At Risk (18 page)

“Closed up.”

He went back to the book and flipped some of the pages.
“The photos are dated. He was still doing it. The last pictures were taken only a few weeks before he was murdered. Maybe a more recent victim came after him.”

“I hope Holly didn’t know about this.”

“She’s not in any of the pictures.”

“Why would she be?”

“Sometimes stuff like this is a husband-and-wife project. Or it could be like that football coach who molested boys in the shower and also brought them home for sleepovers. It’s impossible to believe that his wife didn’t know a thing about it.”

She made a disgusted sound.
“You could say Villars was a dirty old man. And a dirty younger one, too.” A thought struck her, and she asked, “Are we going to tell Cumberland about this?”

“I’d rather not point the finger at anyone until we have more information.”

“Is revenge or blackmail the only motives you’ve come up with?”

“I’ve investigated everyone who was in the room.
As far as I can tell, the tourists were all what they seemed to be—people intrigued by the idea of attending a voodoo service in safe surroundings.”

“If Calista didn’t do it with Jillian, it could have been one of the people working for Calista the night of the ceremony.
There were six of them.”

“And one of the guys tried to run out.”

“But apparently because he was worried about his illegal status.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “Maybe we can get a better look at what happened the night of the ceremony.”

“How?”

“I may be able to send myself back there.”

She tipped her head to the side, keeping her gaze on him. “How?”

“If I have the right thing to touch.”

“What?”

“You.”

Chapter Seventeen

Rafe watched Eugenia suck in a sharp breath.
“How would that work, exactly?”

“I think I can take us both back to the night of the murder.
If we’re in the restaurant.”

She glanced at her watch.
“We can’t do it now. The restaurant’s open tonight. I should go down there soon and make sure the cooking’s going okay.”

If she thought she was going to get out of it, he disabused her of that notion. “Then we’ll wait until you finish for the evening.”

She considered the suggestion, then nodded.

“I was up most of the night getting ready for my breaking and entering gig.
Do you mind if I catch some sleep on your couch?”

From her hesitation, she probably didn’t want him sleeping in her apartment, but she didn’t refuse.

He lay down and closed his eyes, and was out within minutes.

oOo

Eugenia tried to go through her regular routine, but it was difficult to focus.

First she kept seeing images from Martin Villars’ private photograph album.

Would any of the girls in the pictures have gotten into a kinky relationship with the man if they’d had a choice? Perhaps, but would any of them have wanted their pictures taken doing the things he forced on them?

They were all young.
All probably his victims. She tried to put herself in their places and shuddered.

Of course, she wasn’t naive.
She knew there were women who liked this sort of thing. But she had the feeling Villars hadn’t given any of them a choice.

Had Calista been the one to seek revenge?
But why now, after all these years? Judging from the way she looked in the pictures, they must have been taken at least ten years ago. Maybe he’d lost track of her, found her again, and made demands. Or maybe it was Jillian. If there was ever a woman who was trying to make herself unattractive to the opposite sex, it was her—and probably because the S and M stuff had damaged her.

Eugenia couldn’t come to any conclusions, and she realized that speculating was only upsetting her.
So she focused on the dishes she was cooking and went into the dining room periodically to chat with her guests. She’d always thought of herself as primarily a good cook, but now she saw that she’d taken on the status of celebrity chef, with customers eager for a few moments with her.

She got through the evening and supervised the cleanup of the dining room and the kitchen.
When everyone had cleared out, she went up to the apartment. Rafe was sitting up on the sofa, running a hand through his hair.

“How are you?” they both asked at the same time, then both answered, “Fine.”

“What is it that we’re going to do, exactly,” Eugenia asked.

“We’re going to take ourselves back to the night of the ceremony and see what we can see.”

“But we were both there.”

“And watching Calista,” he pointed out. “Plus I want to go back before she started her performance.”

“How do we do it? I mean, with the knife and the gris-gris, didn’t it take you somewhere without your being in charge of the trip.”

“Yeah.
But this time I’m focused on where I want to go, and I think if we work together, we can go back to the ceremony.”

She could tell from the way he said it that he wasn’t as confident as he’d like, but she wasn’t going to challenge him.
If they could prove that they hadn’t murdered Villars, they could get Cumberland off their backs.

“Let’s go down,” he said.

“I’d like to take off my chef outfit first.”

“Sure.”

He waited in the living room while she went into the bedroom and opened a dresser drawer, looking for what to wear. If she was going to do something weird, she might as well be comfortable.

oOo

After taking off her cooking outfit and laying it over the arm of her chair, Eugenia pulled out a tee shirt and old sweatpants, and then scuffed her feet into a pair of well-worn moccasins. She’d talked to Rafe about his trips outside his own body, but she’d never participated in any of them. And she wasn’t too keen on it now. But she understood that it might be the key to solving a murder case.

Unable to keep a shiver from traveling over her skin, she went out to face Rafe.

“Good choice,” he commented as he took in her costume.

“Thanks.”

They both descended the steps, and she unlocked the backdoor of the restaurant that she’d locked only a short while earlier.

“We should go into the room where it happened,” Rafe said as he led the way to the front of the house.

He glanced around.

“What are you looking for?”

“Our best vantage point.”

“I still don’t quite understand this.
Aren’t you always in someone else’s body.”

He dragged in a breath and let it out.
“Yeah, but I’m going to see if I can do it differently.”

“How?”

“Okay, we were both in this room before and when Villars died. Or, as you probably remember, I was ‘away’ for a few minutes.”

“That’s right.
I wasn’t thinking about the first time you touched the knife.”

“I might have seen something if I’d been there.”

“I was in the room the whole time,” she pointed out.

“But you might not have realized what you were seeing.”

When she nodded, he continued, “I want to go back, and I can use you as a touchstone and also use the room. We were both in the back. Let’s go up to the front.”

“You can change your perspective?”

“I hope so.”

They both walked to the area where tables had been pushed back to make a stage area for Calista.
Eugenia looked back toward where the audience had been. “Here?”

“I think it’s the best place. I’m going to take us there, and we’re both going to watch the people.”

“Did your friend Pete know how long it would take for the poison to kill?”

“He thought about fifteen minutes.”

“So we go a little farther than that fifteen minutes before Villars died.”

She’d taken care of his scratches, but other than that they hadn’t touched since they’d made love.
When that image leaped into her mind, she felt her cheeks heat.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I want you to focus on the period twenty minutes before Villars keeled over.”

“I thought you were taking us there.”

“It’s better if we both do it.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, and held out his arms. “Come here,” he said in a thick voice.

“Is this a trick to get me close to you?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“No, but it’s a side benefit.”

He reached for her, pulling her into his embrace.
She held herself stiffly for a moment before ordering herself to relax.

As she did, the room around her started to swim, and her skin began to tingle.
She hadn’t thought anything would happen, but she’d been wrong.

The restaurant had been empty when they’d come in, but she heard noise creep in around the edges.
People laughing and talking. Then she gasped as the crowd flickered into existence. It was the scene from last Tuesday night, when she’d had fifteen people here, waiting for the voodoo ceremony to start.

She clung to Rafe, feeling like she might lose her way and never get back, until she felt his arms tighten around her and knew he would keep her safe.

Gradually the pounding of her heart subsided, and she was able to turn in his arms and observe the scene.

“Can the people see us?” she whispered, wondering if Rafe could hear her.

“No.”

“What about us.
I mean the us who were there.”

“I see you across the room.”

She shivered and did what she hadn’t dared earlier. Her gaze flicked to the left, and she saw herself talking to one of the tourists who had showed up that night.

Gertie got up and headed for the ladies room before the ceremony started.

Then Holly, Villars’ wife, stood and came over to the food table, which was only a few feet away from where Eugenia and Rafe were standing.

Holly looked right at them, and Eugenia’s breath stilled.
Could the woman see them?

Maybe she saw
something
but didn’t know what it was.

She shook her head, then glanced around before putting several hors d'oeuvres on a small plate.
Again she checked to make sure she wasn’t being watched, before using her finger to push at the jewel on top of the large antique ring she wore. She flicked it aside and turned her hand over a bite-sized quiche. Drops of liquid fell onto the food. After pushing the jewel back into place, she carried the plate to the table where her husband was sitting. Once she’d set it down, she handed Villars the piece of quiche.

He popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

Eugenia couldn’t hold back a gasp. “It’s her. She did it. The poison was in that ring.”

They stood where they were as the dancers and Calista came in, and they watched until Villars keeled over.

“Let’s go,” Rafe whispered.

The room swirled around them again, and they were back in the empty restaurant.

Eugenia’s heart was thumping as Rafe’s arms tightened around her.

“It’s Holly.
Oh Lord, I can’t believe it’s Holly,” she breathed. “But we both saw her do it.”

“Yeah, the grieving widow. I guess we read her wrong about her feelings for Villars.”

“Everybody read her wrong—including Cumberland. Or I guess you could say, including her husband.”

Eugenia pushed away from Rafe, pulled out a nearby chair and sat down heavily. “We have to tell Cumberland.”

“Tell him what?”

“That we saw Holly put something on a quiche and hand it to her husband.”

Rafe made a scoffing sound. “Oh sure. You think he’s going to believe that we went back in time and watched the ceremony from a different angle?”

“Then what?”

“My talent works as an investigative tool, but it’s not proof of anything. We have to get better evidence,” he said.

“Or a confession.”

“Why should she confess? We can’t prove anything.”

“I think I can get her in the right mood.”

“Too dangerous.”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“Now that we know it’s not Jillian or Calista, I want to talk to Calista,” he said.

“She’s not going to like it that we know about her past.”

“Probably not.”

Eugenia stood up, but her legs were shaky.
When she started to fall, Rafe caught her, wrapping his arms around her.

She’d clung to him while they went back to the scene of the crime, but this was different.

She’d deliberately kept away from him, struggled to detach her emotions from him until they had a chance to sit down and talk, but now she wasn’t able to do it any longer, especially since she’d watched his reaction to her statement that Decorah Security had done the job she’d hired them for. He had wanted a reason to stay close to her. That knowledge made her heart squeeze.

When she tipped her head up, he brought his mouth down to hers. Maybe he had intended it to be a reassuring kiss, but the moment his lips touched hers, she knew he wanted more, and so did she.

She trembled in his arms, running her hands over his back, his shoulders, gathering him closer, melting against him.

She wanted to ask what they really were to each other.
But she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. She wasn’t going to spoil this by talking.

She heard herself make a small, needy sound, felt sparks flickering to every nerve ending in his body.
He angled his head, first one way and then the other, greedy to give and take.

She could have pushed him away when he cupped her breast, stroking his thumb in a maddening rhythm back and forth across the hardened tip.
But she didn’t.

She began to move against his erection, frustrated that it was hitting her middle, not where she needed it.
She shifted to press her clit against his thigh, unable to stop herself from trying to assuage the ache that had started deep inside her.

His eyes locked with hers, silently asking if she wanted to take this to its logical conclusion, and she answered with a small nod.

He yanked her sweatpants and panties down, before setting her on one of the tables. Then he unzipped his fly, freeing himself. In the next moment, he was inside her, moving with an urgency that took her breath away. The intensity built quickly, carried by the strength of their emotions.

Reaching between them, he pressed his hand against her clit, giving her extra stimulation as he surged in and out of her.