Deadly Obsession (13 page)

Though the atmosphere and company were perfect, Jillian couldn't help thinking this was all a very bad idea. At this rate, she could fall in love with this guy. And where would that leave her in a week's time?

Heartbroken and lonely.

* * *

Chance chewed on a bit of biscuit slathered in apple butter and swallowed. “I've been thinking.”

“Mmm.” Jillian had just taken a bite of her biscuit.

“If your troubles didn't begin until you bought the house, I'm willing to bet someone has a secret relating to that house. A secret they don't want you or anyone else to discover.”

She swallowed and stared across the table with her incredibly blue eyes. “What secret?”

“We didn't find any articles about murders or deaths associated with the house. But then, we didn't have time to look back before little Julia disappeared.”

“Do you think Julia Thompson's disappearance might be the reason someone is trying to scare me away?”

“Maybe. I have my boss checking on the missing girl and the case surrounding her disappearance. I'll give him a call when we get back in cell phone coverage in Cape Churn.”

Jillian smiled. “It's one of the perks and one of the difficulties of living out of town. Cell phones are useless and landlines are not obsolete.”

Chance finished the last bite of biscuit and dusted the crumbs from his fingers. “I'm ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to follow me around? It won't be much fun for a guy on vacation.”

“As long as I don't have someone shooting at me or trying to blow me up, it'll be a great vacation,” he said, and meant it.

“I'll grab my bag and meet you at my banged-up Jeep.” She frowned. “My poor Jeep. Another thing to add to my list—stop by my insurance agent's office in town. I hope they cover hit-and-runs.”

Though Jillian made light of the previous night's attack, Chance wasn't letting his guard down. Someone wanted Jillian out of the way completely, or so scared that she'd leave Cape Churn.

Why?

Jillian drove into town in the damaged Jeep. Chance managed to pry the passenger door open enough to get in and out, but it didn't close well and the glass was broken.

Once in town, Jillian headed for the florist. While she was inside checking on the flowers for the wedding, Chance placed a call to Royce at SOS headquarters.

“Chance,” Royce answered on the first ring. “Glad you called. I have a little information on the missing-girl case.”

“Good. Things are heating up around here.”

“Tell me about it.”

Chance filled in Royce on the attacks.

“I'm not sure the missing girl has anything to do with it, but there were a couple of suspects questioned. You might see if they're still around.”

“Shoot,” Royce said.

“You can start with Sarah's ex-husband, Alan Thompson. Another name came up, George Williams, a man who'd been stalking Sarah since her divorce. If you could find them, you might get more information out of them than the news articles and police records indicated.”

“Thanks.” Royce paused for a moment and then added, “Anything else? Any older cases involving the house itself? Cold cases? Murders, deaths?”

“Nothing. The house was originally built by a banker for his family, Sarah's great-grandfather, and was passed down to members of the same family. Sarah inherited it from her father. And she sold it and moved away after her daughter's disappearance.”

“I'd move, too, if my daughter disappeared for thirty days and turned up like Julia,” Royce said. “I can imagine how frightening it might have been for the mother to know whoever held her daughter hostage wasn't captured and put away.”

“Did you find anything on where Julia and Sarah disappeared to?”

“Geek's checking with the Social Security database to see if Sarah officially changed their names and requested new Social Security numbers.”

“He has access to that database?” Chance never ceased to be amazed at what Geek was able to hack into.

“Let's just say he's tiptoeing through cyberspace to find information.” Royce paused. “What about Jillian? You said she's only been in Cape Churn for two years. Is she running from something? Hiding from her past? Could it be someone finally caught up with her?”

Chance hadn't looked at the situation from that direction. “You can't tell me you didn't research her on the off chance she has a troubled past.”

Royce chuckled. “We did, but didn't find much. She's from Portland and she's involved in real estate. Before that she graduated from Oregon State University with a degree in marketing. Her mother and stepfather, Robert and Sandra Taylor, raised her. We did find where Robert Taylor adopted Jillian. Sandra and Jillian's prior last name was Warren. No mention of her biological father or where he might be.”

“No Mr. Warren? Did you find a birth certificate?” Chance wondered if Jillian would be angry with him for digging into her past. His lips pressed together in a tight line. If digging kept her safe, he would risk her anger.

“No. That's the strange thing. We have no birth record of Jillian Warren.”

“Maybe she was born in another state?” Chance offered.

“That's possible. We'll run a check against her Social Security card when we do the lookup on Sarah and Julia Thompson. When applying for a Social Security number, the parent has to submit a birth certificate for verification of citizenship. There should be a digital copy of that certificate or a number associated. Either way, we should be able to track down her birth certificate.”

Jillian exited the florist shop, sniffing a white rosebud, a smile on her lips.

“Let me know what you find,” Chance said. “I'm out here.” He ended the call with Royce and waited for Jillian to get into the Jeep.

“Who were you talking to?” Jillian asked as she slipped into the driver's seat.

“My boss.”

She stilled with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the key in the ignition. “Are you going back to work before the wedding?”

He took the rose from her, and dragged the velvety white petals against her cheek. “No, I'm here to make sure Nova lives up to his promise.” Chance winked and leaned across the console to kiss her.

“Good.” Jillian twisted the key in the ignition. “If he doesn't want you back at work, what
did
he want?”

“He has access to certain information.” Chance chose his words carefully. So much of what they did with Stealth Operations Specialists was classified top secret. “I was hoping he could find information about the house and the people who lived there.”

“And?” She shifted into Reverse, pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the party rental store.

“He gave me the names of two of the suspects in Julia Thompson's disappearance. George Williams and Alan Thompson.”

Jillian shot a glance his way as she pulled into the parking area of the party rental store. “Alan Thompson?”

Chance nodded. “As in Julia's father—Sarah's ex-husband. Julia's father might still be alive.”

Jillian shifted into Park.

“George Williams.” Jillian tapped a finger to her chin. “Seems there's a George Williams on the construction team. What are the chances he's the same George we need to talk to?”

“As small as Cape Churn is, it's likely they are one and the same.”

“We can question him when we go out to the house. And I need to check on the status of the plumbing. If it's done today, I'm moving in.”

“While we're at the house, we can switch vehicles. My rental might not look great, but the doors open and close without a crowbar.”

Chance kept a close watch out for vehicles coming out of nowhere to ram into them. He doubted it would happen in the daylight, but it didn't hurt to be aware at all times.

Three trucks stood in the yard of Jillian's house when they pulled in.

Bob came around the side of the house as Jillian and Chance got out of the Jeep. His eyes rounded. “What happened to your Jeep?”

“Someone didn't yield to the right of way.” Jillian smiled at the older man. “How's it going?”

Chance hid a grin. Though she had been attacked, she kept a good sense of humor. Another reason to like the woman.

“The paint should be dry in the upstairs bedroom you wanted us to finish first. We were able to salvage the original hardwood flooring. It just needed sanding and a finish. You can move in as soon as the plumber has your water turned on.”

Jillian beamed. “Thanks, Bob.” She touched his arm. “You and your crew are doing a great job. Speaking of your crew—” she glanced around “—George Williams is one of your guys, isn't he?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Is he here today?”

“He sure is. I have him stacking lumber and cleaning up in the back of the house, since Daryl didn't show up at the café this morning.”

“He didn't?” Chance frowned. “Was he sick?”

“I called his house, and his mother answered. She said he wasn't going to help on my crew today.” Bob shrugged. “I can't decide whether or not I'm disappointed. He wanders off too many times.”

“That's a shame. I hope he's feeling okay.”

“I like helping out, but I need people I can count on.” Bob tilted his head. “George is out back.”

“Thanks.” Chance hooked Jillian's arm and led her around the house.

A man tossed a board onto a stack, muttering as he turned to lift another. “He could hire a monkey to do this work. I'm a damned trim carpenter, not a janitor.”

Jillian cleared her throat. “George?”

The man spun, frowning. “Yeah?”

Chance stuck out his hand. “I'm Chance McCall. Nice to meet you.”

George stared at the hand for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he glanced up without shaking. “What do you want?” The man's tone was defensive and belligerent.

“To ask you a few questions.” Chance dropped his hand and straightened to his full height, a couple inches taller than Williams.

Jillian started, “Mr. Williams, do you remember the former owner of this house, Sarah Thompson?”

George stared at Jillian, as if looking right through her. His face softened and the frown disappeared. “Yeah. I remember Sarah.”

“We understand you were questioned in the disappearance of her daughter.”

His jaw tightened and he pushed past Jillian and Chance. “I didn't have anything to do with her daughter's disappearance. I was interested in Sarah, not Julia. I'm not a pervert.”

“We're not saying you were.” Jillian hurried after the man as he entered the house.

“Why are you bringing it all up again? That was almost twenty years ago. The girl showed up, they moved, end of story.” He lifted a flooring slat and flung it onto a pile of similar boards and continued into the kitchen.

“George,” Bob called out from the front door. “Did you bring those cans of paint down from the upstairs bedroom?”

“Gettin' it,” he yelled. George glared at Chance. “I got work to do.” Again, he veered around Jillian and Chance and started up the stairs.

“Mr. Williams, is there any reason someone wouldn't want me to move into this house?” Jillian placed a hand on the banister, one foot on the step, preparing to follow Williams.

Chance stood behind her, adding, “Perhaps a reason that has something to do with Julia's disappearance?”

George stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned over the railing. “I didn't take Julia. I told the Cape Churn police, the state police, the sheriff and anyone else who would listen. I loved Sarah. I wouldn't have done anything to hurt her or her daughter.”

“Do you know anyone who might have done it? Or who might want Miss Taylor to stay away from here?”

George stood straight, his face red, his eyes narrowed and angry. “I don't know now, any more than I did then. If I knew who took the kid, I'd have killed him myself.” George leaned on the railing again. “The accusations, the suspicion ruined my life. You think I wouldn't have turned over the guy who did it to save my own stinkin' life?” He slammed his hand on the rail. “I'd have done it in a heartbeat—”

A loud crack sounded and Williams lurched, his arms flying out to his sides. The railing in front of him fell, crashing to the hardwood floor. Williams followed.

Jillian screamed.

Chance darted toward the man but couldn't get there in time to break his fall.

Williams hit the floor, landing on the pile of broken spindles, and lay still.

Chapter 13

H
er heart lodged in her throat, Jillian rushed to George's side and bent to feel for a pulse. After several heart-stopping moments, she could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, pushing blood through his veins. She released the breath she'd held. The man was unconscious but alive. For now. “I'm not moving him in case he's had a spinal injury. We need an ambulance. Now.”

“On it.” Chance ran out of the house. “Bob!”

The contractor rushed into the house, took one look at George and said, “I'll have to drive to the nearest house and use their phone or into town before I can get any cell phone reception.”

“Go,” Chance said. “I'll stay with Jillian and Mr. Williams.”

Bob left the house and a moment later, Jillian heard an engine rev and the crunch of gravel as the contractor's truck raced out of the yard.

“I have a blanket in the back of my Jeep.” Jillian said. “He'll need it if he goes into shock.”

Chance didn't say a word, just ran for the Jeep and returned a minute later with the blanket. He spread it over George and squatted down on his haunches, shifting the railing spindles away from the man lying as still as death.

“We shouldn't have pushed him.” Jillian chewed her lip, staring down at Williams. “He might not have slammed the railing.”

“All he had to do was lean on it a little and it would have broken anyway.”

“Was the wood that rotted?”

“No.” Chance held up spindle and pointed at one end. “Several of these were sawed over halfway through at the base. Anyone leaning against it would have fallen over.”

Jillian sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm supposed to move in tonight. If Mr. Williams hadn't been so angry, I would have been the one to lean on that rail.”

Chance shifted closer and slid an arm around her. “We'll do a special walk-through to check for any other signs of sabotage.”

“Someone really doesn't want me here.” She shook her head, tears clouding her vision. “Why? What did I do?”

“You bought an empty house that someone wanted to remain empty. It's not you. I think anyone who bought this house would have the same issues.”

Jillian blinked, refusing to feel sorry for herself when a man lay in front of her, possibly paralyzed or fighting for his life. All because she insisted on living in this house. The house that had seemed like the perfect home now seemed to be a terrible nightmare. “Maybe I should give up on the house.”

“This is your house.” Chance turned her toward him and brushed a tear from her cheek. “No one has the right to frighten you away.”

“I don't want anyone else to get hurt.”

“You'll be here at night. With me. We can stop the vandals from doing damage just by being here.”

“What about when you leave?”

“Hopefully by then, we'll have caught them.”

“And if we haven't?”

Chance gave her a tight smile and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Don't borrow trouble, darlin'.” He kissed her lips and pulled her across his lap, into his arms.

Two of the other workers entered the house and stared down at George.

Brandon Quinn looked from George to the landing above and shook his head. “Too many accidents happening.”

“My wife says I need to quit and find another job that's less dangerous.” Eli Severs took off his cap and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Never had this much trouble on a job site.”

“It's this house,” Brandon whispered. “Folks in town swore it was haunted.”

“Never believed in ghosts, but this house has some seriously bad mojo.”

Jillian pushed out of Chance's lap. “Ghosts don't spray paint all over houses.” She lifted one of the cut spindles and held it up. “And they don't saw off spindles from banisters.” She tossed the spindle to the ground. “
People
do those kinds of things. How would you feel if this was your home and someone was booby-trapping it?”

Brandon snorted. “No one would want my house. It's a two-bedroom dump.”

“My wife would scare the sainthood out of an angel. No one's gonna mess with my house.” Eli chuckled. “You should hire her as your security guard.”

“I just need you two to keep working until this house is done.”

“Nothing's gonna get done if we all fall over railings or are run over by a truck.”

A siren's wail could be heard in the distance.

Brandon grabbed Eli and backed toward the door. “If it's all the same to you, we'll wait outside for the ambulance, so as not to crowd the emergency personnel.”

“Well, don't go too far. The police will likely want to question you about that railing,” Chance said. “Someone had to have cut it.”

Eli's brows lowered. “You saying we did it?” His fists clenched.

“No,” Chance said. “But they'll want to know if you saw anything or know what they could have used to cut the wood.”

“Had to have happened last night when everyone was out,” Brandon said.

Eli climbed the stairs, testing each step along the way. When he arrived at the top, he called out, “There's a saw up here in the pink room.”

“Don't touch it. There might be fingerprints on it,” Chance called out.

Eli appeared at the top of the staircase. “I know that. I watch the
CSI
shows on television.”

Jillian would have laughed, but the unconscious man in front of her stole the humor from the situation.

The sirens moved closer until the paramedics' truck arrived in the front yard.

Jillian watched through the open door as they unloaded what appeared to be a toolbox and a stretcher and ran for the house.

Thankful for someone who knew what to do with a man who'd fallen ten feet, Jillian stood and moved out of the way.

The paramedics shot out questions about what had happened.

Chance answered in a calm, deep voice. He came to stand beside Jillian, an arm slipping around her waist.

She leaned into him, glad he was there. As he had advised, she shouldn't borrow trouble. Yes, he would leave after the wedding. Until then, Jillian was thankful for strong shoulders and arms to hold her when things seemed to be falling apart.

Within fifteen minutes, they had George loaded onto a backboard and a gurney and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance.

While the paramedics did their magic to safeguard the patient, Jillian and Chance fielded the barrage of questions from Gabe, the policeman on duty, who'd responded to the emergency call. When he'd been informed of what had happened and had taken pictures of the sawed-off rails, Gabe pocketed his pad and camera and planted his hands on his hips. “The next question is...are you all right, Jillian?”

She laughed shakily. “I'm fine. I wasn't the one who fell ten feet onto a hardwood floor.”

“Yeah, but knowing the railing was cut in your home and that you could have been the one to fall is enough to push someone over the edge.”

“I'm not easily destroyed.”

“You might want to stay at the B and B until this is all sorted out,” Gabe said.

She smiled. “Can't. I gave up my room for some of Nova's relatives.”

Gabe's gaze shifted to Chance. “What about you?”

“I gave up mine, as well. Seems all of Nova's family and extended family are coming in for the wedding.” He pulled Jillian against him. “I'm staying here for the time being.”

“Good.” Gabe stared from Chance to Jillian. “Wouldn't be a bad idea to keep a gun or some pepper spray in case someone tries to break in.”

“Got it covered.” Jillian crossed her arms over her chest. “I have a small handgun and a can of wasp spray with a ten-foot stream.”

Gabe grinned and shook his head. “Never thought of using wasp spray, but it's a great idea.” His smile faded. “Main thing is to stay safe.”

“We will.” Chance tightened his hold around Jillian's middle.

“You sure you're up to taking care of this house and Molly's wedding?” Gabe shook his head. “You've got a lot going on. I can have Nora Taggart step in and relieve some of the burden.”

“I'm fine. Most of the planning was done months ago. I'm just tying loose ends.”

Gabe nodded. “When is the phone going to be installed?”

“I have it on order. It should have been installed by now, but they said they have a pretty big backlog.”

“The sooner the better. It's not good you being out here alone and no way to dial 911.”

“I know.”

Gabe left shortly after, giving Jillian a hug before climbing into his patrol vehicle and leaving.

Jillian headed for the Jeep. “As far as I'm concerned, George is off my list of suspects.”

“Agreed.” Chance followed. “If he was the one sabotaging the house, he would have known not to lean on the railing.”

“Right.” Jillian stopped at the driver's side of her Jeep. “Do you mind following me to the body shop?”

He smiled. “I'll be right behind you.”

The trip to town was accomplished without any further incidents. Jillian drove the Jeep straight to the body shop and handed her key over to the owner. “I'll let the insurance agent know you have it.”

The owner glanced at Chance and the vandalized rental. “Wanna put that one in the shop, too? I have a special on paint jobs.”

Jillian smiled. “Sorry, it's a rental.” She climbed into the passenger seat of Chance's SUV and pulled out her cell phone.

“Where to?” Chance asked.

“The Seaside Café.” She glanced across at him. “Nora might know where we can find Alan Thompson.” While Chance drove, Jillian reported the damage to her Jeep to her insurance agent.

By the time she'd given all the details, they were pulling into the parking lot of the Seaside Café.

Nora met them at the door, her brow furrowed. “Tom told me what happened to you last night. And now George...” She hugged Jillian. “I'm sorry all this is happening to you. Please, come in. Can I get you some coffee?”

“I'll take a cup.” Jillian slid onto a stool at the counter.

“Me, too.” Chance settled on the stool to her right.

Nora served up two cups of steaming brew and set the pot back on the burner. “I swear, someone is determined to keep you from moving into your house.”

Jillian sipped the coffee. “Seems to be the case.”

“Mrs. Taggart, do you know where we can find Alan Thompson?” Chance asked.

Jillian wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her.

“I can't say that I know. I haven't seen him in Cape Churn in years.”

“Would anyone else know where we could find him?”

Nora's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “He used to play cards with Frank Mortimer back when he was still around. They were good friends. He might have kept in touch.”

“When did he leave Cape Churn?” Jillian asked.

“About the time Sarah Thompson took her little girl and moved away. Been so long, I really don't know. But Frank might.” She smiled and looked from Chance to Jillian and back. “Are you two thinking of paying Mr. Mortimer a visit?”

“Yes,” Jillian said.

“He lives on the highway between the lighthouse where Gabe and Kayla live and the Stratford mansion. And wait...” Nora turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jillian shot a glance at Chance. Before she could say anything, Nora was back with a package wrapped in white butcher paper.

“Take this with you.” She gave it to Jillian.

“What is it?” Jillian asked.

“Steak.”

“Are we supposed to bribe Mr. Mortimer for information?”

Nora waved a hand. “Oh, heavens, no. But he has a dog that's half-wolf and more than a little intimidating.”

“We're supposed to give the dog the steak?” Jillian held out the wrapped steak to Nora. “We'll just give Mr. Mortimer a call before we go. He can put the dog up while we're there.”

Nora was shaking her head before Jillian finished talking. “You don't understand. Frank doesn't have a landline. And he keeps his wolf dog outside to ward off strangers and salesmen.” She pushed the steak back toward Jillian. “Trust me. The steak might buy you enough time to make it to his front porch.”

Jillian's gut clenched. “That doesn't sound very safe.”

“It's not. Mr. Mortimer is an old recluse who doesn't like visitors. He spends his days writing—about what, I don't know—but he doesn't like to be disturbed. That's why he has the dog. Not many people venture past the wolf's snarling canines.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.” Chance finished his coffee.

“If that's what you call a grumpy old man.” Nora wiped the counter with a clean washcloth.

“Ready to go?” Chance stood, dug out a few dollars and left them beside the mug.

Jillian took one more sip and handed the mug to Nora. “Thanks for the help and the great coffee.”

Nora gave them both a serious look. “If that wolf dog comes at you, stay in the vehicle or get back in it, quickly.”

Jillian shivered at the intensity of Nora's warning. “We will.” She clutched the package of meat in her hand and left the café, wondering if finding Alan Thompson was worth the trouble of braving Mortimer's wolf.

* * *

Chance headed for the rental car and opened the passenger door for Jillian. But she wasn't right behind him, like he'd thought. She was still standing on the sidewalk in front of the café, staring at something down the street.

When he looked that direction, Chance spotted Daryl Sims, walking along, calling out something and ducking in and out of buildings.

“Are we going?” Chance asked.

Jillian continued to stare at the man headed their way. “I think Daryl's in trouble.” She headed toward the man and met him in front of the hardware store.