why the box of information wasn’t where she’d expected to find it.
Seeing the coffin and skeleton she’d bought for Halloween several years ago gave her a jolt.
“Come on, Eve,” she said, laughing at her own reaction. But she couldn’t help sending a nervous glance at the window where everyone said the mysterious “ghost” appeared. Had those people really seen something that indicated paranormal activity? Or was it all imagined?
Eve preferred to believe the latter. She was a pragmatist at heart. If she couldn’t trust what she’d seen and heard, how could they? But it was a bit disturbing that no one could get to that particular window, not without moving a lot of junk that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in decades.
Eve decided to make a pathway now. Why not? With any luck, she’d come across the research from Unsolved Mysteries in the process. And if she looked out, maybe she could ascertain what people were actually seeing when they said they’d spotted Mary’s ghost.
Once Eve reached the window, she had to smile at the thought that someone would probably see her and claim yet another ghost sighting. But as she gazed out over downtown, she quickly forgot about Mary, the records, even her anxiety about the unexplained, when she saw Brent’s Land Rover tearing down the street. He was going faster than he should and accelerated in a sudden burst, scooting through a yellow light. Then he skidded around a corner and disappeared. Where was he going?
It looked to her as if he was heading out of town.
So maybe he’d changed his mind about staying through the holidays. Maybe he was leaving early.
That wouldn’t bother her, Eve told herself. She’d just been thinking it would make things easier.
But if that was her honest response, why did she suddenly feel so heartsick when she went back to digging for those records?
* * *
Rex was sitting beside Scarlet’s hospital bed when she opened her eyes. Her parents had been there earlier, to greet her when she first got out of surgery. But they were gone now, getting a bite to eat. Rex had promised to sit with her, and he was glad of it. This afforded them a few minutes alone.
“Hey,” he murmured, approaching the bed when he realized she was conscious. “You gave us all quite a scare.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I should have listened to you. That woman was there, when...when I went home to change and get more stuff.” She choked up. “She...stabbed me...almost killed me.”
Rex had heard, from the police and Scarlet’s parents, that the person who’d been stalking her was a woman by the name of Tara Wilson—the jealous girlfriend of one of Scarlet’s old love interests. Tara didn’t have a history of violence, and no previous complaints had ever been filed against her, so the police had never even suspected her.
Rex had to admit, like the police, he’d 100 percent assumed it was a man. Tara had been clever enough to make it appear that way, what with that picture of a penis and stealing Scarlet’s underwear. The sexual aspect had sent them in the wrong direction. So who knew how long the torture might have continued if Scarlet hadn’t surprised Tara a
t the house?
“The good news is that she didn’t,” he said. “And she won’t get away with what she’s done. The police have her in custody. It’s over. She’ll go to prison for assault with a deadly weapon, and once your stitches are out, you’ll be fine.”
“But why would she stab me? What have I ever done to her? Nothing! I only met her once, briefly, when I saw the two of them at a birthday party for a mutual friend.”
“Maybe she panicked and felt she had to kill you or you’d identify her.”
“But I don’t understand what made her fixate on me in the first place. I don’t even care about Tom anymore. He calls every once in a while, but we haven’t been together—not in that way—for years.”
“It’s possible he never got over you.”
“Did she say that?”
“She told the police he has pictures of you all over his apartment and throws you up to her as the love of his life whenever they argue. She resents living in your shadow.”
“That makes no sense,” Scarlet insisted. “Tom creeped me out a little when we broke up. I’ve never seen a man cry and beg like that. But...he’s been fine since. When he calls, we don’t even talk about intimate things. I ask how his life is going. He asks about mine. No big deal.”
“You probably wouldn’t have taken his calls otherwise.”
“So it was all an act?”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “A lot of situations like this don’t make sense. At least you’re safe now, and you’ll be able to spend the holidays with your family without constantly worrying about what you might find when you go home.”
She gazed around the stark hospital room. “You mean I’ll be able to enjoy the holidays after I get out of here.”
“That won’t take too long. Somehow, miraculously, that knife missed your vital organs. You should heal quickly.”
She sniffed. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d gone to Whiskey Creek with you.”
“True. I wasn’t pleased that you ignored my advice. But if you hadn’t, she might never have been caught. I’m just happy it’s over for you.”
She adjusted the tube going into her IV so she could use her arm to push the hair out of her face. “How did you find out I was here?”
“I’ve been calling you all day, trying to check in. When you wouldn’t pick up, I had the woman who runs my office drive by your place.”
“Marilyn.”
“Yes. She saw the cop cars, so she called me and I drove over.”
“That’s almost a two-hour drive.”
“I know.”
She reached for his hand. “It was nice of you to come so far.”
He let her thread her fingers through his. “I feel bad for not being there when you needed me.”
“It was my choice to stay in the city for another couple of days.” She managed a rather pitiful smile. “So don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for my retainer back.”
He chuckled at her joke. “I do have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“How long has Tom been with Tara?”
“A year or so. Why?”
A year? That couldn’t be. “How long did they know each other before dating?”
“A week or so after we bumped into each other, he called to say hello and told me he met her at work a few weeks before they got together.”
“Then who was stalking you before?”
A look of confusion crossed her face and, once it cleared, her jaw dropped. “God, I must still be groggy from the anesthetic, because you’re right. It couldn’t have been her. Not the last time. She didn’t even know me when I was being terrorized back then.”
“Shit,” he said. “She’s not your stalker.”
“Are you sure?”
“The chances are way too small that you picked up two stalkers, especially with such similar behavior.”
“But she was in my house. She came at me with a knife.”
“Maybe she was there looking for proof that you and Tom were together recently. Because my money’s on him,” he said, and called the police.
* * *
“I found them.” That evening, Eve sat in her office at the B and B with the box from Unsolved Mysteries at her feet. She would’ve phoned Ted to notify him as soon as she’d hauled it down from the attic, but she’d spent the past several hours reading what it contained. If it wasn’t so late, she would have gone through the entire box, but she knew Ted was expecting her to call before bedtime.
“That’s great!” he said. “Where were they?”
“In the attic, like I thought. Took a while to find them, though. I have no idea how they got shoved so far in the back.”
“Thanks for going to so much trouble. I’m sure the historical society will thank you, too, once I finish my book.”
“They have copies of a lot of these documents already but I’ve been meaning to let them go through all this stuff to see if they’re missing anything.”
“Sure, we can do that at some point. Should I pick them up from your house or—”
“No, come to the B and B,” she said. “I’m still here.”
“When I left, I thought you weren’t going to stay much longer. Isn’t Sunday your day off?”
It usually was, but she wasn’t in any hurry to go home. She was afraid she’d just mope around, thinking of Brent, and she refused to be this disappointed over a guy she’d met only a few days ago. With Ted she’d had a long history and a commitment of sorts, so there’d been something substantial to mourn.
Anyway, she’d decided to finish the December menus Cheyenne had begun, check the pantry for supplies and place an online order for anything they might need. Why not get an early start instead of leaving the inn vulnerable to delayed deliveries caused by the typical Christmas congestion?
“You know what owning a business is like,” she said. “Yours is a different kind of business than mine, but it still takes a lot of time, effort and energy. It’s more than just writing the books.”
“You’ve put your heart and soul into that B and B,” he said, ignoring what she’d said about him and his business. “Are you still thinking of leaving it behind?”
“No.” At least, not if she was pregnant. If she was going to have a baby, she’d want to stay right here and provide a wonderful life for that child. Being a mother wasn’t all she wanted; she preferred to be a wife, too. But she’d done everything she could to find a husband and—no luck.
“Glad to hear it,” he said.
He arrived at the B and B fifteen minutes later, while she was still reorganizing that box. Pamela, who split all the nightshifts and the days Eve was off with Cecelia, walked him back to her office.
“I didn’t even realize she was here,” Eve heard Pam exclaim.
“Considering how much she works, it can’t surprise you.”
“No,” she responded with a laugh. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice her come in.”
Pam hadn’t been anywhere in sight, but Eve didn’t comment. She merely glanced up as Ted entered the room.
“There you are,” he said.
“And here’s what you’re looking for.” With a smile of appreciation for her employee, she shoved the box in Ted’s direction. “I hope it helps. I’ve read through most of what’s in there and didn’t find anything new, but you’ll be able to document certain facts. There are deeds, legal descriptions, death certificates, birth certificates, copies of journals, newspaper articles and old photographs they somehow collected. So...it’s all yours until you’re done and don’t need it anymore. Then I’d like to get everything back so I can go over it with the historical society, like I said.”
“Of course. But before I go, I have a little something for you.” He put an envelope on her desk.
“What’s this?” she asked as she picked it up.
“I had Chief Bennett do me a favor.”
“The police chief? What sort of favor?”
“I had him run
the plates on your new friend’s Land Rover.”
“Without probable cause? Isn’t that illegal?”
“It’s not like we searched his room, Eve. Chief Bennett doesn’t need probable cause to run a license plate. He does it routinely while he’s driving behind people. Most cops do.”
“But Brent hasn’t done anything wrong. Why would Chief Bennett agree to do such a thing?”
“Because I wouldn’t ask unless I had some sincere concerns.”
Eve glared at him. “How do you even know Brent drives a Land Rover? When you mentioned him earlier, you acted as if you’d seen him just that once, when he came in while we were talking in the parlor.”
“That is the only time I’ve seen him. But the discrepancy in what he told you and what he told Noelle had me worried, so I called Cheyenne to see what she thought of the situation.”
“What situation?”
“A strange man in town possibly taking advantage of someone we both care about. If it was another woman, another member of our group, wouldn’t you expect us to look out for her? Why wouldn’t we do the same for you? Anyway, Dylan got on the phone and said he wished we could do some sort of background check. He’d made a note of Brent’s license plate number. But he didn’t have the relationship with Bennett to ask him to access the DMV records, so I offered.”
“I see.” Eve came to her feet. “And how do you have a relationship with Bennett? He hasn’t been in Whiskey Creek that long himself. What’s it been—a year?”
“He’s from Jackson, which isn’t far, so he’s got a similar background.” He grinned. “He’s also a big fan of my books.”
“Isn’t that flattering,” she said. “You must be very proud of yourself. But did it never occur to you or Dylan that you were meddling in something that’s none of your business?”
He scowled, but she could tell by the stubborn set of his mouth that he felt he was well within his rights. Of course Ted, being Ted, would have thought it all out. “It did,” he said. “Neither of us wanted to do this. But...the guy could be a serial killer for all we know. There’s nothing wrong with making sure he’s a legit character, is there? We don’t want to let him victimize you or anyone else in town.”