The Witch of Stonecliff (27 page)

BOOK: The Witch of Stonecliff
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The days immediately after, however, seemed to move in a blur. Kyle said she might have been dealing with a bit of shock. And why not? She’d killed a man that night. She supposed she should feel some regret at having taken a life, but she didn’t. Before leaving Morehead, Eleri had a vague recollection of Detective Miller apologizing to her, Harding standing next the man and glaring daggers at her the whole time. Despite all that had happened, he clearly wasn’t convinced she wasn’t still involved somehow. In the end it hadn’t mattered what he believed. Kyle had heard the man had been fired. She probably should have felt a certain vindication, yet even after everything she didn’t bear him any ill will. She’d never cared for Dr. Howard and had seen Stephen Paskin’s dark side, but she’d never suspected either of them of murder.

Dylis had been taken into custody. Dr. Howard would have been as well, but he’d succumbed to his injuries while in the hospital. The police investigated the round room. Between blood stains on the stone walls and Paskin’s photographs in his cellar, he’d obviously tortured and murdered a number of women there. So far there were no leads as to where he’d disposed of their bodies. Maybe his wife, who’d been covering for him for years, would be able to lead police to the murdered women. After leaving Cragera Bay, Brynn and Reece had gone to his home in Holyhead. Eleri and Kyle had come here to his parents’ in Dorchester.

At first she’d been overwhelmed by his big family, sisters, brother. Kyle’s mother fussed over her. No one had ever fussed over her before and as kind as the woman was it had been a little unnerving. Kyle’s father, on the other hand, she adored. He was a soft-spoken and gentle man.

Kyle had never pushed to talk about that night, but they had. It had been inevitable. She’d told Kyle everything about Paskin: the pictures, the terrible things he’d done, even what he had tried to do to her—what he would have done if Griffin hadn’t stopped him. Despite the fury bright in his pale gaze, he’d spoken calmly, held her carefully, and Eleri loved him even more.

“It’s turned quite nice,” Kyle called as he started toward her. The early morning rain had gone and only scraps of gray cloud sweeping across the deep blue sky remained. Midday sun hit the drops clinging to the long grass and made them glitter like liquid gold.

The black dog perked up at the sound of Kyle’s voice, abandoned the stick to the beagle—who was even now racing back to her with it—and bounded over to greet him. Kyle grinned and scratched the dog behind the ears.

She met him halfway. He smiled and dropped a kiss on her mouth. Just a tender peck, but a swell of emotion rose inside her with something more, longing.

“Did you finish?” she asked.

He nodded and laced his fingers with hers. “All done and sent off.”

He was writing again, freelance, and nothing like the stories he’d worked on before. He was getting on with his life, and she needed to, as well.

“What is it?” he asked, frowning.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, surprised by just how difficult it was to force out each word. “I can’t stay with your parents forever. I should probably move on soon.”

“There’s no rush. We can stay until you’re ready. They enjoy having you here.”

She smiled softly. He had no idea how much she’d loved staying, but every day she stayed her feelings for him grew. Every day she stayed only made it harder for her to leave.

“That’s kind of them, but this is their house.”

“Where did you have in mind? Not Stonecliff.”

“No. Never.” Even with her name cleared, she doubted anyone in the village could look at her and not still connect her with The Devil’s Eye. The stories had gone on too long. Besides, there was something wrong about Stonecliff, something evil. Now that she was finally free of that place, she was never going back. She hadn’t even returned to the house to say goodbye to her father. He was dying and she didn’t think she could muster up sympathy or forgiveness for the man who’d left her to the wolves for most of her life.

She could go to Holyhead, maybe, to be closer to Brynn. Or back to Manchester. Maybe she could even get her old job at the flower shop back. She liked her time there—though, it held no real appeal just now. Her life was finally her own. Unfortunately what she truly wanted wasn’t an option. “I’m not sure yet, but I should get on with my life, let you get on with yours.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her. His expression caught her off guard. She’d expected him to be relieved. Instead, he looked confused, hurt like she’d punched him in the stomach. “I thought we would be doing that together.”

She nipped her lip and frowned. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m not your responsibility.”

His face darkened and something flashed in his pale green eyes. “Is that what you think? That I only feel obligation toward you? We share everything—what we think, feel, a past, a bed—I thought we’d share a future. I love you, for God’s sakes.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Some of the anger leached out of his expression. “Have I never said so?”

She shook her head, warmth welling in her chest.

He sighed and stepped closer, cupping her face with both hands. “I love you, Eleri. I want to be with you now, forever.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

He pressed his mouth to hers, sweetly at first, then deepening. When he lifted his head, his eyes met hers, bright and hungry. A thrill shot straight to her core.

“Let’s go back.” He nodded at the house.

“Good idea.”

He grinned and slung an arm over her shoulders and together they started back to the house. She was truly happy for the first time in her life. Her future with Kyle stretched out before her. Yet doubt nagged at the back of her brain.

“If you’re ready, we could start looking for a place of our own…. Why are you frowning?”

“I was thinking about when Brynn first came to stay at Stonecliff and she went to the pub. She got fall down drunk after only two drinks. Do you think Paskin would have taken her to the round room if Reece hadn’t found her?” A chill crawled down her back.

Kyle’s expression remained stony. “It’s possible.”

“Paskin admitted to being in my room, that he was the one who’d tried to choke me. Which means Warlow saw him and denied it, covered up for him. You said there were three people at The Devil’s Eye the night you almost died, and Paskin, Dylis and Dr. Howard are three, but…”

“You think Warlow might be involved somehow.”

“I’m just afraid it’s not really over.”

Kyle pulled her tighter against him. “It is for us.”

* * *

Seattle

Declan Meyers stood before the hospital vending machine, a handful of change clutched in one fist, a cup of the world’s worst coffee in the other. Salt or sweet? His gaze shifted between a Kit Kat and a bag of Doritos. Despite having stood there for nearly three full minutes, he still couldn’t decide.

God, he was tired.

He wouldn’t be faced with this decision if Josh had shown up with dinner like he said he would. Instead, the hours had ticked by until Dec had finally called his brother. Josh claimed he was still at work, waiting for a call from a contact, but Dec could hear the music and laughter in the background. His brother was in a bar.

Irritation simmered beneath his skin. Typical Josh. Declan had spent the better part of the day at his mother’s bedside, relieving his stepfather who looked like he’d fall down if he didn’t lay down, just as he had all week. His brother, on the other hand, had managed about fifteen minutes Sunday afternoon, four days ago.

Dec sighed. Who was he to judge how his brother dealt with grief? His stepfather walked around like a zombie, Josh drank himself stupid and Declan couldn’t decide between a chocolate bar and a bag of chips.

He’d buy both.

After he collected his unhealthy dinner, he started back to mother’s hospital room.

His shoes thudded on the speckled tile floor, the sound eerily loud in the unnatural quiet of the hospital. At 10 p.m., visiting hours were long over and the only people remaining who weren’t staff or patients were on the same deathwatch he was.

He passed the nurses’ station and nodded to the two women speaking in hushed voices behind the circular desk. They smiled pitying smiles. Declan smiled in return, swallowing down the resentment swelling in his throat. The flare of hostility was completely irrational. The nurses had been nothing but kind these past months, and he was on a first name basis with most of them.

He was tired and keyed up at the same time, the restless agitation plucking his nerves at odds with the heavy languidness sinking into his limbs. He wanted to flop into bed and pull the covers over his head. He wanted to run outside into the cool night and keep running until his lungs burned.

Instead, he continued down the corridor towards his mother’s room. Muted tones of televisions and whispered voices drifted out from the rooms he passed.

He pushed open his mother’s door. The lights had been turned down except for a lamp along the back of the bed frame. The greenish-fluorescent glow lit the back wall and cast a deathly pallor over his mother’s haggard features.

She looked dead.

Please no.
Not while he’d been buying a goddamned bag of potato chips.

His heart beating fast against his chest, he crept forward. A soft rattle of labored breathing reached his ears, and his knees nearly buckled. He let out a shuddering breath, set his coffee and snack on the table next to the bed and rubbed his aching eyes with the heels of his hands.

Man, he was a mess. He dropped into the chair next to the bed, lifted his coffee and drank.
Blech.

His gaze drifted to the woman wasting away before him. She barely looked like the woman who’d raised him. His mother had been so strong. For the first nine years of his life she’d been all he had. Even after she’d married Allen, and Josh and Katie had been born, she’d been the center that held the rest of them together. How would any of them function without her?

He set his coffee on the table, slouched down in the chair and dozed off watching the cold spring rain pelt the window and listening to the rhythmic rattle of his mother’s breathing.

He dreamed of green, deep and lush. And still water, black as oil. A swampy stink curled inside his nose. There was something in the water, it wanted to pull him down beneath the slick surface. It watched him with red eyes, reached for him—

Declan jerked awake. His dream faded, giving way to his mother’s hospital room, but that horrible stink lingered. What in the hell was that?

Something moved on the wall behind his mother’s bed. The shadow of a person grew tall on the beige paint, as if someone were coming up behind him. Dec whipped around, but no one was there. The room was empty except for—

Thin fingers curled around his forearm. He turned and met his mother’s gaze.

“Mom?” His voice creaked like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Was she afraid of dying alone? His chest ached. He swallowed the lump knotting his throat before he could speak. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“When they come for you, don’t go.” Her voice gained strength, but her eyes fluttered closed and the fingers gripping Declan’s arm loosened. “They’ll devour you.”

About the Author

Dawn Brown’s first sojourn into storytelling began when she was nine. She would gather neighborhood kids into her garage and regale them with ghost stories, believing even then that atmosphere played an important role in a good story.

Dawn has a diploma in journalism, but found herself pursuing a career in computer leasing. After the birth of her son, she gave up the corporate world to be a mom and write full-time, trading in her dreary cubicle for a dreary room in the attic.

Now Dawn spends her days creating dark, romantic mysteries with edgy heroes, clever heroines and villains she hopes will keep her readers sleeping with the light on.

Dawn lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and son.

To learn more about Dawn and her books, visit her website,
dawnbrown.ca
.

Also by Dawn Brown

The Devil’s Eye

Coming Soon

The Ghosts of Cragera Bay

eISBN: 9781460336199

THE WITCH OF STONECLIFF

Copyright © 2014 by Dawn Brown

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

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