Aquamarine (13 page)

Teague’s eyes gleamed as if he’d read her mind. “The lodge it is.”

Inviting Teague back to her room was completely out of character. Normally Shea was wary of new relationships. But then normally a kiss didn’t turn her brain to Silly Putty.

She leaned against the door of her room, digging in her purse for the key. “There’s a hot tub on the deck,” she heard herself say in a low, breathy voice. “Why don’t we get comfortable out there, count stars or something….” She trailed off. “I forgot. You don’t have a swimsuit with you.”

He studied her face in the light from the fixture above the door. The longer he stared without saying anything, the warmer her cheeks grew. She hoped she didn’t look as nakedly needy as she felt.

He leaned closer, outlined her lips with a gentle forefinger, then kissed her once, softly. “Doesn’t bother me,” he said.

What didn’t bother him? she wondered, having lost
the thread of the conversation in a maze of bewildering emotions.

Behind her, inside the cabin, the phone began to ring. She ignored it, willing Teague to kiss her again. She loved the touch of his lips, warm and tender, against her own.

He squeezed her hand. “You really ought to answer that.”

She sighed in resignation and forced her heavy eyelids open. “It’s probably a wrong number.”

“You’ll never know unless you open the door.”

She fumbled the key, all thumbs under his watchful eyes.

“Here.” He took the key from her, fitted it easily into the keyhole, and turned it smoothly in the lock.

The phone was on its fifth ring. She slipped past him to grab the receiver before the caller gave up. “Hello?”

“Who is it?” Teague asked as he pulled the door shut.

She waved him to silence. “Yes. What’s wrong?” Shea froze as her caller’s concern communicated itself across the phone lines.

“What’s going on?” he asked again. She shook her head and held a finger to her lips.

“He’s right here. We just got back from dinner.”

“Who is it?” he mouthed silently.

“Cynthia.” She held out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.” Her face was bleak. Even though Kirsten’s stepmother hadn’t said much, Shea could tell the news was not good.

She stumbled over to the nearest chair and collapsed in a boneless heap. In a daze, she cradled her head in her hands, scarcely aware of the murmur of Teague’s voice in
the background. She didn’t lift her gaze until the silence told her he had hung up.

“It’s Jack, isn’t it?”

He knelt in front of her chair and put his arms around her. There was no hint of the earlier sensuality in the gesture, just comfort. But the knowledge she saw mirrored in his gaze frightened her.

“About eight tonight,” he said, “Jack complained of stomach pains. At first neither he nor Cynthia was particularly worried, but then he started to feel nauseous. When he began vomiting, Cynthia contacted the hospital. Somehow she and Mikey managed to get him out to the helicopter.”

“Cynthia and Mikey? What about Kevin and the Griffins?”

“They’d left already.”

“Left?”

“Yes. Kevin went out with friends. And the Griffins were at church.”

“On a Wednesday night?”

“They’re in a Bible study group.” He paused. “Cynthia flew him straight to the emergency room.”

“Oh, my God!” Her heart fluttered. She felt faint, but it wasn’t until Teague shook her sharply that she realized she was still muttering “Oh, my God” over and over in a litany of fear. She choked to a halt. “Is he dead?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

Teague pulled her cold hands into his and held them tightly. “No, Cynthia said he’s stable. Don’t worry. Everything that can be done is being done.”

She twisted her hands free. “Let’s go to the hospital. I need to talk to Jack.” She had to tell him the truth. Before it was too late.

Teague shook his head. “No. Jack’s not in any shape to talk right now.”

“But I can’t sit around doing nothing,” she protested, trying to get up.

He held her down. “Be still for a minute and listen. That’s why Cynthia called. She needs your help. She hasn’t been able to reach Kevin or the Griffins and she needs a baby-sitter. She wondered if you would take Mikey back to the island and stay with her, at least until someone else shows up to take charge.”

“Sure. Of course I can do that. Is Mikey at the hospital with Cynthia and Jack?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I said we’d be by to pick her up in a few minutes.”

She frowned earnestly at the travel alarm clock on the bedside table. “I’d better pack a bag.”

He let her up, and she went through the motions of packing like an automaton. “Do you think I’ll need my jacket? No, not just for overnight,” she answered herself. “How about my sunglasses? Should I take them?”

“The sun’s been down for hours,” he said.

She nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’m not thinking very clearly.”

“Are you ready?”

“I suppose.” She surveyed the room doubtfully, wondering what essential item she was forgetting.

He gently bumped her chin with his fist. “Buck up, baby.”

Shea felt a warning prickle behind her eyelids. “Oh, no. Don’t be nice to me, Teague. I’ll start crying, and I hate women who bawl all the time.”

He shouldered her bag. “In that case, move it, McKenzie.
We don’t have all night. How’s that? Rude enough to suit you?”

Tossing him a grateful smile, she grabbed her purse. “Better.”

They found Cynthia and Mikey playing tick-tack-toe in the waiting room nearest the emergency entrance. Mikey placed an “O” in the upper left corner of the grid. “Gotcha!” she said.

“Yes, you did, you little rascal. I’m stuck. Looks like the cat wins this game.” Cynthia glanced up and noticed them. Her fine-boned face showed signs of strain. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “I’m running out of activities to keep Mikey occupied. This place isn’t set up to entertain children.”

“Hi, Teague. Hi, Kirsten.” Evidently the evening’s drama had had little effect on the youngest Rainey. She appeared more excited than frightened.

“Hi, yourself,” Shea said.

Teague tugged the little girl’s ponytail. “We’re gonna take you back to the island, shortcake.”

“Yes!” she said, glomming on to Teague’s legs in an enthusiastic hug.

“How’s Daddy?” Shea was almost afraid to ask.

“He’s sleeping now,” Cynthia answered with a faint smile. “They think they treated him in time.”

“What was it?” Teague asked. “Flu? Or his cancer taking a turn for the worse?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Cynthia stared from Shea to Teague in surprise. “The doctor says he was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Teague’s eyebrows collided. “Are they certain?”

“They won’t know until they get the lab report back
on his stomach contents, but they’re pretty sure it was a reaction to something he ate.”

“Food poisoning?” Shea asked.

“Or poison in the food. The doctor I spoke to wouldn’t hazard a guess which.” She lifted her shoulders in a graceful gesture of denial. “Who would want to poison Jack?”

“Right offhand I can think of a dozen suspects,” Teague said. “Jack’s rich, and greed’s a powerful motive.”

Shea frowned at him. “Granted the money provides a motive, but why poison a man who’s already mortally ill?”

“Kirsten’s right, Teague. You’re jumping to conclusions. It must have been an accident.”

But Teague wasn’t ready to give up. “What did Jack eat today? What medicines did he take?”

Cynthia looked bewildered. “His IV. No medicine other than that. And very little food. All I was able to coax down him was some eggnog this morning and a little soup for dinner. Neither should have upset his stomach.”

Teague frowned. “No point worrying about it, I guess. We’ll just have to wait for the lab report.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Shea felt useless.

“Just keep an eye on Mikey for me. This isn’t a good place for her right now. She’s better off on the island.”

Teague patted Cynthia’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Kirsten and I will take good care of her.”

“And if there’s any change or if you need something, just give us a call,” Shea added.

Cynthia hugged the three of them good-bye, then waved them out of sight. Shea felt guilty about leaving
her there alone even though it was apparently what she wanted.

“I’m hungry,” Mikey announced as she buckled herself into the middle seat of Teague’s pickup.

“Me too,” Teague agreed. “How does a hot fudge sundae sound? I know a place that serves great sundaes. Huge mounds of ice cream drowning in oceans of hot fudge and topped with real whipped cream.”

“At this time of night?” Shea asked. It sounded like a recipe for indigestion.

“All right!” Mikey’s enthusiasm overruled her.

“Don’t you think she ought to be in bed?” Shea protested.

“Actually,” Teague said with a wink, “that’s where
I
was planning to be right about now.” He moved his eyebrows up and down like the lecherous villain of a melodrama.

Shea laughed. “Okay. Hot fudge sundaes it is.” Chocolate was the next best thing. Or so she’d heard.

Mikey’s eyes began to droop about halfway through her sundae. By the time they made the crossing to the island, she was sound asleep.

Shea clambered onto the dock first. Then Teague carefully handed the gently snoring child across to her. Shouldering Shea’s duffel bag, Teague leaped onto the weathered boards of the dock. He checked the luminous face of his watch. “It’s only eleven. Seems later, doesn’t it?”

It did. Shea breathed deeply of the night air. Moonlight painted silver squiggles on the surface of the lake.

Teague took Mikey from her. “Shortcake’s heavier than she looks, huh?”

Shea nodded in heartfelt agreement. Forty-odd
pounds of sleeping child would have been quite a load for her to haul across the island. She was thankful Teague had elected to help. Even he looked relieved as the house came into view.

Not surprisingly, considering the circumstances under which Cynthia had left the island, lights blazed from every window and the doors were unlocked.

“Where’s Mikey’s bedroom, I wonder?”

“Upstairs,” Shea said. “Next to Kirsten’s.”

Slowly she trailed Teague up the broad staircase to the second floor, uneasily aware of a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn she was under surveillance.

“Kirsten?” she whispered softly. “Are you here?”

“Did you say something?” Teague glanced back at her over his shoulder.

“No, nothing important.”

She followed him into Mikey’s room. Cynthia’s flair for decorating was evident in the bright palette of primary colors. A huge rocking horse stood in one corner. The low shelves that ran along the window wall were packed with toys, notably a huge collection of Legos and enough teddy bears to stock a big city Toys ““Us.

Shea pulled down the covers on the four-poster, and Teague settled Mikey on the mattress. The little girl slept so soundly that she didn’t stir, even when Shea removed her shoes and tucked her in.

They tiptoed out, closing the door quietly behind them.

Teague stopped outside Kirsten’s door. “You’ve had a shock. Maybe you should get some sleep too,” he suggested.

“In Kirsten’s room?” She cast a doubtful look at the
closed door. Her reluctance bordered on fear. “It’s locked, isn’t it? Per Jack’s orders?”

“With Kirsten back he changed the order.”

“Are you sure? No one said anything to me.”

“I heard him tell Ruth myself.” He studied her face carefully. “You’re not afraid to sleep in Kirsten’s room, are you?”

“Not afraid exactly.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “But I can’t help feeling like an intruder.”

He took her by the arm, tilting her face up to his. “It’s more than that. What are you so scared of, Shea? Ghosts?” He must have felt the reaction that went shivering through her because his expression changed, sharpened. “Ghosts?” he repeated.

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” She twisted away.

“Ghosts aren’t real, Shea.”

“Kirsten’s memories—”

He dismissed her argument with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know where these so-called memories are coming from, but I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for it.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe you have extragood intuition. Or maybe it’s coincidence. But the supernatural? I don’t think so.”

Her face must have revealed her doubts.

“Okay, look. I’ll prove to you there’s nothing spooky about Kirsten’s room.” He turned the doorknob. Or tried to. It was locked.

A wave of relief swept over her at the sudden reprieve. “I guess Ruth isn’t too good at following orders.”

“There must be a key around here somewhere,” he said.

He headed downstairs, and she followed him slowly, trailing her fingers along the smooth wood of the bannister. A sudden sound startled her. She paused, cocking her head to listen. “Did you hear that, Teague?”

“Hear what?” He glanced back up at her from the bottom of the stairs, a questioning expression on his face.

She shook her head. “Nothing, I guess. For a minute I thought I heard a humming sound, but it’s gone now.” She shook her head again. But as Teague turned away, she heard it again, not a sound so much as a vibration, which seemed to tingle through the soles of her feet, through the fingers resting lightly on the bannister.

Shea stared at the polished wood, suddenly aware that she knew exactly how it felt to sling a leg over it and slide down backward, the thrill of the forbidden ride followed by an abrupt jolt as she butted up against the heavy newel post at the bottom. “Kirsten?” she whispered.

The humming grew to a veritable roar, yet Teague appeared to hear nothing out of the ordinary. He stood with his back toward her, searching through a brass bowl of odds and ends on the living-room mantel. The roaring in her ears built to a crescendo, drowning her in a powerful and disturbing wave of déjà vu.

The last time she’d seen Teague standing by the mantel, he’d been waiting for her, waiting to take her to a party at the club. She’d been wearing a little black dress, the one Daddy had threatened to burn.