Kylie was startled to see the face of a young girl pressed against the windowpane
The girls hair was long and clung close to her head, as if she had just stepped from a shower. She waved.
Kylie lifted a hand and waved back, wondering what the girl was doing alone in the dark, drafty upper halls of the resort.
Who are you waving at? Michael asked.
That girl, on the top floor. She pointed to the spot.
Michael glanced upward. Theres no one there, Kylie. You must have seen a shadow.
She looked up again, her eyes sweeping the length of the top floor. The windows were all empty, the small face pressed to the window moments ago, gone.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled and uneasiness rushed through her. Had she imagined the face?
I could have sworn there was someone up there.
Not possible. We keep the top two floors closed off during the winter months.
Kylie shivered. Perhaps returning to Cloudspin had been a mistake.
Primary Suspect
Susan Peterson
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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For Emmitt & Odin
May you find life as sweet and joyful
as you are to your loving parents.
Have a wonderful life, little guys.
A special thanks to Ann Drobnik for
taking the great pictures of the East Village.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A devoted Star Trek fan, Susan Peterson wrote her first science-fiction novel at the age of thirteen. But unlike other Star Trek fan writers, in Susans novel, she made sure that Mr. Spock fell in love. Unfortunately, what she didnt take into consideration was the fact that falling in love and pursuing a life of total logic didnt exactly go hand in hand. In any case, it was then that she realized that she was a hopeless romantica person who needed the happily ever after ending. But it wasnt until later in life, after pursuing careers in intensive-care nursing and school psychology that Susan finally found the time to pursue a career in writing. An ardent fan of psychological thrillers and suspense, Susan combined her love of romance and suspense into several manuscripts targeted to the Harlequin Intrigue line. Getting the go-ahead to write for this line was a dream come true for her.
Susan lives in a small town in northern New York with her son, Kevin, her nutball dog, Ozzie, Phoenix the cat and Lex the six-toed menace (a new kitten). Susan loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at SusanPetersonHI@aol.com or visit her Web site at www.susanpeterson.net.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Kylie McKeeAll she wanted was to return to Cloudspin Lodge, pack her deceased fathers belongings and leave. But somethingor someoneis determined to see that she stays. Perhaps permanently.
Michael T. EmersonThe prime suspect in a string of bizarre murders, Michael retreats to his favorite vacation spot and childhood haunt, Cloudspin Lodge. But the murders seem destined to follow him there, making him question his own sanity and the possibility that he is the killer.
Detective John DennerA seasoned New York City detective, hes determined to find the evidence to put Michael Emerson away for life.
Nikki GreenleyCool, sophisticated and self-assured, Nikki isnt shy about going after what she wants, and she wants Michael Emerson. If that means following him up to the remote lodge buried in the mountains, then so be it.
Gracie GreenleyShy, withdrawn and reeling from the effects of a difficult childhood filled with guilt and shame, Gracie reluctantly returns to Cloudspin Lodge with her sister, Nikki.
Craig TemplerPompous manager of Cloudspin Lodge, he isnt happy with the invasion of unexpected guests during the lodges off-season, especially since Michael Emerson ultimately has plans to fire him.
Andrea GreenleyGhost child. The victim of a tragic accident eleven years ago, Andrea haunts the grounds of the old Adirondack lodge.
Steven Howe, Reggie Dumont, Heather Barlowe and Leslie McMastersNikki Greenleys faithful posse and fellow party revelers. Theyll follow her wherever she goeseven if its back to the place where all their lives changed.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
Fog rolled in off the Hudson River, cloaking the darkened streets with a thick, choking mist of white. The limo turned onto Barrow Street and the tires hissed on the slick pavement.
Michael Emerson stared out the window, noting that the quaint buildings lining his street seemed to waver, appearing and disappearing within the grayish mist. It was an eerie effect, almost haunting.
He glanced away from the tinted windows and rested his head back against the soft leather seat. He tried to ignore the dull ache that pounded directly behind his eyes.
Heat poured through the vents, but the warmth seemed incapable of killing the chilling dampness that flooded the interior of the car.
Michael massaged his forehead with the tips of his fingers, a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. But the pain and pressure remained, the intensity increasing with each passing minute.
The headache had started during cocktails and continued on through dinner. The crush of the crowd and the overly loud music at the benefit dinner hadnt helped matters. At one point, he had excused himself from the head table and gone to the mens room. He hadnt wanted to take anything, willing himself to withstand the pressure. A punishment of sorts, a condemnation of his carelessness. There was no getting around the feeling that the fall while rock climbing had been a stupid mistake.
Disgusted, he shook his head. World-class climber and hed fallen on a simple rock face hed climbed a million times before without incident. A disastrous climb that had resulted in the death of one of his good friends. Served him right that he suffered from headaches.
But recriminations were useless and he had realized that during dinner. In the end, he had relented, downing two painkillers his physician had given him after the accident, acutely aware that he had a speech to deliver.
Unfortunately the medication had produced no noticeable change, and he had ended up losing time while in the mens room.
Blank time. A yawning space of emptiness.
For how long, he wasnt sure. Twenty minutes? A half hour? An hour? All he remembered was standing over the sink in the cold stark bathroom, fighting a sucking, clawing pit of pain that had seemed determined to pull him under.
When he finally returned to the table, he was relieved that no one commented on his absence. Mainly due to the fact that they were all feeling pretty good, well into their third or fourth bottle of wine.
So, he had sat down and picked up where hed left off, thinking to himself that it was as if time had stood still for a brief second.
Looks like trouble up ahead, sir, his drivers voice broke over the intercom, interrupting Michaels thoughts.
He sat up and hit the switch lowering the tinted window between himself and Alex. Shifting forward, he peered out the windshield. Trouble indeed.
Halfway down the block, directly in front of his newly renovated town house, the harsh glow of police lights flashed in the thick fog. Several patrol cars, an ambulance and a black van were double-parked, and men in uniform flitted in and out of the thick shroud of fog blanketing the narrow street and sidewalk. Something was definitely up.
Wonderful, Michael muttered under his breath.
Want me to just cruise by, sir? Take you on out to the house in the Hamptons?
For a brief moment, Michael actually considered telling Alex to do exactly thatcruise by, take the bridge and head out to his place on the island. Ignore the whole damn thing. But as soon as the thought flashed into his brain, Michael knew that wasnt the answer.
As weary as he was at the thought of suffering another go round with the NYPD, running was not the answer. He needed to deal with whatever waited for him a few feet away. Time to find out what had brought the police to his doorstep for a fourth time in less than six months.
The thought made the pain in his head shoot up another few notches.
They know my license plate, Alex, and as enticing as your offer is, Im going to have to talk to them sooner or later. He slid across the seat to the door. Just pull up.
He reached for the door handle, prepared to climb out. Of late, hed gotten pretty good at dealing with the police. They might not believe a word he said, but up to this point, he hadnt been arrested for anything.
A part of him wondered why no arrest. With all that had occurred over the past six months, even he was starting to have doubts about his innocence.
Alex slid the limo up next to one of the double-parked patrol cars and stopped. He started to get out to come around and open the door for him, but Michael laid a hand on his shoulder. Take the car and go on home. Ill handle this.
Alex turned and leaned an arm on the shelf between the front and the back of the limo. You sure you dont want me to come with you, sir?
Michael shook his head. No, Ill see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.
He grabbed the door handle and climbed out, cringing as his foot hit a partially frozen puddle. The thin ice broke and frigid water sloshed over the sides of his shoes and dampened the hem of his pants. Great. One more thing to cap off a lousy evening.
The fog parted, allowing Michael to see the front of his house. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area and a tight circle of uniformed cops milled around. When they spotted him, they parted, allowing him access to the front of his home. There was no missing the veil of ill-concealed anger in their eyes.
As he stepped up onto the curb, Michael stopped short. The ringing in his ears and the ache between his eyes increased to the point of almost blinding him
A woman hung nailed to his front door, a ski pole jammed through the upper left side of her chest, a bright red stain spreading across the front of her skintight, white lace dress. Adrenaline hit Michaels bloodstream with a thundering rush.
Although her head hung forward, her luxurious chestnut-brown hair limp and her chin resting on her narrow chest, Michael had no difficulty recognizing herCorinna Hamish, a former girlfriend.
There was no question that she was dead. The killer had shoved the pole up under her rib cage. The blood was dark and rich on the white lace.
In a daze, Michael moved closer. Anger ripped through his body, settling deep in the pit of his belly. How could this have happened again? How could another person he cared for been murdered and then left like a piece of discarded refuse on his doorstep?
He stared in disbelief, rage replacing confusion. This was the fourth victim in less than six months, and all the deaths were connected in some way to him. All the victims had been women he had known or dated. All women hed cared about in some deeply personal way.
No wonder the police wouldnt leave him alone. It was as if the killer was leaving behind these grisly messages just for him. Messages he didnt understand or grasp no matter how hard he tried.
He stared at the metal spear stabbing her chest. He instinctively knew that the police would link the pole to him. Probably part of his skiing and climbing gear stored in the basement. As with the previous murders, the killer had set him up, implicated him in the crime.
He braced himself, preparing for the ordeal that he knew lay ahead. The three previous interrogations following the earlier murders had been grueling. The sight of Corinnas body told Michael that hed soon be dealing with the same thing all over again.
Getting to be quite a habit, isnt it, Emerson a deep edgy voice said from behind, you and I meeting over the murdered bodies of your ex-girlfriends.
Michael turned, not in the least surprised to find NYPD Detective John Denner standing behind him. His big hands were shoved into the pocket of his ill fitting pants, a scowl of suspicion and disgust crowding his craggy, disagreeable face. The man made no attempt to hide his hatred of Michael.
Are you going to take her down or leave her hanging there? Michael demanded, surprised at how easily the anger slipped into his voice.
He sucked damp air. This was not the time to lose his cool. Denner wanted that. Wanted him off balance and vulnerable.
She deserves more than to be left hanging like that, he added in a softer voice.
Denners gaze shifted to Corinnas body. A few more pictures and theyll take her down. The detective smiled, but there was nothing warm or sympathetic in the stretch of his thin lips. Mind telling me where youve been all evening?
I was at the Waldorf. A benefit dinner for St. Vincents. Since I was their main speaker, I have plenty of witnesses to my whereabouts.
Ill just bet you do.
Michael hated the fact that he had to account for his every move, but he also knew that Denner held firm to his belief that he was the prime suspect in all threenow fourmurders.
I can give you the names of several prominent people who can vouch for my whereabouts all evening, he said. Youre welcome to talk to all of them.
Oh, you can count on me doing just that. In fact, I plan on checking and rechecking each and every name. And when Im finished, Ill dig into where youve been every second for the last twenty-four hours.
The only time I was out of anyones sight was when I excused myself to go to the mens room. Michael shrugged. For all I know someone might have seen me in there, too.