by Laura Scott
“Even knowing Rich has the computer skills to do something like this?” Jazz gestured to the blank computer screen.
Deputy Lewis looked pained. “It’s not like he’s the only one in the entire country with good computer skills. For all we know this could be the work of some overseas hacker. Isn’t that where most of the viruses originate?”
Dalton’s temper began to simmer. “Come on, first the brick, then the gazebo, and now her website? It’s not an overseas hacker, these are all too much of a coincidence. It’s clear these various attacks are all targeted specifically at Jazzlyn. Whoever is doing this doesn’t want the B and B to be a success.”
“I still haven’t heard from your former fiancé, Tom Duris,” Deputy Lewis said, turning toward Jazz. “You should try calling him. He may return your phone call rather than talking to the police.”
Jazz wrinkled her nose as if she detested the idea, but then reluctantly nodded. “Okay, but I’m not sure Tom is knowledgeable enough to wipe out my website either.”
“I understand,” Deputy Lewis said with a nod. “But at this point, I’d be thrilled to eliminate even one suspect from the list.”
Jazz picked up her phone and stared at it for a minute, her expression clearly portraying her reluctance to make the call. Then she dialed a number she must have had memorized. Tom didn’t pick up, so she left a message. “Hi, Tom, it’s Jazz. I’d like to talk so please give me a call on my cell.” She rattled off the number, then disconnected from the call. She almost looked relieved. “I doubt I’ll hear from him.”
“Do you have any other way of getting in touch with him?” Deputy Lewis asked. “Email?”
“Yes. I can try that, too.” She grimaced. “I guess I could call my former bridesmaid, Megan.”
“Why would your friend know where to find Tom?” Dalton asked.
She hesitated as if debating how much to tell them. “Because I believe they’re still seeing each other. I caught them kissing after the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding. It’s the reason I called off the ceremony at the last minute.”
“Oh, I see.” Dalton mentally kicked himself for bringing up such a sensitive subject in front of the deputy.
Grim-faced, Jazz dialed another number, subtly moving away from the two men. Dalton gestured for the deputy to come into the living room to give her privacy.
“I still think the Stevensons are the most likely suspects here,” he said in a low tone. “There was a light on in the kitchen last night, but no car in the driveway. Maybe you could have a deputy swing by more often, see if you can catch one of them coming in or out of the house.”
“I went over to knock on the door this morning, after you told me about seeing that light. No one answered.”
“But if they’re trying to hide, they wouldn’t answer.” Dalton knew he was acting a bit irrational, but he just had a feeling about the place. “Tell me who else would care about the B and B? The Stevenson house is the closest property and has the most to lose in property value if the McNally twins are successful.”
The deputy nodded. “You have a point. I’ll post a deputy near the driveway. In the meantime, if you notice anything else out of the ordinary, please let me know.”
As far as Dalton could tell, everything about the vandalism against Jazzlyn was out of the ordinary, but he didn’t say anything more as Jazz joined them.
“Believe it or not, Megan claims she’s not dating Tom any longer and has absolutely no idea where he might be.”
“You look surprised,” Dalton said.
Jazz nodded. “I am. When I caught them kissing”—she lifted a palm in a helpless gesture—“I assumed they’d been seeing each other for months. Plus, my sister heard they were dating. Megan claims Tom cheated on her, so she dumped him, which really is no surprise.”
Dalton couldn’t imagine finding your fiancé kissing your best friend. “If he cheated on you, it’s no stretch to think he cheated on her.”
“You’re right.” Jazz took a deep breath and then let it out in a whoosh. “Regardless, she doesn’t know where Tom is, so all we can do is wait to see if he’ll call me back.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the Stevenson place, too,” Deputy Lewis promised. “I’m sorry about your website.”
“Me, too.” Jazz’s expression was gloomy. “I really hope Jesse can fix it.”
Her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, and her shoulders slumped with relief. “My brother,” she said as she answered it.
Deputy Lewis edged toward the door, so Dalton followed him outside. He stood on Jazz’s front porch and glanced over at the Stevenson place. From here, he had a fairly clear view of the driveway, although there were a few pine trees separating the two properties, enough that he couldn’t quite visualize the front door.
“I’ll be in touch,” Deputy Lewis said. He walked to the squad car and then slid behind the wheel.
Dalton stared at the Stevenson house, wondering if he should pitch his tent next to the pine tree barrier between the properties so he could keep an eye on the place for himself. It would leave the gazebo vulnerable, though, so he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk.
Better to let the sheriff’s office keep an eye on the Stevensons. And later that night, he’d go back to sleeping in the tent the way he should have been doing all along.
It was probably the only place on the property that didn’t smell like Jazzlyn. Besides, he shouldn’t get accustomed to sleeping in a soft bed.
Just as he was turning to go inside, he caught a glimpse of a vehicle driving up the Stevenson driveway. In a heartbeat, he ran over to the edge of the property to get a glimpse of who was behind the wheel.
He figured for sure the driver would be either Mark or Rich, but he was wrong. A beautiful woman slid out from behind the wheel with long curly red hair. She wore a business suit, which he thought was odd.
Before he could approach her, she popped the trunk and walked around to pull something out. It was large and bulky, and it took him a minute to realize it was a For Sale sign.
He pushed between the trees and waved. “Hi! May I ask what you’re doing here?”
The woman flashed a thousand-watt smile. “My name is Melanie Ryerson, and I’m the real estate agent. Are you looking to buy a place?”
“The Stevensons are selling the property?” Dalton knew his assumption about the brothers was dead on. “Are they around? I wouldn’t mind talking to them.”
“They’re not here, but I’m happy to chat with you.” Melanie Ryerson was literally beaming with the thought of a quick sale. “I think the price Mr. Stevenson is asking for is reasonable, considering the property sits on the lake.”
“Which Mr. Stevenson?” Dalton wanted a name. “Mark or Rich? I know both of them, just curious as to which one hired you.”
“Mark, but he did inform me that his brother owns half the property as well.” She propped the sign against the side of her sedan and walked toward him with her hand out expectantly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. . . .”
“O’Brien,” he said, taking her hand. “And you may know the owner of the McNally Mansion, Ms. Jazzlyn McNally.”
“Yes, I tried to convince her to list the property with me after her grandmother passed away. But she said her family wasn’t interested in selling.” Melanie brightened. “Do you think they’d like to buy this house, too?”
Dalton doubted that either Jazz or her siblings could afford to buy the place. And that wasn’t the point. Knowing the Stevensons had listed the house mere moments after Jazzlyn’s website crashed was another coincidence.
One he wasn’t about to ignore.
9
Her brother was a genius, at least when it came to computer software. Not only was Jesse able to rebuild her website, but he found the emails imbedded in the previous website that had been sent to her guests confirming their reservations. Since he was working on it, she asked him to add a personal email as well, so that was another task checked off her to-do list.
She still needed to reenter the updates she’d done early that morning, but at least the B&B website was back up and running.
Jesse had changed her log-in name and password, too. Hopefully, the additional level of security meant the vandal couldn’t break in and create havoc with her website again.
Crisis averted. She let out a deep breath and relaxed. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Dalton had spackled the drywall in the blue room while she’d been on the phone with her brother, and when he’d finished that, he’d come downstairs and insisted on cooking dinner.
He’d chosen something simple, hamburgers and a salad, but she didn’t mind. Any food she didn’t have to cook was a bonus in her book. Besides, after everything that had happened, she was extremely grateful to have Dalton around.
If she’d been here alone with all this going on—she suppressed a shiver, unsure how she would have handled the series of disasters without support.
This latest attack on her business was truly upsetting. Especially since she had no idea what the vandal would do next. Physical damage was one thing, but cyber damage was something else. No ordinary person could be skillful at both of them.
Could they?
“Here you go,” Dalton said, bringing over a plate full of juicy hamburgers.
“Thanks, Dalton,” she murmured with a weary smile. “They look delicious.”
“Normally I’m the king of grilling out, but I didn’t see one outside.” He dropped into the chair across from her at the table.
She glanced up. “I didn’t realize the campsites have grills for you to use.”
He froze for a nanosecond, then slowly nodded. “Some of them do.” Averting his gaze, he reached for a burger and took a bite.
She had the impression that his claim of being king of the grilling had been a reference to a previous life, not the drifter one he was living now. Swallowing her curiosity about his past wasn’t easy. “The only meal we’re offering on a regular basis is breakfast, so there isn’t a desperate need for a grill. But maybe once we’re settled in we can add that to our wish list.”
Dalton nodded, his expression guarded. “Speaking of campsites, I plan on sleeping in the tent tonight. Better to be outside in case there’s another attempt on the gazebo. I still believe the Stevenson brothers are the ones behind all this.”
Two people, one attacking her property, the other waging a cyberattack. She couldn’t disagree with his assumption that the Stevenson brothers were the prime suspects.
Would they keep coming after her? Even now? The thought of her beautifully and freshly painted gazebo being broken to smithereens made her feel sick to her stomach. Yet at the same time, she didn’t like the idea of Dalton placing himself in danger.
“It’s certainly starting to look as if Mark and Rich are the masterminds behind this,” she agreed, taking another bite of her hamburger. Hmm, delicious. “Our families were never close, the way you would think they should be, even with the age differences. Rich and Mark never wanted anything to do with us kids and went out of their way to make sure we weren’t welcome at their get-togethers. Add to that how they’ve recently put their house on the market . . .” She shrugged.
“They’re probably hoping they can sell it off before your business is up and running,” Dalton said. “I’ve asked Deputy Lewis to make sure he has a deputy stationed nearby to watch the place tonight.”
She couldn’t hide her relief. “That’s great news. And since there will be a cop nearby, there’s absolutely no reason for you to sleep in the tent.”
Once again, he averted his gaze as if his burger was something to be studied. “I’d rather sleep outside; it’s no problem.”
“Trying to avoid me, huh?” She’d meant to sound teasing, but that’s not how the words came out of her mouth. They hung in the air, shimmering with hurt.
Dalton lifted his eyes to meet hers, his gaze serious. “Nothing has changed, Jazz. I’m only staying long enough to get the renovations done, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. A few times now.” She tried to hide her annoyance. “Makes me wonder, exactly which one of us are you trying to convince?”
He hesitated and shrugged. “Both of us. I never thought I’d like working with a partner, but I like working with you. Maybe too much.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I like working with you, too. And I’m glad you’re here, Dalton. Not just for the heavy physical work, but because I really enjoy your company. I think we make a great team.”
He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “That’s exactly the problem. You’re making a life for yourself here. But for me, this is nothing more than a pleasant interlude.”
“Your choice, Dalton.” She was tired of pussy-footing around the subject of his past. “You could choose to stay and build a life for yourself, too. If not here, then somewhere else. Haven’t you figured out by now that you can’t run away from your problems? They’ll follow you regardless of how fast and far you choose to run.”
His cheeks flushed, and his eyes turned dark with repressed anger. “You don’t know anything about my problems.”
“Only because you haven’t shared them with me.” Her tone was laced with frustration. “You know the truth about what I’ve been going through. I’ve told you I called off my wedding the night before the ceremony because I caught my ex-fiancé cheating with my bridesmaid after the rehearsal dinner. You also know my sister is having problems with her ex-husband.”
He didn’t say anything in response.
“I’m right here, Dalton,” she said encouragingly. “I’m ready and willing to listen if you decide you’d like to talk.”
He was silent for another full minute. She figured he’d finish his meal and disappear when he softly said, “Talking about it won’t bring them back.”
Them? As in more than one person? Her stomach clenched with dread. “Who?”
Another infinitely long pause. “My wife and six-month-old son.”
“Oh, Dalton.” She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. Her heart ached for what he’d been through. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He stared down at her hand covering his for a moment, then shook off her touch, leaning back in his seat as if to keep his distance. “I’m sorry, too. Because the worst part is, I’m the one who caused their deaths.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said, instinctively denying his claim.
“You should,” he said in a harsh tone. He abruptly stood, leaving his half-eaten second burger on his plate. “Because it’s true. My wife and my son died because of me.”
He disappeared into the master bedroom for less than a minute before heading outside. He closed the French doors behind him, and she watched as he crawled inside the small red tent.
Jazz drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d finally told her the truth, but she didn’t feel better knowing he’d lost his wife and young son. And she suspected he didn’t feel any better either.
In fact, she sensed she’d only made things worse.
He seemed so convinced that he was at fault. The Dalton she’d come to know over these past several days couldn’t have done anything harmful to anyone. Quite the opposite. Dalton had proved himself to be considerate and protective.
But what did she really know about the man he’d been before he’d become a drifter?
Absolutely nothing.
Sleeping on the cold hard ground after a couple of days in a nice warm bed was pure torture. How in the world had he gotten so soft, so fast?
Dalton had no idea but sternly told himself to get over it. He didn’t deserve warmth and comfort. Not anymore.
And what possessed him to tell Jazz about how he’d lost his wife and son? He hadn’t told anyone along his drifter journey about his past life, keeping the secret closely guarded deep in his heart.
He still couldn’t believe he’d babbled to Jazz. Not all the gory details about the extent of his failure, but enough. He to
ok some comfort in the fact that she would now understand why he couldn’t stay to make a life for himself here in McNally Bay the way she’d suggested.
No matter how tempting it was to try to do just that.
Wait a minute, what was he thinking? Sure, this was a nice place and he enjoyed being on the water. But staying near Jazzlyn would be dangerous on an emotional level.
He was having a difficult enough time keeping his hands off her as it was.
Kissing was off-limits, remember?
He rolled over in his sleeping bag, wincing as his hip landed on a rock. He shifted to one side and then tried to fall asleep.
His eyes shot open, and he stared at the nylon side of his tent. Sleep was obviously not happening.
Dalton crawled out of the tent, the cold air wrapping around him like an icy blanket. Maybe if he walked the property for a while he’d wear himself out. Physical exertion was a strategy that had worked well for him in the past.
The sound of the water was soothing. He rounded the gazebo and noticed the small kitchen light was glowing again. It had to be on a timer, but he headed toward the Stevenson place anyway.
Aside from the light, there was no sign of anyone living there. He looked up at the Stevenson house and imagined building a screened in porch spanning the entire length of the house, overlooking the lake. Up close he could see that the wooden siding was chipped and peeling. When was the last time the brothers had painted the place?
Now that he thought about it, it was surprising that the home hadn’t been changed at all in what appeared to be at least thirty years, maybe more. Why hadn’t the Stevenson brothers put any money into updating it?
Was the inside as old-fashioned looking as the outside? If so, the price of the home wouldn’t be nearly as high as he originally assumed.
Although what did it matter? It wasn’t as if he was looking to buy the place. When he’d walked away from his old life, he’d left whatever money he’d had socked away behind. And he hadn’t touched a dime of it.