The sheriffs open mouth closed with a snap. You didnt mention that you were warned off.
You didnt give me a chance, and Im mentioning it now.
Who did the warning?
I have no idea. A man on the cellar stairs. He told me to leave Darkwood Manor and not come back.
The smile returned. There you go, then. He probably told your cousin the same thing. Only unlike you, she took his advice.
At a dead run. Dropping her cell phone in the process. And since then, hasnt bothered to stop and contact me. She wouldnt do that, Sheriffas Ive already said.
What did this man of yours look like?
Again, no idea. He stopped me from falling down the cellar stairs, told me to leave and disappeared. If you wont help me find Katie, you could at least help me track down this mystery man. Its possible he saw what happened to her, and thats why he warned me to leave.
The sheriffs brow furrowed. Rain streaming over the station windows gave his face a streaky look, as if it were melting.
When he didnt speak, Isabella tried one last time to reason with him. Sheriff Lucas, all Im asking
Is that I drive out to a deserted house with inadequate lighting in search of tire marks that will have long since washed awayif they ever existedto look for a woman and or a mystery man that only you saw and or heard, and in the process risk breaking my neck the way you almost did in broad daylight.
Isabellas eyes glittered. I take it thats a no.
On all counts. Rolling back from his desk, he stood. Your cousin doesnt contact you by tomorrow, I might have one of my deputies take a drive out there with you. If she shows, youre welcome to come in and apologize for jabbering at me over nothing when I should be home eating my wifes crab cakes and helping my kid with his algebra. Hotel charges eighty bucks a night off-season. Turn left at the end of Harbor Road if youre looking for the highway. Your choice, Ms. Ross. You have a good night one way or the other.
To Isabellas astonishment, instead of ushering her out, he snatched his raincoat from a peg, crushed his hat down onto his head and stalked through the door of the small station house.
She stood there for a moment, stunned, until a thread of humor slithered in.
Okay, then. No worries to you, too, pal. And apparently none to whoevers in your cell block.
Because there was definitely someone snoring away in the back. Whether deputy or prisoner, however, she didnt care. Bottom line? Lucas was an ass. And he wasnt going to help her find Katie.
Following the sheriffs lead, Isabella let herself out. The street was virtually dead. The rain had let up and fog had moved in, a great swirling bank of it. Water droplets plopped onto the sidewalk behind her. To her left, a womans high heels tapped in the opposite direction.
She thought about the hotel across the street. Their brochures read Come Inn to the Mystic, which would have been a good tagline if the place hadnt been a cardboard cutout of every generic hotel in rural America.
Oh, there was plenty of room for competition in this town.
Jingling her keys, she turned for her car.
No assistance to be had, Ms. Ross?
The silence was so pervasive, it made the words, spoken from the fog in front of her, sound like cannon fire. But even with her heart in her throat, Isabellas restraint held.
The ghost thing wont work on me. Im not in the mood for games, and Im not leaving, so if youre planning a repeat performance of our cellar staircase encounter, you can save your breath. My cousin was here. Now shes not. Im going to find her. End of conversation.
I didnt take her, Isabella.
Yes, I reasoned that one out, although given the circumstances, its possible you came to my assistance at Darkwood Manor to throw me off.
Amusement colored his tone. Youre being too clever, and giving me way more credit for that quality than I deserve. I told you to leave because a man I trust insists theres something going on at the manor. Since hes not prone to hallucinations, there probably is. Hidden agendas frequently go hand in hand with crime.
Spoken like a true cop. When he didnt respond, she arched her brows. Would that be a silent confirmation or the silent voice of criminal experience?
Possibly a little of both.
That did it. Yes, the man had a great voice. She liked the way he smelled, and what shed seen of his eyes in the cellar had mesmerized her for a moment. But her love of a good mystery paled next to her concern for Katies life. So
She took a challenging step forward. Did you go through my purse or my car to find out who I am?
I didnt see your car until later. Your purse was hanging at the bottom of the stairs.
My stairs, Mr.
Black. Donovan. And Im aware that you own Darkwood Manor.
So you are a cop.
Of sorts.
Friends with the local sheriff?
Good friends.
Why that surprised her, she couldnt say, but as long as it was there, she might as well seize the opportunity. In that case, would you do me a favor?
I might.
All I want
Is for me to persuade the sheriff to search for your cousin.
Which you wont do because?
Again, the suggestion of a smile. Sheriffs in Florida, recovering from a gunshot wound to the chest. The man you talked to is his replacement, Senior Deputy, aka acting sheriff, Ormand Lucas. Genuine-article sheriff wont be back until after Halloween.
Pressing the fingers of both hands to her temples, Isabella murmured a disbelieving Remind me to get my Aunt Rose to put a curse on this town. She dropped her hands. Lets cut the small talk, okay? How do you even know about my cousin? Did you see us at Darkwood Manor?
I saw you. Searching for your cousin there and talking to Orry here.
So you eavesdropped through a closed door.
From the back room. Mystic Harbors a small town, less than a thousand residents at this time of year. Alley doors are seldom locked. Have you had dinner?
Was he joking? She squared up. Why are you hiding in the dark, Mr. Black?
Im not hiding, Im leaning on a lamppost having a conversation with a beautiful woman. Dinner?
Part of her wanted to laugh. The rest It might have escaped your notice, but Ive had a few more important things on my mind. Katie wasnt spirited away by the ghost of Aaron Dark. She didnt bolt in fear or lose her cell phone, and she doesnt play practical jokes. Shes gone, her cars gone, and your soon-to-be-cursed acting sheriff couldnt care less about any of it. Forget food. My question is, as a cop of sorts, are you going to get involved or not?
Im thinking about it.
It was more than shed expected, but not enough for her to trust him. Okay, second question. She waved at the fog, thought she could almost make out a figure in the darkness ahead. Am I ever going to see you?
She knew he hesitated. However, after a few seconds, a man wearing a black coat similar to hers emerged.
He was taller than her, but no more than six feet or so in boots. Worn jeans were topped by a black T. He had good hands, she noted, and surprisingly long hair. Far too long for your average cop. It was mid-brown, shoulder length and somehow sensual. His face intrigued her, too. More than nice, but not quite remarkable, his features were nonetheless riveting.
Then she saw his eyes, and both her assessment and the breath in her lungs stalled.
Whoa. She reacted unthinkingly, paused, then drew back. You have great eyes. It took a few seconds for her brain to roll with the sexual punch, longer still to recall what theyd been saying. When she did, she moved a finger between them. You mentioned something about dinner?
His slow smile almost caused a full meltdown, but this time she was prepared for it and braced.
I know a place, he said. We can talk there, maybe strategize to some extent. How much will be up to you.
Why me?
His smile widened. You might not like the company.
Were having company?
One other person.
Ah. Would that be your wife, Mr. Black?
Uncle. Im not married. And its Donovan.
Okay, Donovan. Why should your uncle, or any other man, affect our conversation?
He shouldnt. Donovan turned her around. As long as youre not afraid of bears.
HADEN BLACK WASNT A bear. Not quite. Bigfoot was closer, but even legendary beasts had claws. Donovans uncle had potholders. And bifocals. And a rustic cottage crammed to the rafters with reading material, art and vintage electronics.
She counted three televisions, two turntables, a serious sound system, a reel-to-reel tape deck and the worn covers of at least a thousand LPs.
The man stood a burly six feet seven inches, sported a bushy beard and had a wild head of hair that skimmed his massive shoulders. He spoke in a growl, looked like he could bench press her weight and Donovans combined, and made no attempt to disguise his contempt for her ex.
The man was a fool with more money than brains. Said he wanted to turn the manor into a spa. Although he didnt spit, she sensed he wanted to. Sweet-talked the geezer who owned it into selling for a song.
To hide her amusement, Isabella glanced away. Then did a double take and knelt to regard an abstract canvas carelessly propped against a stack of logs. Davids partner said he paid over nine hundred thousand for the place. Is this a Kandinsky?
Youve got good eyes. Haden grunted his approval. No taste in men, though. Nine hundred thousands peanuts for a cliffside manor with acreage. Tell her, Donovan.
Its worth more, his nephew agreed. At Isabellas upward glance, he chuckled. That being said, the transaction was legal and probably fair enough, considering the owner just celebrated his ninety-third birthday, has been predeceased by all his heirs and planned to put the place on the market for less than half of what your boyfriend paid.
Former boyfriend. Isabella tipped another canvas forward, stared in disbelief. You have a Van Gogh?
Got a Picasso kicking around somewhere, too.
On the floor.
Haden shot her an aggravated look. No room for em on the walls now, is there. Tell me, Ms. Corrigan-Ross, what are your plans for the house?
Standing, she dusted off. To tear it apart piece by cracked plaster piece until I find my cousin. My names Isabella. And I think your dinners burning, Mr. Black.
Haden. He shook a potholder at her. Are you one hundred percent sure this cousin of yours didnt turn tail and run because something scared her?
Something as in Aaron Darks ghost?
He set belligerent fists on his hips. Are you a nonbeliever, then?
She summoned a placid smile. My grandparents on both sides are Irish. I have to buy in to some extent.
But? Donovan prompted.
My fathers father was a hardcore New York businessman. His mother was a city councillor. Ghosts dont exist in their world, even in theory. So to answer your question, when asked, I tend to take the Fifth.
You sound like a politician.
You sound like my grandma Corrigan.
Woman has sense. Haden shook the potholder again. Hang around here long enough, youll believe in spooks, spirits, poltergeists and probably Elvis come back from the grave.
If youre saying Im going to bump into Aaron Black at some point in my search, good. When I do, maybe hell help me find Katie.
Dont count on it, Donovan said behind her. Aaron Dark wasnt the helpful sort.
Prepared for the sexual punch, Isabella faced him. You know, for a cop, youre awfully cryptic.
Hes a sharpshooter. Haden headed for the now-smoking oven. Boy has the best eyes in the business.
No argument there, she thought. However, it was the Aaron Dark reference that interested her. The notes David left with his partner spoke of a philanthropic man, active in politics, the business community and the local church.
The details of which were neatly set down in the family history. Donovans lips curved. What wasnt mentioned anywhere in those notes was that Aaron Dark wrote the bulk of that history. Other, less biased accounts suggest a Jekyll and Hyde personality.
She smiled. That would just make for a more colorful story.
It would, unless you had dealings with him.
Curiosity had her studying his expression. That and she couldnt drag her gaze from his face. Are you a history buff, then, Donovan?
He glanced away, smiled a little. Nothing quite so easy.
You just love a good ghost story, huh?
A good one, yes. Unfortunately, this story isnt. He came closer, kept his eyes locked on hers. Aaron Dark was a monster, Isabella. He imprisoned his wife at Darkwood Manor. When he discovered she was pregnant with another mans child, he killed her and threw her body from the cliff behind the house.
Although something about his demeanor had changed, Isabella couldnt have said what it was. Pretty sure none of that was in Davids notes. Was Dark arrested? Hung? Run out of town?
He went mad, Donovan told her. She swore his brown eyes deepened to black. And to answer your unspoken question, I know that because Aaron Darks sister, his sister who many believe went as mad as Aaron, was my ancestor.
Chapter Three
If hed intended to shock herand he probably hadthe attempt fell flat. Her eyes danced as she curled a finger around the front of his shirt. Second reminder, pal. Someday Ill tell you about my ancestor Connell Ross who went on a bloody post-death rampage after his land was gutted by an enemy army that, like every army in the dark days of Irelands history, decided to make what was his, theirs. Long story short, anyone who tries to build on Connells land is doomed to failure. We all have our skeletons, Donovan. Some are just more recently formed than others.
Haden was no help. The smug Told you so that wafted out of the kitchen made Isabella laugh and Donovan want to say to hell with both of them and return to his life in New York.
He liked living on the edge; hed lived there for most of his thirty-six years. The way he saw it, if he didnt explore the dark side of his nature, hed never know how deep his ancestral tendencies ran. Or so the childhood theory went.
He was spared the necessity of a reply when his uncle marched in with two heaping platters of food and a bottle of wine.
As it turned out, the meat was only slightly charred. A Cordon Bleu chef, Haden set a table bountiful enough to feed half the population of Mystic Harbor. To her credit, recognizable or not, Isabella sampled every dish, and only seemed mildly puzzled by the meat.