Mystique

by Charlotte Douglas

  “I can’t let you do that,” O’Neill said firmly and with irritating reason. “I don’t want another missing woman on my hands.” He grasped her shoulders and the warmth from his hands seeped through her jacket. “The rescue squad can check out this trail.”

  “But—”

  “Look, even if we found Debra,” he said with maddening reason, “if she’s fallen from the trail—which would have to be the case since this path’s been searched at least once already—it’ll take special skills and equipment that we don’t have to retrieve her.”

  From the firmness of his grip and the strength of his reasoning, Trish realized further argument was futile. She reached out with her mind. Deb, are you here?

  But Deb didn’t answer.

  Trish heaved a sigh and conceded to O’Neill’s demands. “We’d better hurry, then. I’d rather not be out here when night falls,” she said.

  But O’Neill didn’t release her. He stood for a long, intense moment, gazing into her eyes, as if searching for answers she couldn’t give him. His breath, fragrant with cinnamon, was warm upon her face, triggering responses in all her senses. The man was a rock, and she suppressed once again her desire to throw herself against his chest and seek shelter in his arms.

  She felt bereft when he finally dropped his hands from her shoulders, but she stifled her feelings. She needed all her emotional energy to try to establish contact with Deb.

  Turning back the way they’d come, she scrambled down the steep incline toward the creek.

  BY THE TIME she and O’Neill neared Endless Sky, the sun had set beyond the western mountains and the light of the full moon bathed the ridgetop, lighting the last steps of their journey.

  The hotel, aglow inside and out, loomed in the distance like a beacon.

  Trish hurried her steps, but was drawn up short by a presence in her mind.

  Trish, are you there? Deb’s voice was weak, but unmistakable.

  Yes, where are you?

  I’m not sure. Somewhere on the trail.

  I’m coming.

  Trish turned back the way they’d come.

  “What are you doing?” O’Neill asked.

  Trish considered her options. She could spend time arguing with O’Neill. Maybe even try to convince him of the psychic connection she had with Debra. But recalling the disbelief she had encountered in the past when she’d had the courage to broach the subject of her shared communication with Debra with a third party, she realized she’d only be wasting time. Her best bet was to dump O’Neill and return to Debra on her own.

  “I just needed a rest.” Trish turned back toward Endless Sky and forced her weary muscles to hurry. The sooner she could reach the resort and lose O’Neill, the sooner she could return to the trail and Deb.

  Within minutes, they were crossing the resort’s broad lawn.

  “I’ll go to my room to change for dinner,” she said as they climbed to the terrace. She intended to backtrack as soon as she was out of O’Neill’s sight. Maybe in her desperation, she’d only imagined Deb’s voice, but she couldn’t ignore the real chance that Deb was still alive and calling for help.

  “No need to change,” he said, spoiling her plans. “Tonight’s casual night. We’re serving barbecue on the front porch.”

  Before she could think of an excuse to leave, he took her elbow and guided her through the dining room and lobby and onto the wide covered porch that ran the full length of the resort. Cheerful paper lanterns had been hung along the eaves, tables with red-checkered cloths were scattered across the porch’s broad expanse and a small band, composed of a fiddler and two guitar players, cranked out a lively mountain tune.

  Guests helped themselves to barbecued ribs, corn on the cob and coleslaw at the buffet tables before choosing their seats.

  “Erin!” Victoria Westbrook, dressed in tight designer jeans, a Western shirt spangled with rhinestones and tooled leather boots, waved from the buffet table. “Join me.”

  “Go ahead,” O’Neill said. “I’ll get rid of this rucksack.”

  “And alert the rescue squad to check that trail?”

  “Sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure.

  He probably thought her behavior earlier on the mountain eccentric at best, nuts at worst. But the sooner she could escape his watchful eye, the sooner she could continue the search on her own.

  Waiting for O’Neill to disappear, Trish crossed the room, snagged a bottle of water at the beverage station, and joined Victoria, who was ladling enough food onto her plate to feed a small army.

  “You go, girl,” Victoria said with a teasing grin. “Rumor has it you spent the day with O’Neill.”

  “We were looking for the missing reporter.”

  “Yeah, right.” Victoria winked.

  “What else would I be doing?” Trish demanded, irritated by the woman’s innuendo.

  “What every woman who’s ever stayed at Endless Sky wants to do. Seduce that untouchable, unapproachable, delectable man.”

  Trish watched the handsome resident manager as he worked his way across the porch, speaking with guests, instructing the staff. “So he’s that much of a lady-killer?”

  Victoria snorted. “I wish. The man’s notorious for avoiding women like the plague. He never gets involved with the guests, no matter how hard some of us have thrown ourselves at him. That’s why your accomplishment is such a coup.”

  “I didn’t accomplish anything,” Trish insisted. “We just went hiking.”

  Victoria considered her between narrowed eyes. “Too bad, if you’re telling the truth.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Girl, nobody at this place is truthful. Everybody’s putting on an act.”

  Trish’s senses went on immediate alert. Had Deb uncovered secrets someone hadn’t wanted brought to light, especially by a member of the media? Secrets someone had wanted to make certain she wouldn’t tell? Trish returned Victoria’s narrowed gaze. “What’s your act?”

  Victoria nodded toward a table in the far corner of the porch, and they threaded their way around the other tables toward it. The state of Trish’s muscles informed her that she needed a few minutes off her feet before tackling the trails again.

  Once they were seated, Victoria leaned toward Trish. “My secret is that I hate this place.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To get away from my mother.” Victoria sighed dramatically and chomped into her ear of corn. “She runs my life. She’s even picked out the man I’m supposed to marry.”

  “You’re a grown woman,” Trish said. “Why don’t you just leave home?”

  “The ties that bind,” Victoria answered with a grimace and wiped her butter-stained fingers on a red-and-white checkered napkin.

  Trish, her thoughts on escaping as soon as her leg muscles stopped trembling, frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Mother’s money. If I don’t jump through her hoops, she cuts off my very hefty allowance.”

  “Ever thought of earning your own money?” Trish couldn’t imagine a life without work.

  “How?” Victoria dismissed the idea with a wave of her fingers, flashing gold and jeweled rings in the lantern light. “I’ve graduated from the world’s best finishing school, but I’m not trained for anything, except living well.”

  She looked so dejected that Trish couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “Finishing school? In Europe?”

  Victoria nodded.

  “How many languages do you speak?”

  “Five.”

  “Get a job as a translator.”

  Victoria scowled. “I’d rather find a husband whom I love madly and who can keep me in the style I’m accustomed to.”

  At Victoria’s lack of initiative, Trish’s sympathy evaporated. Trish scanned the gathering of guests. The man who’d sat beside her at dinner the night before had just entered the buffet line. “What about Chad Englewood? I understand he’s single.”

  “That jerk?” Victoria broke
a fluffy biscuit in half and took a bite. Her plight apparently hadn’t spoiled her appetite. “I don’t know how he affords this place. He lost all his money in bad real estate investments.”

  Chad’s comments from the previous night ech oed in Trish’s mind. Maybe Deb’s disappearance had made her paranoid, but she couldn’t help wondering if Chad hated Stevens enough to cause an ugly incident at his resort. “He was cheated by Quinn Stevens?”

  “So he claims,” Victoria said. “More likely his bad fortune is the result of his own incompetence. I’d rather be poor and single than married to such a loser.”

  “Tell me about the others.”

  “Others?”

  “The ones here putting on acts,” Trish prodded.

  “Take the Averys, for instance.”

  “The old couple from Atlanta?”

  Victoria nodded. “They come from old money, but it’s dwindling fast. They scrimp and save all year to afford a couple weeks at Endless Sky, just so Violet can turn up her nose at the nouveau riche.”

  Trish blinked in surprise. The haughty Averys were actually poor? The situation at the resort really wasn’t what it seemed.

  “I feel sorry for them then,” Trish said. “It can’t be easy being elderly and hard up, especially if you haven’t been accustomed to making ends meet all your life. And Mr. Avery seems like a nice man.”

  “He’s okay, but she’s a bitch. Speaking of which, see that dark-haired woman at the bar?” Victoria continued.

  Trish nodded.

  “She’s another reporter.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Her name is Tiffany Slocum. I’ve seen her covering social events in Newport, where she’s famous for gate-crashing. She’s here for the same reason the missing woman was, to track down and interview Quinn Stevens.”

  An unscrupulous reporter might go too far to eliminate her competition. The nasty suspicion reminded Trish of her mission. She’d rested long enough.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Victoria, “I need to clean up before I eat. See you later?”

  Victoria, her mouth filled with fried chicken, nodded and waved her away.

  Suppressing the urge to bolt, Trish sauntered casually past the dancing couples on the porch.

  “Hey, gorgeous, dance with me.” Chad appeared beside her, grabbed her by the arm and swung her toward him.

  He didn’t seem the type who’d be easily discouraged, so she stifled the impulse to shake him off with a glare. Instead, she flashed a fake smile. “Great. As soon as I get back from the little girls’ room.”

  He released her arm. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Don’t hold your breath.

  She hurried through the deserted lobby to the elevator and kept a lookout for O’Neill, afraid he might guess her intentions and stop her if he spotted her. Grateful that the elevator door slid open the moment she pushed the Up indicator, she scooted inside and pressed the button for her floor.

  Suddenly, she felt someone staring at her back. But when she whipped around, the elevator was empty. Its lights flickered and dimmed, and for a brief moment, it stopped its upward movement before starting again. A power brownout?

  Or something more sinister?

  The third-floor hall was deserted when she stepped off the elevator, but with her imagination casting danger in the shadows, she hurried to her door. After swiping her key card through the lock to her suite, Trish slipped inside and locked the door behind her.

  More shadows danced in the corners of her room, and the wind rattled the balcony doors. Not wanting to remain in the spooky confines of her suite and anxious to find Deb, she donned a heavier jacket and grabbed the flashlight she’d packed in her luggage. She was ready to hit the trail again.

  The prospect of the dark, lonely mountain paths terrified her, but she was even more afraid of not finding Debra…before it was too late.

  Chapter Six

  O’Neill couldn’t take his eyes off Erin as she crossed the porch toward Victoria Westbrook at the buffet table. He tried to analyze the powerful connection he felt, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But no matter how he looked at it, the attraction didn’t make sense, especially considering he’d spent only a few hours in her company.

  But what hours they had been.

  She had surprised him again today, this time with her strange reaction on the trail after lunch. Either she was the world’s greatest actress or something had scared the living daylights out of her. When she’d leapt to her feet, blue-green eyes wide with alarm, cheeks that reminded him of ripe peaches flushed with deep color and her breath coming in short gasps, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

  And then she’d announced her crazy desire to keep searching, alone and in the dark, for Debra Devlin. Erin was either the bravest woman he’d ever known or a fool, but he couldn’t accept the latter possibility. There was definitely more to Erin Fairchild than met the eye, and O’Neill was determined to find out what she was hiding, if for no other reason than that his own secrets might be at stake.

  Quinn Stevens had made his fortune in computer technology and had resources at his command that could unearth anyone’s deepest secrets. As soon as O’Neill checked the search status at the command tent, he’d see about digging into Erin Fairchild’s background.

  Even now, some sixth sense warned O’Neill not to leave her, but he shook the feeling off. She was perfectly safe among the guests and staff.

  But what if she’s come to cause trouble, an inner voice taunted.

  Then he’d return to her as quickly as possible, just in case.

  O’Neill left the porch and dropped the rucksack in the kitchen with Henry, the sous-chef. He strode through the empty dining room, out the glass doors and across the terrace. When he reached the command tent, he was surprised to find Metcalf still on duty.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” he asked.

  The sheriff jerked his thumb toward a roll-away bed folded in the corner. “Ms. Conover brought that earlier, and I grabbed a few winks this afternoon.”

  Janine Conover, the resort’s assistant manager, had taken good care of the rescue squad in O’Neill’s absence. “Anything turn up on the Devlin woman?”

  “Nothing. It’s as if she’s disappeared into thin air.”

  “Will the search teams head out again tonight?” He’d promised Erin he’d ask them to search the path again where the cell phone had been found, but he was reluctant to explain the reason to Metcalf, a no-nonsense guy who would probably scoff at the woman’s baseless entreaty. The sheriff’s next words saved O’Neill from requests or explanations.

  “No one’s going out tonight. Too dangerous. There’s a massive cold front on our doorstep. In a couple of hours, this area will be socked in with rain, sleet, even snow at these higher elevations.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for Ms. Devlin, if she’s out there.”

  Metcalf shook his head. “Exposure, hypothermia. If the woman’s survived this long, it’ll be a miracle. She won’t make it through tonight.”

  “So you’ve suspended the search?”

  “Only temporarily. After this front has moved through, we’ll be calling additional searches for recovery, rather than rescue.”

  In other words, they’d be looking for a body, O’Neill thought with a shudder. “Is the front moving fast?”

  Metcalf set his lips in a grim line. “It’s predicted to stall over the mountains. It could be twenty-four hours before the weather clears again.”

  “Damn.”

  Pity for the woman, who, if alive, was alone, injured and freezing to death in the wilderness, rolled through O’Neill.

  He thought back to the day she had disappeared. He’d given her maps of the trails and warned her against straying too far from the resort alone. She had laughed and claimed she had a keen sense of direction and her cell phone, and that she’d be fine. He’d explained that cell phone coverage was spotty at best along the parkway, but the day had been so glorious and she�
�d seemed so confident that he really hadn’t worried about her.

  Until too late.

  If Debra Devlin had perished in the wilderness, her death would hang heavy on his conscience.

  “The cadaver dogs will join the search,” Metcalf said, confirming O’Neill’s fears, “as soon as the weather clears.”

  “Is my staff looking out for you?”

  “Everything’s great,” Metcalf said with irony. “Except for Ms. Devlin’s disappearance, with all this fine food and fresh air, it’s like being on vacation.”

  O’Neill left the tent and started across the lawn toward the resort. A flicker of light to the east caught his eye. At the entrance to the trail, he spotted Erin, her blond hair and shapely silhouette unmistakable, even in the darkness with her bundled in a heavy jacket. As he watched, she disappeared among the rhododendrons.

  Had the woman lost her mind, tackling that trail alone at night? Metcalf’s weather forecast rang in his ears and O’Neill’s sense of urgency heightened.

  “Erin!” he shouted, but the freshening wind caught his cry and blew it back at him.

  Determined not to lose another guest to the elements, especially Erin, who’d pierced his defenses and touched his heart, he sprinted to his rooms to grab rain gear and a handheld searchlight before going after her.

  STEPPING OUT of the underbrush onto the barren ridge, Trish turned off her flashlight. The ambient light of the full moon provided all the illumination she required. She hurried along the level path that ran atop the ridge, anxious to place herself as far from Endless Sky as possible before O’Neill realized she was gone. She didn’t want him following and forcing her to return. She’d come to these mountains to find Debra, and she wouldn’t allow O’Neill to dissuade her.

  When she had first stepped onto the open ridge, her fear of high places had paralyzed her. In every direction, the world fell away beneath her feet, and the endless folds of mountains loomed in the darkness like the backs of giant beasts. From behind, a strong, cold wind, like a willing conspirator, pressed her forward.

  Memories of her sister—flashes from their childhood and teens, and from recent lunches and shopping sprees—helped her overcome her paralysis. She wrapped the pleasant thoughts around her like a shield against her fear of heights and her terror at being alone in the wilderness and wished for O’Neill’s reassuring presence. By hiking with him, although she hadn’t felt completely safe, at least she hadn’t been totally alone. Despite his air of aloofness mixed with a subtle hint of danger, she’d felt a closeness to the man she couldn’t explain. But the attractive resident manager couldn’t know she’d heard Deb’s voice, giving her hope that her sister was still alive. Probably wouldn’t believe Trish, even if she told him, and would only block her search.