Deception

“That’s strange. Marissa had a lot of faults, but holding grudges didn’t seem to be among them.”

Your sister is dead.

Could she open up to Dylan? When couldn’t she? In the old days, she’d been open with Dylan with just about everything except her true feelings for him.

She raked her hair back with her fingers. “It is strange, isn’t it? And what’s stranger… Did your sister ever tell you she’d found a diary belonging to Marissa a few months ago when she was in Coral Cove with her son?”

Two red spots colored Dylan’s cheekbones. “No. I wasn’t in touch with Devon at that time. I’m just glad Kieran Roarke had come back from the dead in time to help her and Michael.”

Mia tilted her head. Dylan and Devon had always been the close twins in town. “Well, she did find Marissa’s diary, but before she had a chance to read it or send it to me, it disappeared. And before that, Michelle Girard contacted me about a bracelet she found at Columbella. Michelle’s mother used to make them, and Marissa had one she rarely removed.”

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her blood pumping now, she sat forward. “And finally, Kylie Grant, you know, Rosie the fortune-teller’s daughter, she sent me an email that said—”

She choked to a stop. This all sounded crazy. Only bad things had come out of her desire to own Columbella House, and now she was just projecting more guilt on to herself.

Dylan ran a strong, warm hand up her back. “What did the email say?”

“‘Your sister is dead.’”

“That’s a nice email to send someone, a crazy email.” He lightly clasped her neck and circled his thumb against her skin.

“That’s not all she wrote in the email. Kylie was here on a case. She works for the FBI and police departments sometimes to help find missing people. While she was—” she waved her hands in the air “—in some kind of trance or something, she felt that Marissa was dead.”

“And you believe that mumbo jumbo?”

“Not usually, but Kylie did find that girl who had gone missing from the Coral Cove Music Festival a few years ago.”

“That happened right before I got here, and Kylie didn’t exactly find the woman. The woman’s killer led Kylie to where he’d stashed the body with the intent of doing the same thing to her.”

“He’d stashed the body in the walls of Columbella House.” Mia shivered and clenched her teeth.

Dylan draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her snug against his body. “I can have my buddy locate Marissa. He’s a P.I. In fact, he worked the case with Kylie. Matt Conner, do you remember him?”

She nodded, trying not to press her body against his solid frame and soak up all his warmth. She turned her head, dangerously close to finding his shoulder again, and her gaze collided with a wavy blue line from a tattoo peeking from the long sleeve of his shirt.

She traced the swirl with the tip of her finger and he winced as if in pain. “When did you get this?”

“A few years ago.”

She shoved his sleeve up to get a better view, but the cuff stuck on his forearm. She could see that the blue tail-end of the tattoo curled around his wrist, ending in an arrow pointing to his palm. “What is it?”

Pinching his sleeve between two fingers, he yanked it down. “Another time. It’s getting late. You’re probably going to be sore from the accident. Do you have some ibuprofen?”

“Plenty.”

His arm slid from her shoulder. “Then take it and get some rest. That guy Peter…your ex…husband, he’s not going to try anything, is he?”

“He’s harmless, just annoying.”

Dylan pushed up from the bed, and she jumped up next to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Thanks for everything today, Dylan. Just like old times, when you used to come to rescue me and Devon.”

The arm beneath her fingers tensed, and a storm passed across his blue eyes. “Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

He bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Even that affectionate gesture left a scorching imprint of his lips on her skin.

At the door he turned. “You might want to book up all the vacant rooms in this motel so I don’t look like a liar.”

“Believe me, this isn’t Peter’s style. Just another empty threat on his part. He has plenty of those to spare.”

“Take care. I guess we’ll be seeing each other around town…as long as you’re here.”

“Maybe I can buy you dinner some night.”

“Looking forward to it.” He smacked the doorjamb and ambled away.

Mia snapped the door closed and leaned against it. Maybe she should’ve taken him up on his dinner offer tonight. That way she could’ve spent more time with him.

At least he hadn’t laughed about her suspicions about Marissa. That was Dylan—always willing to listen.

She pushed away from the door and strolled to the bathroom, her head in the clouds. She was not here to reconnect with Dylan Reese. She hadn’t even realized he’d be here. Devon hadn’t written much about her brother when she’d sent Mia that email about the diary.

Rolling her shoulders, she winced. She’d better get that ibuprofen. She’d be sore for sure tomorrow. A bath might ease her muscles, too. She cranked on the hot water in the tub, letting it run over her fingers.

A large thump at the door almost had her pitching face-first into the bathwater. Had Dylan forgotten something?

She rushed to the door and pulled it open, Dylan’s name on her lips. The word died away on a hitched breath.

There was nobody at the door, but whoever had knocked left her a present—a doll. She’d never liked dolls, even when she’d been doll-age appropriate.

She stooped down to snatch the toy from the cement and gasped. This was no ordinary doll. Someone had cut the photo of her out of the paper and glued it over the doll’s face, and added one more touch…a needle through the doll’s heart.

Chapter Four

Mia clutched her hand to her heart as if she felt the prick of the needle. Stepping back, she banged her elbow on the doorjamb, and pain radiated down her arm. Her gaze darted back and forth along the cement walkway through the bushes.

“Peter?” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “Peter, is that you?”

A rustling of bushes answered her, and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead despite the cool breeze from the ocean. She backed into her room and slammed the door. She scraped the battered chain into place, twitching the curtains at the window for a final peek outside.

Coward.

If Peter thought he’d be getting any more money out of her by playing childish games, he’d better put away whatever it was he’d been smoking.

Pinching the doll by the leg, she dangled it in front of her face. The other soft limbs flopped up and down, and the doll’s blue gingham skirt slipped over its head, the head with Mia’s face pinned to it. She’d seen these dolls before. An artist up the coast made them and sold them to shops in the neighboring towns.

Lots of people had them, but Peter would’ve had to buy the doll here in Coral Cove. It would be easy enough to track that down and nail him. She didn’t know if he’d broken any laws by dropping a voodoo doll on her doorstep…but Dylan would know.

Her gaze slid to the telephone by the bed. She knew he was off duty, but police chiefs in small towns like Coral Cove never went off duty. Someone at the station could rouse the chief.

She shook the doll again and then dropped it on the table by the window. She couldn’t go running to Dylan every time someone yelled boo in her face. She’d played that game enough when they were kids, just to see Dylan come running to her rescue.

But she didn’t play games anymore. She’d learned her lesson. The last game she’d played had been bringing Raoul to Coral Cove with her, knowing Marissa wouldn’t be able to resist his boy-model good looks and sexy accent. Look where that had gotten her.

Saddled with a house she no longer wanted and estrangement from her twin. Surely the only price she had to pay was Marissa’s estrangement…not her death.

She shivered as her gaze glanced off the discarded doll, limbs askew, needle through her heart.

Surely not death.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Mia followed up with the rental car company after Dylan’s report of the accident the night before. Their solicitousness made Mia’s teeth ache, but an agent personally delivered a fresh car to the Sea View Motel.

Driving into town, Mia stomped on the brakes a few times just to test them out. She didn’t have her driver’s license, but she figured Chief Reese would show some understanding.

She pulled into a public parking lot and fed some quarters into the meter. Emerging onto Main Street, she scanned the storefronts, looking for the little touristy knickknack places.

Mia stepped into the first one, the bell on the door dancing in a frantic jingle as she swept into the shop. A tidy woman with a long gray braid down her back looked up from her dusting.

Her ready smile faded and she pursed her lips. “Can I help you?”

Great. Seemed her reputation preceded her everywhere. She may as well have a bull’s-eye painted on her forehead.

She practiced her sweetest smile. “Hello, I was wondering if you could help me out.”

The woman grunted.

“Do you carry these dolls?” Mia marched forward and thrust the floppy doll, picture on its face and needle in its heart, under the clerk’s nose.

The woman jerked back and took a sharp breath. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Yeah, apparently on me.” Mia waved the doll. “You know what kind it is…Cassie’s Creations.”

Wiggling her fingers, the clerk reached out her hand. “Let me see that. I do carry some of Cassie’s Creations.”

Mia happily relinquished the squishy doll, wiping her hands on the seat of her white slacks after handing it over.

The woman flipped the doll over and pulled up her skirt. She pushed her glasses up her nose, bringing the doll close to her face. “Yep, it’s Cassie’s and we do carry these.”

“Do you have any?”

“You want another one?”

“I’m trying to find out who bought this one.”

“I sold out at the end of the tourist season a few weeks ago.” She straightened the doll’s skirt and handed it back to Mia. “You might try May’s Place across the street. She carries them, too.”

Mia tucked the doll under her arm, careful to avoid the end of the needle. “Okay, thanks for your help.”

“So what are you going to do with it?”

“Probably take it to the police.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Not the doll, I’m talking about Columbella House.”

Mia paused with her hand on the doorknob. “What would you like me to do with it?”

“I’m not sure, but you need to take care of that mess.” She puffed at a strand of gray hair that had come loose from her braid. “Maybe the whole thing should’ve burned down in that fire earlier this summer. There’s bad karma when a place is acquired through nefarious methods.”

Mia’s heart flipped. Did this woman know what Mia had done to obtain the house? “Nefarious methods?”

“I’ve heard stories about your great-grandfather, and I didn’t even grow up here.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Because sometimes it’s worse. “You have a great day.”

Mia snapped the door harder than she’d intended, anxious to escape any more accusations. She spun around on the sidewalk, head down, intent on reaching the next store, and collided with a solid shoulder.

She’d know that shoulder anywhere.

“Dylan!”

He caught her arm. “What’s your hurry? Did you just rob Sadie’s place?”

She shoved her arms behind her, the legs of the doll tapping the backs of her thighs. “Ah, no. Just looking around.”

He cocked his head, his eyes unreadable behind his dark sunglasses. “In a touristy knickknack shop?”

Shoving out a breath, she whipped the doll from behind her back and jiggled it in front of Dylan. “Someone left this on my hotel doorstep last night.”

“What?” He snatched the doll from her and poked at the needle with his fingertip. “Does your soon-to-be ex practice voodoo?”

“Not that I know of, but Peter showed only his good side before I married him.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the shop. “I was just checking in there to see if someone matching Peter’s description bought a doll recently.”

“And now you’re going across the street to check the other shop?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Mia was hoping he’d say that. She might get a better reception with the chief of police by her side.

As they crossed the street together, it seemed like half the pedestrians crisscrossing Main Street had a word or a smile for Dylan, their new chief of police. They barely gave her a glance. It was like the living embodiment of Beauty and the Beast…only she was the Beast.

The owner of the next shop had propped open her door, and Dylan gestured Mia through first. The woman behind the counter started gushing before they took two steps inside.

“Chief Reese—I can’t tell you how good that sounds—what can I do for you today?”

“Good morning, Ellen.” He tugged the doll out of Mia’s hand. “Have you sold any of these lately?”

“There’s a pin in that doll.” The woman pursed her lips and her right eye twitched.

Did she assume Mia had defaced the doll? Mia took a breath, but Dylan stilled her with a glance from his blue eyes.

“Exactly.” He placed the doll on the counter like it was an injured patient. “That’s why we need to know who bought it.”

Ellen nudged the doll with the back of her hand. “I had three of these in stock and I sold two this summer. The most recent one to a man, said he was buying it for his daughter.”

With her heart pounding, Mia scrambled through the big canvas bag she’d grabbed to substitute as a purse today. She dragged out a dog-eared photography magazine and flipped to the page with the creased corner with the article about Peter. Flattening it on the counter next to her voodoo-doll likeness, she jabbed at a picture of Peter. “Did this man buy the doll?”

Ellen smoothed the picture with her thumb. “I can’t tell. I don’t think so.”

“But it could’ve been?” Mia pushed the magazine closer to Ellen just in case.

“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “What’s this about, Chief Reese?”

“Someone making threats against Ms. St. Regis.”

“Why? You haven’t decided what you’re going to do with Columbella House yet, have you?” Ellen narrowed her eyes.

“Not yet.” Mia picked up the doll and shook it. “But stunts like this are not going to win me over.”

Dylan thanked Ellen and steered Mia out of the store. He faced her on the sidewalk. “Are you going to confront Peter about this?”

“Of course. I’m not going to allow him to play games like this. The prenup he signed is ironclad.”

“Why’s he fighting it now? Greed?”

“That and—” she smacked the rolled-up magazine against her palm “—the fact that his business is failing.”

Dylan pushed up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Mia, Mia. The things you get into—nothing’s changed.”

A lot had changed. Mia studied Dylan’s strong hands and his square, resolute chin. She’d never take him for granted again. She’d grown up in the shadow of this boy becoming a real man, and she hadn’t met a real man since she’d left Coral Cove.

She smiled at her reflection in his dark glasses. “I’m not as wild as I used to be—I promise.”

“You haven’t been in town two days and ex-husbands are leaving creepy dolls on your doorstep and your car is careening off a cliff.” He snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Your purse and laptop case were thrown clear of the car when it crashed. My guys recovered them and I have them at the station.”

She clapped her hands. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day…that and the rental car company’s willingness to deliver a new car to me.”

“Do you want to walk to the station with me?”

“Absolutely.” She took his arm, her fingertips pressing against the solid muscle beneath his khaki uniform shirt. “Walking with you is like being under this protective umbrella.”

“You feel like you need a protective umbrella?”

“Yeah, from all the slings and arrows being sent my way from the good folks of Coral Cove.”

He bumped her shoulder. “You’re being paranoid. Like Ellen said, you haven’t indicated which way you’re leaning on a decision for Columbella.”

“I’m going out there today. I already called the electric company to have the electricity turned on.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Can you?” She squeezed his arm. “You’re not busy?”

“This is Coral Cove.”

She snorted. “Tell that to Chief Evans, the guy who just left. Murders, suicides, kidnappings. I think there’s been more crime here this past summer than all the years your dad was chief.”

“Weird, huh? And all of it ending up at Columbella House. That’s what has people on edge about the house.”

“I don’t blame them. What did you call it earlier? A magnet for crime? Even before this summer, it was a magnet for a whole lot of other things.” A tremble rolled through her body and she jostled closer to Dylan.

He charged through the doors of the police station like he owned the place. Hunching over the front desk, he called out, “Hey, Clark, do you have Ms. St. Regis’s stuff from the car crash?”

An officer came out from the back, hugging a gray bin to his chest. “Got it right here. You’re one lucky lady.”

“Don’t I know it.”

He placed the bin on the counter and slid it toward her. The odors of gasoline and burning tires wafted from her purse and laptop case.

“Ugh. I hope the contents are salvageable because I’m going to have to throw these bags away.”

“Do you want me to take those to your car and then follow you over to Columbella?”

“I don’t want to take up your time, Dylan, if you have other work to do.”

“I’ve been meaning to go out there anyway—a couple of things I wanted to check out.”

Dylan shoved the bin into her trunk and closed it with a snap. “If you need help retrieving anything on that hard drive, let me know. There’s a guy in town, a teacher, who’s good with computers.”

She leaned against the car door with her hands grasping the door handle behind her. He must think I’m still a total ditz.

“I appreciate it, Dylan, but you don’t have to hold my hand every step of the way. Believe it or not, I actually live on my own and manage to eat and pay my bills and everything.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue. Two red spots stained his cheekbones, and his jaw tightened.

“Just trying to help out.”

Pushing off the car, she grabbed his forearm, her fingers slipping up his sleeve to caress the mysterious tattoo.

“I’m sorry. I sounded ungrateful. I just want to let you know I’m not that silly girl who used to run to you for help killing a spider…or to tell some overeager teenage boy to back off.”

His lips quirked up at one end as he stepped away from her touch. “Guess I’m still overprotective. Do you still want me to meet you at Columbella?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

“Tell you what. You go ahead and I’ll meet you over there in a bit.”

“Sounds good.” Mia pasted on a cheery smile and then slumped in the car when he walked away. Damn, girl. Why are you pushing away the one good thing left in this town?

Mia drove up the coast with the window down, allowing the wind to tangle the strands of her hair. She eyed the rearview mirror more than a few times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dylan’s squad car following her. He’d wanted to come along, but she’d implied she wanted him to back off.

Did she?

Not at all. She just wanted Dylan to take her seriously now. She’d gotten off to a bad start by being forced to confess how she’d set up Marissa and married Peter just to get her hands on a house. No wonder he felt she still needed saving from herself.

Coral Cove Drive looked a lot less spooky by daylight. The house didn’t look much better, though. In fact, it looked worse. It didn’t even have that haunted vibe going for it in the harsh light of day that exposed all its flaws and blemishes.

She rolled to a stop in front of the house and scrambled out, dragging her canvas bag with her. She pushed open the front door and poked her head inside before entering.

She expelled a sigh of relief when she saw the broken wood hanging from the balustrade. That was what she’d seen last night; that was what sent her scurrying for safety. Not that her rental car had proved to be safe.

She wrinkled her nose at the dust and decay in the house. Could anyone ever really restore the house? Would she want anyone to restore it?

She wandered around the downstairs, taking notes on a yellow legal pad. She jiggled the handle of the basement door, dreading the trip downstairs. Then decided to put it off for another time.

She climbed the stairs like she had lead weights on her feet. Reaching the second-story landing, she peered over the railing. Why exactly had she wanted this house?

Why had she wanted it enough to trick her sister and marry a man she didn’t love? Had she really expected Dylan to offer himself in Peter’s stead?

She threw open the doors to all the bedrooms and bathrooms. After taking inventory of the items in these rooms, she dragged herself up to the third floor.

Rosie Grant, the mother of Kylie Grant, the same psychic who had sent her the email about Marissa, had hung herself from the third-floor landing a few years ago.

Mia shivered and scooted past the spot where Rosie had jumped. But more terror awaited her at the end of the hallway. A gaping hole was all that remained of the cavity where some local man had walled up a body.

What was it about this place? It drove people to madness.

She took more notes on the third floor, and then sank into a chair, facing a set of double doors that opened on to a balcony facing the sea.

Crossing her arms behind her head, she stretched her legs in front of her. The only thing that made sense right now was Dylan Reese. If he wanted to play knight in shining armor, who was she to stop him?

But she didn’t want them to fall into their old, familiar pattern. She wanted him to see her in a new light, for the woman she’d become. Because now maybe she could meet him on equal footing.

She cocked her head. She could hear a rumbling of voices raised above the rush of the ocean beneath her.

Unless the Vincents were having one heck of a big party, there couldn’t be that many people gathered on this block.

She peeled herself from the chair and scuffed to the balcony. Here the voices came cascading along the sea breeze. Shouts. Yells. Jeers.

Mia jogged down the spiral stairs that led from the balcony to the rocks and then made her way to the front of the house.

She stumbled to a halt, her jaw dropping. Hordes of people were gathered around Columbella House, carrying signs and yelling at each other.

Then a few of them spotted her and started yelling at her. She set her jaw and marched to the front of the house.

She zeroed in on the closest person. “What is going on? What are you people doing here?”

“We just want to make sure you do the right thing.”

Before Mia had a chance to respond, another person pushed her way forward and wagged her finger. “Don’t try to force yourself in here and influence her.”

Sirens sliced through the air, but the noise didn’t faze the crowd. Two police cars pulled up to the curb, and Mia blew out a breath when she saw Dylan climb out of one of the cars. He cut a swath through the mob, and they parted for him.

“What’s going on here?”

Mia flung out her arms. “I was inside, and apparently, these people just spontaneously gathered here.”

He flicked a sign next to him. “Doesn’t look spontaneous to me.”