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Jocelyne groaned. “Put me down. People are pointing at us.” She cupped his cheek and made him look at her. “Please?”
Something in her voice must have gotten to the Neanderthal and made him pause. “Are you sure you won’t pass out again?”
She raised a hand scout-style. “I promise.”
If his frown was any indication, he didn’t quite believe her, but he let her feet drop to the ground, while retaining the arm around her waist.
“Look, I’m pregnant, not sick. The reason I passed out was that I haven’t eaten breakfast.” She patted his chest. “See? Easy fix. Now let me go.”
A gaggle of women exiting the coffee shop a block away stopped and stared at Jocelyne and the man in the running shorts.
“I can manage it from here, Officer.” Jocelyne’s cheeks burned like they had when her classmates pointed and whispered about her mother being a witch, when they made taunts that she was the spawn of the devil. She turned toward the police department, but try as she might, she couldn’t shake the cop’s hand from her waist. “Really, I can walk on my own.”
“Until we get you to the station, you’ll have to deal with a little help.”
One of the women leaned toward the ear of another, her gaze following Jocelyne’s progression down the street, her lips moving fast.
“I don’t like it when people stare,” she whispered through her teeth.
“I don’t care what they think. There’s a dead woman back there, you passed out, and I’m not letting go of you until we get to the police station.” His jaw could have been carved in granite, ebony eyes staring straight ahead unwavering from his course. That arm was like a steel band, locking her against his rock-solid side.
Jocelyne’s heart hammered against her ribs. This man was hard, strong and determined. If he were the Seaside Strangler, she didn’t stand a chance. Nor did any other woman. The fact he was a cop, didn’t mean anything. There were such animals as renegade cops gone bad. Her instincts told her he wasn’t bad and he wasn’t the Seaside Strangler, but he also wasn’t letting go of her. The fact that he’d carried her for almost half a mile impressed her. Not that she’d admit it to him.
A pretty young blonde stepped out of the beauty shop and waved at the man whose hand gripped dangerously close to Jocelyne’s breast. “Hi, Andrei.” Her face crinkled into a pout, her gaze narrowing at the hand around Jocelyne’s waist. “Are we still on for tonight?”
“Sorry. Something’s come up. I have to work.” He passed her with little more than a glance, hurrying on to the stately brick building that housed not only the police station, but the jail and courthouse.
All along Main Street, Jocelyne reminded herself that the victim of the Seaside Strangler took precedence over her own embarrassed sensibilities. She could suffer through the inconvenience. Humiliation was a better alternative to what happened to that girl in the waves.
Once inside the building, Andrei settled her into a chair, with surprising gentleness. “Are you going to be okay?”
She inhaled the musky scent of male sweat, mingled with a hint of aftershave, and gulped. When he was being nice, he was almost handsome and sexy in his damp clothes, his thighs bulging from beneath his running shorts. “I’m fine,” she lied. “It was just the shock.” Seeing a body on the rocks, on top of being hungry and pregnant had caused her to black out. Having him stand so close, leaning all his bronzed muscles into her vision, just made her dizzier.
He stared hard at her, his brows drawing together. Had he read her mind? Could he see her reluctant attraction to him? Did he think less of her because she was pregnant and unmarried? She leaned back in her chair, determined to distance herself from him. Why should she care what he thought?
Her hand moved to the swell beneath her shirt. Because she kept in shape and had gained so little weight, she didn’t look very pregnant…yet. As the next few weeks passed, her condition would only become more apparent.
“What’s going on?” A bald man perhaps in his midfifties stepped through an open doorway, a coffee mug in one hand.
The man named Andrei straightened, his face drawn and tight. “Captain, I think we found Angela Wheeler.”
The captain’s gaze locked with Andrei’s for a moment, then he sighed. “Where?”
“Washed up on the rocks below the cliffs north of town.”
“Sure it wasn’t the mayor’s daughter?”
Andrei shook his head. “From where I stood, she looked tall, maybe five foot nine or ten. Camille was only five-four, right?”
“That’s right.” The captain nodded. “When did you find her?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t have a chance to get a positive ID, but she had the long blond hair and looked to be tall and thin like the girl in the picture Angela’s parents circulated.”
“Damn.” The older man turned toward the desk. “Joe, get the county coroner on the phone and send a squad car out to the cliffs north of town, we have another homicide.” When he faced Andrei again, he asked, “Same MO?”
Andrei nodded. “White dress, washed up on shore.”
“We’ll get the state crime lab right out there.” He shook his head. “This has got to stop. People can’t feel safe in their homes or let their daughters out without being afraid of that maniac.”
Andrei’s hands tightened into fists. “We have to find him.”
The captain laid a hand on Andrei’s arm. “Sorry. I know what this means to you and I know how hard you’ve worked this case.”
As the outsider looking in, Jocelyne didn’t know what a stranger’s death meant to the man who’d held her captive all the way back to town. By the whiteness of his fisted hands, she’d have to guess that it meant a lot.
Holding the coffee mug in one hand, the captain clutched the other hand to his gut. “This case is giving me an ulcer.” He dug in his pocket and unearthed a roll of antacids, popping one into his mouth. He chewed and then washed it down with the last of the coffee.
Jocelyne cringed. “You know, if you cut back on the coffee and high-fat foods and go on a regimen of mastic gum, that ulcer might go away.”
The man turned to Jocelyne, as if seeing her for the first time. “You think so? I’d give up my right arm to make my stomach feel better.” He stared down into his mug, then up at her. “Who are you?”
She stuck out her hand. “Jocelyne Baker. I’m a holistic healer. You know…natural cures versus surgery and drug company medications.”
“Captain Patrick Swanson.” The older man’s brows rose. “Mastic gum? Where do I find that?”
“At any health food store or you can get it from me. I keep a stock of natural products and herbs. It’s my business.” She waited for the usual frown to appear on the man’s face, but was surprised when he smiled.
“If you could fix me up with something to cure this pain in my gut, I’d be forever grateful.” He rubbed his belly and groaned. “This case isn’t helping.”
“I’ll have some mastic gum capsules to you before the end of the day. Just as soon as I dig some out of my packing boxes.”
“Great.” Captain Swanson glanced at Andrei, his face drawn and showing his age. “For now, we have a murder to solve, don’t we?”
Jocelyne took the opportunity to escape while Andrei wasn’t physically stopping her. “If you don’t need me anymore, I’ll be on my way.”
The captain redirected his attention to her. “I’ll have questions for you later, after we recover the body. You don’t have plans to leave town, do you?”
“No, I’m here for an extended stay. You can reach me at the Cliffside Inn. Tell you what, come by later with your questions, and I’ll have your mastic gum.”
“Are you a guest there?” he asked.
A twinge of disappointment squeezed Jocelyne’s chest. The older man hadn’t remembered her. What did she expect? As a teenager, she’d done her best to be invisible, wearing drab clothing and a hat over her brilliant red hair. Not until she’d moved away from Raven’s Cliff had she had the courage to be herself. “No. I live there.”
“Do I know you?” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Baker, huh? Any relation to Hazel?”
Jocelyne inhaled and let it out. She was an adult now, and she could handle any ridicule thrown her way. “She’s my mother.”
“Ah, the innkeeper’s daughter.” He nodded, a smile softening his face. “I thought you looked familiar. I’d heard you’d come back to Raven’s Cliff. Well then, good. I’ll know where to look when I need to ask questions.”
She nodded, a swell of relief rushing over her. “Then I’ll be on my way.”
A large, calloused hand clamped onto her arm. “I’m taking you there.” Andrei’s chin set in a hard line.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. For the past ten years, she’d been independent of anyone telling her what to do. Even the two men in her life hadn’t interfered with her decisions. But with a body lying at the base of Raven’s Cliff, she didn’t want to make it a big deal.
With firm resolve, she peeled his hand off her arm. “No. You have much more important things to do. I’ll be fine on my own.” That said, she left, refusing to give him the opportunity to argue.
Having lost her sandals somewhere along the cliff, Jocelyne walked barefoot, her feet more tender than when she was a girl. The day was dreary, with clouds hanging low on the horizon and no sun to cast shadows or shed light into dark corners.
She hurried past the shops, hoping she didn’t bump into anyone else before she got home. All her old insecurities about being the village kook’s daughter surfaced to haunt her every step.
The Cliffside Inn stood near the town square, stately and welcoming after the horror of finding a woman’s dead body floating in the surf. Until she reached the inn, she’d felt fine. Numb, but fine. As soon as her feet touched the first step, her knees shook. By the time she opened the door, her entire body shook.
When all she wanted to do was go up to her room and collapse across her bed, she knew she couldn’t. Her baby needed nourishment. She had to get food in her stomach, even if eating was the last thing she wanted to do. This living being growing inside relied on her to care for him or her. This baby had not yet been introduced to this cold, callous world, where a woman wasn’t safe even in a small peaceful town like Raven’s Cliff.
Tears stung Jocelyne’s eyes. What a world to bring a child into. Had her curse followed her back to Raven’s Cliff?
When her first lover died seven years ago, she’d attributed it to bad luck that he’d been run over by a city bus. When the father of her unborn child fell on the subway tracks and was crushed by several tons of train, Jocelyne had thought long and hard. The common denominator was that they both loved her. Nothing else about their lives was the same. They had different occupations, different looks and different philosophies. But they’d dared to love her.
Despite her desire to put her mother’s Wicca beliefs behind her, Jocelyne couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth in the saying, Nothing is ever a coincidence. All actions, all events have a purpose.
With the death of Tyler Reed, her baby’s father, and newly pregnant, Jocelyne had struggled to hold it together. In the end, she was drawn back to where her troubles began. Maybe if she resolved her anger with her mother, the rest of her life would get better and the curse would lift. She hoped so for the sake of her unborn child.
The image of a girl dressed in white, lying at the bottom of the cliff, stabbed at her empty stomach, making it knot in pain. So far it looked as though her curse had followed her and extended beyond men who loved her. Was she destined to be followed by a black cloud of doom?
AFTER SPENDING THE DAY watching the state crime team comb the cliffs and the rocky shore below, Andrei was physically and emotionally exhausted. But he couldn’t stop until he found the murderer. He owed it to Sofia, his beautiful little sister who’d been the third victim of the Seaside Strangler.
Angela’s body had been recovered before noon and taken directly to the coroner where an autopsy was begun immediately. Mayor Wells had been there holding his breath when they pulled her from the surf, his face gray and lined with worry. Only when they turned her over and proved for certain she was Angela, did he draw in a shaky breath and run a hand through his thick, graying hair, standing it on end. He’d left shortly afterward, without a word to the captain, disappearing from the scene like a ghost.
Andrei knew what the medical examiner would say. Died of strangulation by a necklace of rare seashells. The same fate as his sister, her friend Cora and Rebecca Johnson.
Failure ate at his gut, stirring his anger. No clues had surfaced thus far to point the police force in the right direction. No fingerprints, no DNA samples from the attacker. Nothing. In a small community like Raven’s Cliff, it shouldn’t be so hard to find a killer.
But for the past several months, the perpetrator had eluded detection, slipped through their grasp and killed again.
Ten o’clock at night, and having sat at his desk for the past three hours, Andrei tapped a pencil to the file before him. The file he’d compiled and studied over the past couple months until he could recite every word, describe every picture. In it were the happy, unmarred faces of the women who’d died and the pictures taken after their bodies were discovered. A morbid before and after testimony to the killer’s impact.
After interviewing family, friends and acquaintances, Andrei had determined that none of the victims had enemies sufficiently angry with them. At least not enough to warrant killing them.
So far, the killer preyed on young women, yet none of the women had shown signs of rape. All of them had been dressed in white wedding gowns, strangled and thrown into the sea. What was the connection to the young women, the white wedding dresses and the sea? The whole situation reeked of sacrifices. Some sick ritual dreamed up by a demented mind.
A chill slithered down the back of Andrei’s neck.
Who would he target next?
His thoughts drifted to the woman he’d found by the cliffs. The image of Jocelyne Baker, pregnant, standing straight, facing the ocean, the wind whipping her dress against her thighs swam through his mind. God, he hated to think of finding her facedown in the water, her fiery-red hair floating around her pale face. Andrei clenched his fist, the pencil between his fingers snapping in two.
So far, the maniac had preyed on unmarried, young women, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take a pregnant one. He needed to stop by the inn and stress the importance of personal safety to Ms. Baker. Not that she’d listen to him. But maybe for the sake of her unborn child she’d hear what he had to say. He glanced at his watch.
“Go home.” Captain Swanson stepped up to Andrei’s desk. “Get some rest. You look all done in.”
“I have to figure this out.” He slammed the broken pencil into the trash bin beside his desk.
“You’ve been on it for months. Hell, the entire force has been on it for months and we’ve found nothing.”
Andrei pounded the middle of the file with his fist. “Another girl died on our watch, damn it.”
“Take it easy, Lagios.” The captain laid a hand on Andrei’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill her. It’s not your fault.”
“It’s my fault I didn’t catch him before he struck again. It’s my fault I didn’t catch him before he took my sister and her friend.”
“We don’t have anything to go on. This guy isn’t leaving us a bone to gnaw on.”
“Then we have to interview every last person in this town, knock on every door, search every closet, basement and attic until we find something.”
“We can’t do that. People have rights.”
Andrei pushed to his feet so fast, his chair fell over backward. “What about Sofia’s rights? Or Angela’s or Cora’s? They had the right to live and he took that right away from them.”
“You know the law. We can’t search houses without probable cause and a search warrant.”
“To hell with search warrants. We have a killer to catch before he does it again.” Andrei’s lips pressed together and he breathed fast, exhaling through his nose. He wouldn’t let the bastard kill again—he couldn’t. “We have to be missing something. Some small trace of evidence that will lead us to the suspect.”
“This is his fourth victim, he has to slip up sometime.”
As the last statement left the captain’s mouth, the phone on Andrei’s desk rang. Could he dare to hope it was a sign?
Andrei lifted the phone. “Lagios.”
“Andrei, this is Gordon Fennell, I think I might have found something.”
“Are you done with the autopsy, already?” Andrei glanced up at Swanson. “Wait. I have the captain here. Let me put you on speakerphone.” He punched the button and laid the receiver on its rest. “Go ahead.”
“First of all, the victim has the same markings as the others. The same seashell necklace strung together on generic fishing line. She’s wearing a wedding dress that could have been bought in a resale shop anywhere in Maine.”
Tension built behind Andrei’s temples as the medical examiner listed what Andrei already knew. He resisted the urge to tell the man to cut to the chase.
“Everything points to the same attacker.”
“What is it you found?” the captain asked.
Andrei held his breath, hoping this would be the big break they were looking for.
“A trace of a chemical found in her bloodstream. I retested blood from the other three victims and found it in their blood as well.”
“What is it?”
“From what I could tell, it’s a chemical that comes from the henbane plant, not something you find around these parts on a regular basis. In some places it’s illegal to grow.”
