He shrugged. “I must have been dreaming.”
The night before ran through his mind and the cop in him and his oath to uphold the law took him over. He’d slept with a possible suspect in a murder investigation. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t change last night, but he could make certain it never happened again, at least until he proved her innocence. How possible a suspect was she? An innocent one, if he relied on his mother’s vision. Wasn’t his mother always right? What about the someone outside Evie’s cottage last night? Had she staged that, too? What about the charm? It could belong to anyone. A salesman, for instance. Or Evie could have planted it for him to find, knowing it would support her prowler story.
He watched her prop herself on her elbows and look at him. Her love for him shone in her eyes. Were those the eyes of a serial killer?
She sighed. “I love you so much my heart aches.”
Was that the talk of a woman who castrated two men? Would a serial killer sound so sincere? “I love you, Evie. I never stopped loving you. Last night was something I wanted for a very long time.” It would be difficult for him to say ‘no’ to her in the future.
“Simon, what is it? You look so serious.”
“I was thinking about the murder investigation.” He managed a smile.
“Just what every girl wants to hear after she declares her love for a man.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Show me how sorry you are, then.” She lifted the covers and kissed his chest and trailed a line down the center with her tongue.
All rational thought left him. What did he promise himself wouldn’t happen again? His body responded to her touch. Traitor. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t right. He grabbed her by the wrists.
She grimaced. “Simon, you’re hurting me.”
He released his hold. “I’m sorry. I…I…”
“It’s okay.” She ran her fingers along the curve of his cheek. “Sometimes we don’t know our own strength.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “It’s forgotten. Would you like a coffee?”
“I’d love a coffee.” Feeling like a complete despot for hurting her, it took some effort for him to smile.
When she left the bedroom, he threw back the covers and went around the room picking up his clothes. The face of a man ridden with guilt and fear stared back at him in the dresser mirror. He scowled. Suck it up, Simon. You can’t do anything about it now. What’s done is done.
A fire burned in the wood stove and coffee perked in the maker when he entered the kitchen. Bear, curled in a ball, slept on her blanket in the corner. A squeaker toy shaped like a hamburger, sat at her paws. Evie rinsed dishes at the sink. She turned to him. “Coffee’s on.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes and felt like scum. “Evie—”
She silenced him with a kiss. “Shh. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. Forget about it, okay? I have.”
Wanting to take her in his arms and tell her no one would ever hurt her again, he couldn’t. “Evie, what happened last night can’t happen again.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“We work together. It wouldn’t appear—”
She laughed, that goofy giggle he loved so much. “What?”
“You’re going to have to do better than that, chief.”
This amused her. Why?
She tossed the dishcloth in the sink.
He stood there, still as a statue and feeling like an idiot. Did she suspect, did she know he thought she killed those men? He never could hide anything from her and she had always been intuitive. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Oh, puhleese.” She shook her head, but clearly enjoyed his discomfort.
What in hell was going on?
“Okay, okay, I’ll say what you obviously can’t. You’re still hurting because I left you practically standing at the altar all those years ago. You don’t want to be hurt like that again. You need to take it slow. Right?”
“Yes!” Thank you, God.
“You don’t have any regrets about last night, though?”
He smiled and fingered the curls of blond hair around her ear. “No regrets.” That was the whole truth, too, he realized. “Do you?”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Does it look like I do?”
He laughed. “I’d say no.”
“You’d be right.”
“Now that we got that settled, you really should have a security system installed. In fact, I should have suggested it before.”
She walked to the counter and poured two cups of coffee. “I already spoke to Dad about it.”
“You did?” He took a cup from her hand. Would someone who fabricated break-ins, vandalism and prowlers want a security system?
“He said he’d look after it.” She brought her eyebrows together and looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you surprised?”
“I prepared for battle and won the war without a fight.” There was a certain wily abandon about Evie he never saw before. As though she found what she was looking for, as though the past was finally behind her. He moved with her to the kitchen table and sat.
“What are your plans for today?” she asked.
“The usual.” Proving your innocence or guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt. He looked around the room unable to look into her face.
“Why is this so uncomfortable for you?”
Staring at a crumb on the floor, he said, “It’s not.”
“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes, Simon? Is there something going on?”
Pull yourself together, Simon. He managed a smile and forced himself to look in her eyes. “Nothing’s going on. I’m just upset we haven’t solved this case yet.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’ll make an arrest soon. I’m sure of it.”
That’s what feared him the most. “Thanks for the confidence.” He checked the time. “I’ve got to get to the station before the boys start hypothesizing where I am.”
“I’m sure it’s all over town already you spent the night in my bed. Old Mrs. Nicholson will be so jealous.”
“She’d better get used to it.”
She kissed him. “Now go before I tarnish your reputation beyond repair.”
He stood. “I’ll call you later.”
“You’d better.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
At six o’clock on Friday evening Simon picked up Evie in his Mustang and headed for the Earle of Leinster, a bed and breakfast set among oak and maple trees and bordering the ocean. A thirty minute drive from Honeydale.
In the silence, he obsessed his reason for wanting this weekend getaway. The comparison test on the hair sample he pilfered from Evie’s comb would be in this week. If it confirmed his suspicion that Evie—despite Keertana’s adamant denial to the contrary and her vision— killed those men, God help him, he wanted this weekend with her. If it proved her guilt, would he possess the courage to do his job? If it proved her innocence, then he was going straight to Hell for believing her capable of such an atrocity and for having the test done without her consent.
He thought about Constance Hanson, his only other suspect, and how he would obtain a sample of her DNA if Evie’s test came back negative. All he had was suspicion, and he couldn’t very well go to a judge for a warrant with that. Given her father’s area of expertise and connections, the evidence to support a warrant would have to be irrefutable.
The drive took longer than he anticipated, partly due to his slow driving—totally uncharacteristic of him— and to road construction. At one point, Evie had turned to him and said, “You’re awfully quiet. Is something the matter?”
He squeezed her hand. “Everything’s fine.” Remembering the test and what the results might be, tears blurred his vision. “Just fine.” Without taking his eyes from the road, he forced a smile, raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, then continued driving without further conversation.
Flicking on the right blinker, he pulled onto a long, very narrow winding road through
woods. They came to the inn, a large, rambling farmhouse constructed of cedar clapboard shellacked to a glossy finish. Shutters the color of maize adorned the eight double-hung windows at the front of the structure.
They hopped from the car.
The air was chilly and fragrant with pine needles and spruce trees and the smoky scent of a wood fire. A Bald Eagle perched high on a towering spruce at the far edge of the property, cried, “Kik, kik, kik” in tune with a Black-backed Woodpecker, issuing a challenge by pecking the trunk of a charred conifer. Even the usually silent Puffin, had something to say. Squirrels chirped and danced from one tree branch to another, clearly showing their displeasure with their presence.
She removed her sunglasses and looked at the inn. “I hear they have the best blueberry pancakes here.”
“They do.”
“Have you been here before?”
He squinted against the glare of the setting sun and wished he had the foresight to bring his sunglasses. “Not as a guest, but I’ve had Betsy’s pancakes before.”
“Uh-huh.” She eyed him. “Is that all you’ve had?”
He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. “The woman is seventy-nine years old.”
“So? Young men are hooking up with older woman these days.”
“She’s not my type. Besides, my heart belongs to you. It always has.”
She kissed him deeply. “Why don’t we check in and continue this in our room?”
The inside of the inn smelled of oil soap, apple pie and baked bread.
Betsy Leinster greeted Simon like an old friend, hugging and kissing him.
“I did a favor for her a few years back when Earl died,” he said, climbing the stairs to the second floor behind Evie. “She’s never forgotten.”
She hummed and hawed. “I don’t know. She seems quite smitten with you.”
“I’ll tell her I’m taken.”
White priscilla curtains and pull shades hung on the windows on either side of the canopied four-poster bed. A cedar chest took up little space at the foot. Braided throw rugs in colors of red, navy and green were scattered haphazardly across the gleaming hardwood floors. A fire roared in the hearth, filling the room with a welcome heat. A claw foot tub sat to one side of the spacious bathroom. The walls above the white-painted wainscoting were painted red, blending nicely with the black and white tiled floor. White curtains decorated with tiny red roses adorned the window and red towels were laid out on a corner white wicker shelf.
“Betsy really likes you. She gave us the presidential suite.” Evie plopped unto the bed. It squeaked and groaned under her weight. “This bed is going to give us away.”
“It’s late in the season for B & B’s. I think we’ll be the only guests.”
“What about Betsy?”
“What about her?” He laid down beside her.
“This was a great idea, Simon.” She slipped her hand under his shirt, trailed her fingers over his stomach, then moved down. “Since no one’s around to hear…”
Simon and Evie stepped into a dining room filled to capacity. Ten couples sat at the mahogany rectangular table in the middle of the room and every one of them turned to stare at them. “I guess we aren’t the only guests, after all,” Simon said in her ear.
Evie looked up at the ceiling. “Oh God, our room is right above. Do you think they heard us?”
“Naw.”
Stuffed with roasted turkey and gravy, baked beans, homemade bread, string beans and carrots and strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream and a little unsteady from dandelion wine, Simon and Evie stumbled upstairs, giggling like children and burping like adolescents.
She fell onto the bed, her arms outstretched as though embracing the air. “Did you see the look on the old lady’s face, what’s-her-name…Melvina…when you said how comfortable our bed was?”
He laughed. “I thought she’d pop an artery her face turned so red.” He threw himself next to her. The bed creaked and moaned and moved a few inches across the floor.
“You are so bad.” She slapped his chest playfully.
“What?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
The room grew quiet.
He folded his arm beneath his head and stared at the stucco ceiling, his thoughts nowhere in particular.
“What are you thinking about? The murder?”
He groaned. “You had to mention it, didn’t you?”
“Why can’t you admit you hate an unsolved case?”
“I’ll solve it.” More than ever, that truth worried him.
“I had one once, you know. A man was murdered in the rumpus room in his home. A nine millimeter between the eyes. My partner and I suspected the wife, but we couldn’t prove it. What a cold bitch she was.
“The husband was a high-profile criminal lawyer, defending the scum bags we try to put behind bars. He was good at it, too. You know the type—arrogant, manipulate the law, cry-foul-technique-and-violation-of-rights type. No evidence of forced entry and the murder weapon was never found.”
He had no desire to talk about crimes, criminals or the law. This was his time with her, and he wanted to fill these couple of days with memories, memories which might have to last him a lifetime. Who knew what the coming week might bring.
“Hey, you’re awfully solemn all of a sudden.”
He turned on his side and rested his head in the palm of his hand, thinking how he once knew everything about her and now, nothing at all. While the island and the idea of settling into the life of his parents contented him, she had wanted to experience something different. He still couldn’t understand it.
“Want to go for a walk? There’s this path through the woods that opens onto a pond.” Trailing his finger along the curve of her jaw, he said, “We’ll have it all to ourselves. A bed of pine needles, a full moon watching over us, the sound of the water in the strait lapping to shore…What do you say?”
“It’s freezing outside.”
“Simon sez we’ll dress warmly.”
“Do you remember when I used to tease you with that when we were kids?”
“How can I forget? You were relentless.”
She nuzzled his neck and snuggled closer.
They talked.
He made a special effort not to talk about work or anything work related.
She talked about their future together and, though the thought his future might not include her kept creeping into his mind, he talked about it, too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Evie studied Gaston sitting across from her. For the last forty-five minutes, she answered his questions honestly and without hesitation. Now the time had come to broach the subject.
“Do I need to see you anymore? You said you’d see how things went at the end of the month. It’s the end of the month and I think things went well. What about you?” He shifted in his chair. Never a good sign. Just as he noticed her nervous habits—chewing on her thumbnail, swinging her leg back and forth, averting his eyes when answering difficult questions—she noticed his.
“I’d like to try something different with you today, Evie.”
“Different? What do you mean?”
“How do you feel about hypnosis?”
“Isn’t hypnosis, hypnotherapy, used for patients who repressed something in their lives?” She didn’t like this idea at all, not that she had something buried in her subconscious, but that she would lose control.
“Usually.”
“Usually, but not in my case?” A niggle of apprehension forced its way through her body.
“No.”
“Why then?”
“I’m hoping to return you to an earlier ego-state so you can regain qualities you once had but were lost after the incident. It would increase your strength and confidence.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my confidence or strength.” She clamped her jaw.
“You don’t think so?”
The answers to questions with questions tired h
er. She had to admit, though, he had a point. “Maybe I’m not as confident and strong as I once was, but I’m getting better and I will be that person again one day…soon.”
He smiled.
“But you’re still not convinced.” Damn. She wanted these sessions to end. “I’m in a good place right now. I’ve finally been able to put the past behind me. Simon and I are getting closer. In fact, I think he’s going to ask me to marry him. Things have never been so good for me.”
“What are you afraid of?”
She looked at him long and steady. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then why won’t you do it?”
Why shouldn’t she? There were no repressed memories for him to find and she trusted him. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
Evie sat back and at the sound of Gaston’s soothing voice, she relaxed. Within five minutes everything blanked out in her mind.
“Evie, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, but it’s behind you now. Your future will be bright and peaceful.”
“Okay.”
“How do you feel?”
“Happy and relaxed.”
“Good. You can wake now.”
She opened her eyes and asked, “When do we start?”
“We already have. You’ve been under for the past fifteen minutes.”
“Really?”
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful.” She hugged herself.
“Shall we continue with the sessions, then?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Simon propped his feet on his desk, laced his fingers behind his head and smiled. The weekend getaway with Evie was everything he hoped it would be. He hadn’t wanted it to end, had even tried to slow time down by focusing on every second. The following week had been wonderful, as well. Like old times with her, and he treasured every moment.
Guilt cropped into his mind. With a grimace, he shoved the emotion aside.
The view through his office window looked like a Currier & Ives lithograph. A light snow had fallen overnight coating the spruce trees flanking the sides of Town Hall. Smoke puffed from chimneys of houses at the rear of the property.
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