The redhead flexed her thumb as if firing, then blew imaginary smoke from the tip of her index finger. “Sleep tight.”
Behind Trish, the elevator doors slid open. Shaken, she stepped inside. Victoria turned and lurched toward the dining room as the doors shut. Heart pounding, Trish leaned against the wall. Tomorrow she was leaving Endless Sky, even if she had to hike out.
She reached her floor, stepped out of the elevator into the creepy stillness of the hallway and hurried to her room. Inside, she flipped on the lights and locked the door behind her.
And almost fainted when she turned and viewed her suite.
Drawers had been pulled open and their contents strewn, her luggage upended and its linings ripped. The contents of her purse had been dumped onto the king-size bed.
After checking to make certain the thief was gone, she took only a moment to assess her belongings. Two items were missing: her aunt’s diamonds—Trish, distraught over Deb, had forgotten to lock them in the room safe—and her Florida driver’s license.
Chapter Twelve
Trish’s first instinct was to alert O’Neill. He had been with her the entire time she was out of her room, so he couldn’t have been the thief. She’d ask O’Neill to contact Captain Metcalf, even though Metcalf couldn’t reach the resort under existing conditions. At least O’Neill had a gun and could keep her safe until the cloud cover lifted or the road was cleared and the authorities arrived.
She rushed from the room and, not waiting for the elevator, dashed down the wide stairs. In the dining room, she found only Redlin and Werner, lingering over their coffee. O’Neill was nowhere in sight.
Trish approached a busboy, who was clearing the other tables. “Where’s O’Neill?”
The young man wiped his hands on his apron and pointed to the terrace doors. “He left that way. I guess he’s gone back to his residence.”
“How do I find it?”
“First house on the left, just below the ridge.”
Trish bolted through the doors and plunged into the mist. The suffocating fog obscured all landmarks and muffled every sound. For an instant, she lost her bearings and didn’t know which way to go.
Fighting down her panic, she stopped, took a deep breath and oriented herself with the lights from the dining room at her back. Operating on memory, she headed where she thought the residences should be. She was in luck; her feet struck a gravel path, and she followed it through the murky mist. Its downward slope indicated she had left the level plateau behind. O’Neill’s house had to be close. She moved toward the faint glimmer of light on her left and stumbled against the steps that led to his porch.
With a sob of relief, she climbed the stairs and pounded on the front door.
No one answered, but the door, unlatched, swung open.
Trish hesitated only a moment before going inside. She stood in the dimly lit hallway at the foot of the stairs. “O’Neill? Are you here?”
No one answered, but the sounds from a television drew her up the stairs. Maybe he was in the shower. She followed the noise of the TV to an upstairs doorway and knocked.
Again, no answer.
Gathering her courage, anxious for the security of O’Neill’s protection and advice, she turned the knob and went inside. A CSI crime drama was playing on the television in a mahogany armoire across from the king-size bed. Light poured through the partially opened door of the adjoining bathroom.
“O’Neill? Are you in there?”
She shut off the television, but heard no response. She was turning to leave when an item on the bathroom counter caught her eye and drew her up short.
Men’s hair dye?
Drawn by the incongruous cosmetic, she entered the bathroom. Beside the container of black hair dye on the vanity lay two contact lens cases. Trish flipped open one to reveal dark blue contacts of a depth of hue intended to change eye color. O’Neill was apparently dying his hair black and altering his eyes. Why would a man who hadn’t exhibited the slightest hint of vanity want to enhance his appearance?
Unless disguise, not embellishment, was his goal.
Why a disguise, unless he wasn’t who he claimed to be?
And if he wasn’t O’Neill, who was he?
Where was he?
Trish returned to the bedroom and spotted a desk tucked into a bay window. Although snooping was alien to her nature, for her own protection she needed to know what O’Neill was hiding. She rifled through the top drawer and extracted a passport folder. The photo inside pictured a brown-haired, brown-eyed O’Neill; the name on the passport sent her reeling.
Quinn Stevens.
O’Neill was the Last Man Standing.
Emotions choked her. Disbelief. Disappointment. Betrayal. Fear.
She dropped the passport as if it had burned her, slammed the desk drawer shut and fled the room.
Had Deb come too close to O’Neill’s true identity? Was her sister’s snooping the motive for the attacks on both of them? And the shots fired this morning—had they been intended for Trish, not O’Neill? But if O’Neill wanted her and Deb dead, why had he rescued them from the blizzard? Her head spun with contradictions. Only one fact came through loud and clear. If he’d lied to Trish about his identity, had anything else he’d said or done been truthful?
She’d wanted to give her heart to O’Neill, but how could she love a man so deeply embedded in lies? For the protection of her heart, if not her life, she had to escape.
In her haste to get away, she stumbled on the stairs and would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed the banister. Righting herself, she watched with horror as the front door swung inward.
O’Neill had returned.
Her legs almost folded in relief when Judd Raye came through the front door. The custodian held a toolbox and glanced up at her in surprise.
“You lost, miss?”
“I was looking for O’Neill.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice steady, in spite of her panic.
“He’s back at the hotel, talking to the Averys about some kind of problem with their room.” The wiry man hefted his toolbox. “I’m here to check the furnace. Anything I can help you with?”
Trust no one, her Cherokee guardian had warned, but now more than ever, Trish needed to escape Endless Sky, to find Metcalf and ask his protection, but she couldn’t do it alone. She needed Judd’s help.
She settled for telling a partial truth. “My sister’s ill and I need to get to Asheville right away. I came to ask O’Neill to help, but—”
“I can take you,” Judd offered.
“But the road’s blocked.” Had O’Neill lied about that, too?
“It is,” Judd said, “but I can drive you as far as the slide in the Hummer. It’s only a couple of miles from there to the main road.”
“But I can’t hike all the way to Asheville.”
“Won’t have to.” He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his overalls. “Soon as we reach the main road, I can get a signal for this. We can call someone to come get you.”
“I’ll have to change clothes and grab a coat.”
“After I get the Hummer, I’ll meet you under the portico.”
“No, park behind the sheriff’s tent, please. I’d rather no one knew I was leaving.”
Judd shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll get the car.”
The custodian left, and Trish scrambled down the stairs and out the front door. The fog covered her progress across the lawn and when she entered the dining room, she was relieved to find it empty. Running silently across the carpeted expanse, she took the stairs two at a time to her room.
Minutes later, she again made her way through the fog and across the lawn, this time dressed in jeans, sneakers and a warm sweater and jacket. Her purse, its contents restored, except for her missing license, was tucked under her arm.
The Hummer, lights off, was parked behind the sheriff’s command tent with Judd in the driver’s seat. Trish opened the passenger door and climbed in.
“Rea
dy?” Judd asked.
Trish nodded. “Let’s go.”
Afraid Quinn Stevens would appear out of the mist to stop her, she locked her door before fastening her seat belt.
Judd nudged the vehicle forward, its fog lights barely visible in the soupy atmosphere. The Hummer bounced and jolted over the rough terrain, and Trish tried by sheer power of will to hasten their speed.
“You say your sister’s ill in Asheville?” Judd asked without taking his eyes off the road.
“Not ill, exactly. She had an accident.”
“Thought you was from Florida.”
“I am.”
“Your sister live up here?”
She glanced at Judd with suspicion, then decided he was just being sociable. “No, she’s visiting, too.”
“What kind of accident?”
“What?”
“Your sister. What kind of accident did she have?”
She studied the custodian’s weathered face, tinged green by the lights from the control panel, but saw only friendly interest. “She fell while hiking and broke her ankle.”
He shook his head. “That’s a darn shame.”
“But she’s okay. I had a long talk with her before dinner.”
Judd cast her a squinty glance. “If she’s okay, what’s your hurry to get to Asheville?”
“This place,” she answered with a shiver, but kept O’Neill’s true identity to herself. “It gives me the creeps.”
Judd grinned, revealing a gap from a missing front tooth. “Don’t like ghosts?”
“I don’t like isolation. I’m used to coming and going as I please.”
“Must be nice to be free as a bird. No worries. Lots of money.” Longing tinged Judd’s voice.
“For now, I’ll settle for getting off this mountain.”
“After tonight, miss, you won’t ever have to see this place again.”
She focused on visions of hot Florida sun, balmy skies and white sand beaches, and tried to ignore the chilly gloom that encompassed the Hummer. She didn’t know how Judd could find his way through the thick fog but figured he’d made the trip often enough to do it blindfolded.
Her thoughts of home did little to banish the pain in her heart. She’d known O’Neill was mysterious, a man with secrets, but she’d never guessed he was a liar. What other secrets had he hidden from her? She’d been a fool to open her heart to him. He must have thought her naive and stupid, especially when she’d returned his kisses with such passion. In her humiliation and remorse, she had to hold herself back from banging her head against the window in frustration. Quinn Stevens had tricked her, but soon she’d be safe with Deb, with protection from the sheriff’s department. Safe from a nameless killer. Safe from her broken heart.
“This is as far as the Hummer goes.” Judd interrupted her thoughts. “From here to the parkway, we’re on foot.”
She gazed through the windshield and swirling mist at a mountain of red clay, boulders, broken trees and rubble, barely visible in the headlights. If not for this mudslide that had blocked the road, she would have left Endless Sky hours ago with O’Neill. Would he have told her he was really Quinn Stevens? Or would they have parted with his deception intact?
She jumped from the vehicle. Rounding the Hummer, she joined Judd, who held a large flashlight in one hand, a backpack in the other.
Trish nodded toward the backpack. “What’s that?”
Judd slid the straps of the pack over his arms and settled it between his shoulder blades. “I never go into this wilderness without water, a first-aid kit and emergency supplies.”
“Good thinking.” She was so rattled, she was lucky to have remembered her purse.
“I’ll go first and light the way. You follow close behind.”
“Let’s hurry, please.” The sooner they reached the parkway, the sooner they could use the cell phone. She’d call Metcalf to send a deputy for her.
Judd swung the light in an arc past the edges of the slide, then pointed to a break in the trees. “There’s the trail.”
He set out in a long-legged stride, and Trish hurried to catch up with him.
O’NEILL WATCHED Janice Conover lead Mrs. Avery toward the elevator. After checking with the hotel’s physician in Brevard, Janice had given the old woman a sedative to calm her nerves. The drug had worked quickly, effectively sedating the woman and halting her tirade.
But O’Neill had a greater problem than the lash of Mrs. Avery’s tongue. A thief was robbing the guests of Endless Sky. During dinner, someone had entered the Averys’ suite and stolen a triple strand of seawater pearls that had been handed down through the Avery family for generations. Forget ful in her old age, the woman had neglected to lock them in the room safe. When apprised of the robbery, O’Neill had remembered Victoria Westbrook’s remark from several days earlier that she couldn’t find her topaz bracelet. He wondered how many other items had been taken but whose absence had gone unnoticed.
Janice returned to the dining room. “Mr. Avery is putting his wife to bed. What an old darling. I don’t see how he stands the woman.”
“She has a right to be upset,” O’Neill said. “I doubt the pearls were insured, and they had tremendous sentimental value.”
“We should alert the other guests.”
“You call the sheriff’s office and report the theft. I’ll go door-to-door and remind them to lock any valuables in their room safes.”
“One thing’s certain,” Janice said. “Our thief, whether another guest or a member of the staff, isn’t going anywhere in this weather with the road closed.”
“True, but there’re a thousand places to stash stolen items on this mountaintop.”
“I’ll call the sheriff.” Janice headed for the office.
O’Neill hurried upstairs to check first on Trish. The exquisite diamonds she had worn her first night at the resort made her a prime target for a jewel thief.
She didn’t answer his knock at her door, not even when he called her name and identified himself. His instincts on alert, he entered her suite with his master key.
Every light in the room blazed, illuminating the chaos of open drawers, ripped luggage and overturned furniture. Even more startling was the tall and ancient Cherokee warrior, arms crossed over his bare chest, standing sentinel in the center of the room.
TRISH FELT AS IF she’d been walking down the steep, dark forest trail forever. Her knees ached, her calf muscles trembled and her breath came in shallow gasps. “How much farther?”
“Almost there,” Judd called over his shoulder.
The man couldn’t be human. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Trish knocked aside the branches that snapped toward her in his wake and plunged down the rugged slope.
Ahead, Judd’s flashlight reflected off a shiny green surface, and he halted.
Confused, Trish stopped alongside him. “That’s a pickup truck.”
“Yeah. It’s mine.”
She wouldn’t have to call the sheriff. Judd could drive her into town. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a truck?”
“Didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” Judd turned toward her and the barrel of a handgun shimmered in the beam from the flashlight.
Too late, she realized that in her haste to escape O’Neill and the heartbreak he’d caused, she’d been reckless to rush into the wilderness with someone she didn’t know. “Are you working for Quinn Stevens?”
“You mean O’Neill?”
His knowledge of the resident manager’s true identity heightened her fears. “What are you going to do with me?”
“What you wanted.” She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but his voice was filled with evil. “I’ll make sure you never see Endless Sky again.”
Even in her terror, her mind connected the pieces of the puzzle. “You’re the one who pushed my sister at the overlook.”
“Yeah, but not hard enough if she’s still alive.” His eyes flashed yellow, like a nocturnal animal. “Once I deal with you, I’l
l have to stop at the hospital in Asheville and finish the job.”
Her mind whirred, searching for an escape, a way to save both Deb and herself. “Is Stevens paying you? I’ll double it, whatever it is.”
“You’re just a schoolteacher. Stevens is a billionaire.”
“I have a house, a car. They’re all yours, if you’ll just leave me and my sister alone.”
Judd threw back his head and laughed. “And give up a million dollars? I ain’t crazy.”
Stevens was paying him a million dollars? Trish’s knees gave way and she sank onto the trail. Running her hands over the ground, she searched blindly for a rock or branch, anything to use as a weapon.
She jerked when two shots rang out. At first, she thought Judd had fired on her. But she felt no pain and heard only a loud hissing coming from the direction of the pickup truck.
Judd swung the beam of his flashlight in the direction of the shots.
O’Neill stepped out of the trees. The beam of light accentuated the strong angles of his face, the ferocity in his eyes, the vein ticking in his neck. “Drop the gun, Judd.”
“Stay where you are, O’Neill, or I’ll kill her.”
“You shoot her.” O’Neill’s voice was cold, deadly. “And I’ll kill you. You can’t run. I’ve punctured two of your tires. And Metcalf’s on the way. You can’t escape, Raye. Lay down your gun.”
Like a cornered animal, Judd backed toward his truck. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Like how you stole the jewelry from the guests at Endless Sky?” O’Neill’s angry voice cut through the darkness like a sharp blade.
Trish watched in confusion as Judd shrugged off the backpack with his free hand and offered it to O’Neill. “You can have it all back,” he said, but his voice held more cunning than sincerity.
Fear must have driven her crazy. If Judd wasn’t working for Stevens, why had the custodian attacked Deb? Why had he threatened to kill Trish? Her head spun in bewilderment and her stomach clenched with terror. Judd kept his gun trained in the direction of O’Neill, caught in the beam of Judd’s flashlight.
Mystique Page 15
