Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around Me\Legacy of Darkness\The Devil's Eye\Black Rose (31 page)

“Funny thing about working as the James’ groundskeeper, they actually expect me to do work, and Eleri’s looking for an excuse to sack me, so I’m trying my damnedest not to give her one.”

Harding jabbed a finger at him. “You lose this job, you’re of no use to me. I’ll have you up on charges faster than you can say
charlatan
.”

Reece tilted his head and studied the furious man in front of him. Was it mere disgust and disbelief in Reece’s previous occupation that fed his fury, or was he afraid? Reece’s gaze flicked to the pale boy, skinny and sickly, silently following Harding. Did the detective sense him sometimes? Did it scare him? Was that why he was so determined Reece was a liar?

“You were late,” Reece reminded him, happy to shift the blame. “Besides, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Ah yes, James’s long-lost daughter. I just met the lovely young woman.”

“Lucky her.” Something twisted low inside him. He didn’t like the idea of the man anywhere near Brynn. Harding was half-mad with his obsession. God knew how he’d factor Brynn into his plans if he could.

What did he care one way or the other? Brynn wasn’t his problem.

“What’s she doing here?”

Reece shrugged. “How should I know? I’m just the help. You probably know as much as I do.”

Harding’s hand shot out from his pocket, fingers curling into the shoulder of Reece’s jacket, and jerked him forward. “Do you need a reminder of just what the hell it is you’re supposed to be doing here?”

Dull fury pounded behind Reece’s eyes. He knocked the man’s hand away. “I know exactly why I’m here. Bait.”

“That’s right, but until that bitch has a go at you, you’re to keep me informed. Why is Brynn James here? Why now?”

Reece glared, the muscle in his jaw knotting. He hated this. Hated digging up dirt for the man. Hated repeating gossip like some bored housewife. Hated that Harding owned him.

As if sensing Reece’s thoughts, the cop tilted his head to one side, brows lifting. “You can always say no, go home. As for those charges, all you have to do is prove that you can do what you say you can. That’s the law.”

God, how he would love to give Harding just a glimpse of the things he saw. Wipe the stupid smirk off the man’s face.

He glanced at the silent boy, and not for the first time toyed with idea of telling the detective exactly who followed him and why.

“Warlow and Mrs. Voyle seem to think she’s after an inheritance, but according to Warlow she’s going to be disappointed.”

“There you are, earning your keep at last. Was that so hard, then?” He rubbed his knuckles against his face thoughtfully. “That’s speculation, though. Find out what she wants, why she’s waited until now to come.”

Reece rolled his eyes. “How do you suggest I do that?”

“You’re a bright boy, and with your history, I’ve no doubt you’ll think of something. You know, Brynn nearly drowned here when she was a child.”

Cold swept through Reece, the memory of her coming apart at the sight of the sea fresh in his mind.

“Not long after,” Harding continued, “Meris packed the girl off. Can’t help but wonder if Eleri’s brought her back to finish what she started. Perhaps that’s why Eleri has shown so little interest in you—she already has another victim in mind. If you’re smart, you’ll stay close to the girl. See if Eleri makes a try for her.”

Reece breathed hard through his nose and shook his head. “You’re going to use her the way you do me?”

Harding barked out a laugh. “Well, look who has such a strong moral code all of sudden. If you’re so concerned, get Eleri’s attention back on you.”

“What would you like me to do? Wear a sign? ‘Please Try To Kill Me.’”

Harding tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? You like a good laugh, eh? Did you get a laugh from those poor people you lied to and took their money? People grieving and at their most vulnerable. You profited from their misfortune.”

Not entirely true. He never saw a dime. He’d merely done what he had to in order to survive, to keep a roof over his head, to keep himself from winding up in care. And not everything he’d said had been lies, but plenty were, and the guilt twisted in his chest.

“It’s quite the cozy life you’ve built for yourself, isn’t it?” Harding went on, voice thick with derision. “You know, a part of me hopes you’ll fail? I would dearly love to see it all come crashing down around you. You deserve to sit in a prison cell and rot like a common thief, because that, my boy, is exactly what you are.”

Reece’s stomach churned, but he didn’t argue. He couldn’t. Everything the cop said was true.

“She was romantically involved with Griffin Paskin.” Harding cocked his head to one side, studied Reece. “You’re not a bad-looking lad. Charm her. Romance her. She’s probably desperate for it. That ought to paint a target on you.”

Reece gritted his teeth; his innards shriveled like a dried sponge. “Did you want me to sleep with her, too?”

“Whatever it takes, lad.”

As repugnant as the idea was, it was funny in its way. If Harding had been looking for some Don Juan to seduce Eleri into killing him, he’d really chosen wrong with Reece. Hell, he had enough trouble dealing with women he actually liked. Hearing voices and seeing people that no one else could didn’t exactly make him a great catch.

“Do we understand each other?” Harding asked.

Reece nodded.

Harding slapped him on the shoulder and turned away, but the pale boy lingered, blue eyes boring into Reece.

He shifted his gaze, keeping his attention on the detective, pretending the boy wasn’t there.

“She’ll die.” The boy’s voice squeaked like a rusty hinge. “And nothing you do can stop it.”

Her father never wanted to see her again, her sister—who was being investigated for murder—had very likely killed her mother. If there were better reasons to leave a place, Brynn couldn’t think of any.

She bent her head against the cold wet drizzle and wished for the hundredth time that she’d thought to grab a coat and her car keys…her passport. Her knit sweater was no protection against the chill damp air, clinging to her icy skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle, gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.

She should go back to the house, no matter how the idea twisted her insides. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could find her way. As soon as she’d walked out the door, she’d started away from the rush of the surf against the shore, into the woods behind the house and along a dirt path.

She stopped walking and turned in a slow circle. Thick gray tree trunks rose up around her, knotted branches stretching for the bleak sky and creaking with the wind.

It all looked the same. Even the dirt paths littered with dead leaves, winding through the trees and crossing over each other. She didn’t have a clue where she was.

“Perfect,” she muttered, shoving back her sopping hair.
Now what?
Keep going the way she had been, or try to find her way back? Her luck, she’d wind up walking in circles until she died of exposure.

This wasn’t who she was. She was organized, careful, a planner. She didn’t wander off into strange forests without knowing the way back, or stay with long-lost relatives without doing a little research. Without checking whether or not they were under suspicion of any major crimes, for instance. For the past week she’d felt like someone had picked up her world and shaken it and she couldn’t quite gain her footing.

Her gaze fell on something through the trees, wide and off-white. A structure. A house, maybe? A sign of civilization, anyway. She picked up her pace and started toward it. As the trees fell behind her, the building with its yellowing stucco and dark wood beams emerged from the gloom.

The Iron Kettle Pub. Brynn sagged with relief. Finally, something halfway recognizable, and it would be warm and dry inside. She could probably call for a cab, maybe even get something to eat that was actually edible first.

She hurried across the parking lot and hauled open the heavy door. Once inside, she froze. She’d left her purse back at the house. How would she pay for anything?

“Meris’s daughter come to see us again.” Stephen Paskin’s jovial voice broke into her thoughts, and an odd sense of déjà vu washed over her. He leaned forward, the flats of both hands pressed to the bar top, a wide grin spread across his face. “Come in and let’s get a drink in you to warm you.”

“I just realized I don’t have money with me. I’ll have to come back.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll start a tab for you. After all, it’s not like I don’t know where to find you.” He winked at her.

“Thanks. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to pay you.” On her way back to the airport.

She maneuvered between tables and settled at a booth near the fireplace. Hopefully the heat would dry her wet clothes. She flexed her hands, opening and closing her fingers in an attempt to regain some feeling.

There were fewer people in the pub than the night before, maybe because it was earlier. An older man, his gray hair a wild tangle on his head, watched her with narrowed blue eyes. She flashed a stiff smile, then shifted her gaze to Dylis standing by one of the booths near the window and chatting with a middle-aged couple.

“Here you are, then.” Stephen set a glass of whiskey on the table before her. “A little something to warm you, and this one’s on the house.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she said quickly.

“You drink that, love. It looks like you could use it.” He chuckled.

He had no idea. A stiff drink, edible food and a decent night’s sleep sounded like heaven to her. To be fair, she’d probably only wind up with two out of the three, but she’d take what she could. “Thanks.”

“Enjoy.” He set down a menu then made his way back to the bar.

She lifted the glass and took a deep sip. The bitter liquid heated her tongue, slipped down her throat and pooled in her empty belly, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. She set the glass down and lifted her gaze to find Dylis watching her, a slight frown marring the older woman’s puffy features.

Dylis said something to the couple then made her way over.

“Everything all right at Stonecliff, love?” Dylis asked.

Something about her careful wording, the hesitant expectation tightening her features. Dylis Paskin knew exactly why Brynn had turned up at her pub looking like a drowned rat. “Are you asking because my sister’s being investigated for murder?”

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s get some food in you. Then we’ll chat.”

Brynn flipped open the menu and ordered the first thing that caught her eye—a lamb burger and chips. With a nod, Dylis crossed the pub and disappeared into a room behind the bar.

Brynn sighed and sipped her drink. The crackle and pop from flames in the hearth and the steady tick of icy rain against the leaded window next to her table was soothing. She closed her eyes and slouched in her seat. The drink had warmed her, loosened the tension gripping her muscles. She could easily drift off.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” Brynn started and jerked her head around to the man from the bar. He stood next to her table, huge and hulking with broad shoulders that sloped forward as if the weight was simply too great for him to carry. In one hand he held a pint, and in the other a glass of whiskey. “You’re Meris’s girl.”

She nodded wordlessly.

“I’m Thomas Grady. I used to work for your father, groundskeeper.” He certainly fit the part better than Reece.

Wait a minute. She straightened in her chair. The same Thomas who had saved her from drowning?

He banged the whiskey glass on the table and shoved it toward her. “This is for you.”

* * *

Dull skies had darkened to slate, relentless drizzle giving way to fat drops of rain by the time Reece wrapped up for the day. He stashed his tools in the garage beneath his flat, wet clothes clinging to his frigid skin, hands numb and stiff from the cold. All he wanted was to stand under a hot shower then fall into bed and forget his conversation with the detective—at least for now.

He started for the stairs that would take him to his flat, but his gaze landed on two cardboard boxes tucked in the far back corner.
ML
was neatly printed in black magic marker on the sides. Matthew Langley’s few possessions cleared out from the flat to make room for Reece.

Nearly two months and no one had claimed them. No family, no friends, Matthew Langley—if that was even his real name—had died without a soul to mourn him.

Eventually, after a suitable amount of time had passed, those boxes would be tossed in the rubbish, and most people would forget the man altogether.

Reece stared at the pitiful legacy, two forgotten boxes that no one knew what do with.

Though, who was he to be so smug? If he dropped off the face of the planet tomorrow, who would claim his boxes of crap?

Lloyd, he supposed, the closest thing he had to a father, but once he was gone, who would Reece have? He’d never marry, never have children, never inflict what he was on anyone else.

He pushed the depressing thoughts aside. His life was the way it had to be. If Kendrick had taught him anything, it was that people like them couldn’t live like everyone else.

He rested his hand on the damp cardboard, closed his eyes and let down his guards, opening himself completely.

Nothing. Not so much as a whisper. Just a soft hiss like a radio unable to pick up a station.

He opened his eyes and sighed. What was it about this place? It was as if Stonecliff were trapped beneath an invisible bubble keeping those who had come before out. Hell, he’d even tried where Langley’s body had been found, and still nothing.

The soft rasp of a throat clearing cut the quiet. He whipped around and froze. Eleri stood just inside the garage, her dark gaze boring into him. His pulse jumped.

Had she seen him, eyes closed, trying to make contact? His face heated at the possibility. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t know what it was he’d been doing. She, like everyone else, would just think he was strange, weird, off.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” Eleri’s fingers fiddled with the small silver cross at her neck.

“What do you need?” Normally, she stared him down with an icy glare, spoke to him as if he was something she’d stepped in and couldn’t quite scrape from the bottom of her foot.

“It’s Brynn,” Eleri said softly. “She’s gone and I’m worried about her.”

Cold swept through him. “Gone where?”

“If I knew, do you think I’d be here asking for your help?” she snapped.

Unless Eleri knew exactly where Brynn was and planned to lure him to wherever she’d stashed the body, add another notch to her count. Surely to God she hadn’t hurt her sister, not mere hours after the detective had been here?

“She doesn’t have her car,” Eleri continued. “I don’t even think she took her coat.”

“How long has she been gone?”

Eleri swallowed. “Two hours. I want you to find her.”

Bloody hell,
provided she was even telling the truth, what did she expect him to do? Drive aimlessly about the countryside and hope he stumbled across her? Eleri’s gaze bored into him, and he realized that was exactly what she expected him to do.

“Brynn doesn’t know the area.” Eleri started to pace. “She might be lost. Something could happen to her.”

If it hadn’t already.

* * *

“You need to watch yourself with that lot.” Thomas nodded at Stephen behind the bar as he folded his oversized frame into the booth opposite Brynn. His clothes were wrinkled, gray stubble covered his ruddy face and his bloodshot eyes made his blue irises brighter, more intense. Even in a pub, while sipping her own drink, Brynn could smell the stink of stale alcohol oozing from his pores.

“Why’s that?” Brynn asked. So far, the Paskins were among the few friendly people she’d met.

“Your sister murdered their son a few years back. There’s been bad blood between the families ever since.”

She stared, too stunned to speak. He had to be mistaken. If her sister had murdered the Paskins’ son—or anyone’s son—she’d be locked up. Not free…to be investigated for
another
man’s murder.

“They call your sister The Witch of Stonecliff.” Thomas lowered his voice and leaned forward, relishing every juicy detail. “She lures men and feeds on their souls, feeding the evil in the ground. She’s not the only one, of course, but she’s the most dangerous, harvesting men close to her.”

“Huh.” Brynn gulped down her whiskey, draining the glass before setting it on the table. The liquid pooled hot in her empty belly. She probably shouldn’t have guzzled it back like that before eating, but she needed something to take the edge off.

“I understand I owe you a thank-you,” Brynn said, trying to change the subject. “You saved me from drowning.”

“Thought for certain you were dead when I hauled you out.”

A shiver raced along her skin, and she shifted back in her seat. “I don’t remember much about what happened.”

He stared at her with strange intensity. “I don’t suppose you would. Probably for the best, though.”

Maybe, maybe not
. “Do you know who was with me that day?”

“It’s not her fault, you understand.” His hand shook a little as he lifted the beer to his mouth and gulped. “It’s the grounds themselves. They’re soured. Poisoned. You need to protect yourself, get away from this place before you wind up just like her.”

Great. Something to look forward to
. She reached for the drink he’d brought her and took a long swallow.

“Hildy used to say there was nothing wrong with the girl,” Thomas continued, thudding his blunt finger on the tabletop. “But I’m telling you there’s an evil covering that place like a shadow. Hildy saw you sent away, didn’t she?”

Brynn set down her glass and frowned. “Who’s Hildy?”

If he heard her question, he ignored it. “The longer you stay, that darkness will creep inside you. Slowly, at first, but soon it will take you over, turn you like your sister, like your mother.”

Brynn blinked. “What…what did you say about my mother?”

“The darkness was in her, just like your sister.”

“For the love of God, Thomas Grady,” Dylis said, setting a steaming plate before Brynn. “Leave the poor girl to eat her dinner in peace.”

Thomas scowled at the woman. “I’m just talking to her.”

“Off with you.” She pointed one chubby finger to the barstool he’d been sitting on when Brynn arrived.

“Fine,” Thomas huffed and slid from the booth. He turned his pale gaze back to Brynn. “I wanted you to know I remembered you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, her insides frozen. He nodded and shuffled back to the bar. She drained her glass and shot Dylis a pointed look. “And thank
you
.”

The woman sank into the booth opposite her, lips pressed into a tight line. “Don’t give another thought to anything that fool says.”

“I’m fine, really.” She probably should have been more upset by the man’s claims, but two drinks on an empty stomach had left her fuzzy-headed and delightfully numb. She needed to get some food into her.

She lifted the burger, took a bite and nearly wept. God, that was good.

“How did you find out about the murders?” Dylis asked.

“The police were at the house today.”

Dylis leaned closer. “Did they arrest her?”

Brynn shook her head.

“I’ll tell you about your sister and what goes on at Stonecliff. Someone needs to warn you. Poor girl. You should never have come back.”

Brynn shot her a wry smirk. “Seems to be the popular consensus.”

“The first man to go missing was a little more than ten years ago, just before that sister of yours went off to school. He was your family’s caretaker and one day he just upped and vanished. Your father claimed the man had moved on, but he hadn’t told a soul he was leaving. With no body or proof of foul play, police took your father at his word. Everyone else knew Eleri had something to do with it.”