by Hope Ramsay
The psychopathic killer in Black Water had done the exact same thing to the people living in the vacation house. The dead chicken had been his character’s opening gambit—a sick, twisted curse his killer had conjured up for the purpose of terrorizing his victims.
Gabe pulled Jenny and Bear across the hall into his bedroom, where he shut the door. With the door closed and the dog safe, Gabe was free to use both arms to draw Jenny tight to his chest. She clutched the lapels of his robe.
“It’s all right,” he whispered into her ear, deeply conscious of the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. She was trembling all over, and he couldn’t decide if she was cold or just scared to death. He choked back his fury and pressed her tighter to his chest. “Hush now. That was aimed at me, not you.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her. She smelled like lavender.
He gave himself permission to hold her for a minute before he pushed her back at arm’s length. Then he shucked out of his robe, leaving him standing there clad only in his boxers. He draped the robe around her shoulders. “Here, take my robe and go sit by the fire, it’s the only heat that seems to work in this room.” He gestured toward the old recliner he’d rescued from the moving men and placed near the hearth.
She didn’t follow his command. Instead, she stood right before him, her gaze traveling up his body, taking in his boxers and naked chest. What the baseboard heating failed to achieve in the back bedroom, Jenny managed just with her look. It seared him. It branded him. He needed to turn away before he embarrassed himself.
But she snared him before he could escape. She grabbed his right hand in both of hers, and her touch was as warm as the room was cold. Her eyes were liquid and kind behind the lenses of her glasses. He wanted to remove those frames and kiss her all over. Truly he had lost his mind.
So when she kissed his palm, his willpower broke. He pulled her closer, his left hand sliding down to the small of her back so he could draw her up along the length of his suddenly aroused body. He lowered his head and kissed her the way he’d been thinking about for days.
She opened for him, like the petals of a sweet flower. Her mouth responsive, her tongue dancing with his in a pattern that seemed familiar, as if she knew what he wanted, just as he instinctively knew how to please her. He devoured her and lost all sense of time and place and urgency, until she snaked her warm hands under the waistband of his boxers and cupped his ass.
That brazen exploration ignited a river of lust, but it also surprised the crap out of him.
This was Jenny. Not some groupie he picked up in some bar. This was sweet, tempting Jenny, who was unworldly and naive and cloistered. He might want to carry her across the room to his bed and lay down with her, but she deserved so much more.
And besides, he couldn’t ignore the warning someone had left in her kitchen.
So he reluctantly lifted his head and set her back at arm’s length. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gruff voice. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Jenny wanted to howl at him. She wanted to use some of the words that were painted on her kitchen cabinets. How could he just stop like that when it was just beginning to get interesting?
She was too confused to muster any words to hurl at him, though. She simply stood there feeling hot and cold and angry and frightened and aroused.
He turned away from her, hiding the obvious manifestation of his own arousal. He scooped up a pair of jeans lying on the floor and stepped into them, quickly adjusting himself and zipping his fly. His Harvard sweatshirt was similarly discovered in a heap by the bed and pulled on, hiding that beautiful expanse of chest that she’d not really had a chance to explore.
When he’d clothed himself he turned back to her.
“We should call the police.”
His voice sounded low and gruff and filled with emotions she had no idea how to read. It took a moment before the content of his words registered in her fevered brain. The words edged their way past the lust and the anger and reminded her of what had instigated this moment of unguarded passion.
She let go of her anger, but releasing the pent-up desire was going to take a long, long time. She took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to find some shred of rationality.
“You stay here. I’ll make the call and wait on the porch,” he said. “Sit by the fire.”
The reality of what had happened to her kitchen returned, along with everything else that had occurred yesterday. “No,” she said, before he could leave the room, “we can’t call the police. I mean, if this gets out, it will create a huge sensation in the town that I’ll never hear the end of. It will feed right in to the nastiness the church ladies have been spewing about you and your books.”
“What? What nastiness? What church ladies?”
She wrapped his robe more tightly around her, like an embrace. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about this last night because you seemed to be otherwise engaged, but a couple of the more pious women in town—the ones who are always telling the rest of us how to live our lives—have mounted a boycott of the library program because they think your books aren’t Christian.”
“Oh boy, here we go.”
“This has happened before?”
“My books are banned in dozens of high schools across the country. I’m not surprised that there are people here who think they’re too violent. But what does that have to do with calling the police? Your house was broken into and vandalized, Jenny.”
“Well, for starters, the church ladies could be the guilty parties.”
“Sweetie, church ladies do not stage fake Hoodoo curses in people’s kitchens.”
“You’ve got a point.” His scent escaped from the fabric of his robe. It clouded her mind a little. She had to fight the urge to run across the room and take up where they’d left off. But she didn’t have the courage to do it. She’d already been rejected once. She wasn’t going to be rejected twice, even if she was sure that, for a moment, he’d actually enjoyed the kiss, too.
“The church ladies might take advantage of what happened,” she said. “And Reverend Lake might make a big deal out of this, especially after what happened last night.”
“Something happened last night?”
“I had a little confrontation with the church ladies at the BI-LO in the morning. And Sheriff Rhodes read everyone the riot act. Then he apparently took it upon himself to visit the clergy in the county in an effort to head off any further problems. Reverend Lake took exception to the sheriff’s meddling.
“So the preacher came by last night to tell me that he had no intention of downplaying community concerns about you and your books. He said it was because he knew The Jonquil House was infested with demons, and he was sure that you were the source of the trouble. He insisted that I let him perform an exorcism. And I’m afraid that when he got to that part, the ghost kicked him out on his backside.”
“The ghost kicked him out?”
She nodded. “The ghost threw the coatrack at him and pushed him out the door. I’m afraid that the preacher believes I may be the source of the demonic infestation. Honestly, Gabe, we need to find a way to send the ghost into the light.”
“And you didn’t think that was important to tell me last night when I got back from dinner?”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I probably should have, but you were involved.” She took a big breath. “So you see, we can’t call Sheriff Rhodes. Because if we do, everyone in town is going to know what happened. And since the church ladies have been running around saying that you’re in league with the devil… Oh, my God, this could get out of hand in the blink of an eye. And it would kill my business.”
“I’m not worried about your business. I’m worried about your safety.”
He was worried about her? Those words hit her chest and rattled around inside. She wanted to believe that his concern was a sign of something important. And maybe if it weren’t for his editor upstairs, and the fact that Jenny had a history of mistaking kindness for something
else, she might have let her emotions soar. But instead she hardened her heart. She mentally pulled on her armor and reminded herself that there was freedom and security in being alone.
“I’m trying to figure out how the perpetrator got into the house,” he continued. “I checked the locks before I went to bed. The doors were secure. Who has keys?”
“As far as I know, only you, me, and Ms. Ianelli. Oh, and I gave Zeph a set.”
“Zeph has keys?”
“You think he would do something like this?”
“He killed my brother.”
His voice sounded flat and angry and wounded. The minute the words left his mouth, the temperature in the room plummeted, as if the ghost, himself, were trying to show his agreement.
“I always heard that your brother’s death was an accident. Are you suggesting something else?”
Gabe started pacing the room. All that pent-up male energy made him look like a tiger prowling back and forth. “No. I think it was an accident, but I don’t know.”
“I thought you were there when it happened.”
“I was. But I don’t remember. And it’s eating at me. It’s been eating away at me for a long, long time. I think that’s why the villain in Black Water is so much like Zeph. But it would be crazy for Zeph to stage something like that. Wouldn’t it? I mean what would be the purpose of that? To get me back for turning him into a villain in one of my books? And why would he attack your kitchen in order to get to me?”
“He wouldn’t. And neither would your editor.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I guess the ghost could have done it. But why?”
“No, not the ghost.”
“You seem so sure.”
“First of all, that scene in the kitchen doesn’t look like the kind of thing a ghost could do. And second, if the ghost is my brother, then he would never ever harm a living creature, even a chicken.”
“The only people left are you and me. Do you think I staged that?”
“Do you think I did?”
They simultaneously shook their heads.
“Then we have to conclude that someone got hold of your keys or picked the lock. You don’t have dead bolts. I told you a few weeks ago that you needed them. First thing tomorrow, I want you to change all the locks again and upgrade to dead bolts.”
“How would someone—”
“It can be done, Jenny.”
“But this is Last Chance, South Carolina. Most folks don’t even lock their doors at night here.”
“Well, as of tonight, you aren’t most folks.”
CHAPTER
17
Gabe won the day, and the police were called. And since The Jonquil House was technically beyond the jurisdiction of the tiny Last Chance Police Department, the county dispatcher sent a deputy sheriff, who took one look at Jenny’s kitchen and immediately called in the sheriff himself, even though it was almost four in the morning by that time.
The sheriff called in the crime scene people, who took control of Jenny’s kitchen and showed no signs of being ready to give it back.
Ms. Ianelli had come downstairs at about seven o’clock, having slept through all the excitement. (Apparently, living in the big city had made her completely oblivious to barking dogs and legions of law enforcement. But the sight of blood definitely undid her.)
She pitched a full-out conniption fit and demanded a refund of her money, as if Jenny even cared about that at a moment like this. Of course, Gabe was completely solicitous of her, calming her down and then taking her out to breakfast somewhere far away from Last Chance, where, no doubt, people were beginning to wake up to the news.
Jenny stayed at the house. She had no desire to be a fifth wheel at breakfast, and besides the sheriff wanted her there even though she’d already answered dozens of questions. At around eight, someone brought in a carton filled with Styrofoam coffee cups from the doughnut shop. She sat in the living room, still wrapped in Gabe’s robe, and sipped away at the warn drink. The coffee seemed to be melting her a little bit.
At eight-thirty, the crime scene people departed along with everyone except Sheriff Rhodes, who sat down beside her on Gabe’s beautiful and comfortable leather sofa.
“There are a few things you should know,” he said.
She looked up at him. His green eyes were as sober as the black coffee in her cup.
“The chicken wasn’t killed on the scene.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because there was an incident yesterday at the chicken processing plant. Someone pulled the fire alarm and stopped the processing line. There was a general evacuation, and the fire department was called, but there wasn’t any fire. When they restarted the line, they discovered that a couple of chickens had been taken. We figured it was a prank. You’d be surprised how many times people try to steal dead chickens.”
“Really?”
“It’s like cow tipping. It happens all the time. In this instance, the chickens were taken after they’d been bled but before they’d been plucked.”
“So the blood in the kitchen didn’t come from the chicken?”
“Not unless it was a pretty amazing chicken. There was way too much of it for one bird, and the crime scene guys are pretty sure it’s not even chicken blood. They’re thinking it’s pig blood, which is easy to come by considering how many people around here raise and slaughter hogs.”
“So it would have been possible for someone to stage all that without making a lot of noise, huh?”
“I reckon. It’s still amazing that it could be done with people and a dog in the house.”
She looked away, through the windows at the front of the house. It looked like it was going to be a bright, sunny day. “Sheriff, do you have any ideas?”
“My first thought is that whoever did this had to have keys to the house. So I guess that makes you a suspect as much as your guests.”
“And Zeph Gibbs.”
“And Zeph.” He paused for a moment. “Can you think of any reason why Zeph would do such a thing?”
“Not really. But I think there is some trouble between him and Mr. Raintree. Mr. Raintree thinks Zeph is responsible for his brother’s death. And I guess he expressed his thoughts by making the villain in Black Water a lot like Zeph. But I don’t know, Zeph is a little strange and different, but I just don’t see him doing something like this. The only real reason I have my doubts is that Bear wouldn’t have raised the alarm if Zeph came into the house, but he probably would have barked if it had been a stranger.”
“Even if he was shut up in Mr. Raintree’s room?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not.”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Stone, this is going to cause big problems in town, you know.”
He reached over and patted her knee. “I know it is. But we’ll get to the bottom of it. Oh, and by the way, I did a little fact checking on that flyer the ladies were handing out at the BI-LO yesterday. What’s in it is halfway true.”
“Gabe—I mean Mr. Raintree—was arrested?”
“Yes, he was arrested in Los Angeles, and then he was immediately released without any charges being brought. It was apparently some kind of domestic dispute.”
“Domestic dispute?”
“All of the public altercations were domestic in nature. But no arrests or charges were ever made. That’s all I know. But I think you need to be careful. Zeph isn’t the only person on my short list.”
“Are you saying Mr. Raintree may have staged this for some purpose? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Maybe he’s trying to scare you into selling him back the house. Have you thought of that?”
“No. Stone, he was writing all day yesterday. When would he have had time to go to the chicken plant and steal dead chickens?”
“You don’t know that he was here all day. Seems to me you were in town in the morning, and the incident at Country Pride Chicken took place at about the same time you were having your run-in with Lilli
an Bray. Which, by the way, eliminates you from my short list of suspects.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t do this.”
“Jenny, be careful, please.” The sober look in Sheriff Rhodes’s eyes was compelling. Stone Rhodes was an excellent lawman. She ought to listen to him, especially since the scene in the kitchen had resulted in another scene of an entirely different nature in Mr. Raintree’s bedroom. She had to admit that, while her heart was telling her that Gabe was a good and honest man, her head was saying something else entirely. She had to be cautious around him for so many different reasons.
“I will be careful.”
“Then you’ll think about moving back to town, until I can figure out what’s going on? I’m not comfortable with you living out here by yourself with only Gabe Raintree and Zeph Gibbs for company.”
“But I’m not here alone. Gabe’s editor is here now.” And she had the ghost, but she wasn’t about to tell the sheriff about that. He would probably rethink taking her off his short list.
“I don’t think that New York woman is going to stay very long. I’d feel better if you moved back into town with Maryanne.”
At that moment, Maryanne herself came barreling through the unlocked front door, toting Josh on her hip. “Oh, my God, are you all right? I just heard what happened. Why didn’t you call me? Pack your things, I’m not letting you stay here another night until the police figure out what’s going on. Ruby says she’s got a roll-away bed that you can use, and she told me that she’d tan my hide if I didn’t bring you back to town right this minute.”
Sheriff Rhodes cracked the smallest of smiles. “Jenny, you don’t want to mess around with my momma. She’ll send all of her friends—and she has more friends in this town than just about anyone except maybe my brother—and those women will drag you back to the Cut ’n Curl kicking and screaming if they have to. Go stay there a couple of nights. And in the meantime, I’ll beef up the nightly patrol out here. It won’t be forever. I aim to find out who did this to you and put them behind bars, you hear? Oh, and change your locks. You need dead bolts.”