“What is that?” Trevor pointed to the symbol ground into the throw rug near the window.
Jessica took a deep breath. “Some people believe that they can invoke the aid of spirits, Trevor, by using certain ceremonies. What you’re looking at is a crude magician’s ring.” She stared, mesmerized, at the two circles, one within the other, made from the ash of several sticks of incense.
“What does it mean?”
“Nothing at this point, there’s nothing in it.” Jessica’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip. Two circles meant nothing. It was simply a starting point. “Some people believe that you can’t make contact with spirits without a magic circle drawn and consecrated. The symbols invoking the spirit and also for protection would be inside.” She sighed softly. “Let’s check Tara’s room and then yours, just to be on the safe side.”
“You’re shaking,” Trevor pointed out.
“Am I?” Jessica rubbed her hands up and down her arms, determined not to scream. “It must be the cold.” She wanted to run to Dillon, to have him hold her, to comfort her, but she knew the minute he saw that symbol he would throw each and every one of the band members out. And he would never try to make his music again.
“I want to go get Dad,” Trevor said, as they entered Tara’s room. “I don’t like this at all.”
Jessica shook her head. “Neither do I, but we can’t tell your father just yet. You don’t know him the way I do. He has an incredible sense of responsibility.” She took his arm as they entered Tara’s room. “Don’t shake your head—he does. He didn’t leave you alone because he didn’t love you. He left you alone because he believed it was the right thing to do for you.”
“Baloney!” Trevor poked around the room, making certain the window was securely closed and that no one had disturbed his sister’s things. “How could he believe that leaving was the right thing to do, Jessie?”
“After the fire he spent a year in the hospital, and then he had over a year of physical therapy. You have no idea how painful it is to recover from the type of burns your father suffered. The kinds of things he had to endure. And then the trial dragged on for nearly two years. Not the actual trial, but the entire legal process. No one actually found the murderer so Dillon wasn’t freed from suspicion. You had to know him. He took responsibility for everyone. He took the blame for everything that happened. He’s his own worst enemy. In his mind he failed Vivian, the band, you kids, even my mother and me. I don’t want to take a chance that he might quit his music. Someone wants us to go away and they know what frightens me. But they directed this prank at me, not at you.”
“I knew you thought someone was trying to hurt us.” Trevor shook his head as they walked into his room. “You should have told me. That’s why you brought us to him.”
She nodded. “He would never allow anything to happen to you. Never.”
They finished the examination of Trevor’s room. It was immaculate; he hadn’t even pretended to be using it. “What was all that business about insurance money? Does Brenda really have a policy on us? Can she do that? It freaks me out.”
“Unfortunately, it sounds as if she has. I intend to talk to your father about it at the earliest opportunity.” Jessica sighed again. “I don’t understand any of this. Why would someone want us gone enough to try to scare us with a magic circle? They all know Dillon, they must realize he’d throw off the island whoever is trying to scare me. If the music is so important to them, why risk it?”
“I think it’s Brenda,” Trevor said. “Robert doesn’t have any more money and she’s looking at my dad. You come along and Dad’s looking at you. Jealousy rears its ugly head. Case solved. It’s the cold-hearted woman looking for the cash every time.”
“Thank you, Sherlock, blame it on the woman, why don’t you. Let’s go back downstairs and find Tara. She’s probably already cleaned the kitchen.”
“Why do you think I’m stalling up here?”
Jessica was glad the tea towel was still in her hand. She snapped it at him as she followed him downstairs.
To Trevor’s delight, Tara had tidied the kitchen so the three of them spent the next couple of hours exploring the house. It was fun discovering the various rooms. Dillon had antique and brand-new musical instruments of all kinds. There was a game room consisting of all the latest video and DVD equipment. Jessica had to drag Trevor out of a poolroom. The weight room caught her interest, but the twins dragged her out. Eventually they settled in the library, curled up together on the deep couch surrounded by books and antiques. Jessica found the Dickens Christmas classic and began to read it aloud to the twins.
“Jess! Damn it, Jess, where are you?” The voice came roaring out of the basement. Clipped. Angry. Frustrated.
Jessica slowly put the book aside as Dillon called for her a second time.
Tara looked frightened and reached for Jessica’s hand. Trevor burst out laughing. “You’re being yelled at, Jessie. I’ve never heard anyone yell at you before.”
Jessica rolled her eyes heavenward. “I guess I’d better go answer the royal command.”
“We’ll just go along with you,” Trevor decided, striving to sound casual as Dillon roared for her again.
Jessica hid her smile. Trevor was determined to protect her. She loved him all the more for it. “Let’s go then, before he has a stroke.”
“What did you do to make him so angry?” Tara asked.
“I certainly didn’t do anything,” Jessica replied indignantly. “How could I possibly make him angry?”
Trevor flicked her red-gold hair. “You could make the Pope angry, Jessie. And you bait him.”
“I do not!” Jessica chased him along the hall leading to the stairs. “Punky boy. An alien took you over in your sleep one night. You were good and sweet until then.”
Trevor was running backward, dancing just out of her reach, laughing as he neared the top of the stairway. “I’m still good and sweet, Jessie, you just can’t take hearing the truth.”
“I’ll show you truth,” Jessica warned, making a playful grab for him.
Trevor stepped backward onto the first stair and unexpectedly slipped, his foot going out from under him. For a moment he teetered precariously, his hands flailing wildly as he tried to catch the banister. Jessica could see the fear on his young face and lunged forward to grab him, choking on stark, mind-numbing terror. Her fingers skimmed the material of his shirt, but missed. Tara, holding out both hands to her twin, screamed loudly as Trevor fell away from them.
Dillon rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time, furious that Jessica hadn’t answered him when he knew damn well she’d heard him. Strangling her might not be a bad idea after she explained to that idiot Don what he was looking for. What was so difficult about hearing the right beat? The right pause? As Tara’s scream registered, he glanced up to see Trevor falling backward. For one moment time stood still, his heart lodged in his throat. The boy hit him hard, squarely in the chest, driving the air out of his lungs in one blast. Protectively he wrapped his arms around his son as they both tumbled down the stairs to land heavily on the basement floor.
Jessica started down the stairs, Tara in her wake. The moment her foot touched the first stair, she felt herself slide. Clutching the banister, she caught Tara. “Careful, baby, there’s something slippery on the stair.” They both clung to the banister as they rushed down.
“Are they dead?” Tara asked fearfully.
Jessica could hear muffled swearing and Trevor’s yelp of pain as Dillon ran his hands none too gently over his son to check for damage. “Doesn’t sound like it,” she observed. She knelt beside Trevor, her fingers pushing his hair from his forehead tenderly. “Are you all right, honey?”
“I don’t know.” Trevor managed a wry grin, still lying on top of his father.
Dillon caught Jessica’s hand, his thumb sliding over her inner wrist, feeling her frantic heartbeat. “He’s fine, he fell on top of me. I’m the one with all the bruises.” Fear, mixed with anger
, pulsed through his body. He hadn’t experienced such panic and dread in years. The sight of Trevor falling from the top of the stairs was utterly terrifying. “I can’t breathe, the kid weighs a ton.” Dillon didn’t know whether to hug Trevor or to shake him until his teeth rattled.
Jessica pushed back the unruly waves of hair falling into the center of Dillon’s forehead. “You’re breathing. Thanks for catching him.”
Her touch shook him. Dillon’s blue gaze burned over her face hungrily. It was painful to be jealous of his son, of the tender looks she gave him, the way she loved him. The way she was so at ease with him. Dillon wanted to drag her to him right there in front of everybody and kiss her. Devour her. Consume her. She was wreaking havoc with his body, breaking his heart and reopening every gaping laceration in his soul. She was making him feel things again, forcing him to live when it was so much better to be numb.
“And it was a great catch,” Trevor agreed.
Dillon shoved the boy to one side, glaring at him, furious that he had been so terrified, furious that his life was being turned upside down. “Stop fooling around, kid, you could have really been hurt. You’re too old to be playing so carelessly on the stairway. Roughhousing belongs outside, that way you don’t break things that don’t belong to you or injure innocent parties with your stupidity.”
The smile faded from Trevor’s face and color crept up his neck into his face. Tara gasped, outraged. “Trevor didn’t hurt your stupid staircase.”
“And you need to learn how to speak to adults, young lady,” Dillon concluded, switching his glare to her furious little face.
Jessica stood up, drawing Tara up with her. She reached down to help Trevor to his feet. “Trevor slipped on something on the stairs, just as I did, Dillon,” she informed him icily. “Perhaps, instead of jumping to conclusions about Trevor’s behavior, you should ask your other guests to be more careful and not spill things on the stairs that will send people flying.”
Dillon climbed to his feet slowly, his face an expressionless mask. “What’s on the stairs?”
“I didn’t stop and check,” Jessica answered.
“Well, let’s go see.” He started up the stairs with Jessica following him closely.
The top stair was shiny, a clear, oily substance covering it. Dillon hunkered down and studied it. “Looks like cooking oil, right out of the kitchen.” He glanced down at the twins who were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as if suspecting them.
“They didn’t spill oil here. They were with me,” Jessica snapped. She reached past him, touched the oil with a fingertip, and brought it to her mouth. “Vegetable oil. Someone must have poured this oil onto the stair.” Oil was used in magical ceremonies to invoke spirits. She remembered that piece of information all too well.
“Or accidentally spilled some and didn’t realize it.” Dillon’s blue gaze slid over her. “And I wasn’t accusing the kids, it didn’t occur to me they did this. Don’t jump to conclusions, Jess.”
“Let’s go ask the others,” she challenged him.
He sighed. “You’re angry with me.” He held out his leather-covered hand to her, an instinctive gesture. The moment he realized what he’d done, he dropped his hand to his side.
“Of course I’m angry with you, Dillon, what did you expect?” Jessica tilted her head to look up at him. “Don’t treat me like a child, and don’t use that infuriating patronizing voice on me either. I told you the accidents that have been happening at home could easily be explained away. I’ll guarantee you, no one in this house is going to admit to spilling cooking oil on the stairs.”
He shrugged. “So what if they don’t? This wasn’t directed at Trevor and Tara—how could it be? We’re recording down there. Why would anyone think the kids would come down? No one could possibly have predicted that I would be calling for you.”
“I disagree. I love music and I’m a sound engineer, and everyone here knows it. And you mentioned earlier in the kitchen that the twins could come down later and watch.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “Everyone, including Brenda, is in the studio. How do you explain that?”
“The twins were with me the entire time, Dillon,” Jessica countered, her green eyes beginning to smolder, “how do you explain that? And speaking of Brenda, why in the world would you give your consent to allow that woman to hold an insurance policy on you and your children?”
“She’s family, Jessie, it’s harmless enough, although costly,” he shrugged carelessly, “and it makes her feel a part of something.”
“It makes me feel like a vulture is circling overhead,” Jessica muttered. She followed him back down the stairs to where the twins waited expectantly.
“Hey, we’re wasting time,” Brian called. “Are you two going to come and work or are you going to discuss the positive versus the negative flow of the universe around us? What’s going on out there?”
“We fell down the stairs,” Dillon said grimly. “We’ll be right there.” He leaned close to Jessica. “Take a breath, Mama Tiger, don’t rip my head off,” Dillon teased, searching for a way to ease the tension between them. “Pull in the claws.” Her instant, fierce defense of his children amused and pleased him.
Jessica glared at the twins. Both backed away innocently, shaking their heads in unison, awed that their father knew their secret pet name for Jessica. “I didn’t tell him. Honest,” Trevor added, when she kept glaring. “And he didn’t mention fangs.”
“Does she have fangs?” Dillon asked his son, his eyebrow shooting up. He was so relieved the boy hadn’t hurt himself in the fall.
“Oh, yeah,” Trevor answered, “absolutely. In a heartbeat. Fear for your life if you mess with us.”
Dillon grinned suddenly, his face lighting up, mischief flickering for a brief moment in the deep blue of his eyes. “Believe me, son, I would.”
Trevor stood absolutely still, shaken at the emotion pouring into him at his father’s words. Jessica’s hand briefly touched his shoulder in silent understanding.
“Come on, Jessica, we could use a little help.” Dillon caught her arm and marched her down the hall as if she were his prisoner. He leaned close to her as they walked, his breath warm against her ear. “And I am not volatile.” He glanced back at the twins, beckoning to them. “If you two can keep quiet, you can come and watch. Brenda! I have a job for you.”
Jessica made a face at Trevor behind Dillon’s back that set the children laughing as Dillon dragged her into the sound room.
“A job?” Brenda stretched languidly as she stood up. “Surely not, Dillon. I haven’t actually worked in years. The idea is a bit on the daunting side.”
“I think you’ll find it easy enough. There’s oil on the stairway, a large amount of it. It makes the stairs dangerous and it needs to be cleaned up. My household staff is gone, we’re all pitching in, so this is your task for the day.”
Brenda widened her eyes in shocked dismay. “You can’t possibly be serious, Dillon. It was a terrible decision to allow your staff to leave. What were you thinking to do such a crazy thing?”
“That it was Christmastime and they might want to be with their families,” Dillon lied. The truth was he hadn’t wanted anyone to witness him falling flat on his face while he worked with the band. It was terrifying to think of the enormity of what he was doing. “You knew there was no staff, that we would be working. You agreed to help with the everyday chores if I allowed you to come.”
“Well, chores, of course. Fluffing the towels in the bathroom, not cleaning up a mess on the stairs. You,” she pointed to Tara, “surely you could do this little job.”
Before Tara could reply Dillon shook his head. “You, Brenda, get to it. Tara and Trevor, sit over there. Jessica, take a look at my notations and listen to the tracks and see if it makes any sense to you. I’m ready to pull out my hair here.” He pulled Jessica over to a chair, pressing down on her shoulders until she sat. “It’s a nightmare.”
Jessica waited until he wa
s safely in the studio before muttering her reply. “It is now. Working with Dillon Wentworth is going to be pure hell.” She winked at the twins. “Wait until you see him. He’s all passion and energy. Quicksilver. And he yells when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants.”
“Big surprise there,” Trevor said drolly.
Brenda threw a pencil onto the floor, a small rebellion. “That man is an overbearing, dominating madman when he’s working. I don’t know where he gets the mistaken idea he can boss me around.”
“True, but he’s a musical genius and he makes lots and lots of money for everyone,” Jessica reminded, frowning down at the sheets of music. It was obvious Dillon’s smaller motor skills were lacking, his musical notations were barely legible scratches.
Brenda sighed. “Fine then, it’s true, we need our wonderful cash machine, so I’ll do my part to make him happy. One of you kiddies should take a picture of me scrubbing the stairs like Cinderella. It might be worth a fortune.” She gave her tinkling laugh. “I know Robert would certainly love to see such a thing, but then, it would ruin his image of me and I can’t let him think I’m capable of working.” She winked at Trevor. “I’m trusting you not to say a word to him. If you both want to come with me, I’ll even pass on smoking, which the master has decreed I can’t do in his house.”
“Well, you shouldn’t smoke. It’s not good for you,” Tara pointed out judiciously.
Brenda made a face at her. “Fine, stay here and listen to your father yell at everyone, but it won’t be nearly as entertaining as watching me.” Her high heels tapped out her annoyance as she left.
Jessica spent an hour deciphering Dillon’s musical notations then listening through the tracks he had already recorded, trying to find the mix Dillon was looking for. The problem was, the band members weren’t hearing the same thing in their heads that Dillon was hearing. Don was no lead guitarist; his gift lay in his skill with the bass. It was apparent to Jessica that the band needed a lead, but she wasn’t altogether certain who could play Dillon’s music the way he wanted it to be played. Most musicians had egos. No one was going to allow Dillon to tell him how to play.
The Wicked and the Wondrous Page 28