Читать книгу The Witch Of Stonecliff - Dawn Brown - Страница 9

Chapter Two

“Get in,” Kyle said, yanking open his car’s passenger door. Nervous energy hummed through him, making his skin itch.

Eleri didn’t move, eyeing the opening like a wary animal gauging a potential trap. “You want me in your car?”

“I don’t see how you can show me the way, otherwise,” he told her, forcing a grin while rounding the vehicle to the driver’s side.

Still, she hesitated as if instinctively sensing something about him wasn’t on the up-and-up. The knots tangling his insides squeezed tighter.

“You know what people say about me.”

Oh he knew, all right. Probably better than anyone else. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

He slid behind the wheel, not giving her a chance to argue further, and waited for her to get in.

She slipped into the seat, closed the door behind her with a thunk and positioned herself as far from him as their tight quarters would allow. Hell, he’d have guessed he was the one rumored to kill people if he didn’t know better. Irritation prickled the hair at the back of his neck.

He switched on the engine, shifted gears and started back down the drive toward the road. He glanced at Eleri stuck to the door, gripping the handle with one white-knuckled fist as though she were waiting to spring out of the moving car if need be.

“Be careful, love. You press any harder and you might fall out.”

Eleri scowled. “You ought to be worried about yourself.”

“Me?” He lifted his hand from the gearshift to tug on his seatbelt. “I’m safe and secure.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She shifted to face him. Her mouth stretched into a smile as hard as her glare. “Aren’t you worried about your safety? They pulled twelve bodies from The Devil’s Eye, and you’re alone in the car with the woman who put them there.”

“Is that a confession?”

“No,” she snapped. “That’s what everyone believes. You do realize you’re the ideal victim? A single male, late twenties to early thirties. No attachments. Just like the other men who vanished from this place. You might as well have ‘prey’ written across your forehead.”

Cold settled in the pit of his stomach like an icy brick. Still, he kept that unconcerned smirk in place, his shoulders loose. At least, he hoped he did. “What makes you so sure I’ve no attachments?”

Eleri snorted and turned away to look out the passenger window. “Why would anyone come here if they had somewhere else to be?”

“I have attachments.” He shot her a brief glance before turning his attention to the winding drive through the windscreen and away from her scrutinizing stare.

“Are you married?”

“No, but I have family. Parents. Siblings. People who would look for me if I should up and vanish.”

“Is that a warning? In case my murderous impulses overwhelm me?”

Was it? Maybe. He glanced at her as the car approached the gateposts. This was only the third time he’d seen her, and only the second time up close. He tried to imagine the delicate features of her face pinched tight with effort and concentration. The slender fingers of one hand tangling in his hair, jerking his head back, while the other pressed a cold blade to his throat.

A shudder rippled through him. She watched him, arms folded over her chest, a smug smile pulling at her mouth.

She hadn’t been the one to wield the knife. He knew that for certain. So how did she fit into the murders?

“Which way?” he asked.

“Turn right. The same way you came.”

He nodded and she stayed quiet as he steered down the narrow road, thick woods rising up on either side of them. Despite Eleri’s silence, Kyle could feel her gaze boring into him as she studied him, measured him. Cool sweat sprang to his skin, that all too familiar anxiety beginning to build.

He tightened his hold on the steering wheel and concentrated on drawing deep, even breaths. Once the tension gripping him eased, he forced his stock nonchalant grin and glanced her way. “Am I that lovely to look at?”

Those black eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“You’re staring. While I’m flattered, I—”

“Don’t be,” she snapped. “If I told you the rumors were true, would you leave?”

Eleri’s words sent a chill scuttling along his spine.

“No.” Not until he knew for certain. Not until he could prove it. Not until she led him to the others.

“Turn right.” She pointed to a nearly invisible break in the trees.

He slammed his foot on the brake and cranked the wheel. The car’s back end fishtailed as he steered up the drive. Unlike the gravel-covered drive leading to the main house, this one was little more than two narrow ruts cutting through the trees.

Once the spring and summer foliage took root, the pathway could very possibly disappear entirely. It would be swallowed up by the woods, leaving him trapped amongst the trees. The idea left him cold.

The car emerged into a clearing. A dark stone building rose up before him. This house was older than Stonecliff, possibly by a good hundred years. He had no idea how modernized the place was inside; for all he knew he would have to dig a hole in the woods every time he needed to shit.

He stopped the car, and before he could even cut the engine, Eleri had hopped out, slamming the passenger door behind her. He climbed out and followed her to the front door, where she waited for him to unlock it.

Once he pushed open the door, Eleri moved passed him, her rubber boots thudding on the wood floor. She pressed a button on the wall, and the overhead light flared to life. Without a word, she crossed to the room to the right of the stairs and stood in the opening. He sauntered up behind her to what appeared to be the lounge, judging by the settee and chairs set up before the old stone hearth. No telly. Just as well. He had better things to do with his time.

“Someone’s been in to make the house ready for you.” Eleri’s dark stare moved over the furniture. She folded her arms over her chest, lips pressed in a flat line, clearly irritated by her own observation. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to. The least I can do after you graciously guided me here is offer you a brew.”

“Not necessary.” She shifted around him and started for the door.

Despite having his offer of tea shot down, Kyle wasn’t ready to give up. She was his best link to what had happened to him two years ago. His only link. She didn’t seem to recognize him. Did that mean she was as innocent as she claimed, or just a brilliant actress? He needed for them to be friends, for her to trust him so she would let her guard down and give him the answers he wanted. “Let me drive you back, at least.”

“It’s faster for me to walk through the woods.”

So much for that. He followed her outside as she hurried across the drive toward the edge of the trees.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner, then,” he called out.

This time she stopped and faced him. “You’re making a mistake staying here, but if you refuse to leave, you should at least make every effort to avoid Stonecliff.”

She hurried away, disappearing between the trees and leaving him alone. He used to have a way with women. While he’d only considered himself average looking, there’d been something about him that attracted the opposite sex. Charm. Persuasion. The gift of the gab, his mother would say.

Whatever it was, it had no influence on Eleri James—that was for sure. These days, his way with women had abandoned him. They were uneasy around him, uncomfortable.

Absently, his finger traced the scar on his throat.

Wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the rush of the surf against the shore. The sea mustn’t be far off. Tomorrow he’d walk and explore the grounds. Revisit the places he’d been the last time he’d come here.

Memories washed in blood and pain rose up inside him. He shook his head as if to physically force the images from his mind.

Maybe he wasn’t ready yet. Besides, he had things to do before worrying about all of that. He jogged down to his car, hauled his computer bag and suitcase from the boot and carried them back to the house before returning for the box of groceries. He hadn’t bought a lot, just enough to get him through the next few days.

He carried the box through to the kitchen—which looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1950s—and set it on the table. After putting his few supplies away in the cupboards and fridge, he toyed with the idea of making something to eat, but apprehension had killed his appetite.

Instead, he moved to the back door and peered out the window. Oily smears circled the glass—evidence of a hasty clean—distorting the dull green forest closing in around the house and his own pallid reflection.

What in the hell was he doing back here? The last time he’d barely escaped with his life. But he already knew the answer. The endless ache that something was missing inside, something left unfinished, forgotten.

The feeling haunted his days, left him tossing and turning through the night. And despite the terror he’d survived, there was an undeniable pull, an inevitability that he would come back here to face his demons.

For too long, he’d simply been existing. He needed answers, justice, and, live or die, he would find them both.

* * *

“Did you know?” Eleri asked, storming into the kitchen. Satisfaction lit inside her when the housekeeper jumped.

Mrs. Voyle turned away from the bubbling pot on the stove, pressed a hand to her narrow chest and glared. “Did I know what?”

“About our new tenant.” Eleri flopped onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Of course you did. Someone’s been in to give the lodge a tidy. You didn’t say a word?”

The woman jerked a shoulder and tuned back to the stove. “Not my place. I do as I’m told.”

“And was keeping me in the dark among your instructions?”

“Take the matter up with Mr. Warlow. It’s nothing to do with me.”

What would be the point? Since Brynn left, Eleri had no allies. A lonely pang squeezed her chest. Her sister promised to come back, but what if she changed her mind? What if Reece convinced her to stay in Chicago?

Brynn believed she was innocent, but Reece was far from convinced. He might not say the words aloud, but Eleri could read it in his suspicious stares, the way he tensed anytime she went near Brynn.

Eleri couldn’t fault him, really. If she were in his shoes, presented with the same evidence, she’d probably believe she was a killer too.

She shoved away her dark thoughts. She had more pressing matters at hand.

She needed Kyle Peirs to leave Cragera Bay, preferably with a large audience and an easy to find forwarding address. She probably should have pressed harder to convince him she was all the things people said. But when push came to shove, she couldn’t do it. She didn’t like the idea of him looking at her the way the rest of the village did. The way most of the people under her own roof did.

Eleri stood and started out of the kitchen.

“Six, sharp,” Mrs. Voyle called after her. “I won’t be staying later.”

As if Eleri could forget. And if that greasy smell wafting from the pot on the stove were any indication, Eleri would be better off skipping dinner altogether.

God, she missed her sister’s cooking. She missed Brynn more than she realized she would. After more than twenty-five years apart, she was surprised how close they’d become over the past six weeks.

But facing down a deranged killer bent on revenge was just the sort of thing that cemented sisterly bonds, she supposed. Unearthing family secrets, too, and sharing in ghostly shadows that few people at Stonecliff acknowledged. For the first time in her life, Eleri had felt like she had someone on her side.

With Brynn back in Chicago, she was alone again. She took some comfort in Brynn not wanting to leave, especially while Eleri was under investigation, but there were things Brynn needed to do since deciding to stay in Wales: sell her house, ship over the things she planned bring with her, dispose of the rest. Naturally, Reece had gone with her. Since they’d both nearly been killed a month ago, he hated for her to be out of his sight. Of course, that he still thought Eleri might kill the woman he loved probably sharpened those protective instincts.

Maybe he wasn’t like that in Chicago. Maybe he was laid-back and easygoing away from Stonecliff. Maybe he smiled and the chill left his icy gaze.

She didn’t know what her sister saw in him. Broad, sharp features, hard stares and scowls, topped off with shaggy black hair, Reece looked too scruffy to suit her stylish, pretty sister.

No, if anything Eleri pictured Brynn with a man like Kyle Peirs—all fine features and smooth charm. Minus the scar, of course. She tried to picture Brynn with Kyle, but the image irritated her and she couldn’t say why.

As soon as Eleri stepped into the foyer her gaze landed on Warlow and Dr. Howard by the door speaking in hushed tones. Her stomach sank and she stopped in her tracks.

Had something happened while she’d been with Peirs? Could her father be…? Numbness tingled into her limbs.

“What’s he doing here?” Eleri asked.

“Nothing to be alarmed about,” Dr. Howard said, pushing back his round, silver-framed glasses. The man had always reminded her a little of a younger Father Christmas, but without the jolliness. He was squat with a round belly. His reddish brown hair, curly and laced with strands of white, had receded to create a horseshoe around the back of his head. A wiry beard, the same color as his hair, covered his cheeks and chin and neck. But unlike Santa Claus, his round features were usually impatient or annoyed. “My visits will be more frequent without Ruth to look after your father.”

Had she actually heard reproach in his tone? “I suppose you will, now that he’s no longer under the care of a murderess. How is he?”

Dr. Howard scowled. He’d always been suspicious of her, believing her stepmother’s stories that she was dangerous even as a child, that she had tried to drown her own sister. Even after Brynn had remembered Meris had in fact been the one who’d tried to drown her as a child, the man still hadn’t warmed to her. Likely because of the twelve dead men found in the bog.

“I won’t sugarcoat the situation. His health is deteriorating quickly.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

The doctor glanced at Warlow briefly. “He needs to be kept comfortable, stress to a minimum.”

He shot her a meaningful stare, and her spine stiffened.

“I’m sure in future, Hugh will be far more careful about who he hires.” If not his tenants. A grim sort of satisfaction welled inside her at the sight of Warlow’s mouth tightening.

“Be that as it may,” Dr. Howard continued, “there are some…alternative treatments we can explore. I’m going to do a little research and get back to you. I’ll be back in a few days, but if you need me sooner, ring. Day or night, I’ll come.”

Dr. Howard said his goodbyes to Warlow, barely sparing Eleri a glance before he left.

The minute the front door closed, the butler turned to Eleri. “Mr. Peirs settled, then?”

“Letting him stay is a mistake,” Eleri said, apprehension like an icy ball in her stomach. “You heard what the doctor said about unnecessary stress. What if Peirs vanishes like the others?”

“There’s no way around it.” Warlow waved his hand as if swatting her words away. “The estate needs the money.”

Eleri sighed and gripped the banister, but froze with one foot on the bottom step. The sconce at the top of the stairs was dark, casting long shadows up the wall. They rippled. Pulsed. Her breath lodged in her throat.

She wasn’t the only one who saw them. She knew that now. Both Brynn and Reece had their own experiences with whatever presence dwelt within Stonecliff. And they were certain Warlow had, too.

Eleri glanced at the man, but he merely watched her. A confused frown drew his thick, white brows together.She pointed to the top of the stairs. “Bulb’s burned out.”

The swirling shadows had taken on humanoid shapes—three of them—writhing over the ancient floral wallpaper.

“I’ll see it’s replaced.” If Warlow did see them, he gave no indication. His expression remained puzzled.

Could Reece and Brynn have been wrong about the man? Someone had tampered with the lights in Brynn’s room, leaving her vulnerable to the dark mass. But maybe Ruth had been responsible for that, too.

Eleri backed away from the stair, and Warlow’s frown deepened. No doubt she looked as mad as everyone suspected, but she didn’t care. There was no way she’d move closer to the shadows than she had to. Instead, she used the servants’ stairs off the kitchen.

After closing herself in her room, she switched on every light to keep the shadows away, crossed to the window and looked out over the sea. White caps dotted the slate waves, black clouds rolling toward her. Wind whistled and moaned through unseen cracks and rattled the glass in its frame.

A storm was blowing in.

She turned her head to the left, her gaze almost magnetically drawn to the high roofline of the lodge peeking out between the branches. She sincerely hoped Kyle Peirs would be all right tonight. If anything happened to the man, Detective Harding would have her in cuffs before the sun set.