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A pause. “A change. The cottage has a lot of history.”
His answer didn’t make much sense to her. But something in it hinted that she shouldn’t push the issue. Instead, she asked, “What brought you to Northwind, anyway?”
Another distinct pause. “My parents died and I needed to de-stress.”
The answer was curt and brief. And a little too pat, she thought. There was clearly more to it, but she dropped the subject. She liked her privacy and would return the same courtesy.
Lawson shut off the engine. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make us some sandwiches. I can even give you some food to hold you over until you get to the store.”
“Thanks.” It was hardly his responsibility, but she appreciated the gesture. Lawson was being very kind to her. Too kind, almost, but after what happened at the café, she wasn’t about to bite the hand willing to feed her.
Her pastor often said that to allow someone to minister to you was as good as ministering to others. Accepting help was a part of glorifying God.
Who felt rather far away right now.
Inside the house, she glanced around. Spartan, almost, with little furniture. Next to the dining room table stood a desk, on which a laptop sat closed, and papers lay scattered in an arc around it. In a far corner was a large metal detector. Beachcombing, to de-stress, or was it for something else? Beyond was the living room, also sparsely furnished with just a couch, a chair and a side table.
After starting a pot of coffee, Lawson set everything needed for sandwiches on the dining room table. Peta, hungrier than she realized, made herself a large sandwich. They ate in silence, the only sound the coffee as it percolated and dripped into its pot.
“You know I’m going to ask why everyone on this island hates you,” he said mildly after finishing half his sandwich.
“What happened to Christian discretion?”
He smiled briefly. “Did I show any of that at the café?”
True, he didn’t. She eyed him cautiously. Then, knowing he may as well learn the truth from her, she began.
“I was the bad kid growing up,” she started. “My parents split early on, and I went to live with my mother, but I was young and unruly, and she couldn’t handle me. By the time I was six, my mother had dumped me back on the island with her older sister.”
“You were born here?”
She nodded. “As was my mother, right in the clinic beside the B & B. In fact, the lady who owns the inn is my oldest aunt, Aunt Kathleen. But blood isn’t always thicker than water when you’re a troublemaker and a financial burden.”
“Children are never a burden.”
That was nice to hear, but he didn’t know the whole story. “I came back to live with Aunt Linda, who never married and I know why. She was cold and nasty and told everyone that she only kept me because my mother paid her. So I grew up knowing that I wasn’t loved.” She tilted her head slightly at his own cautious expression. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I can’t believe that your whole childhood was miserable.”
“There were some okay moments. I hung out with Danny, and we had fun at first. But he was wild, too, and I was mad at everyone. So we ended up becoming the island’s troublemakers. If anyone criticized us, we’d do our best to get back at them. My aunt would punish me, and I’d fight back. One day, the Family Services—that’s what I think it was called back then—came to talk to her, but she said she wasn’t going to let me go, because I meant too much to her.”
“So she did care for you.”
Peta laughed and shook her head. “Not quite. I heard her telling Aunt Kathleen afterward that she’d just said that because she’d asked my mother for more money, and my mother had agreed.”
Lawson took a sip from his mug, a slight frown pressing his brows together. He looked comforting sitting there, his dark blue shirt open at the neck, and the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows. Like someone she could trust.
She cleared her throat. “In all fairness, I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise. I defied everyone. I set fires to brush, I vandalized buildings, and did tons of rotten stuff. Even to Danny.”
Lawson’s hand froze as he was setting down his mug. “Wasn’t he your friend?”
“Kids aren’t always nice, Lawson. I did stupid things.”
“Like what?”
She looked away. Should she even be mentioning this? Would it affect her defense, if she needed one? Would Lawson go straight to the police with what she was about to say? For the first time, she thought about getting a lawyer. Why hadn’t she considered that before now?
She sighed. “I went over on the mainland for the weekend once when I was sixteen. Danny followed me and we headed into Saint John for the evening. Being a port city, we figured we’d see some action. I’d met some kids there the year before when Aunt Linda went to a funeral and I had to spend time with my mom. I dragged Danny down to their place, and introduced them to him. He was looking for a job by then, and this older guy was there and just happened to be looking for someone to work for him.”
“What kind of work?”
Wetting her lips, she set down her sandwich. “Selling drugs, doing odd jobs, scaring people who didn’t pay what they owed him. Stuff like that. Danny was husky enough for the work.” It hurt to admit, even after all these years, that she’d been the one who had gotten Danny mixed up with drug dealers.
“Drugs?” Lawson straightened. “You should tell the police that. It could be important to the investigation.”
She shrugged. “It was a long time ago, and Danny said he’d quit working for Gary. It was my fault, really. I had introduced the two.”
“Gary?” Lawson’s word was tight.
“Yes. Gary Marcano. I wish I’d never met him. Danny changed after he started working for him. He got cocky and ruder, and had too much money.”
She looked around at the sparse surroundings. “A year and a half later, Aunt Linda died and willed everything to Aunt Kathleen. I was left with nothing, so I just left. The islanders were glad to see me go.”
She stood, scraping the chair along the hardwood floor. All of a sudden, she hated that she’d told her sorry story to someone who was practically a perfect stranger, as much as she hated that the old fear of being abandoned could still grip her. “I should leave. Thanks for the food. I appreciate it.”
He rose. “Let me take you home.”
“No. I can walk. It’s still light out and I need the exercise. I’ll be fine, really.”
He tilted his head, gauging, she was sure, if she was really okay. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
Finding her old boyfriend dead, being accused of his murder and then being shunned by everyone? Oh, yeah, she’d been through a lot today. “That’s why I need to walk.” She grabbed the grocery bag with the foodstuffs he’d put together, and stuck out her hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
Lawson’s warm fingers wrapped around her small, cold hand. A comforting gesture. For the briefest moment, she wouldn’t have minded a hug from this man. Anything to remind her that she was…lovable.
Something that her Lord couldn’t provide for her right now.
She shook away the folly and yanked back her hand. She wasn’t there for any comfort. And a stranger, however handsome and helpful, wasn’t going to be her lifeline. Certainly not if he lived on this island.
The only sign of life on her way to the cottage was a couple of children coloring the sidewalk outside their home with sturdy sticks of chalk. They watched her with keen interest as she stepped onto the road so as not to disturb their masterpiece.
Beyond the clinic, the road bent right and headed past the church. Her driveway plunged into the trees at a narrow lane on the left. The land around the old lighthouse and its replacement was kept clear, but at the perimeter, thick trees cloaked the lane’s entrance.
Daylight was fading behind some distant clouds, so Peta quickened her step, knowing she hadn’t left any lights on in the cottage and not wanting to be near the edge of the cliffs at dark. She heard a soft, rustling noise to her right, and quickened her pace. Another stupid cat, no doubt trying to freak her out.
Sea and salt caught on her tongue, telling her she was near the cliff, and that the wind had picked up. The drive in here this afternoon had been breathtaking, literally, with the road skimming too perilously close to the cliff.
But now the way felt damp and lonely and her heart tripped up several beats. She hefted up her groceries. Don’t look down. Don’t look at the edge of the cliff.
She glanced that way just the same. Her knees gelled, then liquefied. Her breath stalled in her throat. So high up, it made her ears ring. A gust buffeted her and she pushed too hard against it—
And stumbled. Then, in a desperate attempt to regain her footing, she tumbled over the cliff.
FOUR
Peta grappled with the roots and tendrils of the wild roses that clung to the edge of the island, her fear of sliding farther overcoming the painful jabs of the thorns digging into her hands.
Her foot, pedaling against the cliff face, found a rock, and she pushed hard on it, easing the agony on her hands. She threw out her right hand and met a long section of weeds. Her other foot scraped dirt and loose rocks until she’d gained another foothold.
Heart pounding, and forcing herself not to look down again, she stabilized her hold and clung to the edge. A gull, misinterpreting her actions for an offer of food, swooped close to her. She didn’t need to be reminded of how high she was above the waves and water. She looked anyway, hating the self-punishment.
A gust ripped past her, trying to peel her from the cliff. Releasing the rose branch, she swung out her left hand and punctured the soft soil above with her fingers. She found cold but compliant sod, and pulled herself up a few more inches. With her foot, she scraped out another foothold and lifted herself farther. She let go of the weeds she’d grabbed wildly with her right hand and found a small log. She tossed it to one side, and then locked on to a spindly bayberry plant. Thankfully, its roots held tight.
Finally, she was able to swing her leg over the edge.
Once on the flat of the cliff, she rolled away, onto the grocery bag of food Lawson had given her. Slumped over it, she shut her eyes and waited for the cold horror within her to run its course.
Eventually, she breathed. Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much.
Several long minutes later, she rose, every muscle still quivering. Daylight was fading now and the rotating beacon of the new lighthouse sliced through her vision.
She grabbed her donated groceries and limped toward the cottage, her one shoe full of dirt, her opposite knee sore from scraping the cliff, and her whole front filthy.
Inside, she locked the door and slumped against it.
Hers could easily have been the next death on Northwind.
Gary Marcano. Lawson had had to fight to contain his reaction when Peta had uttered that name.
Gary Marcano was his number-one suspect. Marcano was known to police as a drug dealer and as a member of organized crime. Born in New England, but raised in Canada, Marcano had been acquitted once of second-degree murder, then became a person of interest in several disappearances, including those of Lawson’s parents, his brother and his brother’s family. But with no evidence and no bodies, the police could do nothing.
And now he had proof that Danny Culmore worked for him.
But Culmore was dead. And the police officer thought Peta had killed him. Where did that leave him?
Mouth tight, Lawson gathered up the dishes and began to clean up. He’d sat in his kitchen with night approaching long enough.
Peta felt guilty about introducing Danny to Marcano. She should, a voice inside him spat out. Look what happened. My family is gone, probably dead. Marcano and Danny Culmore were most likely the ones responsible. Would this have happened if they’d never met?
Forget that question. This wasn’t fair to Peta.
Did she make it back to the cottage okay? She’d said she needed the walk, but with guilt eating at her and the town not wanting her back—
Ignoring the dishes, he grabbed a jacket and headed out. He would just drive up to the cottage, and if the lights were on there, he’d leave.
His heart leaped a few minutes later, when he saw the cottage blanketed in darkness. He jumped out and banged on the door. Almost immediately, Peta threw it open.
Startled, he stepped over the threshold. Only then did he notice her dirty front. “I thought I would check to see if you got home okay. What happened?”
She stared at him for a moment, then flicked out her hand in disbelief. “I fell off the cliff! Only by the grace of God did I manage to hang on and climb back up.”
Cold shock sluiced through Lawson. He should have insisted on driving her to the cottage. “Are you all right?”
“A bit scraped up, but otherwise okay. I didn’t fall far.”
“The cliff is getting closer to the driveway with every rain. This time next year, the driveway will have to be relocated.” He studied her. “It gave you quite a scare.”
Peta stood stiffly. “I, um,” she began, still shaking. “I’m a bit scared of heights. Well, more than a bit. I get dizzy, my heart races, and, well, this time, I fell over. I should have walked through the woods.”
“You’re acrophobic?”
She nodded. “I live on the ground floor of a tall apartment building, and I can’t even look up at it without getting dizzy.”
He stepped closer to her, feeling her vulnerable beauty like a sheer curtain whirling around her. Her eyes, dark now with relief and fear and something else, locked on to his.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to stay here. Even on the ferry trip over here, I was white-knuckled all the way. I can’t even look out at the sea sometimes.”
He wanted to pull her into a warm embrace, like the ones the little old ladies in his church back home give when someone just needs a good hug. Should he? Would she take it in the spirit it was being offered?
And what spirit would that be? a part of him wondered.
Shocked by his inner question, he stepped back, hitting the kitchen door with his heel.
She turned away, as if unaware of his thoughts. “It’s this whole day. Looking out Danny’s bedroom window and seeing him down there must have triggered this. I’m usually not this bad. I—I just don’t like going near the edge of the cliff.” She visibly shivered. “I get all dizzy.”
He frowned. If this were so, how could she stand being in the gazebo, perched on a cliff, where Danny Culmore had been murdered? She wouldn’t have even stepped into it, let alone been able to commit murder in it.
Peta had begun to speak again. “Maybe this is some kind of rebounding emotion from being accused of murder.” She paused. “Do you think I’m guilty?”
Did he? Could she have even walked into Danny’s gazebo, with it now clinging to the edge of the cliff? Another good storm and it would fall into the bay. And yet, what about the past she shared with Danny? And her reputation?
He shrugged. “No, but look at the evidence. The innkeeper on the mainland says you were only there the night before last. To exonerate you, the police will have to find the ferry operator, but haven’t yet, and your prescription bottle had the same pills found in Culmore’s mouth. And you said two people saw you, but it doesn’t look like they’re agreeing with you.”
She looked hurt as she folded her arms. “There’s got to be some rational explanation for all that. Lawson, I didn’t kill Danny. I swear it!”
That was the first time anyone here, except the pastor, had called on him for anything. He’d been on the island for nearly a year and in that time had taken the position of deacon at the church. To everyone, he’d come to de-stress, and he hadn’t offered anything more than that, nor had the islanders asked anything more from him.
Now Peta was looking at him with a raw cry for help. She was a desperate, vulnerable woman. And a beautiful one at that. He couldn’t desert her, but it was going to be hard to help her and keep his objectivity. She’d known both Danny Culmore and Gary Marcano.
He ignored the thought. “I’m sorry you’ve had a scare. Do you think you need to go to the clinic? Maybe get something to help you sleep?”
She shook her head. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ll have trouble falling asleep.”
“But you’re alone up here. Want me to camp out on the couch?”
She eyed him silently, her gray eyes darkening again. He knew it was a bit foolish to offer to stay the night. Until a few hours ago, she hadn’t even known he’d existed. Of course she wouldn’t allow him to stay.
Finally, she shook her head. “I’ll be okay. I just won’t look out at the water.” She ran her hand through her shoulder-length hair, messing it in such a way that he wanted to smooth it out. But reaching across and touching her wouldn’t exactly engender trust, and he was beginning to see that she didn’t have any reason to trust anyone here.
