Falling Darkness--A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Karen Harper

  She bounced off the doorframe, then threw herself through it. She’d been lucky not to be hurt before, not in the sea or the snow. She was just as scared now. Lexi at least was safe at home. But the beginnings of a baby she carried...

  The man chasing her grunted, but it wasn’t enough to place his voice. Should she run toward where Liz had gone or back the way to the door near Bronco? Would she be able to find her way to either?

  A stairway with a dim Exit sign at the top loomed above her, one she hadn’t noticed on the way in. That must be on a generator. It would be lighter upstairs, and there might be people. She headed up.

  She stumbled twice on the stairs, banged her knee, climbed with feet and hands. The man was still behind her. She had to get help. Help for Liz. Had someone hurt her just like they had her mother?

  The stairs seemed endless, and the door at the top so heavy. At least it opened. Wishing she had time to slam it and hold it closed, she knew better. The nightmare of fleeing through the hotel in Cuba rushed at her. But then, she’d had the others with her. Now, alone, she ran on.

  It was still dark up here but not as bad. More like twilight. All the lights were off, but remnants of daylight seeped through the closed window draperies, and some of those were even covered over. Was that call Liz got about her mother’s locker a setup? If so, who had that woman made the call for?

  Claire wished she had time to rip a dustcover from a window to get light in here, but she still heard her pursuer behind her, breathing hard. If she stopped and turned around, she’d surely get a glimpse of him, but that could be more dangerous if she could ID him. Unless he didn’t intend to let her go anyway.

  She tore down the dim, carpeted hall, past the entry to the main dining room she recognized even in the gray fog of shuttered windows. She passed the room where they’d had a private luncheon with Julia, where they had first met Liz—and Wade. So Wade knew this place, but, of course, Kirkpatrick and maybe Michael did too.

  Gasping for breath, with a stitch in her side, Claire tried to reckon how to get to Bronco from here. If only she could circle back to Liz. Surely, she had not led Claire into this trap. No, she knew Liz. She trusted Liz as she had Julia.

  When she turned another corner into a hallway with side rooms and furniture, she tried to decide whether to keep going or to hide. But she could be cornered if she stopped, though she felt that way already. Was it worth the risk of being caught to see who her pursuer was? She could pick up one of these heavy-looking lamps for a weapon. The tables looked bare of smaller things, but maybe the lamps had been unplugged for the winter.

  Around the turn of a hallway, Claire saw another flight of stairs—two of them, one down, one up. She’d be insane to try to navigate the maze of halls lined with bedrooms above.

  But as she started down the stairs, she heard him, panting, closer. Grabbing the banister, she nearly leaped downward, trying not to fall. At the turn in the stairs, she saw a dust cloth over closed curtains covering a window. She yanked it down and heaved it behind her on the stairs as he thudded after her.

  She’d see him now, know who he was, maybe be able to use her skills to calm him, talk him down. She’d done that with Bronco once. Expecting to see Wade, she glanced up and screamed.

  The man vaulting down the stairs had been tripped up by the curtain she’d thrown and the daylight filtered in here to reveal that—

  He wore a wig and that horrible mask again. Was this a narcoleptic nightmare? No. No! Run!

  She tore down one more flight. What if the door at the bottom didn’t open? What did Vern Kirkpatrick look like? This man was well built and surely must be athletic. He was about Jace’s size.

  The door opened, but it led only to more darkness. She felt her way along a wall, praying she was heading in the right direction toward Liz. Suddenly, she realized she didn’t hear her pursuer, nor his footsteps or that awful breathing.

  More panicked thoughts slammed into her. Did someone want to stop her from befriending Liz? Or were she and Nick too close to learning who hurt—surely, killed—Julia?

  Claire’s head nearly exploded when the hall lights suddenly came back on, blinked once, then held. She also blinked in the brightness. Should she run outside to find Bronco, or look for Liz? Surely, that man had turned them off, but had he or someone else turned them back on?

  She ran into the locker room and grabbed her purse and phone from the floor. The screen was cracked but maybe it still worked. As she dialed Bronco, looking around, listening intently, she rushed down the hall in the direction Liz had disappeared.

  Bronco answered instantly. Claire cried, “There’s a man chasing me in here. If the door’s not locked come in and turn left!” She left the phone on, but jammed it back in her purse as she ran into the custodian’s room. Good light in here too. She saw an array of tools and what might be a closet door. She heard muffled pounding and Liz’s voice.

  “Liz? Liz?”

  “I’m locked in here. Someone locked me in and the lights went out!”

  Claire almost laughed through her tears. “No kidding,” she whispered to herself.

  She tried to open the closet door, but it didn’t budge. Liz pounded harder on the door, screaming, “Jenna! Jenna!” In her stunned state, the use of her WITSEC name shocked Claire. She twisted the bolt lock, and Liz lunged out of the small area crammed with boxes of supplies. She held the bolt cutters in her hands like a weapon.

  “The lights went out and someone locked me in there!” she said again. “I left my phone back in the locker room.”

  “I broke mine fighting with someone who chased me, but let’s get outside.”

  “What? Did you see him?”

  “Yes, but when I got upstairs where it was gray instead of black, he wore a mask, then disappeared.”

  “Let’s call the sheriff.”

  “I should have him on speed dial lately. I called Cody, but maybe he can’t get in. I hope we’re not locked in here.”

  “Yeah, how much does it cost to break a Grand Hotel window with these cutters? But, you mean, you’ve had trouble where you needed the sheriff before this?”

  “Never mind. You have enough to worry about. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You go get Cody, then, but I’ve got to open that locker. I’m thinking, like—maybe when they close this place up, they just turn the lights out sometimes. What kind of mask?”

  “Later. Let’s go!”

  “It will only take a second on our way out. Maybe someone just wanted to scare us.”

  “That’s for sure. How about now-you-see-him, now-you-don’t Wade?” Claire asked as they hurried down the hall. “And, sorry, but I overheard some of what you and your father argued about the other day.”

  “But—but he’d never hurt me or my mother—at least not on purpose. It’s that Vern Las Vegas guy who knows his way around this hotel!”

  In a way Claire was glad Liz still insisted on getting into Julia’s locker. Claire had to admit she knew that kind of stubbornness, even admired it.

  She stood nervously at the door of the locker room, punching in Nick’s phone number as Liz struggled with the unwieldy cutters and got the lock off. Claire moved closer. Inside the small, dark space hung a security uniform, and, on the floor in a clear plastic sack, a flat, black book. And taped to the back of the locker was a picture of a smiling Julia in a bathing suit with Rob Patterson!

  Claire gasped. They had their arms around each other. They looked very happy, and it hadn’t been taken too long ago. And not here. A palm tree swayed behind them and waves smashed onto a south shore.

  “Who the heck is he?” Liz muttered as she grabbed the book and the photo.

  “Never mind now. Let’s get out of here!” Claire said for the tenth time, and they fled only to find Cody trying to get in the door someone had evidently loc
ked from inside.

  * * *

  “I swear, I’m not sure who it was,” Claire told Nick and Jace, as the three of them huddled in the parlor after she got home and explained what had happened. “I expected it to be Wade. I haven’t seen Kirkpatrick. I did think I smelled smoke on the guy, but maybe not that cigar smoke that hung in the room the day Bronco was hit over the head—and maybe the smell of smoke just hangs in my head. Michael could have followed us. Who else, I’m not sure,” she said, with a glance at Jace.

  It was an absolutely insane thought, of course, but the man had reminded her of Jace. But how much of what she recalled was from raw panic and not reality? With the lights out, it had all seemed a dreadful nightmare. What would that man have done to her if he’d caught her? Had she left a scratch on his face? And since he’d only locked Liz up—in case he meant to come back for her after he’d caught and hurt Claire first—what did he want?

  “And,” Nick said, “all this on top of that loose cannon Michael Collister cornering you in the stable. It makes me think it’s not even safe for Lexi to visit Scout until he leaves the island. Sad to say, Claire, but I’m putting you under house arrest. Wait until the sheriff hears about all this. I thought since Bronco was with you, that would keep you safe.”

  She hated being scolded. “I was with Liz inside. Bronco was right outside keeping an eye on the snowmobile after what happened to the other one.”

  “I get it, but one or the other—or both of us—” he said with a nod at Jace, which surprised her “—should go out with you, if it’s absolutely necessary you even leave the house. At least until we stop the attacks or nail who killed Julia.”

  “I wonder if Wade smokes cigarettes. I haven’t smelled it on him. I should have asked Liz.”

  “Are you even listening?” Nick demanded, leaning toward her on the couch to seize her shoulders and turn her toward him. “You’re evidently being targeted for being close to Julia, Liz or both. You have a child to worry about—”

  “Two,” Jace put in.

  Nick’s head snapped around. “She told you?”

  “Not until I guessed.”

  Nick swore under his breath, then visibly calmed himself before he went on, a tactic—a talent—she’d seen him use in court. “The point is,” he went on in a calmer voice, “you need to stay safe, stay in until we or the sheriff get a handle on this.”

  “I’ll go stark crazy staying in this winter, especially when Liz needs help. I need a look at that diary we found in the locker before Michael gets his hands on it. You know I’m trained in handwriting analysis. That reminds me of something huge I forgot to tell you. Besides some work clothes and the diary, which Liz is now guarding with her life, there was a crush picture taped in the back of Julia’s locker, just like in high school.”

  “A crush picture?” Jace asked. “Julia with some guy, not Michael?”

  “Fasten your seat belts, both of you. The photo was taken in some tropical place, some south shore with waves behind them and a palm tree frond hanging over them—Julia with Rob Patterson.”

  For once, both men were speechless. Finally, Jace said, “So—no wonder he didn’t put the total skids on our looking into her death. I tend to think of him as all business, and I’ll bet the FBI doesn’t really condone fraternizing, but—hell, Julia had a lot going for her, and a woman too often falls for her boss.”

  Claire glared at Jace, if he was implying that was the case for her with Nick, but Jace wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning and seemed so suddenly inward. She’d seen it before when she’d been interviewing potential perps and didn’t like to see it here. Grief? Guilt?

  “Later on that,” Nick put into the awkward silence. “Rob’s human. Who knows when the photo was taken, maybe recently, after her divorce.”

  Claire said, “If it was before, that’s another motive for Michael to have harbored hatred for her.”

  “Let’s just focus on us right now. That diary is legally Liz’s, unless it’s all FBI information. If so, she has to show it to the sheriff until the new WITSEC handler gets here. I’m sure Liz has enough sense that, if there are any threats against Julia in it, she’ll share it with the sheriff.”

  “Nick, Liz’s life may be in danger,” Claire insisted. “I think I should stay close to her, not just suddenly shut myself off.”

  “Fine—invite her here.”

  “Yeah,” Jace suddenly exploded in a loud voice so unlike him, “your life’s obviously in danger too. I’d like to think—and I’m sure Nick and Lexi do too—that you’ll be around to write in your own diary someday and not be thrown down some flight of stairs or out the window or off that porch at the Grand Hotel or anywhere else!”

  Claire turned to stare at Jace. His eyes shifted away for a moment before he met her gaze. She had to talk to him alone. He was hiding something, being overly defensive. It seemed he was almost picturing where she’d been chased. He had been off work just as he had the afternoon Julia died.

  She vowed then that, somehow, she must question and face down Jace alone without telling Nick.

  33

  “See you in a little while,” Nick told Claire when he finally calmed down after hearing what had happened in Julia’s stable and at Grand Hotel. “I’m tempted to tie you to my waist or to our bed,” he muttered as he finally got up from nearly pinning her onto the couch. “I need to head back to working with Heck for an hour or so. We’ve got a lot of the lock-Ames-up-for-life work done but we need to finish this section today so we can get it to Rob. And then,” he added, his voice bitter, “if they can ever get their hands on him in Mexico or on whatever south shore where he’s hiding out now, the government can prosecute.”

  For once, he seemed content to leave her alone with Jace. Anything to keep someone’s eye on her, she supposed. But she couldn’t let this go any more than Nick could stop his obsession with stopping Clayton Ames.

  Claire was going to try to bring up the day of Julia’s death, because something about that was bothering him, and she hoped it wasn’t that he’d been with her at Arch Rock. He’d wanted to see it, since Julia had taken the rest of them there. But before she could speak, Jace glanced out the window and blurted, “Who the heck is that?”

  She turned around to look out. “Where? Oh, that man with the camera? I’ve seen others taking pictures of this house and others along here. It is so picturesque, even with the snow. No way to stop that, I guess, unless they really trespass, and he’s in the street.”

  “But he’s got one of those big telephoto lenses,” he said, standing and squinting out the window. “And the face behind it is really ugly, poor guy.”

  “Jace! I know we’re all on edge, but do you need to say that?” She didn’t mean to scold but she was very nervous about questioning him, and this was not a good beginning. She sighed and turned back around on the couch. “So, do you have the whole day off?” she asked, hoping to just sound conversational. Always start with something seemingly innocuous, then circle in, she told herself.

  “Just working the twilight shift,” he said, sitting back down. He propped his elbows on his spread knees and stared at the floor instead of out the window or at her. “The ill guy I replaced is getting better, so I hope they don’t cut my hours. If so, you and I will suffer from cabin fever together this winter.”

  “I’m going to homeschool Lexi in reading and writing. Since you’ve been all over the world, you could work with her about foreign places, kind of prekindergarten-age history or geography.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Poor little girl with two daddies.”

  “Jace, I know that’s been hard, but that aside—”

  “I can’t put it aside.”

  “Just listen, please. Speaking of your getting erratic time off from the airport job, you also had the afternoon off the day Julia died.”


  She tried not to sound and look as tense as she was. His head snapped up. His eyes narrowed before he looked away again. When he didn’t respond at first, Claire swallowed hard because she saw sweat break out on his upper lip in this cool house. Even under duress as a wartime pilot, the word she’d heard from his buddies was “Jace never sweats.”

  “So?”

  “I know you well, Jace. Something’s been really bothering you about Julia’s death, besides the death itself.”

  “Yeah. It’s why I risked a lot to try to see if Kirkpatrick hurt her.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but maybe you felt guilty you came on to her? I thought maybe that day she died you tried to apologize to her.”

  “What are you, some sort of damned psychic now?” He heaved a huge sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “But I did regret I came on to her like I did. She was attractive and impressive and seemed unattached. And like I said, I felt like the odd man out in our group. In a way, I’d even lost Lexi.”

  “No, you didn’t and never will,” she insisted, sitting forward on the couch to touch his arm. “And you and I are still friends, aren’t we?”

  He gave a loud snort. “Oh, yeah, right. That will work out just great, especially when we get out of here and go home, if Naples is even home to me now.”

  “Of course it is. Rob Patterson offered you that spy-fly airplane job. You can live in South Florida and still fly, do something for your country.”

  “You sound like the marine recruiters, but that’s what you’re good at. Getting people to open up, to opt in, to tell you things so you can psych them out. Swear you won’t run to Nick or the sheriff with this?”

  “With what? My suspicion you might have seen Julia the day she died?”

  “Well, you are good, forensic psych! Thanks for all the hand-holding before you hit me with that suspicion!”

  He pulled his chair so close to the couch he blocked her in. Again, her heartbeat kicked up. Michael today, then that man who had grabbed at her and chased her. Thank God there was no scratch on Jace’s face, but, in the dark, she wasn’t really sure where she had scratched that man. And now Jace was going to admit something dreadful, she was sure of it.