The Phantom of Black's Cove (13 page)

She nodded and reached for the door handle. Together, they climbed out of the car and eased the doors closed. The pop of the latches closing echoed in the cavernous garage.

Olivia felt another tremor of fear rise in her body and rattle her bones, but it abated when she picked up the tire iron off the workbench. Jack had his defenses, but she was sorely without his abilities.

An amused grin pulled on his mouth, just before she hunkered down behind him for the trip into the house.

Jack opened the service entrance into the kitchen and stepped inside with Olivia behind him. He heightened his senses, taking in information from around him. Normally, Muriel would be preparing dinner at this
time of the afternoon. His gaze traveled to the chopping block where a pile of carrots lay untouched.

Reaching back, he grasped Olivia’s hand and pointed at the chopping block. He closed his eyes, focusing his hearing.

Thump…thump. A pause. Thump…thump. A rhythm, like the sound of a fist against a wall. Hollow…desperate.

“Come on.” He pulled Olivia through the kitchen and out into the service hallway. Stopping next to the closet, the hidden entrance down into the lab, he pulled open the door.

Empty, but the coats had been pushed aside on the rod in both directions, exposing the switch that engaged the elevator. Caution hissed through him. Had the lab been breeched?

Thump…thump. Pause. Thump…thump.

He honed in on the sound. It was coming from upstairs.

Jack headed for the stairs. Letting go of Olivia’s hand, he took the stairs two at a time.

Rushing down the hall, he stopped and yanked on the closet door, but it was locked. He turned the skeleton key and the door shot open.

Muriel and Frances burst out and sprawled on the floor. Their feet and hands were tied, a gag shoved in each of their mouths.

Jack stared into the back of the closet spotting Stuart sitting upright against the wall.

“Oh no!” Olivia said, kneeling next to the two women. She pulled down their gags and worked to remove their bonds, while Jack dragged Stuart’s limp body out of the closet.

He was alive, but barely. “Frances, call 9-1-1. Muriel, tell me what happened here.”

The aged woman pulled in a deep breath and rocked forward on her knees. “A man broke in through the kitchen.”

“Who was he? Did you recognize him?”

“No. He was wearing a black ski mask.”

Worry ground over his nerves, leaving them raw. “What did he do to Stuart?”

“I don’t know. He made Stuart help him tie us up and put us in the closet.” A single tear zigzagged down her plump cheek; she brushed it away. “He shoved Stuart in half an hour later. We’ve been in there since noon.”

“Was Stuart conscious when he put him in the closet?”

“Yes.”

Jack heightened his senses, listening to the thready beat of Stuart’s pulse. All the terror must have caused him to have a heart attack at some point.

Frances rushed back up the stairs, out of breath. “The ambulance is on its way, sir.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, listening to Stuart’s pulse grow weaker by the second, until it stopped completely.

“CPR, Olivia. Now!”

He ripped open the front of Stuart’s shirt, sending buttons flying. “Breathe for him.”

Finding his hand position, Jack started chest compressions, working in tandem with Olivia to save Stuart Redmond’s life.

Jack put the telephone receiver back in its cradle and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The feel of Olivia’s hand against his back made him close his eyes for a moment, regrouping his jumbled emotions.

“He didn’t make it, Olivia.”

“I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

“I need to contact Benton, but I’m not sure how to get hold of him.”

“Stuart probably has an address book or something. We’ll find it in the morning.”

He turned to look at her, enthralled by the seductive curve of her hip draped in the sheet. At the way her hair framed her face and splayed around her on the pillow. He killed the light and slipped under the blanket.

O
LIVIA GAZED AROUND
the comfortable interior of the caretaker’s cottage tucked in the woods between the Trayborne estate and the clinic. There was something missing, but she couldn’t quite figure out what.

She moved to where Jack sat behind a large desk, sorting through paperwork, looking for contact information for Benton Redmond. So far, they’d come up empty, with the exception of learning that Stuart Redmond was penniless at the time of his death. Even she wondered where all the millions he’d inherited from Martin Trayborne had gone.

“I give up.” Jack leaned back in the leather desk chair, his features pulled down in a frustrated grimace, which made her want to console him. “There’s nothing here.”

The grind of the front door hinges and a gust of chilly wind sliced through her sweater and brought her head around.

She half expected to see Frances or Muriel standing in the frame, but instead, a man, dressed in a black suit, stepped into the cottage and closed the door.

“Jack Trayborne?”

He stepped forward, where the light from the overhead fixture near the door illuminated his tight features. His thin lips pulled back in an almost animalistic sneer that gave her the creeps and then some. Who was he?

Tension gelled in the air, making it hard to move from the spot where she stood.

Jack came to his feet. “Benton? We’ve been trying to find contact information for you in your father’s things. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“How did you learn of his death?”

“The hospital contacted me. I had work to finish up at my office in Boston before I caught the next plane
out. I understand you both made a valiant effort to save him.” His voice was flat and void of emotion.

“Yes, yes we did.” Jack reached out and splayed his hand in the middle of her back. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to and I’ll be happy to cover the funeral expenses through the Dry Creek mortuary.”

“Thank you.” Benton glanced around the room before his gaze settled on her.

Repulsion skittered through her, fraying her nerve endings and erecting the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. She reached for Jack’s hand behind her, unable to explain the caustic vibe emanating from the man standing in front of them. He had to be upset about his father’s death. Maybe the pain of his grief was what she sensed.

“If you need anything, Benton, come up to the house.”

“I will.”

Jack led her out the front door, closing it behind them.

“He’s a real sensitive guy.” She laced her fingers in Jack’s and went stride for stride with him along the narrow path back to the estate, but she found herself listening for the sound of footsteps behind them.

“Relax, Olivia. He’s stoic, but he’s harmless.”

“How well do you know him?”

“Hardly. He was marched off to boarding school just before my parents’ accident and my subsequent coma.”

“He seems pretty indifferent to his father’s death, but I can’t be indifferent to the way he makes me feel. He gives me the creeps.”

Jack squeezed her hand, resisting the urge to haul her
into the woods, lay her down in a pile of leaves and make love to her until she begged for mercy.

“How is it the hospital was able to contact him when we couldn’t find one shred of information about him in his father’s house? That’s it, that’s what was missing. Don’t you find it odd there weren’t any photographs of him anywhere in the cottage? Parents keep those sort of things.”

She had a point, made in that beautiful, suspicious, question-asking style of hers.

“Maybe Stuart was carrying the information in his wallet, along with his son’s photo. I carry an emergency contact card myself.”

“Maybe, but where’s his wallet?”

“Standard operating procedure. His personal effects are at the morgue with the body, waiting to be released to the mortuary and his next of kin.”

“How about a drive into Black’s Cove?”

Jack eyed her, his suspicions growing like a bamboo forest. She wanted to rummage in Stuart’s wallet and he loved her for it, for her curiosity, grit and that insatiable need to know that motivated her into situations where she could get hurt…or worse. He sobered.

“We’ll take the convertible. A top-down cruise before it’s too cold.”

“I’d love that.” She pulled away from him, jogging down the path and around a bend just ahead of him, before disappearing into the trees beyond his line of sight.

Jack heightened his senses, feeling the need to chase
after her. The air in the woods went still, like the calm before a storm, the warning period before hell unleashed on them.

To his left, he heard a crack. The unmistakable sound of wood splintering.

Worry urged him forward. He broke into a run.

In his peripheral vision as he rounded the bend, he saw the massive tree come crashing down, taking smaller trees with it.

His heart slammed against his ribs. His palm slicked as he raised it and cast a beam of energy on the falling pine. It bobbed to a stop just above Olivia’s head.

“Come to me! Hurry!”

She looked up and stepped out from under the massive bulk of limbs and needles. Certain death.

Jack scanned the woods around them, before he released the tree, letting it crash on the spot where she’d been standing a moment ago. Reaching out he took her hand and went off-trail, rounding the butt of the tree.

Its roots still held a ball of earth in their grasp. The tree had literally tipped over.

Caution hedged his bet. Natural happening or another attempt on her life? He wasn’t sure.

“Come on, let’s get back to the house.” She clung to his arm as they worked their way around the tree stump and back out onto the trail. Death could come from anywhere, at any time; he had to stay alert.

O
LIVIA FAKED INTEREST
in the pictures lining the wall of the waiting area outside of the morgue.

“Please transfer Mr. Redmond’s body to the Dry Creek Mortuary on 10th Street and I’ll take his personal effects.”

“Sign here,” a young receptionist said from behind a sliding window. It looked more like a fast-food drive-through than a waiting place for the dead before they moved on to more permanent digs.

Sympathy vibrated through her and she turned around, watching the woman shove a clear plastic bag across the threshold and slide the window shut.

She all but rubbed her hands together in anticipation when she spotted the brown leather wallet in the bag along with a comb, a watch, some pocket change and Stuart’s belt.

“Here,” Jack said, holding the bag out to her. She took it and fell in beside him as they strode down the long corridor toward the exit.

“Whatever you can glean between now and the moment we get home, is all there is. We’ll return Stuart’s personal items to Benton the moment we arrive.”

“For sure.” Olivia glanced up, catching sight of a man pulling open the door at the end of the hallway.

Dropping back she aligned herself behind Jack.

“Jack, what are you doing here?” Benton Redmond asked, coming to a stop in front of them.

“Making arrangements for your father to be taken to the Dry Creek Mortuary.”

Olivia stepped out from behind Jack and extended the bag toward him. “And picking up the effects he had on him when they took him to the hospital.”

Benton’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he reached out and snatched the bag from her. “You’re too kind, both of you. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned in the direction he’d come and pushed open the door.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and stroked the wallet tucked in the pocket of her jacket. “He’s such a pleasant guy. You’re lucky he wasn’t around when you were growing up.”

Jack pressed his hand into the small of her back and steered her toward the door.

“Okay, where is it?”

“What?” she protested as he held the door open for her and she stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine.

“You know what. Is that how you conduct investigations for your stories, by lifting things that don’t belong to you?” An amused smile spread on his sexy mouth and she thought her heart would pound out of her chest.

“Only when it’s necessary to get at the truth. I think he’s lying about the hospital calling him.”

“And you’re going to tell me why that matters?”

“Yes…well. I’m not sure, but someone would have had to tell him about his father’s death.”

The sound of squealing tires sliced into her thought process at the same instant Jack shoved her forward.

He dived for cover next to her.

A dark blue sedan lunged backward out of its parking space, just missing them.

The car shot across the parking lot with its terrified driver inside and slammed rear-end first into a light pole.

Jack came to his feet first and helped Olivia up. They sprinted across the parking lot to find the driver staggering out of his car. “What the hell happened?”

“Are you okay?” Jack asked giving him a visual once-over before pulling Olivia in next to him. Scanning the street, he spotted a silver BMW parked at the curb and watched it pull away slowly. Benton Redmond?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He rocked his head back and forth a couple of times. “I must have stepped on the gas instead of the brake. My wife’s going to kill me.” He walked to the rear of the car, shaking his head.

“Would you like us to call the police?”

“No. Go on, I’ll be fine. The car is drivable.”

Jack and Olivia turned for the car sitting in the corner of the lot.

“Wait…it’s gone!”

“What’s gone?” He watched her pat her jacket pockets, then pull them inside out.

“Stuart’s wallet.”

“T
AKE YOUR PICK
.” Jack stood back, allowing Olivia to enter the massive wardrobe closet.

“They’re beautiful.” She stared at the costumes with her mouth open, a fact that he found amusing. It was an endearing reaction that only made him want her and need her more, but she’d yet to accept his offer to stay in Black’s Cove.

Jack sobered and followed her inside. “You can be anything you want, Olivia. Cinderella to my Prince. Beauty to my Beast.”

Color dished on her cheeks, her eyes becoming watery in the shallow light from overhead.

He reached for her and took her in his arms. Lowering his mouth to hers, he inhaled her scent, a sweet spicy cocktail of pheromones that sent heat racing in his veins, burning through his body, searing her to him with a fiery brand that marked her as his own, but he resisted the desire to reach for her thoughts.

“What do you know about fairy tales, Jack Trayborne?” she whispered against his lips, her voice seductively low. “This is where you sweep me off my feet and carry me away to live happily ever after.”

His heart expanded in his chest as he scooped her up into his arms, headed for the bedroom down the hall. But even in his rush to have her, he couldn’t shake the details of his most recent precognitive vision.

“Why so glum, Prince Charming?” She smiled and brushed her hand against the side of his cheek, sending a renewed rush of need coursing through his body. He paused at the bedroom door and stared into her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll stay by my side tomorrow night at the masquerade ball. That you won’t leave the house or wander away. Promise me.”

A degree of fear manifested itself in Olivia’s brain and stayed there as she gazed up into Jack’s face. His eyes were dark blue and focused on her. His jaw set in a hard line that didn’t soften. What was he hiding? What did he know that she didn’t?

“What is it, Jack? What aren’t you telling me?”

He entered the room and pushed the door shut with
his foot. Striding across the floor, he deposited her on the bed and lowered himself next to her.

“How long can you hold your breath?”

“A minute, maybe.”

“I have a couple of requests. One, you wear a hoop slip under your gown, and two…” He reached under the pillow and pulled out a slender cylinder with a fixed air regulator attached to the top. “Do you know how to use this O2 supply?”

“No.”

“Let me show you.” He popped the regulator off the top. The small black mouthpiece was attached to a two-foot-long, slender hose. He clasped it in his hand. “It works like a snorkel. This goes in your mouth. Seal your lips around it and turn on the valve.” He pointed out a small red knob on the top of the cylinder. “Breathe through your mouth and hold your nose. The air bubbles from your expiration will release on their own through a one-way valve. Strap it to your thigh under your dress. It carries a fifteen minute supply of oxygen. It’s life, Olivia.”

“That’s nuts!” She tried a chuckle to go with her summation, but it lodged in her throat. She stared at Jack. He was utterly serious, and she trusted him.

“You’ll know when to use it, but I pray you don’t have to.” His voice broke. “I’ll do my best to prevent it.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do what you ask.” Reaching out, she cupped his cheek in her palm.

He turned and kissed it, before gazing at her again, his face placid and void of emotion.

Her heart thumped in her eardrums, blocking out everything around her but him, and she instinctively knew this was the moment. This was the instant her life would change for the better.

“I need your answer, Olivia. Will you stay in Black’s Cove?”

Her throat closed as she weighed the consequences of saying no, but she knew in her heart she couldn’t live without him.