Reece reached out with his mind, but there was no one there. He glanced at Brynn, wishing he could read her thoughts.
The woman sniffled. “Will you tell him that I love him?”
“He says he knows, love.”
Bloody hell, Reece couldn’t listen any longer. He sauntered through the door.
At the sight of him, the woman let out a small squeak and jumped, pressing her hand to her chest. Maybe she thought she’d seen a ghost. And hell, he could hardly blame her. His uncle had gone all out to create a sense of atmosphere.
Heavy purple drapes with silver moons and stars stitched on them covered the windows, blotting out the daylight. Pillar candles of different sizes and shapes burned and flickered in the corners, casting a soft glow over the room. Kendrick sat opposite the woman at a round table draped with the same material as the curtains. Good God, all his uncle needed was a crystal ball.
Kendrick had even dressed the part, from black trousers and turtleneck to his thinning dyed-black hair combed back in a pathetic attempt to hide his bald spot. His goatee gave his bony face a sense of severity, made worse by the scowl etched into his features while his light eyes bored into Reece.
“What are you doing here?” he ground out.
“Just popped ’round for a visit.” Reece glanced at the woman. Her fingers curled into the collar of her loose blouse, sunken eyes bouncing between him, Brynn and his uncle. A confused frown tightened her features.
Dull blond hair fell lank around her hollowed features. She looked old and worn-out, but was probably his age or only a few years older.
She’d obviously been through something, come to Kendrick for answers and instead was being sold a line of bullshit.
Familiar disgust curdled his insides. “You never bloody learn, do you?”
Kendrick paled and stood abruptly. “Mrs. Wesley, I’m afraid we have to cut our session short.”
“But what about…? Oh.”
Kendrick pulled back her chair. “This is my nephew and his…friend. I’m afraid we have some urgent family matters to see to, but I’ll walk you to your car.”
Mrs. Wesley, still frowning, nodded slowly. “All right, then.”
She grabbed her purse from the floor and followed Kendrick to the side door. The separate entrance allowed his clients to bypass the house and the filth he lived in. The thick scent of sandalwood from the candles and incense worked to smother the stink.
After years of living with both odors, one was as bad as the other.
Kendrick pulled back the heavy curtain covering the exit and dull light spilled in from the window mounted in the door. With a quick scowl at Reece, he opened the door and let Mrs. Wesley through first before following her out.
He probably wanted to collect his money without Reece watching, or commenting. While he waited for Kendrick to return, Reece moved around the room blowing out the candles and opening the curtains. “I can’t fucking believe him.”
Brynn’s gaze trailed him. “Are you sure you can handle this? You seem…agitated.”
His anger ebbed away. “I’m sorry to bring you into this.”
She tilted her head slightly, and frowned. “I brought you into this, actually. That shadow man isn’t bothering you.”
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Kendrick snarled, slamming the door behind him so hard the window rattled. “You nearly spoiled things for that poor woman.”
Reece scowled. “Me? Well, I suppose it would have been a shame for that poor woman to learn her dead husband wasn’t here, and she was handing her money over to an absolute fraud.”
Not that Reece would have told her. He’d learned his lesson. People believed what they wanted.
“I’m helping Mrs. Wesley. She’s only thirty-four and just spent the last year watching her husband battle leukemia. She’s convinced he’s still with her. Every time she forgets to switch off a light, or that she’s moved a book from one room to the next, she thinks it’s her dead husband trying to communicate. I’m helping the poor dear move on.”
Dull anger pulsed through Reece’s veins, at his temples, behind his eyes. “By feeding her a line of bullshit?”
“By letting her know her husband is at peace, I’m helping her find a little peace of mind for herself. And if I’ve had to stretch the truth do it, who does it hurt?”
“And how much is she coughing up for peace of mind?”
Kendrick ignored him, his shrewd gaze shifting to Brynn. “I’m Kendrick Conway—since my nephew seems to have forgotten to introduce us.”
He held out his hand to Brynn and she took it briefly. “Brynn James.”
“Have you always had an interest in the occult?” he asked, gaze moving over, measuring her, reading her.
Brynn merely shot Kendrick a tight smile. “Never.”
Kendrick’s own smile was open, benign,. “You give off a powerful energy, life force. Do you—”
Reece took a step toward his uncle. “Cut the shit, Kendrick. She’s been forewarned.”
Kendrick laughed. “What all has he said about me, then? Made me out to be a monster?”
Her eyes glittered like black glass. Reece had never seen her look so cold. “Exploitive is the word I’d use.”
Kendrick turned to Reece, smile stretching. “You’ve told her quite a bit, lad. Say what you want about me, but I was more than fair with you. I took you when no one else would. Housed you. Fed you. Clothed you. We were mates.”
“It was a paradise,” he said, flatly.
“I taught you how to manage your gift. How to use it, control it.”
“My mother taught me how to control it.”
“She taught you to block. And I still swear that’s what killed her. It’s not healthy to block what nature wants you to see.”
Every muscle in Reece’s body tensed, but he swallowed his building fury. He wouldn’t let himself be drawn into another pointless argument with the man. Get your answers and get out.
“I didn’t come here to rehash all this.”
Kendrick’s brows rose. “What did you come here for, then?”
“I need some…insight.” Reece dropped into the chair opposite his uncle. “I’ve seen something, but I’ve never dealt with anything like it before.” He launched into a description of the shadow man from Brynn’s room. When he finished, Kendrick was frowning.
“Sounds like a shadow person,” his uncle said, smoothing his goatee at the sides of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.
“You’ve dealt with one before?”
Kendrick shook his head. “I’ve heard of them, but never seen one myself.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, I’m afraid. No one does for certain. There are some theories, of course.” Kendrick paused for effect. “Because of the fear they invoke, some claim shadow people are demonic.”
Reece rolled his eyes, and Brynn shifted closer to him.
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss.” Kendrick waved a finger. “You of all people should know by now that there is more to this world than we can see.”
“Fair enough,” Reece said, without any real conviction. “You said there were other theories.”
“Visitors from another dimension.”
Suddenly demonic sounded like a real possibility. “Are you being serious?”
“Of course, I am,” Kendrick snapped, his features tight with annoyance. “For someone who sees the things you do, you’re oddly close-minded.”
Reece let out an impatient sigh. “So is that it, then?”
Kendrick shook his head. “Some say the shadows are manifestations of evil. Evil deeds create evil spirits, that sort of thing.”
The hair at the back of Reece’s neck bristled; Brynn stiffened beside him. Could a series of unexplained disappearances create enough evil to generate the form he’d seen last night?
“What do these shadows do?” Brynn asked.
“Honestly, aside from lurking menacingly, I don’t know. I’ve nev
er heard of one doing anything to anyone. I’m afraid I don’t know much else about them.” He turned to Reece. “You ought to ring Carly, she might know, and if she doesn’t she’ll know someone who does. She’d love to hear from you, lad. She asks about you all the time.”
Brynn’s mouth twitched. “Who’s Carly?”
“No one.” His face heated. “Not like he’s saying. We should go.”
Kendrick laughed, the sound setting his teeth on edge. “Ah, lad. It was always too bloody easy to take the piss.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I wish you hadn’t seen that.”
Brynn turned away from the passenger window to Reece slouched in his seat, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other loosely gripping the shift, gaze fixed on the road ahead.
She tried to imagine him as boy living in that oppressive house, being taken there after losing his mother. The image turned her stomach.
“Where did you go after you left Kendrick’s?”
“Holy Head. I wanted to live by the sea. I didn’t know anyone there, so I snuck into a boatyard and started living in some of the wrecked boats stored in the back of the yard. It was relatively clean and dry, and I figured I could make it work until I found a job and saved enough money for a place. But the owner caught me almost right away.”
“What did he do?”
“Offered me a room and a job, on the condition I finished school. The first eight months I stayed there I was certain he’d want something from me. I kept waiting for him to make a pass. He never did, of course. He’d just lost his wife, didn’t have any children. He was just lonely and kind. He taught me to build boats, help with the business. These days, Lloyd’s semi-retired and I was running the shop. When I get out from under Harding’s thumb, I’ll go back.”
She would have liked to see him in that world, so far from Kendrick, from Stonecliff. “So who’s Carly? Old girlfriend?”
His mouth twitched. “Not quite. Just someone Kendrick does work for from time to time. Studies all manner of ghosts and spirits and things that go bump in the night.”
“Sounds like she’s interested in studying you.”
“Experimenting on me, more like.”
She grinned. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
He chuckled. “What did you think of Kendrick’s theories?”
“The one about the shadows being generated by evil caught my attention—especially taking Stonecliff’s history into consideration. Do you think the shadows could somehow be responsible for Olivia Dodd and Langley and the missing men?”
He shrugged. “Unlikely. I’ve never known a spirit to murder anyone.”
“Something tried to shove me down the stairs.” A shiver crept up her spine.
“And someone flesh and blood tried to stab you last night.”
Had it really just been yesterday that someone had come at her with a knife? A strange vertigo gripped her, as if the world itself were spinning too quickly. “Everything feels so unreal, almost like I’m watching it happen to someone else.”
Reece reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll be all right.”
She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t shake the unease creeping over her. “Who is our most likely suspect, then? Warlow? Ruth?”
“Even if what you heard about her is true, her victims were elderly, sick. Your father would be in danger. Not someone young and fit like Olivia Dodd or Langley.”
“Dylis Paskin told me Langley was involved in some kind of scam with Cragera Bay’s elderly residents. You don’t think there’s a link there? Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have.”
“What about the other three men? Ruth Bigsby’s only been at Stonecliff for a few months.”
“Maybe Langley and Olivia Dodd aren’t connected to those other men at all. They vanished, without a trace. Whoever killed Langley and Olivia wanted them found.”
Reece shook his head, but didn’t look away from the road. “Why would Ruth kill Olivia or try to kill you for that matter? Warlow could have easily been involved with the men who disappeared, in what happened to you as a child.”
“Why would he suddenly change from making men disappear to leaving them to be found?”
Reece shrugged. “Maybe he wants Eleri blamed.”
“Then he wouldn’t have killed Olivia. He knew Eleri had been arrested.” Brynn frowned, the scenario turning in her head. “What do you know about Stephen Paskin?”
Reece glanced away from the road, brows lifting doubtfully. “You think Stephen Paskin did it?”
A twinge of guilt twisted low in her belly. The Paskins had been nothing but kind to her. Still, something about her last encounter with them niggled at the back of her brain. “He blames Eleri for his son’s death.”
“So he murdered two innocent people to see she was sent down for it?”
He was right. It was too big a stretch. “We need to know more about Ruth and Warlow.”
“What do you suggest?”
She’d have had to be deaf to miss his wry tone.
“We start by searching their rooms.”
He turned between the gateposts. Brynn shifted so her back was to him and to the sea when they emerged from the trees.
“You still can’t look at the water?” he asked, and pressed a little harder on the accelerator.
She shook her head. “No.”
“It hasn’t gotten any easier being so close to the sea these past days?”
“I doubt it ever will.”
“You should be leaving Stonecliff,” Reece ground out. “Not searching for clues like a second-rate investigator.”
Irritation prickled the back of her neck. “If you could go without having to face those charges, would you leave me to deal with this on my own?”
“Of course not,” he snapped.
“Then why would you think that I would do that to you, or Eleri, for that matter?”
She risked a glance at him, but Reece’s attention was back on the drive, his features inscrutable.
Reece didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled into the courtyard and cut the engine. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, tiny pellets of sleet pelted the windshield. Stonecliff loomed over them, gloomy and forbidding.
“Are you ready?” Reece asked.
She blew out a sigh. “As I’ll ever be.”
* * *
“Well, this shouldn’t take long, at least.” Brynn stood just inside Ruth’s small room. A twin bed pushed against one wall, a dresser next to the door, and an overstuffed chair and floor lamp by the window all that filled the small space.
Reece leaned against the door frame and glanced down the hall. “I’ll keep watch.”
Brynn nodded. Not that she was worried about Ruth finding them. The woman kept to a strict schedule and would be with Arthur until after dinner. Searching Hugh Warlow’s room would be another story entirely. The man moved around Stonecliff like a ghost.
She crossed to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer filled with Ruth’s underclothes. She really didn’t want to root through the woman’s underwear, but what choice did she have?
“What are you looking for?” Reece asked.
“I don’t know, exactly.” Brynn wrinkled her nose and flicked through the nylon unmentionables. “Something that would give us a hint about who the woman is. Why she’s at Stonecliff.”
Satisfied there was nothing in the drawer besides clothing, she felt the underside of the drawer in case anything had been hidden there. Nothing. She went on to the next drawer, and the next, but found only more clothes.
With a long sigh, she moved to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer—empty except for a pair of reading glasses and a paperback romance novel.
Maybe Reece had been right all along. She’d let Judith’s unsubstantiated stories fuel her imagination.
Brynn knelt beside the bed and tugged out a battered red suitcase. She flipped open the metal latches and lifted the lid. Inside was a thick
wire ring notebook with the word Scrapbook embossed on the cover.
“Huh, this is interesting.” She flipped through the pages and Reece left his post by the door to take a look.
“What is it?”
“Newspaper articles about the disappearances.” Most she’d already seen when she searched her sister’s name online. One included a row of pictures along the bottom—seven men who had never been seen since their time at Stonecliff, according to the article. “Did all these men work here? I thought Eleri was only investigated for three besides Langley.”
Reece shrugged. “Harding never mentioned anyone else to me.”
Why would Ruth have a collection of articles detailing the disappearances? Was she some kind of vigilante? A fan?
“What are you two doing in here?”
At the sound of a woman’s voice, Brynn’s heart lodged in her throat. Reece stiffened beside her.
Eleri stood in the doorway, a frown tightening her features.
“You scared the hell out of me,” Brynn said, pressing her hand to her chest. “Harding let you go?”
“He didn’t have much choice with Olivia Dodd turning up dead. What are you doing in Ruth’s room?”
Brynn told her sister about her trip to Hazelwood and what the nurse had said about Ruth.
“We found this.” Brynn held out the scrapbook.
Eleri scowled. “This bastard again. Jameson Peirs. He’s a tabloid reporter who somehow stumbled on the disappearances at Stonecliff. He must have thought he’d found some great crime story. He’s actually the one who coined the name ‘The Witch of Stonecliff.’”
Brynn pointed to the row of pictures. “Why are there so many?”
“Peirs tried attributing any man who disappeared anywhere near Cragera Bay, anywhere near the island, to me.”
One of the pictures had been circled heavily in black ink, as if someone had dragged a pen around it again and again. “Do you know who that is?”
Eleri nodded. “Daniel Forbes.”
Brynn flipped through the pages. More articles, any mention of Daniel Forbes highlighted in bright yellow. Articles tapered off to pictures of a bland suburban house, a school, a photocopy of Daniel’s yearbook photo.
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