“Have you seen any suspicious cars in the neighborhood? Any strangers lurking about?”
“No, but I live on a busy street. I might not notice anyone new.”
“Do you have any idea what the suspect was after?”
“I don’t keep cash in the house, and the only items of any real value are my laptop and cameras, some equipment I use for work, a pearl necklace. Nothing that could be sold for very much money.”
Prescott shrugged. “He may not have needed a lot. A hundred bucks can keep a meth head buzzed for a couple of days.”
“What makes you think he was looking for drug money?” I asked.
“The way he went after you,” Devlin answered, drawing another frown from Prescott. “It’s not unusual for a meth addict to display extreme aggression, especially if he feels cornered or threatened.”
“Yes, I’ve read that,” I said. “So you think the break-in was random?”
“I didn’t say that.” Devlin’s eyes were so fathomless I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking. “What I am saying is that the suspect’s behavior wasn’t rational. You said he leaped over the desk to get at you and he kept coming even when you fought back. He could have escaped through the same door he entered when he saw you, but instead he pursued you despite the ski mask he wore to hide his features.”
My mind spun back to the attack. The assailant had been relentless, but his behavior hadn’t struck me as frenetic. To the contrary, he’d seemed in control and coldly determined.
I said none of this aloud, however, because I was anxious for Prescott to leave so that I could have a private conversation with Devlin.
To my relief, the detective closed his notebook and returned the pen to his pocket. “You’ll need to come in and sign your statement once you’re released from the hospital. In the meantime, if you remember anything else, give me a call.”
Devlin followed him out of the room and a moment later, I again heard their voices in the hallway.
I was tempted to climb out of bed and eavesdrop at the door, but the effort seemed beyond my strength. Every bone in my body had started to ache. I didn’t dare glance in a mirror. I’d never been a vain person, but I could only imagine what I must look like.
When Devlin returned, I was in the process of pouring myself a cup of water from the insulated pitcher on the nightstand. He came over and finished the task for me, which was probably a good thing since my hands weren’t as steady as they might have been.
He stood staring down at me until I had the strongest urge to reach up and run my fingers through the tousled strands of his hair, to brush my knuckles against the unaccustomed scruff on his lower face. But more than anything, I wanted to pull him to me for a long, comforting kiss.
I did none of those things because in that fragile moment, I was more aware than ever of the distance that had been growing between us.
The silence seemed to stretch forever, but only a few seconds passed as he waited for me to finish the water. Then he took the cup and returned it to the stand.
“How are you feeling?” His scent enveloped me as he perched on the edge of my bed.
I shrugged. “I’m okay. No broken bones or internal injuries. Just some bruising and possibly a mild concussion. I was admitted to the hospital to be on the safe side.”
Devlin leaned in but he made no move to touch me. He didn’t have to. His presence consumed me, in part because of my shattered poise, but mostly because he was Devlin.
His gaze lingered on the tender side of my face. “Is that where he hit you?” His expression never changed, but there was something behind his eyes, a hint of violence that made my heart jolt.
I lifted a hand to my cheek. “It’s from the fall. I don’t think any blows were exchanged except for when I struck him with a lamp.”
“I was told you put up a fight.” A stranger might have mistaken his monotone for indifference, but I recognized the flatness of his delivery for what it was—supreme control.
“I’m strong for my size. I think that took him by surprise.”
“You are strong,” he agreed. “And brave. Frighteningly so, I sometimes think.”
“Brave? Hardly.” I held out my hands so that he could see how badly they still shook.
“Being brave and being fearless are two different things.” He reached over and adjusted the covers around me. The gentleness of the gesture belied the darkness still simmering at the back of his eyes. “Some of the bravest people I’ve met were also smart enough to know when to be afraid.”
“Does that include you?” I asked, our gazes locking.
“I hope so.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine it...you afraid.”
“Why not? I’m human.”
“What frightens you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but I saw something flash in his eyes before he turned away.
As I studied his profile, the oddest vision formed in my head. Devlin was still seated on the edge of my bed, but it was as if I could see right through him into the farthest corner of the room—or into his mind—where a tall figure with a bowed head loomed in the shadows.
For a moment, I thought someone must have entered the room without my notice, but then I blinked and the illusion vanished.
“What is it?” Devlin asked, turning back to me. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m sorry. My attention drifted for a moment. I think shock may be setting in.”
The intensity of his focus stirred me in a way that only Devlin could. “Would you like for me to leave so that you can rest?”
The sensible thing would be to let him go. I was hardly fit company and I needed time to get my emotions under control. But given the vision, the headache and the voices inside my head, I didn’t think it a good idea to be alone.
“I don’t want you to go.” I reached for his hand and when his fingers curled around mine, the unexpected bite of frost startled me. Devlin was always so warm, so steady—so human. A counterpoint to the ghosts. The coldness of his skin filled me with an unreasonable fear and my first reaction was to release him. Instead, I clung to his hand. “Stay. I need to talk to you about something.”
“What is it?”
I tugged at the covers, still shaken by the chill of his touch. “I know you and Detective Prescott think the intruder was looking for money or something to hock, but I’m not so sure.”
“You think he was searching for something specific?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
Devlin frowned. “Tell me.”
“Macon and I found an old stereoscope in the cellar. Do you know what that is?”
“A 3-D viewer.”
“There’s a little metal tag on the bottom engraved with the name of a local shop. I took it in and was told that viewers from that era are collectible but not particularly valuable. If true, I don’t suppose it could be the reason for the break-in.”
Devlin lifted a brow. “If true? Do you have reason to doubt the validity of the assessment?”
“No, not really. But I wasn’t completely honest with Detective Prescott. I do remember what the voice said to me while I was blacked out. He said, ‘Where is it? Where is it?’”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“Because it didn’t seem real. I honestly believed it was just my imagination. But then earlier before I was brought upstairs, I thought I saw the shopkeeper in the ER. I only caught a glimpse so that may have been my imagination, as well. But it freaked me out a little.”
“What’s the name of the shop?”
“Dowling Curiosities on King Street. The man I spoke with is Owen Dowling.”
Devlin gave a brief nod. “I’ll check him out.”
“We also found a stereogram—the card that fits i
nto the stereoscope. The image was of a man and two girls standing in front of a white two-story house. I took the card and the stereoscope to the Institute so that Dr. Shaw could have a look at them. He identified the man as Ezra Kroll.”
“As in Kroll Colony?”
“You know about that place?” I asked in astonishment. “Why have I never heard of it?
“It’s like your abandoned graveyards,” Devlin said. “Years pass, people forget. And it’s so far off the beaten track the only way to get there is by foot or horseback.”
“Then, how do you know about it?”
“When I was a kid, my grandfather owned a Thoroughbred farm not far from Isola. Some of the old-timers that worked for him would occasionally mention Kroll Colony. They were still superstitious about that place.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“A few times. It was mandatory that I spend a couple of weeks every summer on the farm to build character,” he said with a humorless smile. “The housekeeper had a boy about my age. Nathan Fortner. His grandfather had once been a cop, but after his retirement, he took a job in the stables. He used to tell grisly stories about the Colony, so naturally Nathan and I would ride over to the ruins anytime we could sneak away. We’d sometimes spend the whole afternoon poking through the buildings. Some of the roofs had caved in so the place was dangerous. I’m sure that was a big part of the attraction.”
“Go on.” I leaned forward, captivated by this glimpse into Devlin’s early years. He rarely volunteered information about his childhood.
“All I remember is an old commissary, a couple of dormitories for the single colonists and a few smaller buildings for the families. Some of the houses still had scraps of old clothing and toys strewn about and the commissary even had dishes on the table from the colonists’ last meal.”
“I’m surprised that stuff wasn’t carted off a long time ago as souvenirs. People can be ghoulish about that sort of thing.”
“I’m sure some of it was, but the locals mostly kept their distance. Like I said, it was a spooky place, difficult to get to and not much to see once you got there.”
“Is it still standing?”
“All the buildings burned to the ground a long time ago. There’s nothing left now but the cemetery.”
“Do you know how the colonists died?”
“Cyanide most likely. Back then, you could find it in local feed stores.” A grim note crept into Devlin’s voice. “Death would have been quick but not quick enough.”
I glanced toward the window, trying to distract myself from the gruesome imagery. “Dr. Shaw said Ezra Kroll was shot to death in the woods. Apparently, there’s always been a question of whether or not it was suicide.”
“Nathan’s grandfather was still a cop when it happened. He had a theory that none of the deaths was suicide. He believed it was mass murder perpetrated to cover up a single homicide.”
I stared at Devlin in horror. “What could motivate a person to do such a thing?”
“Same motives I see every day. Jealousy, passion, greed.” Devlin’s expression hardened and I wondered if he was thinking about another crime of passion and greed, one that hit a little too close to home. “Ezra Kroll came back from the war a damaged man. He’d inherited the family fortune, but had no use for earthly possessions beyond what he needed to survive. He started giving all the money away to the needy while his relatives had to stand by helplessly and watch the coffers dwindle.”
“So one of them took matters into their own hands?” I could hardly imagine such a thing. Three dozen innocent people, including children, had lived in Kroll Colony.
“The colonists ate every meal together,” Devlin said. “It was a ritual. But on that day, Kroll missed the communal lunch. The police believed he left to meet someone who lived nearby. A woman.”
My thoughts raced suddenly. If the woman in the stereogram—my look-alike—had been involved with Ezra Kroll, maybe that explained why she’d followed me back from the other side. She couldn’t rest until justice was done. Like Robert Fremont, another ghost from my past, she needed a conduit to tie up her earthly loose ends.
A nurse came in just then to monitor my vitals. She shooed Devlin into the hallway, giving me a minute to reflect upon everything he’d told me as she pumped the blood-pressure cuff.
“Your heart rate is still a little elevated,” she said. “Try to relax. Best thing you can do right now is rest.”
“I’ll try.”
“Are you in pain? I can get you something to take the edge off if you need it.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Press the call button if you need me,” she said. “I’ll send your friend back in, but remember what I said. Rest.”
“I will. Thanks.”
She exited silently on rubber-soled shoes and Devlin returned a moment later. “I’ve been given my orders,” he said.
“Not to leave, I hope.”
He came back over to the bed. “No, but I think we should table our discussion about Kroll Colony. It’s a gruesome story and you don’t need more nightmares. When you’re released in the morning, you can show me everything you found in the cellar.”
“About that stereogram—”
“In the morning,” he insisted.
“You’re right. It’s better if you see it for yourself.” I took his hand to pull him down beside me on the bed. “But just one last thing. When you go see Owen Dowling, be discreet, okay? He’s probably done nothing wrong and I don’t want to worry or embarrass him because my imagination ran away with me in the emergency room.”
“Aren’t I always discreet?”
An innocent question, but the subtle shift in Devlin’s drawl made my blood surge. “Yes...I suppose you are...”
He leaned in, eyes as dark and sultry as a Charleston midnight. “What if I were to discreetly kiss you right now?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
I sighed. “You know that it is.”
“Good.” He leaned in, feathering his lips over mine in a fleeting caress that made me tingle. I tunneled my fingers through his thick hair, but when I would have pulled him to me for a deeper kiss, he held back, making me want him even more as he moved his mouth lightly against mine.
Trailing kisses across my cheek, he said in my ear, “When I find the man responsible for that bruise on your face, I’ll make him very, very sorry.”
I drew back in shock. “Don’t say that. I would hate to think of you doing anything rash or foolish on my account.”
“I’ll be neither rash nor foolish,” he promised. “But I will be thorough.”
All I could do was stare up at him. “Sometimes you frighten me.”
“Why?” His hand rested on my leg, and I wondered if he was even aware of what his touch did to me.
“I look into your eyes and I still see a stranger.”
This drew a scowl. “That’s ridiculous. You know me better than anyone ever has.”
“Do I?” Somehow I thought that honor still belonged to his dead wife.
“Yes,” he insisted. “And anyway, we’ve done too much talking for one night. You should try to sleep now.”
I sank back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, still troubled by his threat. “It’s too cold in here to sleep.”
He stretched out beside me on the narrow bed, tucking the covers around me as he pulled me against him. “Better?”
“Much.” I cushioned my head on his shoulder as we fell silent. Through the layers of his clothing I could feel the vibration of his heartbeat, strong and steady. His skin was warm now and I pressed closer, basking in the heat from his body.
“The last time we were in this hospital, our roles wer
e reversed,” I said.
“I remember.” He tightened his arms around me. “I was told that you barely left my side the whole time I was unconscious.”
“I was afraid if I let go of your hand, you’d slip away from me. I wouldn’t be able to bring you back even with—” I broke off in midsentence as I realized what I’d been about to say. Even with Darius Goodwine’s magic.
After the shooting, Devlin had shown no sign of awakening from his coma so in desperation I’d reached out to his old nemesis. The powerful tagati had brought Devlin back to me, but not without a price, I feared.
“What were you about to say?” Devlin asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re trembling,” he said. “Should I get you another blanket?”
“Just hold me tighter.”
He complied, drawing me into his warmth. “Try to put it all out of your mind for now. You’re safe here with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”
His voice was so calming, his arms strong and reassuring. I nestled down in the covers and let the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me to sleep.
When I woke up, he was gone.
Eleven
The room was dark, but I could see a silhouette looming in front of the window. I caught my breath before I realized it was Devlin.
He stood very still, his face tilted skyward, moonlight bathing his features. The hush of the hospital heightened my senses. I could hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, even the distant ping of an elevator, but my attention remained riveted on Devlin. His presence filled the room, and I drew a long breath, drinking in that indefinable essence that belonged solely to him.
As I lay there studying his profile, a large form swooped down from the sky, casting a shadow across his face and into my room before vanishing into the night. I might have thought the fleeting image had been caused by the bump on my head except for the way Devlin took a half step back from the window.
“What was that?” I gasped.
He whirled in surprise, those gleaming eyes pinning me in the moonlight. “How long have you been awake?” He sounded taken aback, though whether from my alertness or that plunging shadow, I had no idea.
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