by Elle James
Jillian hugged Kayla and stood with her arm around Kayla’s waist.
Kayla forced a smile to her lips, still shaken by the necklace she’d found in her car and the stab of something smarting like jealousy over Jillian and Gabe’s friendly greeting. “Jillian rented the lighthouse cottage to me.”
“We’ve exchanged a number of phone calls and emails, but this is the first time we’ve actually met face-to-face.” Jillian hugged her again. “It’s a pleasure.” Her smile faded. “I hope you aren’t put off by the news this morning. That poor girl, murdered in our town.” Her brows dipped low. “But don’t you worry. Gabe, here, will find her killer before you know it, won’t you, Gabe?”
“I’m working on it.” Gabe shoved the handkerchief with the necklace into his pocket, his solemn gaze seeking Kayla’s. “I promise to do the best I can to bring him in.”
“Please do, I just don’t feel safe anymore.” Jillian wrapped her slim arms around her middle and shivered.
A lean, black, shiny sedan pulled into the driveway and parked between Kayla’s and Jillian’s vehicles. A man dressed in tailored slacks and a polo shirt climbed out.
“Lawrence, honey. My directions got you here just fine, didn’t they?” Jillian strode toward the man and held out her hand. “Did you check out those properties I listed for you?”
The man climbed the porch steps and took Jillian’s outstretched hand. “I did. I think the one overlooking the bay shows promise. I’m just not certain it has enough acreage.” His gaze slid to Gabe and Kayla, his smile spreading across his face. He nodded at Gabe. “Lawrence Wilson.”
“Mr. Wilson,” Gabe acknowledged the latest arrival and turned to Kayla. “This is Kayla Davies, Cape Churn’s newest resident.”
“She’s renting the lighthouse cottage I showed you a few days ago.” Jillian hooked her arm through Lawrence’s and pulled him toward the front door. “I smell Molly’s famous clam chowder, let’s go inside. We can talk there.”
Molly was placing a basket of dinner rolls on the table when they entered the dining room. “Oh, good. Dinner’s ready.”
Kayla hung back while the older couple staying at the B and B found seats together. Lawrence Wilson held a chair for Jillian, and Dakota entered, headset still plugged in.
Gabe made a motion with his hand and shook his head at his son.
Dakota frowned, but yanked the earpieces out and slouched into a chair.
Gabe held a chair for Kayla and then sat beside her.
Molly took a seat at the end of the table and smiled at her guests. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to take a moment to say a prayer for the unfortunate girl who lost her life last night.”
All heads bowed. Kayla closed her eyes, her fingers clenched around the napkin in her lap.
“Dear Lord, please look out for the young woman whose life was needlessly taken. Help her family through their grief. And Lord, please help the authorities bring the man who committed this heinous crime to swift justice. Amen.”
As everyone started talking at once, reaching for food and passing platters, Gabe leaned close to Kayla. “We’ll get him.”
Kayla stared up into his eyes. “Before he hurts someone else?” she whispered.
“We’ll do our best.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, then let go as someone passed the basket of rolls to him. “Try these. My sister makes the best honey-yeast rolls on the coast.”
Kayla took a deep breath and a roll. She needed something to do with her hands other than twisting them in her lap. And she needed nourishment for her baby.
She could still feel the warmth of Gabe’s fingers on hers. But Gabe couldn’t always be there to chase away her fears. Kayla had to deal with them alone.
Molly ladled chowder into a bowl and passed it down the table “So, Kayla, where are you from?”
Kayla placed the bowl of creamy, steaming chowder in front of her, the aroma stirring her hunger to life. “Seattle.”
“Are you here just for the summer or do you plan to make Cape Churn your home?”
Kayla smiled. “I’m keeping an open mind.” She really didn’t want to raise her child in Seattle. Especially not without Tony. No, if she was going to have this child on her own, she’d need the perfect home for the two of them.
“What happened last night isn’t making Cape Churn your number-one choice, is it?” Dakota muttered, the first words he’d spoken since taking a seat at the table.
Kayla stared down at her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry for that girl and her family.”
“You think murder and crime is restricted to cities,” Mr. Johnson commented, “but it’s not.” He slathered butter on his roll and bit into it. “Mmm. These are the best dinner rolls I’ve had in a long time.
“Thanks.” Molly tucked her napkin in her lap and reached for one.
Jillian smiled across the table at Kayla. “I’m curious, Kayla. How did you find Cape Churn, and specifically, our little real-estate office?”
Glad the topic had moved off the murder, Kayla answered, “I received a brochure in the mail from your office.”
Jillian’s brows rose. “Really? Hmm. I don’t recall mailing any to Seattle recently. I had planned on doing a mass mailing next week.” She shrugged. “Someone must have been reading my mind, and I’m glad they did.”
“What is it you do, Ms. Davies?” Lawrence Wilson lifted a spoonful of chowder to his lips, concentrating on the soup, his gaze never rising to meet hers.
An introvert at heart, Kayla shifted in her seat, aware that all other eyes around the table were directed toward her. “I paint.”
“Kayla Davies.” Molly’s brows dipped. “Seems like I know that name from somewhere. I’ve been chewing on it, but can’t recall.”
“She’s only the hottest artist in Seattle right now. Heck, probably in the States,” Jillian gushed.
“No, that’s not it.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you’re fabulous, but that’s not where I heard your name. I think it was on the news recently.”
Mrs. Johnson’s eyes widened. “That’s right. Weren’t you attacked in Seattle a couple weeks ago? It was all over the papers and on television. After an art exhibit or something?”
Kayla’s face burned and she tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound flippant. All she wanted was for the subject to drop. She’d come to Cape Churn to forget and move on.
“Sure would like more of that chowder,” Gabe said, breaking the silence. He handed his empty bowl to Molly. “Saw a vehicle head out to the Stratford mansion. Is Stratford back in town?”
Kayla let go of the breath she’d been holding and tried to relax, grateful that Gabe had deflected attention from her. From beneath her lashes, she darted a glance across the table at Lawrence Wilson.
He’d been staring at her, but as soon as she looked up, his gaze dropped.
A chill cooled the air around Kayla.
Wilson turned to Jillian and asked for the salt and pepper, breaking the tension that perhaps only Kayla felt.
“Nora Taggert said Stratford ordered takeout for two yesterday.” Jillian dabbed chowder from her lips. “Wonder who he brought back with him.”
“In all the years I’ve lived in Cape Churn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bring someone back to the mansion.” Molly poured wine into her glass and set the bottle on the table. “He’s such a loner.”
Jillian nodded. “Doesn’t stay long when he comes. Hard to get to know a man who’s never around.”
Gabe agreed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Stratford. “How long has he been back?”
“Who knows?” Jillian shrugged. “Nora’s mention is the first I’d heard. He hasn’t been out and about except to walk alo
ng the cliff.”
“Never was one to live at the mansion for very long. And when he’s there, he doesn’t come out. The man’s a recluse, if ever there was one.” Molly nodded toward Kayla. “He lives on the crag closest to the lighthouse.”
“You should see his place.” Jillian leaned forward. “It’s the biggest house around and practically empty. His grandfather left it to him when he died. As far as I know, Andrew Stratford only comes here to check on the upkeep. Such a shame. I bet I could get a good price for the property.”
“Any idea where Stratford lives when he’s not at the mansion?” Gabe asked.
Jillian shrugged. “No. He has a service come out from Portland to tend the property and a full-time caretaker we only see on occasion purchasing supplies.”
Kayla wondered where Gabe was going with his questions about Stratford. An image of a solitary figure and a silvery-white blur flashed across her thoughts. “Does Mr. Stratford have a dog?”
Molly’s brows pinched. “No, that would be Frank Mortimer. Walks his dog along the cliff’s edge now and then near sundown. Doesn’t like people much.”
The man had been walking along the cliff around the same time the group of young people had gone down to the beach below the lighthouse. Chances were, he’d seen them from where he was. “Does Mr. Mortimer leave town much?”
“Hard to say. We really don’t see him coming and going. If he does, it’s at night when no one is watching.”
What if the mysterious Frank Mortimer snuck out at night and drove to Seattle to visit the art galleries after they closed? A tremor shook Kayla.
Gabe made a note to check in on Stratford. His arrival coincided too closely with the death of the girl. Anything different had to be taken into account. He glanced at Jillian’s client sitting across the table from him. “How much longer are you going to be in town, Mr. Wilson?”
“As long as it takes.” He smiled. “Jillian has been very accommodating, showing me all the prime properties along the coast. I’m sure I’ll find what I’m looking for soon.”
“Just what are you looking for, Mr. Wilson?” Molly asked.
“Please, call me Lawrence.” He held out his bowl. “I’d like more of that wonderful chowder, for one.”
“Certainly.” She took the bowl from him and ladled more of the aromatic soup into it.
“I’m looking for the perfect place to build a small, exclusive resort that caters to the well-to-do.”
“In Cape Churn?” Gabe’s brows rose. “I’d think you’d need a whole lot more than a scenic view to lure the rich and famous. We’re too rocky and hilly for a golf course and there’s limited recreational boating, as the tides are unpredictable, though there are some die-hard divers who wreck dive down below. Only experienced boaters risk getting near the cape.”
Wilson smiled, his brown gaze holding Gabe’s. “I think Cape Churn has a charm all its own. The solitude and beauty alone would attract the clientele I’m targeting.”
Gabe shrugged. “Good luck with that.”
“Lawrence was considering the old lighthouse location.” Jillian leaned forward, her eyes alight, her enthusiasm infectious. “It’s got plenty of land with it for the resort building, the lighthouse itself isn’t in bad shape and adds character to the location, and the view is to die for.” As soon as the words passed her lips, Jillian clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. There I go again, putting my foot in my mouth.”
Wilson smiled and patted her hand. “And a very pretty foot at that. I haven’t settled on the lighthouse location. Don’t worry, Miss Davies, although it is beautiful and the cottage is quaint, I’m not sure it meets my needs.”
Kayla sighed beside Gabe. “Good. I gave up my apartment lease before moving down. I’m not sure how quickly I could move somewhere else.”
The thought of Kayla moving hadn’t occurred to Gabe. Now that she’d mentioned it, he wasn’t too happy about it. Not that he had any hold on or relationship with the woman. He told himself that he didn’t want her back in the city where she’d been attacked. But was she safe here? The return of her missing necklace was an ominous sign. He’d have to talk to her about maybe leaving the lighthouse cottage and moving into town, closer to the police station.
“Oh, Kayla, we hope you don’t move away too soon.” Molly smiled at her. “I like having long-term neighbors. The summer crowd comes and goes, so it’s hard to get attached.”
“Thanks.” Kayla blushed and smiled. “I’d hoped to stay for a while.”
Her smile made Gabe’s chest swell. This woman shouldn’t have to fear for her life. She should be smiling and laughing.
A surge of protectiveness built inside Gabe, his fists clenching in his lap. Whoever was targeting her had to be stopped.
“Until that property sells,” Jillian was saying, “you can stay as long as you like, Kayla. Or you can buy it yourself.” She smiled brightly.
“We’ll see.” Kayla’s gaze dropped to her plate.
Gabe could just imagine what her thoughts were on buying a place where a killer might be lurking.
“Kayla, what do you paint?” Molly changed the subject.
“You should see her stuff,” Dakota jumped in. “I looked up some of her work online. She’s damn good.”
“Language,” Gabe cautioned Dakota. He made a note to himself to counsel his son on proper table manners and conversation.
Kayla smiled at Dakota. “Thank you, Dakota.”
“Dakota paints, too.” Molly grinned at her nephew. “He just needs a better venue to do it in. Do you give lessons?”
Dakota’s face flamed. “Aunt Molly, she’s a professional painter. Why would she want to teach a kid?”
Gabe hid a smile. He’d be damned if the teen wasn’t a little smitten with the artist. A glance at the beautiful redhead, and it hit him like a punch in the gut. He was a bit smitten with the woman himself. She had that gentle beauty that made him want to reach out and hold on. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not now.
Kayla touched the boy’s arm. “No, really, Dakota. I wouldn’t mind teaching you. Why don’t you come by tomorrow. I can introduce you to something other than the spray paints you’ve been using.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?” His brows lowered. “I don’t want to interfere with your work, but really?”
“Yes, really,” Kayla said. “And you won’t be interfering. It’ll help me.”
Gabe’s son frowned. “How so?”
“It’ll take my mind of things,” she said in a low voice. “So, will you come?”
“Sure.” Dakota shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, although Gabe could see a spark of excitement in his blue eyes. “Got nothin’ better to do in this podunk town.”
Had Gabe been close, he’d have kicked Dakota beneath the table for his ungrateful response to Kayla’s offer. He could forgive the teen his rudeness, knowing Kayla wouldn’t be alone for at least part of the day and Dakota wouldn’t be either.
Gabe’s cell phone vibrated on his hip. He checked the caller ID. The station. “Excuse me. I have to take this call.” He stepped into the kitchen, out of range of the others at the table. Normally Gabe wouldn’t leave the table to answer the phone, but Chief Taggert wouldn’t call unless it was important.
He punched the talk button. “McGregor speaking.”
“Gabe, got some interesting information from the Seattle police I thought you might want to see.”
His pulse leaped. “About the murder?”
“Could be.” He paused. “I could use your Seattle cop experience on this one.”
His curiosity aroused, Gabe knew what he had to do. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Do that.”
Gabe clicked t
he off button and strode back into the dining room. “Sorry to leave you, but duty calls.” He grabbed the roll from his plate and headed out the front.
“Gabe,” a voice called, and he stopped halfway down the front-porch steps.
He turned to see Kayla in the doorway, her hand resting on the screen, her eyes wide, reflecting a dark shade of forest green. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“It’s about the murder, isn’t it?”
He thought about lying to keep her from worrying, but realized that no matter what story he told, Kayla Davies wouldn’t stop worrying until the killer was caught. “Yes, it’s about the murder.”
She sighed. “Be careful, will you?”
“Me?” He chuckled and walked back up the steps. “You are the one I’m more concerned about.”
She stepped closer to him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He ached to close the space between them and pull her into his arms, but knew better, letting her have her space. “Tell you what, I’ll stop by on my way home and let you know what I find out. I can check your cottage over before you call it a night.”
“You’d do that?” She looked up at him, her eyes melting his heart, in spite of all his resolutions to keep his distance.
He nodded, struggling to keep from following through on his raging desire to kiss her. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She smiled—a warmer, fuller smile than the ones he’d seen on her face up to that point. “Thank you for helping me.” Then she turned away and went back inside, the screen door smacking into place.
Gabe got into his SUV and aimed for town, knowing he was headed down a path he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Kayla had his insides tied in knots, and her green eyes had burned an indelible impression into his thoughts.
If he wasn’t careful, he could fall in love with the red-haired artist with the haunted eyes.
And he knew that it didn’t take an artist to know love and murder didn’t mix well on any palette.
