Moriah's Landing Bundle

by Amanda Stevens

  Chapter Six

  Kat woke with a cry of anguish, her legs tangled in the sheets, her skin clammy with fear. She fought to free herself of the sheets, of the nightmare, surprised it was morning, and worse, that she’d overslept.

  Grabbing her robe, she stumbled down the stairs, following the smell of coffee. Emily had made a pot before she’d left for school. But why hadn’t Em at least tried to wake her? Maybe she had.

  With a groan, Kat remembered last night and the girl in the red jacket she’d seen running away after vandalizing the Bait & Tackle wall. As much as she dreaded it, she’d have to confront Em tonight about it since the girl hadn’t been home by the time Kat had fallen asleep.

  Kat poured herself some coffee and stood barefoot in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around the warm cup, trying to eradicate the chill inside her. She couldn’t forget about the dream. It had come back just as she’d feared, only this time…this time it had been different. She shuddered at the vague memory and took a sip of the hot liquid. The strong coffee did little to melt away the block of ice inside her, though.

  Taking the cup with her, Kat headed for the stairs and a shower. But as she started up the steps, she spotted a book on the lower step near the front door. Dream Interpretation: Unlock the Mystery.

  But it was the note stuck to the front cover from Claire that made Kat pick up the book.

  Hi. Sorry I blew you off at Threads. Didn’t mean to worry you. Just lost track of time. Call you tomorrow, Claire.

  Relieved that Claire was okay, Kat carried the book upstairs. She started to drop it on her desk when, on impulse, she thumbed through the pages, expecting to find something funny she could tell Elizabeth about. Elizabeth had been so busy getting ready for the wedding they hadn’t talked much lately and Kat figured they both could use a good laugh.

  A word caught her eye, suddenly bringing back the dream with such force that her knees threatened to buckle. She clutched the edge of the desk for a moment. She’d seen something new in the dream last night, something she’d never seen before in the bizarre jumble of images, something she’d remembered. Slowly, she opened the book to the word that had triggered the memory.

  Blood: Seeing blood in a dream indicates enemies who seek to destroy you. Beware of someone close to you who isn’t who you think they are.

  Ridiculous. Kat slammed the book shut and dropped it on her desk. If only it were that easy to shed the dream, she thought as she went to shower and get ready for work.

  AT THE SAME TIME Kat was in the shower, Jonah was driving his motorcycle up to Heathrow College.

  He’d been trying to get Kat off his mind all morning, but without any luck. As he walked across campus to the Natasha Pierce Building of Natural Sciences, a modern stone structure—the college’s newest building, named after the deceased daughter of the town’s founding family—he knew his concern for Kat was overshadowing everything, including what he’d come to Moriah’s Landing to do. All morning he’d had a bad feeling that the two were somehow linked. And he always knew to trust his gut instincts.

  Dr. Paul Fortier, a trim fortyish man of medium height, got up from behind his immaculately clean desk as Jonah walked in. Fortier’s dark hair and beard were trimmed to perfection and his white lab coat was pristine.

  Jonah didn’t like him the moment he saw him. He liked him even less when he shook Fortier’s weak-gripped hand, the biologist’s distaste for him evident.

  “What is it we can do for you, Mr. Ries?” Fortier inquired, looking down his hawkish nose at Jonah. He made it clear in his tone that he was a busy man who didn’t like to have his schedule interrupted. Especially by one of the town’s less desirables.

  The “we” he referred to was the other biologist in his office: Dr. Rhonda Girard. A tall, thin, intense-looking blond woman, Girard also offered her hand. Her handshake was as cool and detached as her demeanor.

  Both Fortier and Girard seemed to examine him openly as if he were a bug they wished was under glass. No doubt they’d heard about his recent “release” from the FBI, which, coupled with the family name of Ries, was making them uncomfortable—and cautious.

  Jonah got right to it. “I heard that some of the scientists around here are looking for guinea pigs for research projects they’re doing.”

  “Not exactly guinea pigs,” Girard said.

  “Just what kind of research are we talking about?” Jonah asked.

  “It’s a little too complicated to explain to a layman in our current time restraints,” Fortier said.

  Jonah shrugged. “Genetics, right?”

  Fortier gave a slight nod.

  Jonah knew damn well what brought scientists like Fortier and Girard and Manning to Moriah’s Landing. He’d heard rumors since he was a kid and been warned about doctors who would cage you up like a lab rat—if they got the chance—to experiment on you.

  “Tell me this,” he said. “What would I have to do and how much does it pay?” He saw a look pass between them. They hadn’t expected this.

  “You would be interested in our project?” Girard asked, obviously unable to hide her shock.

  More than they could ever know. He shrugged. “It pays, right? I could use the money.”

  “I thought you were an agent with the FBI,” Fortier asked with obvious suspicion.

  “The feds and I had a falling-out,” Jonah said, as if Fortier hadn’t heard about it. “They felt I’d chosen the wrong career path.”

  He could see they were dying to get his blood, but also leery of this unexpected good fortune. It was rumored that the Ries bloodline ran back several generations, to a time when a Ries produced a son with the beautiful but wild daughter of McFarland Leary and his witch consort.

  It was that kind of genetic history that had brought scientists like Fortier and Manning to Moriah’s Landing in the first place. For years there’d been rumors of special powers that came with the genes of certain families—those descended from witches.

  But it was also obvious that Fortier and Girard didn’t want the FBI looking too closely at their research. Just paranoia when it came to the feds and how federal research funds were being spent? Or were the doctors dabbling in research they shouldn’t be?

  “I’m sure we can find a suitable fee if you’re interested,” Fortier said, obviously trying to sound as if it was no big deal—but not pulling it off. Probably because no Ries in his right mind would ever agree to any kind of genetic scrutiny. “All we would need would be a little blood. It’s painless, I assure you,” he added quickly as if he thought Jonah might be squeamish of needles. No, just nooses.

  “Great,” Jonah said.

  “If you have time now,” Girard said, “it will only take—”

  “Sorry.” Jonah feigned disappointment. “I have to get to my job and I’m running late, but let me know when and where and how much. I’m working at the Wharf Rat. You can reach me there.”

  Fortier looked as if he wanted to grab Jonah and open a vein with a letter opener if that’s what it took right there in the immaculate office rather than let him get away. “I’ll call you later and set up a time.”

  Jonah was sure he would.

  DISTRACTED BY REMNANTS of the nightmare that had followed her to work, Kat was startled to find another bouquet of daisies on her office step. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, let alone upset at the sight of them again, but she was. As before, they were tied loosely with a piece of used red ribbon. She followed her first impulse and threw them in the trash with the old ones from yesterday.

  The daisies disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. She told herself that someone was bound to come forward to take credit for them soon. She held on to that thought, the logic of that making her feel better. But still, something about the daisies unnerved her.

  When she checked her messages she found one from Bud Lawson thanking her for completing the investigation so quickly. The insurance company had released his check for repairs. Another message was from the ins
urance company about Ernie McDougal’s vandalism from last night.

  As with Bud Lawson, Ernie McDougal’s insurance company recommended her to investigate the damage and turn in a report, rather than send out one of their own agents all the way from Boston.

  It was early, long before most of the shops opened, but Kat decided she’d see Ernie now and get it over with. She locked up and started down the sidewalk. Across the street, she spotted her friend Brie through the diner window and waved, feeling instantly guilty. She had only recently started socializing with Brie again. Her friend had kept to herself when Kat learned she was pregnant with her daughter, Nicole. It was as if Brie didn’t want anyone to know who the father was. Kat started to cross the street to say hello to her, but Brie gave a quick wave and hurried over to a table to take an order.

  Kat told herself that it was Brie who had pulled away from her friends. Brie was so busy now working at the diner, going to college and caring for her daughter and ailing mother.

  “Good morning!”

  Kat glanced over to find Cassandra Quintana already in her booth this morning.

  “I have something for you,” the fortune-teller said.

  Kat would just bet she did. “Another tarot card? What is this one, death?”

  Cassandra’s gaze was dark and deeply intent as she shuffled the large deck of worn tarot cards in her bejeweled fingers, her bracelets tinkling. She sat at the small counter, a dark velvet cover spread before her, several candles and some incense burning on each side. “I thought you might be curious about the daisies.”

  Kat felt her heart take off at a run. How did Cassandra know about the daisies? “You know who left them?”

  The seer shook her head, her smile sympathetic. “I only know what the cards tell me.”

  Right. The fortune-teller had obviously seen the person who’d been dropping off the bouquet of daisies. How else would she know about them?

  Cassandra flipped a card from the deck and dropped it to the dark velvet. “I see the flowers upset you,” the fortune-teller said. The whisper of another card. “I see that daisies have some significance for you, an association connected with your past that is painful. And…frightening.”

  Kat realized most of this the seer could have gotten from her expression alone at just the mention of the daisies. But she felt a tremor. Cassandra’s words had rattled a memory awake. Daisies tied with a red ribbon. She remembered now where she’d seen the same bouquet before, the memory startling her.

  Cassandra dropped another card on the velvet. “The daisies portend something that is yet to come. There is a darkness in your future. Danger.”

  But Kat barely heard the fortune-teller’s warning. Her heart pounding, she hurried across the town green toward home. Putting down her purse, she rushed upstairs and threw open the doors to the storage area under the third-floor stairs. Frantically, she began to pull everything out, looking for the box with the old photographs her grandmother had left her.

  After some frenzied digging, Kat found the box buried in the very back. Leaving everything in the middle of the hallway floor, she took the photos down to the kitchen, poured herself a strong cup of coffee, nuked it and sat down at the breakfast bar. She began going through the photos, her hands shaking.

  She found what she was looking for in the middle of the box. Her fingers jerked as she unfolded the newspaper clipping. It was a front-page story about her mother’s murder and consequent funeral. The photo was grainy, the faces around the grave out of focus. Instead, the camera had zoomed in on the casket and the simple bouquet of daisies tied with a worn red ribbon that someone had put on top.

  Her heart beat so hard that her chest ached. She picked up one of the last photographs taken of her mother, her fingers trembling as she looked into her own face. Tears rushed her eyes, each breath a labor.

  Someone was giving her the same bouquet of daisies he’d given her mother—only at her funeral.

  Kat picked up her coffee cup and took a gulp, scared, but this time maybe with good reason.

  “ABOUT TIME,” Brody said, glancing at his watch as Jonah walked in. “You’re not working for the feds now.”

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing at his own watch. “Dock me the two minutes.” He could feel Brody watching him as he stepped behind the bar, picked up the coffeepot and refilled his cousin’s mug.

  Brody laughed. “Maybe I will.”

  “With what you pay me, I’m sure I won’t miss it in my check,” Jonah retorted, turning away to put the coffeepot back on the burner.

  Brody laughed. “No wonder the feds gave you the boot. I’ve been waiting to tell you the good news. You feel lucky?”

  Jonah picked up a bar rag, turned on the faucet and held the rag under it, not wanting to seem too anxious. “Not particularly.”

  “I got you in the game.”

  He turned off the faucet, wrung out the bar rag and turned slowly, frowning. “What game is that?”

  “The biggest poker game in this part of Massachusetts,” Brody bragged. “My poker game.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jonah wiped at the already clean bar. “So who plays?”

  “You’ll see. That is, if you have what it takes.” Brody grinned. “This ain’t penny-ante poker. The question is—are you man enough?”

  Jonah kept scrubbing at the bar. The question had nothing to do with his manhood and they both knew it. This had to do with Ries genes. And, of course, money.

  But Jonah couldn’t have been happier—unless, of course, he’d never had to come back to Moriah’s Landing. He wouldn’t have met Kat Ridgemont though. Nor, he reminded himself, would he have known that someone was planning to kill her. However, he did not have the vaguest idea who wanted her dead or why—or how to stop it.

  “Well?” Brody demanded.

  “I’m always up for a friendly game of poker,” Jonah said, knowing it would be anything but friendly.

  Chapter Seven

  The telephone rang. Kat jumped, knocking the stack of photos off the breakfast bar and spilling the last of her coffee.

  Hurriedly, she mopped up the spilled coffee, shoving the photos out of the way so they didn’t get wet, then reached for the phone before it could ring again.

  “Hello?” She thought she heard breathing. “Hello?”

  No answer. Was it one of Emily’s friends, surprised to find Kat home?

  She heard a soft click and shivered. Now she was letting even wrong numbers scare her, she thought, angry with her heart for pounding so hard.

  She tried to walk off her bad mood by taking the long way down Main Street to Waterfront Avenue. But she couldn’t forget the daisy bouquet. Or the eerie resemblance between her mother and her at this age.

  Why did she feel as if she had something to fear? It wasn’t as if anyone had threatened her.

  As she turned onto Waterfront, she heard the throb of a motorcycle. She swung around expecting to see Jonah coming toward her. It wasn’t him but still her heart raced reminding her of exactly what she had to fear.

  She rushed across the street, deciding right then and there to find out more about Jonah Ries—for her own peace of mind.

  With the throb of the motorcycle’s motor growing behind her, she hurriedly slipped into the Bait & Tackle. The bell over the door tinkled and Ernie looked up from behind the counter at the back, seemingly surprised to see her.

  “Hello,” she called as she worked her way through the racks of fishing supplies to him.

  Ernie was a stocky man of about sixty-five or so, with short gray hair on an obviously balding head. He wore a red cap that read Bait & Tackle in navy. The cap made his ears stick out. She’d seen Ernie around since she was a girl, but he’d hardly ever spoken to her, just hello or a nod on the street.

  Now she wondered if he wasn’t shy as she held out her hand. He seemed surprised, almost confused, as if he’d forgotten who she was. Or why she was here. “I’m Kat Ridgemont, the investigator your insurance company hired to file a report on th
e vandalism.”

  He shook his head as if shaking out cobwebs. “Kat, of course. You looked so much like your mother, for a moment…” He shook his head again and offered his hand. “Of course I know you.” His grip was stronger than she’d expected, his arms muscular from hauling in fish, his face tanned and weathered from the sea, reminding her of her father.

  “I was wondering how long it would be before my shop was hit,” he said with disgust. “Come around here and I’ll show you.”

  He held the back door open for her, reminding her that he was from a generation of men who still believed in chivalry.

  She tailed him to the side of his building to the place where she’d seen the vandals applying spray paint last night.

  “I guess I’m lucky this is all they did,” Ernie said.

  “You’re covered by insurance, but you realize repainting the wall won’t exceed your deductible,” she said, wondering why he’d called the insurance company for such a small claim.

  “I suppose there isn’t that much damage,” he said thoughtfully.

  She nodded, studying the seemingly hurried swaths of paint on the old brick wall. “Not exactly artistic,” she commented. The vandals had taken more time on Bud Lawson’s walls, but then they hadn’t been interrupted as they were last night. “Any idea who might have done this?”

  “Kids.” Unlike Bud Lawson, Ernie didn’t seem that upset.

  “Have any kids been hanging around, acting suspicious?” she asked.

  “Not that I’ve noticed. I’ve been getting ready for the season, so I haven’t been paying much attention.” Tourist season. “The usual kids hang out at the arcade down the street.”

  Yes, the arcade.

  “I can file a report with the insurance company if you want me to,” she said, pulling out her notebook and pen.

  “No, you’re right. No reason to. Just drive up my rates. I should have thought of that before I called them and had them send you over. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”