The Heart of Christmas (13 page)

“I guess it’s also possible that she suspected but didn’t really know,” he mused.

“True.”

“Has anyone ever tried to figure out where she went? Spoken to her family? Hunted down all the boys who were living nearby at the time to follow up on Luddy’s theory?”

“Why would anyone bother to do that? Luddy was basing her accusations on something she said she heard
from a ghost.
You don’t believe there’s anything to it, do you?”

“Of course not. But it’d be worth talking to everyone who might have some memory of the incident—or who knew someone with a memory of it.”

“I don’t think
Unsolved Mysteries
went that far. Time is money for them, and they were chiefly interested in coming up with enough for a good segment, because it meant they could feature Simon, which was the real draw for them.”

“They got the ratings boost they wanted.”

“And we got what little information they managed to dig up, but it certainly doesn’t answer all our questions.”

“That doesn’t mean the answers we want aren’t out there.” Eve prayed he was right. In recent years, she’d despaired of ever solving the mystery, but his interest gave her renewed hope. It seemed as though everything he touched turned to gold. Maybe he’d have luck in this, too, and Mary’s murderer would be identified despite the passage of so much time.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and Eve gladly led him up the stairs.

As they reached the main floor, she expected him to say goodbye and leave her so she could go find those documents in the attic, but he didn’t. He stopped before they could reach the front door and gave her a searching look.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Sophia heard something at the salon when she was getting her hair cut that has us both worried.”

Feeling immediately defensive, Eve crossed her arms. “So?”

“You’re not even going to ask what it is?”

“I know what it is.” Noelle had been gossiping. Eve had expected that. But it was a little disconcerting to hear that the rumors had reached Shearwood Forest, where they’d likely be regurgitated for weeks. “And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

He stiffened. “Maybe not as a past lover. But I was your friend before I was anything more, and I hope I’m still your friend.”

“Stop that,” she said. “Of course we’re friends. We’ll always be friends. I told you, I’m just going through a rough patch.”

“This rough patch...it’s because of the guy you met at Sexy Sadie’s, right?”

“It’s because I’m turning thirty-five and don’t know what to do with the rest of my life!”

“You were never confused before.”

She didn’t have an answer for that. She didn’t understand why she suddenly felt so listless and dissatisfied. Maybe it was because Brent had shown her what she
could
feel, and it was heady and wonderful and more fulfilling than anything she’d experienced so far.

“Is he the guy who was staying here?” Ted asked. “The one who came up and whispered in your ear when we were talking in the parlor?”

“Does it matter?”

“Just curious.” He scowled at her. “God, why are you so defensive?”

“Sorry.” She thrust her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“What’s he doing in town?”

“Taking a vacation for the holidays.”

“All by himself?”

“His sister is coming to join him tomorrow. Why?”

“I thought maybe he was here on a job—you know, to protect someone, and I couldn’t imagine who it might be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s a bodyguard, right?”

A stab of foreboding made her uncomfortable, and she instantly thought of those odd scars on his body. “No. He owns a landscaping company in Bakersfield.”

Ted’s eyebrows went up. “You sure?”

She wasn’t. She wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Brent. “I think so. Why?”

“Apparently Noelle asked whether or not it was wise to leave you alone with him, and he said she didn’t have to worry, that you’d be safe with him. That’s when he said he was a bodyguard.”

“He was drunk, probably didn’t even know what he was saying.” Besides, that sounded like a typical Noelle flirtation. If she’d
really
been worried about Eve’s well-being, she wouldn’t have dropped them off together, no matter what Brent said, especially when he’d had too much to drink. What murderer was going to admit his next victim wasn’t safe?

But there was a note of authenticity in this that bothered Eve. Brent wasn’t particularly bulky, but he came across more like a bodyguard than a landscaper. Plus, Dylan had reacted to the wariness in him. And that moment when Brent had pinned her down on the bed made her think he was used to physical confrontations. So did the way he constantly scanned a room, as if assessing any potential threat.

“Even if he was drunk, why would he lie? Personally, I think that’s when he’d be more prone to tell the truth.”

“Maybe he was being facetious!”

“Right. That makes sense.” He said that as though it didn’t make any sense at all, but Eve could imagine a man joking that way.
I’ll look after her. I’m a bodyguard.

Regardless, Ted moved on. “So how long will he be staying in Whiskey Creek?”

“Until after Christmas.”

“Will you be seeing him again?”

As if she hadn’t had enough warnings, Brent had given her another one just that morning:
Don’t get attached...
No,” she decided. “I won’t.”

14

R
ex hadn’t been able to reach Scarlet. He’d tried several times. She’d ducked his calls yesterday, when he’d been waiting for her at that home-style restaurant in Whiskey Creek. But she’d had a reason to avoid him then. She hadn’t wanted him pressuring her to leave the Bay Area and go to a town she wasn’t familiar with, hadn’t wanted to face the reality of the danger she was in. Now that he wasn’t expecting her until tomorrow, she should know he was just trying to check in—and that he’d worry if she didn’t pick up.

So what was going on?

With a curse, he tried for easily the tenth time. Then he called Marilyn at home. “Have you heard from Scarlet?” he asked without even saying hello first.

“No. But it’s Sunday, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t work on Sunday.”

“You get the emergency calls.” Ordinarily, they came to him, but he’d asked her to take on that duty and to let him know if anything important developed. “This kind of work can’t be scheduled into office hours. I explained that when I hired you, and when I asked you to take on some additional tasks while I’m gone.”

“I know. It’s just...it’s been stressful since you left. And I didn’t get any sleep last night. I was at the vet clinic with my dog. He cut himself on the fence out back.”

“I hope he’s okay. I wouldn’t ask this if I was any closer. But Scarlet’s life could be in danger. I need you to drive by her place, see if you can find some sign of her. Meanwhile, I’ll call the police and the hospitals.”

There was a slight hesitation, but when Marilyn responded, she sounded almost as concerned as he was. “You’re really worried.”

“Shit, yeah, I’m worried.”

He heard the jingle of her keys. “I’ll leave now. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

“Thanks.”

Mrs. Higgins was listening to her Christmas music again and baking in the kitchen. Rex could smell the gingerbread and wished that Scarlet had taken his advice—and come to this safe haven when she’d had the chance.

* * *

No one had died in the attic, but it could be as unsettling as the basement, with its musty smell and all the dust and cobwebs, not to mention the clutter and nostalgic memorabilia. Eve’s own cradle was stored up here, along with several boxes of her old clothes and toys. Her parents had put her brothers’ childhood belongings here, too, hoping that any grandchildren they might have would benefit from what they’d saved.

Eve wondered if they might finally get the grandchild they’d been waiting for come August but wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that possibility. Because then she’d also think of Brent, and thinking about him weakened her resolve not to see him again.

Maybe it would be easier once he left....

“Look at this stuff,” she muttered aloud. She wasn’t even sure her parents were aware of everything that had been shoved up here, but they’d said that some of it hailed all the way back to when the Victorian was first built. Harriett Hatfield, one of the original owners, hadn’t taken much more than a suitcase full of clothes with her. And John’s nephew and his wife, Betsy, sold all the household furnishings before they left, but probably hadn’t been willing to drag several big boxes across the country with them, especially boxes full of stuff that was essentially worthless. The buildup had started there. Then Luddy had bought the place, refurnished it and piled
her
cast-off items on top of what John’s nephew and Betsy had abandoned. Toward the end of her life, she probably hadn’t been strong enough to haul box after box down the narrow stairs that were the attic’s only access.

When Luddy died—it was in the 1950s if Eve remembered right—her only son came from San Francisco. He tried to open a flower shop in Whiskey Creek but couldn’t get a foothold. According to what her parents had heard, he’d gone through the attic and sold the antiques, along with some of his mother’s possessions, before returning to the city. But even he didn’t go through all the boxes of journals and pictures. Or if he did, he didn’t know what to do with them so he just left them behind like everyone else.

The Victorian had changed hands quite a few times after that—until 1984, when her parents bought it in order to turn it into a B and B. No doubt more of the storage had been sold off or thrown away during the gap between Luddy’s ownership and the time the Victorian came into her family, but the attic was never completely cleaned out. Eve guessed no one wanted to toss things that might have some historical value. At least that was the reason her parents gave for not getting rid of it all.

Eve felt the time had come to put this place to rights, but she wasn’t in any hurry. A thorough cleaning would require a lot of work and time spent in the attic, which she couldn’t afford through the Christmas season. Besides, the attic wasn’t a comfortable place to be. It had no heat or air-conditioning, and several townspeople claimed, as far back as Mary’s death, to have seen a figure standing in the window up here—when no one would admit to being in the attic. Two years ago, the woman who owned the dress shop in town told the
Gold Country Gazette,
when they did their usual Halloween article about the haunted B and B in town, that she saw someone holding a candle in the highest window, late at night, just the previous summer.

Although Eve had always coped with the possibility that she shared the B and B with a ghost, she wasn’t eager to spend much time in the attic or the basement, especially alone. She didn’t think she’d ever grow accustomed to the unease that made her feel slightly clammy. But she hadn’t expected retrieving the records
Unsolved Mysteries
had left to take very long. She’d been fairly certain she’d put them close to the door, but she’d been searching for nearly thirty minutes and hadn’t been able to locate them.

“What the heck did I do with those things?” she muttered as she worked her way deeper into the stacks of tax records and old toys, baby items, photo albums and decorations for seasons other than Christmas. She and Deb had dragged all her Christmas decorations out of here and had moved other stuff around in order to do it. That must be why the box of information wasn’t where she’d expected to find it.

Seeing the coffin and skeleton she’d bought for Halloween several years ago gave her a jolt.

“Come on, Eve,” she said, laughing at her own reaction. But she couldn’t help sending a nervous glance at the window where everyone said the mysterious “ghost” appeared. Had those people really seen something that indicated paranormal activity? Or was it all imagined?

Eve preferred to believe the latter. She was a pragmatist at heart. If she couldn’t trust what
she’d
seen and heard, how could they? But it was a bit disturbing that no one could get to that particular window, not without moving a lot of junk that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in decades.

Eve decided to make a pathway now. Why not? With any luck, she’d come across the research from
Unsolved Mysteries
in the process. And if she looked out, maybe she could ascertain what people were actually seeing when they said they’d spotted Mary’s ghost.

Once Eve reached the window, she had to smile at the thought that someone would probably see her and claim yet another ghost sighting. But as she gazed out over downtown, she quickly forgot about Mary, the records, even her anxiety about the unexplained, when she saw Brent’s Land Rover tearing down the street. He was going faster than he should and accelerated in a sudden burst, scooting through a yellow light. Then he skidded around a corner and disappeared. Where was
he
going?

It looked to her as if he was heading out of town.

So maybe he’d changed his mind about staying through the holidays. Maybe he was leaving early.

That wouldn’t bother her, Eve told herself. She’d just been thinking it would make things easier.

But if that was her honest response, why did she suddenly feel so heartsick when she went back to digging for those records?

* * *

Rex was sitting beside Scarlet’s hospital bed when she opened her eyes. Her parents had been there earlier, to greet her when she first got out of surgery. But they were gone now, getting a bite to eat. Rex had promised to sit with her, and he was glad of it. This afforded them a few minutes alone.

“Hey,” he murmured, approaching the bed when he realized she was conscious. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I should have listened to you. That woman was there, when...when I went home to change and get more stuff.” She choked up. “She...stabbed me...almost killed me.”

Rex had heard, from the police and Scarlet’s parents, that the person who’d been stalking her was a woman by the name of Tara Wilson—the jealous girlfriend of one of Scarlet’s old love interests. Tara didn’t have a history of violence, and no previous complaints had ever been filed against her, so the police had never even suspected her.

Rex had to admit, like the police, he’d 100 percent assumed it was a man. Tara had been clever enough to make it appear that way, what with that picture of a penis and stealing Scarlet’s underwear. The sexual aspect had sent them in the wrong direction. So who knew how long the torture might have continued if Scarlet hadn’t surprised Tara at the house?

“The good news is that she didn’t,” he said. “And she won’t get away with what she’s done. The police have her in custody. It’s over. She’ll go to prison for assault with a deadly weapon, and once your stitches are out, you’ll be fine.”

“But why would she
stab
me? What have I ever done to her? Nothing! I only met her once, briefly, when I saw the two of them at a birthday party for a mutual friend.”

“Maybe she panicked and felt she had to kill you or you’d identify her.”

“But I don’t understand what made her fixate on me in the first place. I don’t even care about Tom anymore. He calls every once in a while, but we haven’t been together—not in
that
way—for years.”

“It’s possible he never got over you.”

“Did she say that?”

“She told the police he has pictures of you all over his apartment and throws you up to her as the love of his life whenever they argue. She resents living in your shadow.”

“That makes no sense,” Scarlet insisted. “Tom creeped me out a little when we broke up. I’ve never seen a man cry and beg like that. But...he’s been fine since. When he calls, we don’t even talk about intimate things. I ask how his life is going. He asks about mine. No big deal.”

“You probably wouldn’t have taken his calls otherwise.”

“So it was all an act?”

He wiped a tear from her cheek. “A lot of situations like this
don’t
make sense. At least you’re safe now, and you’ll be able to spend the holidays with your family without constantly worrying about what you might find when you go home.”

She gazed around the stark hospital room. “You mean I’ll be able to enjoy the holidays after I get out of here.”

“That won’t take too long. Somehow, miraculously, that knife missed your vital organs. You should heal quickly.”

She sniffed. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d gone to Whiskey Creek with you.”

“True. I wasn’t pleased that you ignored my advice. But if you hadn’t, she might never have been caught. I’m just happy it’s over for you.”

She adjusted the tube going into her IV so she could use her arm to push the hair out of her face. “How did you find out I was here?”

“I’ve been calling you all day, trying to check in. When you wouldn’t pick up, I had the woman who runs my office drive by your place.”

“Marilyn.”

“Yes. She saw the cop cars, so she called me and I drove over.”

“That’s almost a two-hour drive.”

“I know.”

She reached for his hand. “It was nice of you to come so far.”

He let her thread her fingers through his. “I feel bad for not being there when you needed me.”

“It was my choice to stay in the city for another couple of days.” She managed a rather pitiful smile. “So don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for my retainer back.”

He chuckled at her joke. “I do have one question.”

“What’s that?”

“How long has Tom been with Tara?”

“A year or so. Why?”

A year? That couldn’t be. “How long did they know each other before dating?”

“A week or so after we bumped into each other, he called to say hello and told me he met her at work a few weeks before they got together.”

“Then who was stalking you before?”

A look of confusion crossed her face and, once it cleared, her jaw dropped. “God, I must still be groggy from the anesthetic, because you’re right. It couldn’t have been her. Not the last time. She didn’t even know me when I was being terrorized back then.”

“Shit,” he said. “She’s not your stalker.”

“Are you sure?”

“The chances are way too small that you picked up
two
stalkers, especially with such similar behavior.”

“But she was
in
my house. She came at me with a knife.”

“Maybe she was there looking for proof that you and Tom were together recently. Because my money’s on him,” he said, and called the police.

* * *

“I found them.” That evening, Eve sat in her office at the B and B with the box from
Unsolved Mysteries
at her feet. She would’ve phoned Ted to notify him as soon as she’d hauled it down from the attic, but she’d spent the past several hours reading what it contained. If it wasn’t so late, she would have gone through the entire box, but she knew Ted was expecting her to call before bedtime.

“That’s great!” he said. “Where were they?”

“In the attic, like I thought. Took a while to find them, though. I have no idea how they got shoved so far in the back.”

“Thanks for going to so much trouble. I’m sure the historical society will thank you, too, once I finish my book.”

“They have copies of a lot of these documents already but I’ve been meaning to let them go through all this stuff to see if they’re missing anything.”

“Sure, we can do that at some point. Should I pick them up from your house or—”

“No, come to the B and B,” she said. “I’m still here.”