“Offended so much that they might have caused her harm?” O’Neill shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them. Most, like me, were probably unaware of her profession until after her disappearance.”
He’d unlocked Ms. Devlin’s suite earlier that day to allow the agents access. Once they had bagged, tagged and removed any belongings and all evidence pertinent to their search, O’Neill had directed Judd Raye, the resort’s custodian and handy man, to secure the remainder of the reporter’s effects in a locked storage closet in O’Neill’s cottage. After an okay from the feds, O’Neill had sent the housekeeping staff to prepare the suite for Erin Fairchild’s arrival. Even if Ms. Devlin was found, her room had been reserved only through yesterday.
He cut a glance at the attractive blonde in the passenger seat. She’d called for a reservation late yesterday afternoon, hours before news of Debra Devlin’s disappearance had hit the media. Otherwise, he’d have suspected that Erin was a journalist, anxious for firsthand coverage of the search.
Reporters, he thought with a grimace of distaste. Even Endless Sky’s remote location wasn’t protection against their annoying intrusion. Once the weather cleared, they’d descend like vultures in their news helicopters with camera lights blazing and microphones bristling like spines on a porcupine’s back, insensitive voyeurs to a terrible tragedy and a colossal pain in the ass to his wealthy guests.
He drove the Hummer under the porte cochere on the resort’s north side and killed the engine.
“Welcome to Endless Sky, Ms. Fairchild.”
“More like endless clouds,” she grumbled and stretched in her seat, as if to ease aching muscles.
O’Neill held back a smile. Erin Fairchild was no rich playgirl. He’d recognized that fact the moment he’d first seen her. Not that she wasn’t knockout pretty with eyes the color of tropical seas that made a man want to take a plunge. But she lacked the skillfully molded, carefully coiffed, tortuously manicured and obviously expensive clothing of the wealthy females who usually frequented Endless Sky. He’d bet a year’s income that her pale, shoulder-length hair was natural blond, her flawless peaches-and-cream complexion had never undergone a surgeon’s scalpel or BOTOX injections, and her trim physique, deliciously rounded in all the right places, was not the result of the rigorous regimen of a personal trainer.
No, there was nothing fake about Erin Fairchild’s appearance, but O’Neill couldn’t shake the distinct impression that she was hiding something. Her clothes and luggage didn’t fit her wealthy persona. Either she was an eccentric who didn’t spend much money—then why was she here?—or a working girl who’d splurged to mingle with the rich and famous for a couple of weeks. Or maybe she was another reporter determined to make a name for herself by capturing an interview with the elusive Last Man Standing. If so, that interview was never going to happen. Too bad for her, O’Neill thought, because he liked what he’d seen so far of Erin Fairchild.
The grizzled face of Judd Raye, the resort’s rangy caretaker, appeared at the passenger door, and he opened it for their new guest. With a wince of discomfort, Erin slid from the SUV and glanced around, a futile effort in the enveloping mist.
O’Neill climbed from the driver’s seat and rounded the vehicle to her side. “Not much to see in this weather, so I’ll give you an inside tour.”
While Judd gathered Erin’s luggage, O’Neill escorted her into the huge lobby. He was pleased to note that the housekeeping staff, despite their time-consuming interviews with law enforcement, had not neglected their duties. A cheerful fire popped and crackled in the massive fireplace whose stones rose the height of the two-story ceiling. A trio of enormous antler chandeliers cast a glow from the high vaulted beams onto the mission-style furniture grouped in conversational clusters below. Decorative displays of Cherokee artifacts and mountain handicrafts had been straightened and dusted. Several of the guests relaxed in the comfortable chairs, reading, chatting or simply staring into the fire. Gigantic arrangements of colorful dahlias, chrysanthemums and native joe-pye weed centered the coffee tables and decorated the fireplace mantel and main desk. The flowers’ fragrance mingled with the woodsy aroma from the fireplace. All was in order.
Erin had stopped inside the double doors and was gazing around the room as if searching for someone.
“Would you like to meet a few of the guests now?” O’Neill asked.
She blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and shook her head. “I’ll wait until dinner.”
O’Neill gestured toward the main desk. “If you’ll sign the register, I’ll show you to your suite.”
The smile she gave him almost took his breath away. It lit her face, like the sun dispersing the clouds. “You’re very kind.”
He shook his head. “All part of my job, Ms. Fairchild.”
At the desk, she took the pen and registration card he handed her. She faltered slightly after she began to write, scratched through what she’d completed, then tore the card in half and slid the pieces in her pocket. “The rough ride left me a little shaky,” she said with an apologetic grin. “I’ll need another card, please.”
“No problem.” O’Neill removed a blank registration form from a cubbyhole behind the desk and gave it to her. This time, she completed it quickly in a bold, firm handwriting.
“Did you have lunch on the plane?” he asked.
“No.” That electric smile hit him again. “But I’m not really hungry.”
Never let it be said, O’Neill thought, that any guest at Endless Sky went without a meal. At the per diem rates they were paying, they could eat all day if the urge struck them. “I can have the kitchen prepare something light and deliver it to your suite.”
“On one condition.” A hint of flirtation laced her dazzling smile.
O’Neill was accustomed to being hit on by female guests. And even a few of the guys. It went with the territory. In the past, without exception and without interest, he’d politely diverted all overtures. His miserable experience with Alicia had inoculated him for life against wealthy, calculating women. But Erin Fairchild was different. He found himself wanting to know her better, to discover exactly who she was and why she was here. He couldn’t explain why he felt drawn to the woman, but he was certain his attraction was caused by more than the hint of sadness and desperation he glimpsed beneath the surface of her carefree attitude.
He wondered if Erin had come to Endless Sky to escape some tragedy. An unhappy relationship? A broken heart? A failed career? What event in this attractive woman’s life had caused her to flee to the wilderness and immerse herself in the company of affluent strangers? O’Neill considered it his personal quest to find out.
“What’s your condition for letting me order you a meal?”
“You’ve missed lunch, too. Will you join me?”
Overriding his usual inclination to remain aloof, he returned her smile. “If you like.”
He called the kitchen and placed an order for two, then grabbed the key cards for the Mountain Laurel Suite from the rack behind the desk and motioned her to accompany him.
“Elevator or stairs?” he asked.
“Stairs, please. I want to stretch my legs after sitting so long in the car.”
They climbed the broad stairway to the third floor and traveled to the end of the hall. Her scent teased him, cutting through the evergreen aroma used by the cleaning staff. He attempted to put a name to it. Obsession? Joy? One of the many Chanels? But her fragrance was more simple and natural than expensive perfume. With a start, he recognized the fresh, clean smell of Irish Spring bath soap, perfect for a woman named Erin. He smiled at the simplicity, unlocked the suite and opened the door to the sitting room with a flourish.
“Your home away from home, Ms. Fairchild.”
“Please, call me Erin.” This time, the trace of sadness was even more evident beneath her engaging smile. She preceded him inside.
O’Neill executed a quick visual reconnaissance of the room. All traces of Debra Devlin were gone.
Judd had placed Erin’s bags on racks at the end of the oversize canopied bed in the adjoining bedroom, visible through open double doors, but Erin ignored them. She walked through the sitting room and ran her hands over the furniture like a blind person fingering Braille, as if trying to read some message from their surfaces.
“Is the room to your liking?” O’Neill asked.
She looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s lovely.”
He crossed to the French doors that led to a private balcony and opened them. “Take a look.”
She stepped onto the dripping veranda but kept well away from the railing. “Nice view, if you like gray.”
“Wait until tomorrow morning. When the sun rises and the clouds lift, you can see all the way to South Carolina and Georgia from this very spot.”
Her cheeks paled and she stepped quickly back into the room. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Interesting. Erin was apparently afraid of heights. If so, why had she picked the highest point on the Blue Ridge Parkway for a vacation?
Before he could ponder that puzzle further, a rap on the door announced the arrival of room ser vice. O’Neill opened the door and Ludie May Schuler, who’d been with the staff since the resort’s opening and was dressed in its traditional forest-green uniform with a burgundy apron, wheeled in a loaded cart. With the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, she cleared the arrangement of fresh fall flowers from the sitting room’s polished oak table, covered it with an immaculate burgundy linen cloth, and set it with fine bone china that sported the resort’s logo and heavy sterling silver engraved with ESR.
“What have you brought us, Ludie May?” he asked.
The older woman lifted silver domes from two platters. “Egg salad, tuna salad, smoked salmon and cucumber finger sandwiches, fresh fruits, and petits fours.”
In her drawl, she’d turned petits into pity and four into a three-syllable word, but O’Neill didn’t mind. He’d learned long ago that his guests enjoyed the local mountain dialect. “Perfect.”
While Ludie transferred the platters and a silver tea service to the table, O’Neill touched a match to logs in the fireplace, then pulled out a chair for Erin.
Ludie May left and closed the door behind her. With obvious fatigue, Erin sank into the chair he of fered and placed the burgundy napkin on her lap with shaky fingers. She appeared in need of a soothing vacation, he noted, and hoped that Endless Sky would fit the bill.
“You’ll find it peaceful here.” He passed the plate of tiny sandwiches and she took one at random. “And the mountain air will give you an appetite.”
Her expression was dubious, and she left the sandwich untouched on her plate. “It is quiet. Do you ever have any excitement here?”
O’Neill sighed. The news would ruin their lunch, but he might as well tell her. She’d hear it from the other guests soon enough, and he couldn’t hide the fleet of rescue vehicles that would converge on the resort once the weather cleared.
“Unfortunately, yes. Too much excitement. One of our guests disappeared the day before yesterday.”
“Disappeared?” The color drained from her face but her seawater eyes sparked with intensity.
“We’re afraid she became disoriented on one of the trails and wandered into the wilderness.”
“Isn’t anyone looking for her?” Her long, elegant fingers shredded her sandwich into crumbs.
“Search-and-rescue teams have been combing the mountains. But they’ve taken a break during the bad weather.”
Erin’s gaze strayed to the open balcony doors. “There’re hundreds of square miles of forest out there. How will they ever locate her?”
“The teams know these mountains. And they’re using specially trained dogs and helicopters with heat sensors. If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
“If she’s out there?” Erin’s pretty forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Where else would she be?”
O’Neill swallowed a sandwich and bit back the word dead. He regretted starting out Erin’s vacation on such a somber note. He forced a smile. “Maybe she met the man of her dreams and eloped.”
Erin’s expression brightened. “Was she involved with one of the guests?”
He shook his head. “She was a very outgoing person who mingled with everyone, but no one in particular that I could tell.”
Erin leaned forward, her lunch forgotten. “But Endless Sky is a big place. Even the most astute manager wouldn’t know what goes on in every suite?”
“True,” he admitted, “but none of the other guests is missing and the FBI has interviewed them all. No one could shed any light on her whereabouts.”
“What’s her name?”
“Debra Devlin.” No reason to hold back. Erin would hear it on the news. “She’s from Tampa. You said you have friends there. Ever heard of her?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Tampa’s a huge city. Has anyone else checked out since this Debra disappeared?”
O’Neill shook his head. “Most of our guests come for extended stays. The ones who are here now will remain through the peak of leaf season.”
Those amazing eyes that reminded him of sunlight dancing on a Caribbean lagoon skewered him with a piercing gaze. “Have the authorities ruled out foul play?”
He ate another sandwich while he carefully composed his reply. “They’re pretty certain she’s merely lost. Her cell phone was found on an isolated trail. She must have dropped it while hiking.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. His lunch with Erin hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Debra Devlin’s disappearance had cast a pall that he couldn’t shake. As attractive as Erin was, O’Neill’s thoughts were filled with worry over the woman who’d disappeared. An approaching cold front would clear the clouds and once it arrived, at this altitude, the night temperatures would drop into the thirties. For a woman already weakened by exposure, thirst and hunger, hypothermia could be fatal.
“I should get back to work.” He strode to the door, then turned toward Erin. “Would you like me to send Ludie May to help you unpack?”
“No, thanks. I can manage.”
“Anything else you need?”
Erin looked suddenly vulnerable, and the desire to protect her surged through him. “I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound fine.
“Then I’ll see you at dinner tonight. It’s one of our formal bashes, so you’ll want to dress accordingly.”
“Thank you, Mr. O’Neill.”
“Just O’Neill is fine.” He slipped through the door and closed it behind him.
While the elevator descended to the first floor, Erin Fairchild, an intriguing puzzle he was looking forward to solving, occupied his thoughts. He couldn’t explain the sudden air of protectiveness he felt toward this most recent arrival, who was clearly a woman who could take care of herself. She hadn’t broadcast an aura of helplessness, like so many of his female guests who were on the prowl for a man. She seemed centered, self-assured.
So where had his sudden urge to shelter her from unpleasantness come from?
Chapter Three
As soon as the door to the suite closed behind O’Neill, Trish released a deep breath, dug the torn registration card from her pocket and tossed the pieces into the fire. While the paper on which she’d printed her real name by mistake was devoured by flames, she allowed herself to relax for the first time since arriving at Endless Sky. Pretending to be someone else was exhausting, and she prayed she could maintain her disguise long enough to find Deb. At least in the privacy of her rooms, she could let down her guard.
She rose, crossed to the double balcony doors O’Neill had left open and closed and locked them against the encroaching cool, damp air. In spite of the logs blazing in the fireplace, she felt chilled to the bone. To disperse the shadows that reached out from every corner, she strode through the suite’s sit ting area, bedroom and bath, and turned on all the lamps and overhead lights. Even with the room ablaze with illumination
, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Preposterous as it seemed, she felt someone was watching, following her every move. Maybe tomorrow the sun would shine, she prayed, not only to aid in the search for Deb but also to banish the gloomy, depressing, almost creepy atmosphere of Endless Sky. Despite its lavish and tasteful furnishings, the lodge, a warren of claustrophobic hallways with innumerable nooks and crannies, gave her the willies.
Trish returned to the sitting room, poured a cup of lukewarm tea and gave herself a pep talk. She was imagining things. Her concern for her sister had her hypersensitive and sensing danger at every turn. Even the delectably handsome but mysterious O’Neill seemed somehow threatening, scrutinizing her as if he could read her mind and expose her charade. She knew too little about him to trust him and wondered why he used simply O’Neill as his name and if he had another to go with it. He certainly wasn’t the Tom, Dick or Harry type, but a commanding man who’d have a forceful, unforgettable moniker, something dashing like Remington, Hunter or Blade.
In spite of her uneasiness in his company, she wished he had stayed longer. He’d been talking about Deb and she’d wanted to hear more, anything that might help her figure out what had happened to her sister.
Outside, the wind freshened and howled as if fighting to come inside. It buffeted the building until the massive structure shuddered, then screeched around its corners with a banshee cry. The double doors blew open, draperies billowed and thick gray mist poured into the room like an uninvited guest. The powerful gust of wind snuffed out the fire and swirled ashes over the hearth. At the same instant, every light flickered, dimmed and went out, plunging the suite into murky shadows.
Trish felt something brush against her elbow. She slammed down her teacup and rushed to close the doors once more. Their sudden opening rattled her because she was certain she had firmly secured the latch just moments ago. And she couldn’t deny the sensation that someone—or something—had entered the room.
Deb? Are you here?
Her only answer was another shriek of wind that shook the windows and doors as if unseen hands were trying to get in. Trish breathed deeply to stave off the beginnings of a panic attack. She wasn’t usually afraid of either the dark or being alone, but the eerie conditions at Endless Sky had her already-frayed nerves unraveling at a dizzying pace.
Mystique Page 3
