Was he involved with Alice Howard’s murder? Abby shook her head. She didn’t want to let herself believe it. If she did, she would run from this castle as fast and hard as she could ... and Miranda was still missing. She had to find her.
She pushed her suspicions to the back of her mind and focused on the article. Alice Howard had been employed in a shop called The Chiming Lady, owned by Emily Good Howard, the victim’s mother. Alice had been strangled with a set of chimes tied around her neck.
There was a picture of the young woman in question. She was beautiful and, according to the paper, Abby’s age when she died. How horrible. Gently, Abby touched the photo. What a tragedy to lose someone so young. Ms. Townsend’s prediction and Alice’s murder had to be a coincidence. She certainly didn’t believe in psychic predictions.
Thunder rumbled, and rain pounded harder against the windowpanes. She moved her chair in front of Devlin’s computer.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
She drilled the importance of telling the truth and always being honest into her students. But what choice did she have? Another creak sounded from the hallway. She glanced toward the door, but heard nothing more. She exhaled and then touched the mouse. The main menu appeared. As luck would have it, he had not shut down his computer, making it easy for her to access some of his files.
This is wrong. I should find another way. But how?
She shoved her guilt to the pit of her stomach and decided to begin her search with Devlin’s personal files. She scanned the list of names in his address book first and found a listing for Jeremiah Dawson Tate. She thought about the new man in Miranda’s life -- his initials were J.D. Were they one and the same? Making a mental note to try and get in touch with him tomorrow, she printed a copy of his address and phone number.
Next she checked his calendar, starting with January, and saw monthly listings of guests who were planning to stay at the castle. She found Miranda’s name and her length of stay listed under the month of July. According to the original dates, she was supposed to stay a whole week. But Devlin had said he only allowed visitors for one weekend a month -- three days. Why would he agree to let Miranda stay for a week?
She noticed he’d given Miranda a sizeable cut in the normal fee. Why? Abby closed the address book program and clicked on his Internet service provider logo. He had stored his password. She brought up his e-mail and scanned the first few messages before one caught her eye. Subject header: J. No return address. She clicked and began to read.
* * * *
Devlin pumped his legs and arms faster, harder. His muscles protested the extra effort, but he only grimaced against the pain and kept running on the treadmill. He gloried in the rush of heat through his veins. The breath heaved from his lungs and stung the back of his throat. He drove himself harder. Then harder still.
The shame that incessantly gnawed away at him lessened, and his uneasy spirit settled. At least for now.
He’d survived one more day.
After his workout, he wiped his face with the towel slung casually around his neck and headed toward the downstairs to his office to catch up on some work. He’d reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward his office when he noticed that the door stood ajar. A blue light flickered through the door’s opening. Otis never went in there alone, and if he ever did, he would certainly turn on a light.
A jolt of adrenaline kicked his heart into his throat. He was in the castle! Finally, a chance to stop him.
Devlin padded softly down the hallway, not wanting to alert the person of his approach. Upon reaching the office entrance, he slowly pushed the door open. Abby’s head popped up over the top of his computer monitor.
“You little spy! What the hell are you doing?” Devlin ground out the words, not bothering to suppress his anger.
The bright blue light from the computer illuminated the startled expression on her heart-shaped face. Devlin sucked in a deep breath and felt his galloping pulse settle. Relief swamped him at not finding the intruder he expected in the castle, but at the same time, fury at discovering Abby in his office made him see red.
She reached for the mouse and clicked as he flipped the light switch. The sudden glow from the brass desk lamp filled the study with soft, ambient light. He walked to his desk and flicked his gaze to the computer screen, which displayed the main menu, then back to her face. “I asked you a question.”
Nervously, she played with the drawstring on her pullover and stood up. “I had some trouble connecting to the Internet from my room, so I thought I’d give your computer a try.” She carefully averted her gaze. “I just wanted to check my e-mail. I signed in as a guest, and I’ll pay you for the time I spent online.”
She tried to step around him, but he simply shifted to the side, blocking her. Her gaze shot to his, and her pretty, violet eyes widened slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to the kitchen and make some tea.”
“In a minute.” Her enticing scent wafted past his nose. She smelled like something impossibly warm and soft. It soothed him somehow, a comforting deep inside, deep down where his demons hid, ready to pounce on him in a quiet moment. They shrank into the darkness, and something eased inside him.
How was that possible? No woman had ever touched him that way -- in his soul.
He turned and looked at the correspondence he’d left on his desk. Damn it, she’d been rifling through it. All of his business papers, including bills and reservation invoices, were always kept in pristine order.
Now they lay in a disordered pile. Some of them had even fallen on the floor. One of her sneaker-clad feet crunched an invoice beneath its heel. The ease that had soothed him a moment before morphed back into anger at seeing his personal papers treated in such a cavalier way.
With irritation driving him, he leaned over, grabbed her ankle, and lifted her foot from the paper.
“Oh, I’m -- I’m sorry.”
Devlin rose and laid the paper on the desktop. “Save your apology.”
His gaze swung to a single sheet of paper in the printer’s tray. Abby followed his line of sight. Her light pink tongue slicked over her top lip, thinner than her full bottom one. His gut tightened with desire. Obviously too much time had passed without him being with a woman.
She made a grab for the paper, but he managed to snatch it from her fingers. He glanced at the sheet. “You want to explain this? I thought you were checking e-mail.” He attempted to control his annoyance, but failed.
She tilted her chin, an action that was becoming all too familiar to him. “I was -- I mean, I did -- but I saw a file marked Wolf Island Guest Brochure and thought it might give me a head start on putting together some of the information for the website.”
She lifted a hand and brushed the brown pixie bangs out of her eyes. Reddish gold streaked her straight, shoulder-length hair. “I saw the address book and thought I might work up a group e-mail to send to some of the guests who have been here before and had an e-mail address -- to inform them that the new website would be up and running soon.” She finished her explanation on a breathless note.
“No website. You won’t have time. The first ferry leaves at nine. You’ll be on it.”
She continued to rub the drawstring between her thumb and forefinger, her gaze pinned to his. How would those feminine fingers feel caressing his skin? Sure and confident, or shy and tentative? Through the opening in her pullover, he saw the edge of a white tank top and admired the hint of shadow between her breasts -- breasts that would fit perfectly in his hands.
“Maybe we could make a deal.” She brought his attention back to her face and away from his libidinous thoughts.
“What kind of deal?” He tried to tamp down the attraction he felt for her, but didn’t have much success.
“Two days. Just give me two days.” She had confidence; he’d give her that. “I’ll go into the village, talk to as many locals as I can, and get their opinion on building a website. If the majority of them agree it’
s a good idea and want to go ahead with it, then you give me a few extra days to take pictures, interview people, and start working on the site. Once the site is built, I can do the maintenance, add any updates, and make changes for free.”
“You seem to know what you’re doing.”
She smiled, and excitement lit her eyes. “You agree, then?”
Danger snapped at his heels. If she stayed, she’d be in danger, too. And he would have put her there. “No, you leave first thing in the morning.” He deliberately sharpened his tone in order to make his intentions clear. “Staying a few extra days is out of the question.”
“But --”
“No buts.” He wadded up the piece of paper with J.D.’s name and address on it and tossed it into the trashcan beside his desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Chapter Four
Devlin watched Abby from the darkened stairs to make sure she went back to her room. He didn’t like having found her snooping around the castle. He had never come inside the castle, but there was always a first time.
Things had been too quiet the last few days, like waiting for the other shoe to drop. No, it wasn’t safe. He couldn’t let her stay. The click of her bedroom door sounded down the hallway, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The indignation that had dogged him since he’d found her accessing his computer eased a little now that she was safe inside her room and away from his office. But desire still hummed through his blood.
Why couldn’t he make these feelings go away? Even as his mind formed the question, he already knew the answer. Thoroughly loving this woman might ease the guilty shame he carried like a hot stone in his heart. He wanted her, but he held himself back. He had to.
The only reason he had come on to her in the first place was to scare her off. He’d figured a British schoolteacher like her would go running back to England if he so much as touched her. Only, his plan to pretend to seduce her had backfired.
What was it about Abby in particular? Why should such a prissy, English woman tie him up in knots? He knew in an instant. He liked her prim manner, the way she held her head and folded her hands in front of her, the set of her mouth when he irritated her.
He admired her quick, intuitive mind. Even though he hadn’t liked finding her in his private office, he respected her for going to such lengths to locate Miranda. She made him feel proud of her, for some odd reason. Could she ever feel proud of him? He shook his head. Not a chance. If she knew the truth about his past, she would turn away in disgust.
Lightning flickered through the downstairs windows, briefly illuminating the paintings hanging on the stairs. Devlin couldn’t help but look up at the portrait of his mother. He drank in the sight of her even as he relived the hurt and pain of her rejection. He longed for just one smile from her lips, one gentle touch of her hands.
He wanted that more than he wanted to live, but knew he would go on wanting it for the rest of his life. Even though she lived in Boston, he could never go and see her. She hated him. Nothing he could ever do would change that.
After his birth, she’d thrust him into the waiting arms of his paternal grandparents to raise, unable to bear the sight of him even then.
His own mother loathed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take down her portrait. He needed to see her face, to know that a part of her still lived in him and cast a ray of goodness on the ugliness he held inside.
Devlin skimmed his gaze over her delicate features, the soft, gray of her eyes, the gentle curve of her mouth. Her legs were slim and tucked to the side as she sat on a white velvet chair.
He thought about that chair and knew it occupied a corner of Abby’s room. He wanted to see Abby sit in that chair and look at him with gentleness in her eyes.
The last time Devlin had seen his mother, he was barely seven. He’d taken a trip to Boston with his grandmother. He’d begged her to take him by his mother’s house. She’d been standing in the garden, clipping roses, when her gaze lifted and she saw him. He would never forget the revulsion he’d seen on her face.
He closed his eyes and let himself remember. His grandmother had put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. He could still hear the gentle sound of her whispered words: “Don’t ever forget that I love you.”
Devlin shook away the bittersweet memory and headed back to his office. He walked to his desk. Little castles floated across the screen of the computer that hummed quietly on the desktop. On one corner of the granite top, the fax machine tray brimmed with messages he’d received late in the evening.
He picked up the stack and settled into the chair behind his desk. The first fax was from Dr. Robin Hale, the head scientist in charge of research for Morgan Research and Development.
As he read, a grin spread over his face. The scientists had made a breakthrough in their efforts to find a new drug to help treat the devastating effects of schizophrenia. A tiny chip of the guilt he continuously nursed dissolved.
Researching drugs to heal people, lessoning their pain and giving them a better life, helped him draw closer to justifying his existence.
A couple of hours later, he rose from his chair to light the fire in the hearth and realized he was out of wood. Leaving his office, he walked through the kitchen and out the side door to the woodpile.
A strong wind whipped the rain around him, quickly soaking through his clothes. He turned back toward the door and stumbled to a halt. His fingers dug painfully into the coarse wood.
Damn it, not again.
A small bundle lay to one side of the kitchen door, half hidden in the shadows. Still as death. Devlin’s heart raced, and his breath lodged in his throat. He set down the firewood and approached the bundle while dread built with each step.
Newspaper.
Bending down on one knee, Dev touched the bundle. Warmth seeped into his fingers. He pulled back the top fold of paper and shuddered. Inside were the remains of a dead gull. A set of chimes was tied about its small neck.
Devlin glanced around the grounds for any movement, but the darkness and steadily increasing rain revealed nothing. He did notice some muddy footprints near the kitchen entrance.
Footprints. Larger than his own.
The rain fell harder now, the drops soaking the gull’s white feathers. Devlin squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. He opened his eyes and thought about the little orange kitten he’d left napping in front of his bedroom fireplace. If the bastard ever harmed that tiny animal, he’d -- Quickly, he covered up the carcass with the newspaper and left the wood and the remains of the gull lying on the stoop as he went back inside.
Moments later, he lifted the receiver of the phone on his desk and dialed. The tired, sleepy voice of the sheriff crackled over the line. “Sheriff Dutton.”
Devlin explained what he had found. This was the second gruesome calling card he’d discovered on the castle grounds since --
“Dev.” Jake interrupted his thoughts. “I got a call this evening from the Maine State Police. Remember I told you that when he escaped from the institution, he beat that guard nearly to death? Well, the guard died today.”
The news of the guard’s death settled on Devlin’s soul like a black pall. He raked a hand through his hair, leaned back in his chair, and huffed out a breath. “How many more people have to die before this nightmare ends?” Weariness nearly overwhelmed him.
“None. We’ll catch him.” Jake’s voice radiated confidence.
Devlin slammed his palm down onto the surface of his desk. “How?” He rose from his chair, and paced to the windows, gripping the cordless phone in his hand. He stared through the glass into the darkness. With each flash of lightning, the silvery drops of rain glowed on the grass. Wind ruffled the leaves of a birch tree growing next to the nearest window.
He finally fixed his gaze on his reflection in the windowpane. Every time he looked into a mirror, he saw his father’s face, and it was abhorrent to him. Devlin closed his eyes.
He balled one hand into a fist at
his side and squeezed. Hard. “How do you stop a mad man?” Even though he knew his past would once again be the focus of everyone on the island, there was nothing else for it. What choice did he have? He was certain the monster was back on Wolf Island, and the citizens had to know. Their lives depended on it. “Call an emergency town meeting first thing in the morning so we can warn everyone.”
“And tell them what?” Jake’s calm, clear voice grated on his nerves. “That you found a dead seagull and you think you know who did it? I don’t think he’ll show up nice and convenient to turn himself in.”
“He’s been caught before.” Devlin had to make him understand. “And he was put away. We can put him away again.”
“Ayah, but he wants to finish what he started.”
“And the people who live on this island have the right to know that their lives are in danger!” Devlin shouted into the phone. “Why the hell didn’t we say something before?”
“Because we have to be smart this time, or he’ll slip through our fingers. Besides, what about all the tourists who have been pouring in here this summer, throwing money around?” Jake emphasized his words. “How do you think everybody is going to react when you chase off all the sightseers just because you found a dead gull and you think he’s back? This is the biggest year this island has ever had.”
Ice surrounded Devlin’s heart. “He’s here, and he has to be stopped!”
“We’ll catch him, Devlin.” Jake’s placating tone irritated him. “But we need to tread carefully. If we make an announcement, the tourists will leave and he’ll disappear ... until the urge to kill has him crawling out of his dark hole.”
“Jake, what you’re saying makes sense, but the bastard’s playing with us. He left a dead gull this time. He’ll wait until he’s ready to push us over the edge ... then he’ll leave a body.”
Wolf Island Page 4