“She didn’t say anything?”
“She didn’t even see me,” Carrie said. “At least I don’t think so. And then after a while, she turned, looked up at the loggia and…crossed herself. As if…”
“As if she felt what you’d felt.”
“Exactly.”
The whole time she’d been talking, Nick’s eyes never left hers. Carrie had never been the object of a more penetrating focus. It reminded her of the way he’d mesmerized her in her dream the night before. She was afraid he might be capable of doing that to her now so she tore her gaze away.
“Do you want me to talk to Stone?”
His tone more than the question took her by surprise. He sounded…concerned. Maybe even a bit protective and Carrie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She needed to fight her own battles because if she gave in to her fears even once, the demons and monsters would come rushing back into her life.
She’d put up a lot of barriers after the abduction. Safeguards to keep out the evil, but also to repel men like Nick Draco. Men who pushed her out of her comfort zone and made her feel vulnerable and overwhelmed. Carrie didn’t like losing control, not in any aspect of her life. That was one of the reasons Tia’s disappearance was so troubling to her. If Tia wasn’t on Cape Diablo, Carrie had no idea what to do next.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said a bit coolly. “But I’m probably just letting my imagination get the better of me. Besides, if I want to find out more about Ethan Stone, I’ll go up and talk to him myself.”
“Or maybe you should just leave well enough alone,” Nick said. “You don’t know anything about this guy. I told you earlier I’m not one for discounting intuition. If you’re picking up bad vibes, my advice is to stay the hell away from him.”
And what about the vibes I’m picking up from you?
Carrie’s every instinct demanded that she pull back from Nick Draco, that she not give in to the temptation his steely eyes seemed to offer.
And yet she found herself thinking more and more about that dream. She couldn’t get it out of her head. The vision of her and Nick together portended something dark and powerful in their attraction, as if they were dealing with forces neither of them could control.
A cold chill seeped over Carrie as their gazes connected and lingered. She knew what Nick was thinking at that moment. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted her, and she had a feeling that he was a man who always got what he wanted.
One way or another.
“ARE THE MOSQUITOES always this bad?” Carrie asked a little while later as they headed back up the path from the swamp.
“This is nothing.” Nick glanced over his shoulder. “You should come down here sometime after the sun goes down. They get downright vicious after dark.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Carrie absently scratched a bite on the inside of her elbow. “What’s that building over there?” She pointed to a weathered, clapboard structure that looked even more decrepit than the main house.
“Home sweet home,” Nick said with the barest hint of a grin.
Carrie glanced at him in surprise. “You live there?”
“It’s not as bad as it looks. My understanding is that it was originally built for the housekeeper and her family, but I don’t think there’s enough money in the trust for live-in help these days. Someone comes from the mainland every couple of weeks or so to do the heavy lifting.”
Carrie’s gaze drifted over the structure. Some of the shingles were missing from the roof, and the porch sagged so badly at one end, it seemed as if a good stiff wind might rip it off. But she assumed the building was sturdier than it looked.
Carrie wondered why Nick hadn’t been given more suitable quarters in the main house. Surely there was plenty of room. Alma occupied the third floor and Carlos lived in the boathouse. The rest of the place stood empty except for the leased apartments.
“You don’t mind living so close to the swamp? How do you stand all these bugs?” She tried to wave off a swarm that had vectored in on her head.
Nick shrugged. “It’s not so bad. You get used to it. Besides, mosquitoes don’t seem to like my blood. You, on the other hand…”
Carrie grimaced. “Tell me about it. I’m getting eaten alive out here.” She slapped another one on her arm. “Yikes! We have mosquitoes in Miami, but nothing like this.”
Nick gave her an amused looked as she continued to swat and scratch. “Come inside and I’ll hook you up with some repellant.”
“I’ve got some back at the apartment,” Carrie said. “I bought a can before I left the marina yesterday. Besides, I really shouldn’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you need to get back to work.”
“I don’t exactly punch a time clock around here. I’ll let you know when I need to get back.”
“Fair enough,” Carrie murmured. She followed him up the steps and waited while he fished a key from his pocket. At one time she might have wondered why he felt the need to lock the door on an island as tiny and secluded as Cape Diablo, but not anymore. Not after last night.
In spite of the row of windows across the front of the tiny house, the interior was cool and dim. Or maybe it just seemed that way after being out in the blazing sun. Whatever the case, Carrie paused inside the doorway, appreciating the reprieve.
“You can clean up in there.” Nick pointed to one of two doors off the main living area.
“Thanks.”
Just like the rest of the house, the bathroom was tiny and sparse with the scent of the jungle permeating through the open window. A screen kept insects out, but the heat seeped through, making Carrie gaze longingly at the shower.
She was hot, tired and discouraged. They’d searched most of the island and found no sign of Tia anywhere. If she was still here, then where could she be? And if she really had left Cape Diablo, where on earth had she gone to?
Carrie stared at her reflection in the mirror as she quickly washed her hands. She hadn’t put on any makeup that morning and had barely taken the time to brush her hair. She looked exhausted and felt it, but she didn’t bother to try and make herself more presentable. Nick had already seen her at her worst.
And anyway, why should she care what he thought?
Drying her hands, she went back out to join him. He brought over two icy bottles of water from the refrigerator and handed one to her. “Have a seat.”
She accepted the water gratefully and sat down at the rickety dining table. Nick went back into the kitchen for something, and as she watched him move about the tiny space, she thought about how easily he’d negotiated the sloping roof that morning. He was fully dressed now, but the image of his shirtless torso, burnished by the sun, suddenly seemed stuck on autoplay in her head.
She wanted to glance away before he caught her staring, but she couldn’t seem to make her eyes oblige.
And then it was too late because he turned just then and their gazes met. A thrill traced down Carrie’s spine, and she wondered if he could tell what she was thinking. She wanted him, too. Wanted him in a way that frightened her because Nick Draco was the kind of man who could devastate a woman if she wasn’t careful.
“So what’s next?” he asked as he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
For one breathless moment, Carrie thought he was talking about them, but then she came to her senses and realized what he meant. “I don’t know. Since I’m stuck here until the supply boat comes on Friday, I have a couple of days to decide what to do next.
“I’m assuming you’ve already considered contacting Tia’s family and friends to see if they’ve heard from her.”
Carrie frowned. “That’s not so easy. She doesn’t have any family. She’s an only child and her parents are dead. As for other friends…I’m not even sure she has anyone besides me.”
He paused with the water bottle halfway to his lips. “What do you mean you’re not sure? I thought the two of you were pretty tight.”
“We are. Or at least�
�we were.” Carrie traced a drop of condensation down the side of her bottle. “Maybe I gave you the wrong impression earlier. Tia and I aren’t as close as we used to be. Until recently, we’d lost touch for a few years.”
He looked as if he wanted to comment, but then he changed his mind and shrugged. “What about her work? She must have given some indication to her employer when she’d be back.”
“I don’t think she would have contacted anyone there,” Carrie said. “She quit her job right before her wedding.”
That stopped him again. “She’s married?”
“Actually, she called off the ceremony right before she came out here,” Carrie said. “She left a note at the church saying that she couldn’t go through with the marriage.”
He grimaced. “That’s pretty cold.”
“If you knew her fiancé, you’d understand why she wouldn’t want to face him.” Carrie bit her lip. “In fact, I think he’s the reason she picked Cape Diablo. She was probably hoping he wouldn’t be able to find her here.”
“Why? Was he abusive?” Suddenly Nick’s voice was as cold as his eyes.
“I don’t have any proof. But I’d say he definitely has violent tendencies. I only met him a few times, but I sensed something wasn’t right from the first. He seemed too perfect, like those men you see on the news who strangle their wives and dump their bodies at sea. I’m not suggesting he did anything like that,” Carrie said quickly. “But I do think Tia may have seen something in him before the wedding that scared her. He has a pretty explosive temper. I found that out the hard way.”
Nick’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean? Did he do something to you?”
“Not physically, no. But I’m the one who broke the news to him that Tia had left him at the altar. Needless to say, he didn’t take it well. If we’d been alone, I’m not sure what he would have done.”
Nick’s expression never altered, but Carrie could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing. Although he certainly had no reason to feel protective of her. The two of them were virtual strangers. “You think he somehow found out that she was here?”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” Carrie said.
Nick studied her for a moment. “And you came here to what? Rescue her?”
“I just came here to make sure she was okay,” Carrie said a bit defensively.
Something flickered in his eyes that she couldn’t define. “How did you know where to find her?”
“She mentioned the name of the island in her letter and I did a Google search. A few phone calls led me to Robert Cochburn.”
“You said earlier that it wasn’t just the letter, but her tone that concerned you,” Nick mused. “Did she sound scared, desperate…what? Did she say anything that made you think her jilted fiancé had threatened her?”
“She didn’t say anything about Trey at all. It was almost as if she’d already put him out of her mind. She mainly wrote about Cape Diablo and the Santiago family. I even found copies of newspaper articles in her apartment that she printed off the Internet. Which is why I can’t help wondering…” Carrie paused. “Do you think it’s possible she could have uncovered something about the family’s disappearance that put her in danger?”
“I doubt it. The only two people still alive connected to the Santiagos are Alma and Carlos. They’re both pretty eccentric, but I don’t think they’re violent.”
Carrie nodded. “You’re probably right. I’m grasping at straws. I still can’t understand how Tia could have left the island without anyone seeing her. It makes me wonder how long it would have taken for anyone to miss her if I hadn’t shown up asking questions.”
“So what about you?” Nick asked slowly. “You’re stranded here until Friday. Is someone going to come look for you?”
Why was he asking? Carrie wondered anxiously. Personal curiosity or something else? “I left my itinerary at work,” she lied.
He half smiled as if he knew she’d thought that one up on the spur of the moment. “What is it that you do?”
“I’m a graphic designer. I work for a local magazine in Miami. Basically, I’m a visual problem solver.” She stood abruptly, not wanting to answer any more questions about her private life. “I appreciate your showing me around the island this morning, but I should get going. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.”
“You didn’t. I wanted to help you search.” He walked her to the front door and out on the porch, although Carrie would have preferred that he didn’t. Suddenly, she was anxious to get away from him. All she wanted at the moment was to get back to the safe little life she’d created for herself in Miami. The sooner she left Cape Diablo and Nick Draco behind, the better for her peace of mind.
He propped one hand on the newel post as he stared down at her. “At least now you know that Tia isn’t still on the island.”
That was little comfort. Because if Tia wasn’t on Cape Diablo, then someone else had left the friendship pendant on her bedroom floor. Someone else had gone to a great deal of trouble to try and keep Carrie on the island.
She thought again of the man in the newspaper article—Adam Pritchard—and shuddered. Were he and Nathaniel Glover one and the same?
A lengthy incarceration would certainly explain why he hadn’t tried to come back for her as the profiler had predicted that he would.
What if Glover had been the one to leave the pendant on Tia’s bedroom floor?
What if he’d used Tia to lure Carrie to the island? What if he’d found a new lair and he had Tia there now?
She and Nick had searched most of Cape Diablo, but there were dozens of other islands only a short boat ride away. He might have Tia on one of those now.
Or was he hiding somewhere in plain sight?
She thought again of the danger she’d sensed outside Ethan Stone’s door the night before. Was it possible—
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick’s anxious question cut into her thoughts. “You look a little green around the gills. You didn’t get too much sun, did you?”
Carrie shook her head, trying to dispel her wild ramblings. Nathaniel Glover—or whatever his name was—couldn’t be anywhere near Cape Diablo. He had nothing to do with Tia’s absence. It was too far-fetched to believe otherwise. “I’m fine. Just concerned about Tia.”
“She’ll turn up.” Nick nodded in the direction of the main house. “Don’t veer too far off the path. It’ll take you straight back to the courtyard.”
Don’t veer too far off the path.
If only she never had, Carrie thought.
Chapter Eight
Nick watched from the porch until Carrie was out of sight, then he turned and went back inside the house. Retrieving his laptop from a locked briefcase, he established a satellite linkup and shot off an e-mail to headquarters requesting information on both Carrie Bishop and Tia Falcon. Then he typed each of their names into a search engine and scrolled through the links.
Alone, their names didn’t generate anything out of the ordinary, but when he typed the two together, he was linked to an old article on a Web site for missing and exploited children.
Quickly, he scanned the text.
The two girls had been abducted after sneaking off the grounds of the summer camp they were attending. The authorities were notified when they didn’t show up for dinner, and within hours, a full-scale manhunt had been launched.
One of the girls was found the next day wandering down a rural road two hundred miles from where she’d been grabbed. She was taken to an area hospital and treated for minor injuries while the police and FBI were called in.
Later, she was able to give the authorities a thorough description of her abductor and the van he’d driven.
She was also able to lead them back to the remote cabin in the woods where he had held her and her friend hostage. The suspect had already fled with the other girl, and it wasn’t until almost a week later that an anonymous tip had led the FBI to a motel where they found twelve-year-old
Tia Falcon bound and gagged in one of the rooms.
The kidnapper was never apprehended.
So that was it, Nick thought as he logged off and put away the computer.
That was the demon that still haunted Carrie Bishop. That was why she was so desperate to find Tia. Why she still felt responsible for her friend’s well-being.
Carrie had managed to escape their abductor, but Tia hadn’t.
Now it all made sense…Carrie’s almost obsessive desperation and her willingness to put herself at risk for the sake of finding her friend.
It was a classic case of survivor’s guilt.
Nick had seen it before, in others…and in himself.
AS CARRIE STEPPED through the gate into the courtyard, her gaze went immediately to the loggia over Tia’s apartment. She peered into the shadows, waiting to experience that same sense of danger that had scared her so badly the night before.
In the light of day, all she felt was a vague uneasiness. Maybe she had let her imagination get the better of her. Maybe Ethan Stone was exactly who Cochburn said he was—a burned-out executive desperately in need of some downtime.
But even if her imagination had run wild on the loggia, she hadn’t imagined Alma Garcia’s odd behavior by the pool.
Slowly, Carrie walked over and stared into the murky water. What had the woman been looking for?
Carrie could barely see the bottom through the accumulation of leaves and algae. The pool had been badly neglected for months, perhaps years, and she wondered why Cochburn didn’t have it drained. Maybe Alma wouldn’t let him.
On impulse, Carrie snapped a few shots of the pool, then her gaze lifted to the back of the main house and she wondered if Alma was up there now watching from the shadows of her room. She was a strange woman. Demented, according to Cochburn, from her years of isolation on Cape Diablo.
Was it possible that she knew something regarding Tia’s whereabouts?
Secrets of His Own Page 9
