Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded Series)

by Thomson, H. D.

  Margot quickly undressed, changed into her nightgown and slipped under the down comforter. In the dark, she sat up against the headboard and sipped her wine.

  She thought of Jake directly below. What was he doing? Was he also lying in bed unable to sleep? What had driven him from the Boston area to come here of all places? Was he running from something or someone? A woman, maybe? She’d sensed his pain even though he’d hidden it well. Eventually, exhaustion and alcohol numbed her thoughts and pulled her lids closed.

  Margot jerked awake. She lay there, heart pounding, mind struggling for a reason why. Then she heard it. From outside. A high, piercing cry. It sent goose flesh up her arms and legs and chilled her soul. Another cry ripped through the night, sounding more terrifying than the first. Such pain. So much pain in that one cry...

  Silence followed. Thick and suffocating. Then it hit her. Marmaduke!

  Margot had completely lost track of her cat. So focused on Jake, she could have easily missed Marmaduke slipping outside.

  Snapping on the bedside light, she glanced over to the chair where Marmaduke slept at night and found it empty. Heart ricocheting against her ribs, Margot flung back the covers. Vivid memories of when she was a child drove her from the room.

  At the age of ten, she’d stood frozen in the front yard, unable to stop the neighbor’s Doberman from killing her cat, Sassy, unable to close her eyes against the terror or her ears against the screams—screams similar to the ones she’d just heard.

  There were coyotes out there, animals just as savage as any Doberman.

  When Margot couldn’t find Marmaduke on either floor, she thrust her bare feet into a pair of boots and grabbed her jacket and a flashlight.

  The second she stepped outside and closed the door, an angry, frigid wind slapped at her exposed face and hands and tore the breath from her lungs. She brushed at her hair as it whipped into her face, while snow pelted her from an impenetrable, black sky.

  How could she possibly find Marmaduke in this mess? The outside light barely penetrated past the porch. Granted, she knew the property and how the front yard sloped downward to an outcropping of aspen intermixed with pine. If anything, Marmaduke would venture there or the barn to the left.

  With the flashlight in one hand, Margot grabbed the shovel butted up against the wall for protection with the other hand. She paused at the bottom of the porch stairs and peered into the darkness. The idea of finding Marmaduke’s remains turned her stomach, but the fear of leaving him out in the cold, possibly wounded or even dying, urged her through the snow and past the porch’s illumination.

  The cry of the wind, high and mournful, swept through the trees as Margot snapped on the flashlight. She aimed its beam down the driveway, where snow darted and whirled across the ground, and swept the light to the left.

  That’s when she noticed another light, faint but distinct. It penetrated through the falling snow and barren trees from the barn window.

  Someone was in the lab.

  CHAPTER 2

  Whimpering, Jake lay naked on the linoleum floor in John’s lab. A million vicious talons pierced through his flesh and into the marrow of his bones. He wanted to die, to cave into the pressure. Another tidal wave of pain roared through his veins. He gasped and pulled himself into a fetal position.

  The seizure had hit him just as he’d opened the door to the lab and turned on the light. He’d barely managed to get inside and shut the door before falling to his knees.

  This attack was far worse than the other two. They’d hit him unexpectedly and with such savage intensity that they’d completely incapacitated him. Yet, they were gone after several minutes, as if he’d hallucinated each episode.

  If only he’d kept his nose out of it, done his job, he wouldn’t be paralyzed on a cold, hard floor, in some lab in the middle of nowhere. But hell. His morals had interfered. Now he was paying for it. If only, if... Shit.

  He would have done it all over again.

  Over the pain, he heard the rattle of the doorknob.

  Margot.

  He couldn’t be found out. Not now. He’d left the light on. So damn stupid. He lay right, smack in the middle of the room. He’d be impossible to miss. She was going to ask questions, get suspicious. He couldn’t afford that. Not when she’d been married to Malcolm.

  Jake focused on the space beneath the desk. Raking in a lung full of air, he dug his fingers into the linoleum and crawled across the floor. Every muscle screamed a protest. Sweat broke out on his brow.

  Just as he pulled himself under the desk, another pain, more violent than the last, slammed into him. The unexpectedness of it tore the breath from him.

  And in that instant, nothing mattered. Margot. Being discovered. Nothing but the pain and the knowledge that he was dying.

  Margot paused on the outside of the lab door. She thought she’d locked the barn. But then...maybe she hadn’t. God, she didn’t know. Ever since Johnny’s death, she hadn’t been able to wrap her mind around a coherent thought.

  She should call Carl, Greyson’s deputy, and get him out here, but Margot balked at the idea. Carl would just use it as another opportunity to make one of his lame passes. Then he’d give her that look of his and tell her to stop acting paranoid and lay off the alcohol. After all, nothing happened around here. Plus, who could possibly be interested in anything in the lab?

  Unless Jake— Well, he had another thing coming if he thought he could waltz in here without getting her permission.

  Curiosity, more powerful than any fear, eventually got the best of her. Inhaling a breath of courage, Margot shoved her flashlight into her coat pocket and opened the door. Lifting the shovel in both hands, she paused on the threshold and listened. She could have sworn she’d heard something. But the only sounds were her breathing and the hum of the refrigerator in the corner. Icy, winter air swept into the lab. She stepped inside and closed the door quietly. Nothing looked disturbed. Which didn’t explain the office light in the far back of the building.

  “Is anyone here?”

  Margot didn’t receive an answer, but then, she hadn’t expected one. If a thief was hiding somewhere, it was highly unlikely he’d come out and introduce himself.

  Palming the shovel’s handle, she moved cautiously across the floor. The light from the office threw the far corners of the main room into grotesque shadows. The computers, vials, microscopes and other equipment cluttering the counter tops that ran against the walls on either side suddenly appeared menacing and unfamiliar. On those same counters, cages once holding mice sat empty. A number of stools butted up to the counters, while in the middle of the room sat a metal desk and large table with three computers, all now silent. The chrome refrigerator in the far corner continued to hum back at her. She dreaded the idea of going through its shelves, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make sense of anything inside.

  Johnny had always kept this part of his life private from her—at least near the end. He’d probably given up explaining the validity of one of his hypothesis or some other theory after getting tired of seeing her eyes glaze over too many times. She’d never been able to grasp his conversations. They were like a foreign language and in school she’d been terrible with Spanish or French.

  Tension cut across her shoulders as she stepped into the office in the back of the building. “Marmaduke, are you in here?”

  No cat. No person. Completely empty.

  She exhaled a shaky but relieved breath, turned off the office light and used her flashlight to retrace her steps back to the front door. Maybe all that wine had gone to her head after all. Maybe, just maybe, it had been an owl or a coyote and not Marmaduke, she reasoned, as she stepped outside and closed the door. The cat was probably safely asleep somewhere in the house, and she’d just missed him. Just in case, she’d double check the lab tomorrow in the light of day. Right now, she found the place too creepy.

  As to the light, Margot hadn’t a clue. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed it on until tonight. God k
nows, for the longest time she hadn’t been interested in anything around her other than her books. Setting the shovel against the barn wall, Margot drew the lapels of her coat closer around her neck. She shuffled through the snow toward the house, all the while arcing the flashlight’s beam back and forth for signs of Marmduke, but she didn’t find him anywhere.

  Once inside the house, she replaced her boots and jacket for a robe and walked into the kitchen where—of all things—Marmaduke sat regally by his empty, water dish.

  “Why you little monster!” She crossed the room and eyed the cat with a mixture of relief and disgust. “You really don’t deserve any water. Not after scaring the pants off of me like that.”

  But she picked up his dish and filled it with water anyway. Over the sound of the faucet, a noise, faint but distinct, echoed through the house. A door closing. She snapped off the water, and looked at the doorway leading to the hall.

  “Who’s there?” she whispered. “Jake?”

  Only the tick of the kitchen clock answered her. Then Margot noticed the cat. Tall switching in clear agitation, Marmaduke, sat hunched low on all fours.

  “You heard it too, didn’t you?”

  Uneasiness pricking the back of her neck, Margot moved across the kitchen and bent down to place the water dish on the ground by Marmaduke. Suddenly, the cat sprang, bounding from the kitchen and disappearing into the hall.

  Margot jerked, sloshing water over the bowl as she placed it on the floor. Cautiously, she walked to the doorway and peered around the corner. She found the hall empty. The door to Jake’s room stood closed.

  She laughed self-consciously as she stepped into the hall. Her nerves were obviously shot. And Marmaduke sure as hell wasn’t helping matters.

  Suddenly, the air stirred about her, teasing her hair and seeping into the fabric of her housecoat.

  Someone was in the hall with her.

  Pivoting, Margot searched the shadows around her. Her bare toe hit something on the hall mat. She looked down. A set of her keys to the lab. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She picked them up. They were warm to the touch.

  “Hello?”

  Her whisper washed over the hall and died into silence.

  Unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching, Margot backed out of the hall and into in the kitchen. With a shaky hand, she put the keys back on the empty hook on the wall beside the doorway to the laundry room.

  No. It couldn’t be. They’d only been childhood stories, made up scary tales between Johnny and her during long boring days stuck in the house as kids. There were no ghosts. Never had been. Still, her hand wouldn’t stop trembling. After all...Johnny was dead. Which could mean it might be him who— No. Impossible.

  To hell with her headache. Margot needed a drink, something with a kick, anything to calm the wild beat of her pulse. She uncorked the bottle on the counter and drank the first glass without pause. The second, she savored. At the sink, she stood until tension eased from her limbs. Her pulse slowed and a numbness settled over her mind and body.

  Suddenly, Margot was exhausted. The funeral, the cries in the night, her fear for Marmaduke’s safety, and Johnny’s co-worker in the other room. And, of course, her overactive imagination. Ghosts. Really. She rested both hands against the kitchen counter and bowed her head.

  “Are you all right?”

  Margot whipped around, her robe billowing around her, and stumbled. She caught the counter with a steadying hand and found Jake in the doorway, the hall’s shadows clinging to his large frame. He still wore the same clothes he had on earlier. “Ah—yes. Of course. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “The same. Do you mind company?”

  She cleared her throat, trying to appear unfazed. “No. I can light a fire in the den. It won’t be so chilly in there.”

  The fire wasn’t such a good idea, Margot soon realized as she stood back and watched the flames put an intimate cast to the room. She glanced over at Jake beneath her lashes. Something about him fascinated her. Some inner energy, or magnetism. She couldn’t even begin to explain to herself never mind anyone else as to the reason why.

  He sat with a leg crossed over the knee in one of the high-backed chairs. The black clothing accented his lean frame and pallor. Maybe he was recovering from some surgery, an accident or a broken heart. He turned and caught her stare. Flushing, she swung around and sank down onto a matching chair. Already, she disliked those sunglasses. Because of them, she had yet to read his expression.

  “So tell me, how long have you—did you know Johnny?”

  “Almost four years.”

  “Mmmm. What was he like to work with?” She leaned forward.

  Jake glanced at the place where her robe gapped open, revealing the shadowy curve of her breasts. He could see why Malcolm had married her. She was gorgeous. All the right curves, and a face that would make even a dead man’s heart race. More than anything, she was completely unaware, or uncaring of her appeal.

  He smiled sadly. “He had a quirky sense of humor. You might say he was the optimist the department. But he pulled his weight. Out of everyone, I knew I could count on him. He was very much a team player. I can’t think of anyone who disliked him.”

  Before Margot turned to shield her face with the thick wall of her ebony hair, he caught sight of her expression. The anguish, the despair. Sudden affinity caught at his insides.

  “I’m glad he was well liked,” she whispered. “Malcolm showed up at the funeral. He was the only one from Miltronics. Then again, I wasn’t really expecting anyone. Northern Arizona’s quite a ways from Massachusetts. But I am surprised you hadn’t heard of the funeral.”

  Damn. She didn’t know. How could she not know about the fire, the dozen people who died? What did it mean? Was she so out of touch with the world around her? He decided to keep the news to himself, and, instead, cleared his throat. “I don’t work there anymore.”

  She swiveled in her chair to look at him. She had beautiful, bold, brown eyes with thick winged brows that accented their rich color. She looked innocent. But could she really be, having been married to Malcolm? Jake wished to hell he knew.

  “You must have known Malcolm then. My ex-husband.” The alcohol had thickened and added a roll to the end of her words, giving her voice an oddly sexy intonation. But even the wine didn’t relax the tightness to her lips.

  “Somewhat. I was in a different division.” Which was a damn lie. “I know he wasn’t the most popular person around.” Which wasn’t.

  She leaned back against the high-backed chair, exposing the long column of her throat to the fire’s glow. “I can believe it. He’s a very stubborn man. Too much at times. But so very smart and logical. And ambitious.”

  He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I’ll grant him that.”

  As she turned the wine glass in her hand, the flames from the fireplace flickered through the crystal. As she stared at it, her expression turned thoughtful. She bit down on her lower lip. “You didn’t happen to hear anything earlier tonight, did you?”

  He shifted in his chair. “No. Why?”

  She shrugged. “I thought...I guess I must have just heard a coyote.”

  The sigh of the gas fire in the hearth enveloped the room. He watched as she sank deeper into her chair and laid a cheek against a brocade throw cushion.

  When she yawned behind the back of her hand, he rose from his chair. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

  She sent him a rueful, sleepy smile. “I’ll try.”

  Jake went to his own room to sleep, but after an hour of battling with his sheets and a racing mind, he gave up and slipped from his room. Light from the den illuminated the hall in a soft, yellow glow. He entered the room. Gas flames still danced around the ceramic logs in the fireplace, their light revealing Margot asleep in the chair where he’d left her. Somehow, she’d retained a grasp on her wine glass without spilling its contests.

  He walked over to her. Bending, he eased the partially f
illed glass gently from her fingers and placed it on the end table. She shifted but didn’t wake.

  Jake noticed she’d downed far too much alcohol tonight. Could it be because of a guilty conscience? Or something more? Yet the reason might be simply because she’d just buried her brother.

  None of the wine had spilled onto her robe, part of which had slipped from one creamy shoulder to reveal a red satin nightgown. Her skin looked as silken as the gown shimmering against the firelight.

  His chest tightened.

  Unable to stop the impulse, he reached down and curled a finger around a lock of her satiny hair. She stirred. The ebony strand slipped through his fingers to curve against her cheek, and her lips parted. They were wide and bow shaped. So damn kissable.

  But was Margot really delicate? Was she like her brother, John, whom he’d trusted and respected? Or did that face hide something hard and unfeeling? Something just as ruthless as Malcolm? After all, she’d married Malcolm. At some point she’d been attracted to him.

  He sighed. Who was he to judge? He was far from anyone’s Prince Charming. And what did it matter? Either way, she was unattainable.

  He pulled a crocheted blanket from a basket by the chair and draped her in its warm folds. For one long moment, he watched her as yearning and loneliness sank and pooled deep in his gut. Then he slipped silently from the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  “So what’s he like?”

  “Who?” Margot acted dumb as she hid behind the evening paper and pretended to read the business section. She didn’t particularly like being reminded of how she’d let alcohol and her bad judgment convince her to rent a room to Johnny’s co-worker.

  Joyce Hoffman grunted. “Your house guest, renter, whatever you want to call him.”

  “He’s okay. Did you know the Dow lost 120 points yesterday?”

  Pressing down on the newspaper between Margot’s two hands, Joyce crumpled it against the restaurant’s table. “Just ‘Okay’?”