The Heir of Thornfield Manor
Ellie Thornton
Copyright © 2019 by Ellie Thornton
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
The Heir of Thornfield Manor
Prologue
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
The Heir of Thornfield Manor
Despite having their minds rebooted for the fourth time, Elizabeth Shea and Patrick Daley are drawn to each other like never before as they face crooked cops, assassins, and a mysterious woman in their midst in this contemporary retelling of Jane Eyre.
Even though Detective Elizabeth Shea worked with the feds on a case a year before, the last thing she expects is to be requested on a murder case in a rural California town called Thornfield. Almost three years after Katelyn Daley was murdered in her home, without any leads, the case went cold—until a week ago when a doctor was killed in the same execution style as her.
Now with new leads, the Feds need Elizabeth to go undercover in Thornfield Manor and watch over its heir, Patrick Daley—an ex-psychic who sometimes consults with the Feds, and with whom she feels an inexplicable bond.
Elizabeth’s job seems pretty straightforward—make sure Daley stays out of trouble until the case is solved—but the more she learns the more complicated it becomes. The work on Katelyn’s murder was shoddy at best with lost evidence, missing witnesses and suspects, and a timeline that doesn’t quite add up. And that doesn’t even include the creepy laughter drifting through the manor’s halls at night or the attempt on Patrick’s life.
If this case keeps going as is, Elizabeth is at risk of losing much more than she ever expected—her heart, her job, and possibly the life of the man she never meant to love.
Prologue
Leaning back against his plush red pillows, Sean Jones ground his teeth as Dr. Arber applied pressure on his abdomen around the freshly opened stab wound. “What’s wrong with it?”
It’d been ten months since his showdown in the factory with Patrick Daley. Ten months since he’d been stabbed, and nine months since he’d escaped the hospital. At the time his wound had seemed to have been healing nicely, but somehow it’d gotten an infection and Arber had had to open him up again.
“How could this happen?” Sean snarled.
Arber leaned away, startled. Sean paid the man well enough to keep him coming, but not so much as to secure his confidence. He feared Sean, which was exactly how Sean liked it.
“You’re doing too much.” Arber raised his chin in a pathetic attempt to appear poised. “I warned you last time I came you needed to rest. If you had, you’d be well on your way to—”
“To getting nothing done. You know the nature of my work. Mr. Daley needs constant supervision.” Sean had never known anyone with a mind quite like Patrick’s—except his own—and studying his mind had become his obsession. In a way, he and Patrick really were two of a kind. The biggest difference between them was that Patrick seemed to have boundaries, rules about right and wrong that Sean just didn’t. Sean wanted, no, needed to know how someone with a mind near equal to his own would react to different choices. Would he become more or less like Sean over time?
But Sean found that he had to reset Patrick’s mind constantly. That was why he’d gone out in the first place. He’d had to push the proverbial reset button on his entire experiment, to bring Patrick back to factory settings, in a manner of speaking.
He’d only been gone a week because he didn’t trust anyone else to take care of this properly.
The last time he’d wiped Patrick’s memory, he’d meant for him to stay at the previous reset. But Patrick hadn’t. He’d remembered his wife, and Sean hadn’t wanted that. Katelyn’s memory turned Patrick into a pathetic soul who drank himself under the table, stayed in, and wore the same clothes day after day, if he bothered to dress at all. No, that experiment hadn’t gone as planned. Patrick’s mind had started to rebel against him.
It was why he’d had to leave—had to go to him. In the past, Sean could have rebooted Patrick on the phone. That was no longer an option. He now required face-to-face contact. Not that Sean minded. He liked seeing Patrick.
And then there was Elizabeth. Sean’s experiment with her months ago, making her believe they were engaged, had been an enlightening one. To a point, he understood Patrick’s fascination with her. She was quick and resourceful and fierce. She lived by a moral compass that so many others simply claimed to live by. And she added an unexpected element to his game with Patrick. He tried harder around her, and she made him happy. That was good for Sean, too. A happy Patrick was a focused Patrick—a Patrick that Sean could continue messing with.
Sean just hoped he wouldn’t have to get rid of her, like he had Katelyn. It was too much of a hassle—one he neither wanted nor felt he could physically deal with at the moment.
Arber finished caring for the wound and wrapped it; the gauze scratched over his skin. “I’ll put you on antibiotics, but you won’t get better unless you refrain from leaving this bed.”
Sean placed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Maybe you need to be replaced.”
He made the threat clear, and Arber bristled. He stood and packed up his medical bag, careful not to look Sean in the eye. “You can threaten me all you want, but it won’t change the facts. You have two choices. You can stay here, rest, and heal. Or you can die.”
Sean narrowed his eyes at the gaunt little man. “Send my man in on your way out.”
Decker stopped at the end of Sean’s bed with his hands held in front of him. “You called for me?”
As a general rule, Sean preferred to work alone. But his dire circumstance called for aid: a doctor, and a few others to help him as needed. This man was by no means his first choice, but he could stay with Sean all the time, and he had his uses. “Yes, Decker. It appears I’ll be in bed for a while.”
“Yes, sir?” Decker asked.
“I need you to contact Geyer.” He needed someone in the field. Someone with firsthand knowledge about Patrick, someone who’d helped make him the man he was now.
“Geyer, sir?” Decker’s jaw clenched. “Are you sure? I could—”
“No.” Sean lifted a staying hand and groaned in pain from the movement. “You’re not ready. You don’t know enough to handle this.” He couldn’t reset the mind of a dung beetle.
“But Geyer?”
“Is the best and has my full and utmost confidence, something you still have to earn.”
Decker took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Now leave me.”
Head held high, Decker left the room. Sean had to admire the man’s hubris. He believed he could battle wits with Patrick Daley, showing he was both eager and stupid. It made him dangerous and, in his own way, a force to be reckoned with. He might come in handy in the futur
e—if Sean decided to keep him that long.
Sean sucked in a breath. The air swirling down his lungs felt heavy, and his eyes drooped. He’d been tired, exhausted, for days now. It’d been coming on so slowly that he hadn’t recognized it until it was too late. Maybe rest would do him good. He needed to be able to face Patrick again at some point—and when he did, he couldn’t be weak. He had to be at full strength.
And when he was, the game would continue.
Until then, there was Geyer.
Reboot: Jane Eyre
Chapter One
Detective Elizabeth Shea parked her Mustang across the street from Thornfield Food and Drug and got out. The summer heat hit her like air from a blow-dryer—even with her air conditioning on, her legs had stuck to her leather seats, and her T-shirt clung to her skin. She expected hot, humid summers in California, but this was something else.
Not even a half a block away, a park was crowded with people. Howls of laughter came from children playing as they raced about. She glanced around the quaint little main street and grinned.
It was a lovely town, the kind of place where she would’ve wanted to grown up. It had old-fashioned brick buildings, a barber shop with a spinning red-and-white pole out front, and an ice cream shop with a large waffle cone on top with scoops in green and pink. What would it have been like to raise her brothers here?
Then again, a pretty gruesome murder had happened here, which was why she’d come in the first place. Maybe not so perfect.
A little over a year ago, she’d worked with the Feds on a case, and they’d requested her help now. Her boss, Sergeant Brown at the 35th Precinct, had been happy to send her. She was still on the fence about the whole thing. It was flattering to be asked, but when she got home, it’d be a pain. There were detectives in her precinct who’d applied to Quantico for years and had never been requested. Being a Fed wasn’t in her future. She liked being a detective. She liked being near her brothers should they need her.
Elizabeth’s stomach growled, reminding her why she’d stopped. She glanced right and left at the street, then darted across after a minivan passed. In just a few minutes she’d meet her handler, but she hadn’t eaten since last night, and her growling stomach wouldn’t make a good impression.
A squeal from a group of kids at the park startled her out of her thoughts just as she grabbed the handle to the store. A pack of children stood around a kneeling man with wavy blond hair. Based on the laughter and rapt attention coming from the group, he was doing something very entertaining.
Elizabeth grinned and yanked the door open. A rush of cool air whooshed around her, cooling her instantly. The store wasn’t large, but it was certainly comprehensive. It had everything from food, to home and vehicle repair, to a small deli next to a counter where you could buy ice cream. There was even a sign in the back that said “Garden Center Out Back.”
A short woman with brown hair and big hoop earrings stood behind the ice cream counter. With a scooper in one hand and a cone in the other, Hoops worked the ice cream back and forth, forming a tight ball of mint chocolate chip. A tall, lanky woman with blonde hair with exposed dark roots spoke to Hoops, gesturing wildly as she did. Neither of them could be more than a few years older than her.
“He’s right across the street. I just saw him,” Roots said. “And boy, does he look good.”
Hoops went up on her toes and glanced out the window. “I was wondering when we’d see him. He’s been back for a couple weeks, but has kept to that big old house of his. Such a shame. What flavor?”
Roots turned back and pointed to a flavor.
Elizabeth made a beeline for the soda machine by the deli. While Elizabeth was sure they’d seen her, they didn’t bother to lower their voices as they spoke. She kept her head down as she filled her cup and picked out a bag of chips.
“Oh, I see him,” Hoops chirped.
Unable to help herself, Elizabeth took a quick glance out the window over the store shelves and saw a head full of blond curls pass by. The same man from the park, unless of course this town bred men with light blond, curly hair. She shook her head and snapped the lid onto her cup.
“What have you heard? Is he still …” Roots’s voice sounded suggestive, and Elizabeth almost chuckled as she picked out chips.
“Well, he’s never been an angel,” Hoops said, and both women laughed, “but rumor has it he’s put his life back on track. He’s working again, and he’s dating.”
“Quite a turnaround for a man the reverend said was on the path to fire and brimstone.”
Yikes. What would a person have to do to get that kind of ringing endorsement?
“Who’s he dating?” Hoops handed the cone filled with the bright green ice cream to Roots.
“Just around. No one in particular, as far as I’ve heard.” Roots licked her ice cream. “Maybe he’d give me a try?”
“Susan!” Hoops swatted at the other woman, and they both burst out laughing.
“Just don’t tell my husband.” Roots paid with a wad of cash from her purse. “Keep the change. See you later, Debbie.” She walked out of the store just as Elizabeth made her way to the counter.
She set her chips and soda on the counter.
Hoops pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, accentuating her heart-shaped face, and smiled wide. “Hello there. Aren’t you a cute little thing?”
Elizabeth blinked. “Thank you?” She wasn’t that little; five feet two inches was hardly outstanding. Granted, she had her flip-flops on instead of the boots she normally wore to work. The loss in inches there was notable even to her.
“You new in town or visiting someone?”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “I can’t just be passing through?”
“Thornfield is off the main routes. Nobody just passes through.” Hoops rang up Elizabeth’s items. “It’ll be two eighty-nine.”
Elizabeth handed her the money. “I’m here for the summer. In fact, can you point me to the police station, please?” Elizabeth planted a shy smile on her face. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone there, and I’m completely turned around.” The Feds were working with the local authorities, which was why she was meeting him there, but she didn’t know to what capacity.
“Of course.” Hoops circled to the front of the counter. “It’s taken me my whole life to figure this town out, and I still get lost.”
Elizabeth doubted that, but she followed the woman outside. This town was small, only a little over two thousand people.
“All right.” She glanced down the street in the direction from where Elizabeth had come, signaling with grand gestures. “You’re going to drive down three blocks and take a right. After that, go two blocks, take a left, and you’ll see it on the corner.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth.”
The woman took it. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Debbie. Anything you need, anything at all, you just let me know.”
Elizabeth smiled. She’d keep that in mind.
* * *
The police station sat atop a little incline, and the path leading up to the front door was lined with poppies. The building itself was brick and, from the look of it, dated back to the seventies. It had big front windows, as well as a flat white roof pitched at ten degrees or so. It had a charm about it that her station lacked. Not that the 35th was dirty, but this building was welcoming in a way her station never would be. She could imagine felons wanting to come here.
She hopped out of her car and headed up the path. Hopefully, her handler, Agent James Finley, would be easy to work with. She didn’t know much about the case, just that a woman had been murdered in her home a little over three years ago, and that the case had gone cold—that was, until recently, when another murder happened that was somehow linked to the first.
She reached for the handle and the door flew open. Out of instinct, she stepped back as a large man, who had at least a foot on her, barreled out the door. She reached for her gun
hip and remembered she’d left her Beretta in her car. She wasn’t supposed to be a cop here, and carrying a gun around wouldn’t help dispel that idea. Here, she was just supposed to be Elizabeth Shea, longtime friend of Agent Finley, in town for the summer and looking for work.
“Elizabeth!” The man reached her in one stride and swept her into a bear hug. “You made it.”
Her eyes bulged as her feet left the ground, and her knee twitched as she momentarily thought about kneeing this stranger in the groin.
Before she could move forward with this plan, he whispered in her ear. “Play along.”
He set her down and placed his hands on his hips as he smiled at her. She stared at him, unsure what to do or say. Was this Finley?
He moved his gaze to the right, cluing her to look at what was behind him. She tried to peek around him casually, but the man was huge and she couldn’t do it without being obvious. Taking a step forward, she smiled and jabbed him in the arm before looking.
He winced.
A small group of people had gathered inside the station and were staring at them through the big picture windows with even bigger smiles. Jeez. She glanced up at the man in front of her. A lock of his dirty blond hair had come out of its professional style and fell across his forehead. His forest-green eyes seemed to be begging her not to screw this up. A small badge with the letters FBI was clipped to his belt.
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