Haven (16 page)

Eventually, she sighed and gave it up for the moment, returning her attention to the bathroom door, where steam was emerging thicker now and beginning to crawl across the ceiling toward her. She watched it for a moment, not really thinking about anything until a familiar, idle thought crossed her mind.

If he uses up all the hot water, I’m going to be pissed.

Sighing, she glanced down as she started to close the notebook.

And caught her breath, an icy finger trailing down her spine.

There was her note to herself to find a casual way to ask Emma about the pearls. Her handwriting, of course. Of course.

Beneath that, more than halfway down the page, a series of ragged
letters slanted drunkenly across the lined paper. They hadn’t been there when she had made her note. She didn’t remember writing them, and they most certainly weren’t in her handwriting.

The message wasn’t written in pencil. It was…red. Nellie moved a trembling thumb and slowly tested a letter. It smudged wetly on the page.

Blood.

Nellie stared at the message, trying to wrap her mind around the impossibility of it, her throat suddenly dry as she swallowed, an icy finger skittering up and down her spine. Usually, she enjoyed a good mystery.

This one scared the hell out of her.

WHEN NAVARRO EMERGED
from his room after the storm had finally passed and his headache had eased, he discovered innkeeper Penny Willis in the large foyer area that was a central hub for the common rooms, hallways, and main stairway leading to other parts of the house, having a quiet but firm conversation with the three paranormal researchers.

He lurked, still in the hallway.

“…
guests can’t be disturbed. I realize that you wish to explore the house but, really, occupied rooms are off-limits, and right now nearly all our rooms are occupied.”

The woman, a slender brunette with an earnest expression, said, “The family floor has the greatest reputation for events—if we could just do a walk-through some evening when Miss Rayburn isn’t at home—”

“I’m sorry, Miss Templeton—”

“Hollis. We’re not much for formalities.”

Penny’s expression showed a fleeting, wry realization of that, but all she said, firmly, was, “The family floor is off-limits to guests at all times. Miss Rayburn only allows the sort of investigation you want to conduct when she isn’t in residence here. Unfortunately for you, she’s here all summer.”

“But if we asked her—”

“I’ll pass on your request. I give you my word.” Penny’s voice was even firmer, kind but definitely discouraging any further discussion of the subject.

The one named Hollis looked at her male companions, disappointment on her face. The older of the two men shrugged and said, “We can do some research in the family archives, and I have contacts in other paranormal research groups who’ve been here. We can at least go over the ground that’s already been covered.”

The younger, taller man added calmly, “Best to get the preliminary stuff taken care of anyway, and avoid a needless duplication of efforts. Maybe Miss Rayburn will allow us access to the family floor later on. And there’s still the town, the other locations known to be hot spots. Should keep us busy for a while.”

Hollis still didn’t appear happy about it, but shrugged in her turn, clearly leaning toward defeat, however unwillingly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess. But, Miss Willis—”

“Penny.”

“Penny, thanks. You will tell Miss Rayburn we have the utmost respect for her privacy and, if allowed access, will certainly not disturb her home or spend any more time there than is absolutely necessary for our purposes?”

“I will.”

“Thank you.” She looked at her fellow researchers. “Gordon, if you want to get started in the library, maybe Reese and I can take a walk around Main Street and get some preliminary readings. This might be a good time, what with the storm just past.”

The older man nodded and headed for the inn’s library and family archives without further hesitation. Hollis and Reese, each carrying what looked like a laptop-sized shoulder bag, nodded to Penny and headed for the front door.

Navarro waited until they were well out of sight and Penny heaved a faintly exasperated sigh of relief, then came out of lurker mode and joined her.

“I thought I caught a glimpse of you,” she said to him.

“Figured I’d avoid them as long as possible,” he said.

“Smart man. Like I said, we’ve had paranormal researchers here before, even regularly, but this group seems especially keen to visit the family floor.”

“And Miss Rayburn doesn’t allow it when she’s in residence. Yeah, I heard you tell them.”

She tilted her head slightly, a definite curiosity in her eyes. “Do
you two know each other, by the way? Yesterday, when she came out of her office, it looked like you might.”

Deliberately, Navarro said, “I never met Emma Rayburn until yesterday.”

“Ah. My mistake.”

Navarro decided she wasn’t entirely convinced, but didn’t waste his time trying to change her mind; he had a hunch that would only make her more certain that they had, in fact, met before, and that there was some unusual, interesting reason why he was denying it.

He suspected Penny loved a good story even more than the writer he pretended to be loved one.

So he merely nodded and left the inn, bent on doing more exploring to try to satisfy the nagging feeling he had that he shouldn’t look to the mountains for his answers, even after finding human remains there.

The answer was closer; he could feel it.

The same way he could feel something dark in the very air of this seemingly peaceful, pretty little town.

POLICE CHIEF DAN
Maitland eyed the two paranormal researchers sitting in his office and tried not to register too much disbelief. “You want permission to hike up to where Jane Doe was discovered?”

The woman shifted a bit as if in discomfort, and said, “You’ve already given her that designation? Poor soul.”

“There wasn’t a lot left to identify,” Maitland told her. “I didn’t have much choice in what designation or name to use.”

“But surely dental records—”

“Her skull wasn’t recovered.”

This time, the attractive brunette looked a bit queasy. “Oh. I see.”

Her partner glanced at her, then looked at Maitland. “We’ve viewed crime scenes before, Chief.”

“Far as we can determine, it isn’t a crime scene. In all likelihood, either she fell or else her body was dumped there after she was killed.”

“So maybe an accident and maybe not?”

Maitland sighed. “Right now, I’m considering it a potential homicide due to several factors, which, as I’m sure you’re aware, I can’t discuss outside the investigation. But unless and until we get an ID, there really isn’t anywhere for the investigation to go.”

The man who’d introduced himself as Reese DeMarco nodded. “We don’t want to step on any toes, Chief. And we don’t want to get in the way. But sometimes we are able to…glean bits of information potentially useful to law enforcement.”

“You’ve helped the police before?”

“Well, we’ve provided information. Whether it’s been useful is something we haven’t been told. We’ve found that most law enforcement agencies don’t like to admit that any of their leads were obtained through unconventional sources.”

Maitland tried to imagine what the people of Baron Hollow would think if he followed a lead offered by a self-avowed psychic. Legend, myth, and reputed hauntings aside, his community was a hardheaded, hard-nosed one, by and large, and he knew very well they weren’t much impressed by self-avowed psychics.

He kept his expression neutral, however. Because he didn’t see the sense in offending visitors when Baron Hollow depended on their tourist dollars, and because he preferred to at least pretend he was a man with an open mind.

“
You can be sure I’ll follow up on any lead I get, Mr. DeMarco, no matter where it comes from. As for you two hiking up to where Jane Doe’s body was found, I wouldn’t advise it. You’d be well off the trails, and in this area even experienced hikers familiar with the terrain can get turned around and not know which way is out.”

DeMarco looked at his partner. “If it’s likely she wasn’t killed at that spot, I’m thinking there probably wouldn’t be any residual energy anyway.”

Hollis Templeton, still looking a bit queasy, nodded in clear reluctance. “I guess you’re right. She could have been killed a long way from here. And she might never have even lived in the area.”

“Nobody in Baron Hollow has gone missing,” Maitland assured her. “We have transients like yourselves, visitors passing through, but we keep a fairly close eye on them while they’re here.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t want to lose anyone on my watch.” Even as he said it, Maitland reflected that he had indeed very publicly lost one on his watch, even if she hadn’t turned up on any missing-persons list.

She sighed. “Well, there’s still Rayburn House, especially if Miss Rayburn gives us permission to explore the family rooms. And we have two churches and three other downtown buildings on our list to check out.”

“As long as you have permission or it’s a public building, feel free to explore. With the usual caveats, of course. Be careful, be respectful of the property owners and their property, and if you mean to photograph or video anything or anyone, be very sure you have permission to do so.”

“Got it, Chief.” DeMarco smiled pleasantly and rose to his feet, offering a helping hand to his partner.

For the first time, Maitland wondered if what he saw in her face was queasiness or real illness. There was something more than a little fragile-seeming in the attractive brunette. He found himself getting to his own feet, and saying, “We have several good doctors practicing here in town, Miss Templeton.”

She smiled, if a bit weakly. “Oh, I’m okay. Just jet-lagged is all. But thanks for the concern, Chief.”

He didn’t escort them from his office or the building, but gazed after them with a slight frown, not even sure why he was bothered.

Outside the small but fairly modern police station, the two paused on the walkway for a moment, then turned to head slowly in the direction of a beautiful old church a couple of blocks away.

“Did you get anything?” Hollis asked.

Her partner half shrugged. “Not much useful, I’d say. A few tidbits. You?”

“No, I don’t think I got anything useful. He’s more agitated than he lets on, but finding human remains tends to do that to cops.”

“You shouldn’t have pressed so hard to tune in his aura. I was afraid you’d get a nosebleed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

She sighed. “I keep telling you, I’m stronger than I look.” But she didn’t object when he firmly took her arm, more supportive than anything else.

“This isn’t about strength,” he said. “I know how strong you are, believe me. I also know how tired you are. You need to get some serious sleep. We both do. We won’t be any good at all if we don’t.”

“I’m not sure we have time to rest.”

“
And I’m sure we’d better take time.”

“What I feel about time right now…You don’t have any sense of a ticking clock?”

He shook his head. “Not really the kind of thing I pick up on. The chief isn’t happy to have an unidentified body on his hands, and something else was bugging him, something I couldn’t quite read, but I don’t think he’s overly concerned about anything in particular.”

His partner drew a breath and let it out slowly, leaning just a bit on his supportive arm. “Well, I think he should be concerned. This whole place…it’s off somehow.”

“Maybe you’re just sensing energy left by the storm.”

“I felt it before the storm.” She looked up at him, blue eyes disturbed. “I felt it as soon as we got here. There’s something wrong in Baron Hollow. Something a lot darker than a haunted inn or church. That body…I think she was his first mistake. Or maybe his mistake was Jessie Rayburn. Because without her, we never would have known about the woman in the woods.”

JULY 3

“You’ve done a good job of avoiding me.”

Emma drew a breath and let it out, trying not to make the action obvious, then turned to face Nathan Navarro. “I have my hands full running a business,” she said.

“You weren’t here yesterday afternoon.”

She wasn’t about to be questioned by him, and let him know that by silently lifting her brows and then turning away from him.

“
Emma—”

“At least get out of the reception area,” she said over her shoulder, walking into one of the common rooms that a glance had told her was empty of guests. She went to a wingback chair near the fireplace, but instead of sitting, stood behind it, leaning casually to face him with the chair between them.

He eyed the chair, only then seeing that she had yet another barrier between them. A Sheltie, standing beside her mistress. Not growling or barking, merely watching him with an intensity he could feel.

“Yours, I gather,” he said.

Her expression was thoughtful, nothing more. “Herding dogs. They can stare a hole through you. Yes, she’s mine.”

He eyed the dog. “Want to introduce us?”

“It’s okay, Lizzie,” she said, after a moment.

The Sheltie’s plume of a tail waved once, but her Lassie-like face remained alert and watchful.

Navarro took a couple of steps closer and knelt to offer his hand, opened loosely and palm down, and when the dog had sniffed it, he scratched her behind an ear briefly before rising to his feet. “I think she’s reserving judgment,” he offered, still aware of those bright eyes fixed on his face.

“She’s reserved with strangers, period. It’s a characteristic of the breed.”

Small talk. Navarro wondered how long they could keep that up.

“So I guess I call you Nathan now,” she said, her gaze meeting his.

Not long at all.

“It’s my name,” he responded.

“Uh-huh.”

“My real name—Emma.”