Deception (19 page)

“Like you?”

She flopped back on to the bed. “Especially not me. In fact—” she covered her face with her hands, muffling her words “—I kind of played you all those years ago.”

He lay back next to her and kissed her cheek. “I know that, Mia St. Regis. And I liked it.”

She turned her face to his and their lips were so close, all she had to do was pucker. He kissed her long and hard, and his tense muscles relaxed.

She’d done that for him. And she’d continue doing that for him any way she could. For as long as she stayed in Coral Cove.

He rolled from the bed and grasped her ankles, which were hanging over the edge. “You haven’t even had breakfast yet, and I have to get going.”

“I can lock up after I eat.” She sat up. “You need to talk to the Vegas.”

“I don’t want to leave you here on your own.” He tugged on her legs. “You don’t have your car anyway.”

She fluttered her feet, her ankles still in his light grip. “You don’t want to leave me here on my own? Are you afraid I’ll go nosing around and discover all your deep, dark secrets?”

“You already know all my deep, dark secrets.” He dropped her ankles. “Are you forgetting that someone tried to poison your niece last night?”

“How could I forget that?”

“Peter. Kayla. Seems to me, people close to you have big bull’s-eyes on their backs, and you haven’t escaped either.”

“Getting a voodoo doll doesn’t compare to getting poisoned, and I really think that doll was Peter’s touch.”

His blue eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “Both Peter and Kayla are connected to you, Mia, and you’re all connected to that house.”

“Back to Columbella House again? Do you seriously believe someone cares enough about what happens to that house to kill for it?”

“Did you get a load of those protesters? And the rock?”

She touched her chin. “It’s crazy, Dylan. I know some people want to see that house restored and some want me to tear it down and put up a hotel, but if one or the other of those things happens, it’s not exactly going to be the end of the world for someone.”

“Money.”

“Are you throwing that out there as a motive?”

“Sure. Money and love—the two biggest motivations out there.” He scratched his stubble. “Think about it. Who stands to gain some money out of either of those deals?”

“Well, anyone I would hire for restoration or construction, but I could employ those people either way, and the town stands to benefit either way, too. It seems to me it’s more a struggle between the traditionalists, who want to preserve some history, and the modernists, who want to draw a different kind of tourist to the area. Hardly the stuff to inspire murder.”

“And yet that’s what we have.”

“Once I make it clear I’m not taking either route, I’d better hire a bodyguard.”

“You’ve got one of those.” He pulled her up from the bed and kissed her. “When are you breaking that bit of news?”

“I’m going to drop by the city planning office today and find out what it will take to turn Columbella into parkland and donate it to the city. I’m sure word will get out soon enough.”

“I think you’re right. Get dressed and eat some of those cold eggs. I’ll drop you off at the Sea View.” He swept the stack of Marissa’s postcards from his dresser and shook them at her. “I’ll start working on this, too.”

“You’re a man of many talents, Chief Reese.”

He quirked his eyebrows up and down. “You have no idea.”

“You won’t toss me out of your truck if I skip a shower, will you?”

“Not at all, but I draw the line at no teeth brushing. I have a few new toothbrushes in the middle left drawer in the bathroom.”

“Okay, let me shovel down some of those eggs first.” She sniffed the air. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yep. Get it while it’s hot, or lukewarm.”

Mia followed him out of the bedroom and hopped up on a stool at his kitchen counter, tugging at the T-shirt as it rode up her thighs.

He held up a plate of scrambled eggs. “Do you want me to zap these in the microwave?”

“No, I’m good.”

He put the plate in front of her and shoved a coffee cup next to the plate. “Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk.”

The phone rang and Dylan’s hand jerked, spilling milk over the side of the cup. “Sorry.”

He grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to her, and then answered the phone.

“Hey, Ted. What’s up?” He put his hand over the phone and mouthed,
The mechanic
.

Mia nodded and wiped up the spill. She dumped a little more milk into the mocha-colored liquid and took a sip.

“You did?” Dylan dropped the glass he’d been rinsing in the sink, and Mia’s gaze shot up. “I’m putting you on speaker phone, Ted. I want Mia to hear this.”

Ted’s raspy voice scratched over the line. “Hi, Mia. I’ve been looking at your rental car. The rental car company wanted me to take a look, and I think I figured out why you crashed into that guardrail.”

Mia’s pulse quickened. “I know why, Ted. The brakes failed, so if the rental car company’s trying to prove it was my fault, I’ll dispute it all the way.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, Mia.” Ted expelled a long breath. “What I was just about to tell the chief is, I know
why
the brakes failed.”

“Why, Ted?”

“Someone cut the brake lines.”

Chapter Fourteen

Mia felt the blood drain from her face, and her hand shook as she put down her coffee cup with a clink.

Dylan said, “Are you sure, Ted? The car was a mess when it came up.”

“Yeah, I know that, Chief. But only one portion of the car burned. Things were pretty mangled, but I did get a look at the brake lines, and it looks like a clean cut to me.”

“I’m going to come by and have a look.”

“That’s fine. This car ain’t going anywhere. And, Mia?”

She licked her lips. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

“You better watch your back.”

When Dylan ended the call, Mia slumped over the counter. “Oh, my God. So you really think somebody tampered with the brakes on my rental car?”

Dylan looked ready to snap the phone in two. “Ted’s a good mechanic.”

“But he’s working for the rental car agency. They put him up to it.”

“Do you think he just came up with that story to get the car company off the hook? Ted doesn’t operate like that.”

“Maybe they paid him off.”

Dylan walked around the counter and squeezed her shoulders from behind. “I know you don’t want to believe it, Mia, but it makes sense.”

She twisted around on the stool. “It doesn’t make any sense at all. Why would someone want to kill me or my niece or my ex-husband for a house?”

“I don’t know. What happens to the house in the event of your death?”

“I’m not sure. I’m the only heir. It wouldn’t go to anyone in any of the other branches of the St. Regis family.”

“But if Marissa could be found, it would go to her?”

“Yes.”

“Where is Marissa, Mia?”

“That’s what I’m trying to—” Her jaw dropped. “You’re not implying that Marissa is back and skulking around to get the house from me.”

“N-no.”

Hooking her legs around the stool, she crossed her arms. “You’d better not be. That’s ridiculous. Then she, what? Decided to kill her own daughter while she was at it?”

“Sounds crazy.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Let’s think about this. Someone comes after you first. Your husband shows up in town, offering another obstacle to the house. He publicly threatens to take it from you, and he dies.”

“He could’ve committed suicide. He really did have financial problems.”

“We have no results from the autopsy yet.” He took a turn around the room and landed in front of her again. “Marissa’s daughter makes an appearance next. Again, very public, everyone knows who she is—another possible St. Regis heiress. She eats poisoned cookies.”

“Now I’m the only one left.”

He leaned against the counter, an arm on either side of her body, imprisoning her. “You need to call your attorney and find out who gets the house when there are no more direct St. Regis heirs.”

“I just can’t believe anyone would go to those lengths.”

“Look at you. You tricked your sister out of a marriage and entered your own loveless marriage of convenience—all for that house.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Pressing his forehead against hers, he said, “Your announcement of your plans for the house is either going to make one interested person very happy…or very angry.”

* * *

M
IA’S SANDALS SLAPPED
the hospital corridor as she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers she clutched in one hand. Kayla’s doctor had already told her that Kayla’s condition remained unchanged—stable but still in a coma.

She pushed open the door to Kayla’s room and peered inside, her breath catching in her throat when she caught sight of the tubes running into Kayla’s arm. She’d be safe in her parents’ home in Arizona if she hadn’t come on this road trip to meet her biological family. And if her mother hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, maybe she’d be enjoying a reunion with her right now.

It all came back to that moment when Mia had decided to trick her twin.

She pasted on a smile, even though Kayla couldn’t see her, and tiptoed into the room, even though Kayla couldn’t hear her. “Good morning, Kayla. I brought you flowers. Your friends are really worried about you. I talked to them this morning.”

She kept up the cheerful chatter. Even if Kayla couldn’t distinguish her words, Mia wanted to project a positive tone. She wanted to send out rays of hope.

Ted the mechanic had dashed any hopes Mia had been harboring that the events of the past few days added up to some crazy coincidence.

Someone had cut the brake lines to her rental car.

She shivered and glanced over her shoulder at the silent hospital corridor. Who could possibly want Columbella House so badly and for what purpose?

If she knew, she’d gladly hand it over. The house meant nothing to her now—worse than nothing. It had become an albatross of her own making.

She continued sitting with Kayla until the nurse, Geri, came into the room. “I know she’s not responding now, but having you here does help.”

“Do you think she’ll come out of this okay?” A tear trembled on the edge of Mia’s lashes. Through the blur of tears, Kayla looked even more like Marissa.

Geri patted Mia’s back. “I’ve seen plenty of miracles. Physically, she’s out of the woods, so that’s a good sign. Sometimes people just wake up, no rhyme or reason. Just miracles.”

Mia sniffled. “Thank you. I’ll keep praying for that miracle.”

She walked to her car in the parking lot while checking her cell phone. If Dylan had gotten anything out of the Vegas, he’d have called her by now. Charlie Vega might be interested in the St. Regis riches, but he’d seemed genuinely thrilled with his surprise daughter and genuinely upset at her poisoning.

Mia drove back to downtown Coral Cove and pulled into one of the slots in front of City Hall. She’d called ahead to set up a meeting with the city planning commissioner, Dirk Fielder. He met her at the window of the planning office.

“Come around to the side door, Ms. St. Regis.”

“Call me Mia.” She tucked a notepad under her arm and waited by the door.

He ushered her into a small office in the back and snapped the door closed. “Lots of nosy people around this office. I’m assuming you’re here because you’ve made some sort of decision about Columbella House.”

“That’s right.” She smacked her notepad on his desk blotter.

Leaning back in his chair, Fielder steepled his fingers. “So what’s it going to be? Restoration of a city icon or another beachfront hotel?”

“Neither. I’m going to tear down the house and turn the land over to the city for a public park.”

Fielder’s brows shot up to his sandy hairline. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m sick of the house. I don’t want to deal with it anymore. There’s a beautiful view from that spot, why shouldn’t everyone be able to enjoy it?”

“I’m all for that.” He swung his computer monitor around to face him. “Let’s see. We’re going to have to check out the zoning, traffic, parking, all sorts of boring details.”

“I’ll let you handle the boring details, Mr. Fielder.”

“Call me Dirk, since it looks like we’ll be spending some time together.”

They started with an hour and a half. Dirk knew his stuff, and by the time Mia left the uncomfortable chair in his office, she knew she’d made the right decision.

Now she just had to convince everyone else of that fact.

She turned the corner from the planning office and ran smack into Jimmy Holt, boy journalist.

Mia’s notebook and papers, along with Holt’s, scattered all over the yellowed linoleum floor. They both reached for their stuff, nearly banging heads.

Mia pulled back. “Do you cause trouble wherever you go?”

Flashing a smile, he said, “I try to.”

She scooped up a few papers and sorted through them, pulling out Jimmy’s notes. She thrust them toward him, still crouching on the floor. “These are yours.”

His nose was buried in a sheaf of papers. “And these are yours. Columbella House a park?”

So much for keeping her plans secret. She blew at a strand of hair stuck to her lipstick. “Maybe.”

He waved the papers in the air. “This is big news. I wonder how the two opposing sides are going to feel about this.”

“Don’t know.” She snatched the papers from his hand. “And don’t care. It’s my house.”

“Yeah.” He pushed to his feet, scratching his chin. “It
is
your house.”

She shoved his papers into his midsection. “That’s what I just said.”

He gathered his forms from her and smoothed out the corners with care. “It’s your house even after that threat from your husband and the appearance of your niece on the scene. Still your house.”

“I know you’re longing to sharpen those journalistic skills by reporting on something more than the annual 5K run for education, but there’s no story here.”

“I’ve had plenty to report on this summer—a serial killer, a couple of murderers down from the city and a cold-case murder.”