At first he didn’t answer, but his strong body shook. He was in a sleep state.
Uncertain what to do, she rubbed his shoulder to get him to relax. He stopped his shaking a moment later, and his body slowly released tension. His gaze sharpened and stared at her. He must have awoken, because he nodded, and she understood.
“I don’t sleep well.” He kept his hands on his head. “Memories haunt me.”
She massaged both of his shoulders, then kissed his neck. “It’s okay. Memories of war? Or your wife?”
“Both.” His eyes met hers for a moment before he dropped his gaze.
With an understanding heart, she offered him a side hug. He swallowed. Then she heard the sigh from his throat.
He shook his head. “Erica, I’ve seen more than I should have. The darkness means good girls like you shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
“That again?”
“I’m in a dark place.”
“And hospitals are filled with optimistic people? I spend most of my time alone.” She brushed his arm, then tilted her head as she continued to stroke him. To protect her from whatever haunted him wasn’t a good idea. “What was your dream? Talking about things helps.”
He twisted his legs to sit up. “You don’t want to hear it.”
To gain his trust, she hugged his shoulder and answered, “If it’s haunting you, I’m here to listen.”
He stared out the window and at first said nothing. Her pulse was on alert. Trust went both ways, and she ought to tell him. Then he took a deep breath and broke the silence. “When I was captured in war with my men, I had to watch a young kid die. They killed him because I had to keep our mission secret.”
Her heart constricted at the picture he painted. She scooted closer to have her legs brush his and hugged him again. “Gabriel, it’s not your fault.”
His pupils were big, and his stare so empty that her heart hurt for him. His muscles tensed as he shook his head. “I put us there.”
What a horrible burden he held. She offered him a small smile, though she couldn’t let him go. “You didn’t shoot him. They were after you, and it wasn’t your fault.”
“Too many ghosts haunt me to deserve you.” He kissed her hand. He seemed so melancholy. “Let me put you back to bed.”
“I was already awake.”
He said nothing at first.
The man shouldn’t be alone. She picked up the blanket and tucked her feet under the covers. He didn’t move, and she pressed on the pillow. “I’ll stay here with you.”
“I won’t sleep anymore. I’m up now. Best to get up and go to work.” Without giving her a moment to react, he stood fast. She sat up, but he rushed like something chased him. “You should get more sleep, though, Snowflake. It’s still early, and you’re white as a ghost.”
“I told you already, I can’t sleep without you.”
She took his offered hand, unsure what to do. He wasn’t a man she could talk into anything. She slipped her feet back into her slippers, then leaned closer to him. “The best way to get over pain is to talk it out. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
For a minute, he didn’t move; then he hugged her. The fire in her belly grew, and so did the weight of what she should say. She opened her mouth to fess up, but then he told her, “You’re the first to ask in a long time, Snowflake. Give me time. Tomorrow, I’ll find you during the day and show you the kitchen. We’ll talk more then, but first I need to work stuff out in my head.”
She blinked. What should she say? He had opened up to her. And promised more. He had to think things through.
Trust went both ways, and the weight of that inside her stomach kept her locked in place. With heavy footsteps, she followed behind in the hall.
The moment they stepped into her room, she froze. The diary was on the bed. This was not the time, and she didn’t need him to disappear on her, not yet. In an ungraceful move, she pushed herself in front of him. She walked backward and picked up his arms to her waist. “Okay, I’ll wait on you, but can you stay with me?”
“I thought you couldn’t sleep.”
“I can. Next to you.”
His eyes spoke before he did, and she knew he’d agree. He squeezed her waist slightly and stepped forward. “Are you sure? We’re both moving fast, and you’ve been skittish.”
It wasn’t her who was skittish. “I’m positive.” She sat on the bed, dropped the diary down behind it, and then smiled up at him. “Lie down. Don’t be shy. I’ve already seen you naked and approve of the entire package.”
“You win, Erica.” A chuckle came out of his mouth next. She sighed and settled down. He kicked off his sneakers, then sat beside her. He fixed the blankets around them as he lay down. “Go to sleep, Snowflake.”
“Close your eyes, angel.” She held his hand beside her and listened to her steady heartbeat. Tonight, they enjoyed each other’s company. His strong, callused hands engulfed her, and the safety net of being near him soon enveloped her. Slowly, she closed her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”
He made no more sound, except a deep breathing. He had to be asleep.
The diary had to have an explanation. Tiffany, not Gabriel, was the murderer. Erica would find the evidence in the secret room and offer it to him. But right now, her body relaxed next to him. He needed to know she believed in him. Her muscles warmed into a safe cocoon next to him and her eyes closed.
Her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep, was that tomorrow she’d find proof he was innocent.
Everything would then be perfect.
19
For the first time since she’d arrived, Erica woke up smiling. Today, she wasn’t scared of any ghosts or diary entries. She sniffed the air, and the smell of the deep woods was still in her pillow. Gabriel. Her mouth watered. Instead of bouncing up, she flipped over to the other side of her bed. She could still cuddle in the warm sheets and smell him in his pillow. He’d recently left. Despite his arguments, Gabriel had slept more. A grin grew on her face. Good. If she helped him, her entire soul lifted and peace entered her heart.
She swallowed, sat up, crossed her arms, and yawned.
She’d prove today that his wife had set him up with that accusation, and any doubt Erica possessed would stop its pounding in her head. She needed to show him the room. Her heart trusted him. How had she even wondered such awful things about him?
At the window, the coldness hit her fast and chills ran up her body. She stared at the white wall of snow outside, and her throat constricted. Panic inside her grew. A tingle started on the back of her neck again, like someone else was here. The darkness crept from the walls.
She blinked. No. A larger shadow grew on the wall. Erica gasped, but then the darkness evaporated. She shook her head. She was lightheaded, and that transformed the fear and terror into something else. She’d been irrational. Now she needed to find the proof.
Gabriel was falsely accused, and she’d be here for him. If he sought answers, she’d give him whatever she found, all tied together with a bow around it. Her heart lifted at that thought. Perfect. She rushed to the closet and found clothes. In the meantime, she’d get moving and go see if there was any way to help him.
The shadows near the wall seemed to follow her, and her breathing was shallow.
No. She shook her head. Erica dressed and then stretched her arms and legs. She tried to relax, and not think, for two minutes. Her mother would tell her that her fears were just hogwash.
Erica laughed at the thought, stood on her toes for a minute, reached up to stretch, and then went about her morning routine. She turned around and stared at the wall one more time. No shadows at all. She almost walked out of the room, but then she saw his note. Will come back this afternoon early to show you the kitchen. I hope you like it. Gabriel.
Aw. The man was polite and kind. Her mother would like him. She took off on her mission. She briskly walked through the small apartment. At the kitchen, she shook her head. She’d make something later.
In a march, she reached the library door, closed the door behind her, and headed right to the secret door. Gabriel was innocent, and today she’d vanquish her fears and his ghosts. Her shoulders were ready for the burden. She moved the books and the shelf as fast as she could. Then she reached to click the spring and open the door. The second she heard that pop in the air, she stopped. A chill went down her spine, like someone was watching her. The tingles on her neck reappeared.
She rubbed her neck. Shadows didn’t go room to room, especially with no windows or sun. Her eyes darted around the room once, but she shook off her reaction.
An eerie feeling pushed inside her, and the pit of her stomach grew heavy.
She sneezed and waved her hand. The dust of the place meant no one had been there in a long time. Erica covered her face. The musky smell in the air went right up her nose. She gagged but continued. Inside the room, her gaze immediately settled on a twin-size daybed. Erica’s eyes watered. His wife had cheated on Gabriel in the light pink–painted room with a flowered bedspread. Erica’s nose turned up, and a gasp escaped her lips. The old-fashioned cheapness somehow made sense here.
What would link this room to what happened to Alicia? Erica turned around.
She checked out everything, then sat in the chair at the vanity and stared at herself in the dirty mirror. She could see the daybed behind her. With a blink, she could imagine the small woman from the portrait who chose to have an affair and stare at herself during sex. The image was burned in the walls. Erica surmised that this was the place. Picture frames lined the table, and she brushed dust off the nearest one. The blonde woman in that red dress stared back at her. Erica swallowed. No wonder Gabriel had frowned.
There had to be something to prove him innocent. She tapped on the counter, then opened the first drawer. Dust blew up her nose and she tried not to sneeze. Her eyes watered. Then she stared inside. Instead of answers, she found another news article printed out from the Internet. The link must be the local paper. Evidence of a later report, in which Tiffany was implicated? With a smile, Erica read on.
With the unsolved murder of Alicia Hatfield still hot, a second victim has been found at the Chateau Louis Ermons. The handyman, Reilly O’Shea, was found dead this morning. The police suspect poisoning, though no official statement has been released. Gabriel Murphy went to the police of his own volition the day the body was found. His lawyer, Quinton McDougal, states his client is innocent of all charges and is fully cooperating with the police investigation. Police Sergeant Walters told his fellow officers that they already have a suspect in mind but must gather all evidence before making the arrest. This reporter wonders how many more hours of freedom Gabriel Murphy will have.
Her nose wrinkled. Who had underlined that? And who had written this slander? Heat burned her cheeks. Erica glanced up at the name of the reporter, Ruth Smith, and red-hot anger coursed through her body before her hands shook. So much for fair and impartial news. Erica put the paper down and shook her head. Then she ticked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and tried to rationalize what she knew. The wife, Tiffany, was dead, and in her diary, she claimed Gabriel would kill her. Then she basically admitted to killing Alicia. Now the handyman had died, and again Gabriel had been crucified.
Her poor, sweet Gabriel.
The story had holes, but Erica had her theory. Tiffany had done this. She had some sort of plan. Erica ran her hand through her hair. Today, she’d ask Gabriel how Alicia and O’Shea had died, and risk rocking the boat of trust. She’d bring him here, to this secret room. He had answers, or clues. Had he been here remodeling or stripping the place apart for evidence of what happened to him?
Erica stopped. Was that what he was doing? She swallowed. It made sense. Talking together would clear this up, and she’d find what she needed.
She rubbed her neck. Gabriel had been through so much. Two murders in this place. Everyone blamed him. The second report found in the wife’s cheating hideaway. Erica froze. A guest and a janitor. Gabriel was questioned, but that didn’t make him guilty.
A memory burned bright in her mind. His kiss sent shock waves of electricity coursing through her. The lingering doubt went away. It couldn’t be possible. She’d get to the bottom of this.
“Erica, where are you?”
Gabriel’s voice. No. Not here. A lump lodged in her throat. She jumped to her feet and ran out of the room. The dust in the air gathered in her nose. Inside the warm library with the fire, she slammed the door closed and sneezed. A moment later, he opened the library door. “I’m making a habit of finding you here.”
“It’s a big, warm space.” She glanced around.
“Are you moving the books?”
“Yeah, don’t ask. Come and kiss me instead.”
She didn’t blink until he came over and kissed her on the lips. The spark stayed, despite the tingles in her nose. She closed her eyes and smelled the homey, woody scent that was all Gabriel. Then she opened her eyes and gazed into his sexy brown ones. She’d solve this, then when the snow melted, she’d . . .
She wasn’t thinking about that right now.
“You’re distant.” He stepped backward.
“Distracted. It’s nothing.” She moved forward and wrapped her arms around his waist to stop him from backing off.
His face turned into a small smile. “What?”
“I’m worried about my mom.” What held her back?
“I’ll do what I can, Erica. Pray for time. And I’ll pay the hospital bills.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I have the money, and you love her.”
“I do.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”
Generous too. She sighed. He smelled of soap and sweat but mostly of freedom. Doubts had no place. She kissed his cheek, then told him, “Your kiss makes me happy.”
“Yours too.” He kept his hands around her and held her. She swayed a little. He kissed her cheek in return, and told her, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Snowflake. But come. Let’s get a sweater for you. I want your expert opinion on the hotel kitchen. You can tell me if I should add anything.”
She smiled at him and took his hand. The callused hands enveloped hers, and a gentle heat coursed through her now. “You’re planning on reopening?”
“With the front of the house, I’ve hired a professional company. This winter, I’m fixing up the back, and mostly finishing the prework. When they come, everything will be cleaned and all they need to do is lay the new floors, restore the ceiling, and paint the walls. I had an electrician here last summer who painted and restored the grounds and redid the roof, the plumbing, and windows.”
“You’ve been busy.”
He squeezed her hand. “I was waiting for you.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Then I’d have been here sooner.”
Perhaps he wasn’t searching for clues into what happened. Perhaps he knew. She swallowed and intended to ask.
Then he opened a door—the laundry room. She covered her mouth and almost laughed. She’d never checked out that room. “I am used to dropping my laundry off at the cleaners. It never occurred to me to check for a door here.”
“Or get a flashlight.”
To hold in her giggle, she kept her hand in his, and he admitted to her, “When the house is in order, I’ll happily stop doing laundry myself.”
She leaned over and squeezed his hip. She teased, “So you intend to let people in and help you?”
His hand rubbed the back of her hand. “Despite how you met me, Snowflake, the only other time I took care of myself was in the Marines. I’m thinking I’ll head home when I’m done.”
She fell back while he led her down the hall. “Where’s that? Connecticut with your parents?”
“Boston.” He gave her half a smile. “I’d like to see you again.”
Wow. She smiled. “Count on it, Gabriel.”
She had recently opened a restaurant there. Again, she kept her mouth shut, and he let her
hand go.
To give way, he stepped behind her. “So, what do you think?”
“This is some kitchen.” She twirled around to stare at all the gleaming counters, the freezer door, the huge oven, the fresh metal pans. Then she stared back at him, eyes wide open. He almost reminded her of a little boy who waited for approval. Her eyebrows shot up. “Amazing.”
“Need a professional opinion, Ms. Chef.” He kept his distance, and she roamed on the beige Venetian-tiled floor and touched every counter. Then she nodded.
“Anything you’d add?”
With a shake of her head, she laughed. “This is state-of-the-art. I’d recommend power.”
His mouth fell open. “Funny.”
Ask him about the murders. She jerked her shoulder forward and reprimanded herself. As she pressed her lips together, she stared at the oven. The pit of her stomach grew heavy, but she tried to ignore it. She should show him now. She gulped. “What happened here that you shut down power in the main house?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She swallowed and turned to stare into his thoughtful eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Talking about whatever happened will help you.”
“Not always.” He backed up in the room. “And if I scare you, I can’t melt the snow.”
No. She’d not let him run away. She had to ask and tell him what she’d found. She stepped forward and matched his pace. “I’m scared if I don’t know the truth.”
He ran his hand through his hair, and his skin paled. Then he shook his head. “I can’t talk about this.”
Her body shook. Her voice cracked. “Please, Gabriel.”
“I need to—” He shook his head violently, then broke contact.
“Don’t. I have to talk to you.” With her hand over her mouth, she stopped talking, and her eyes followed him. He paced the room and never looked at her. He shook his head like he was worried. Then, with no answers, he stormed out of the room.
Hidden Gabriel Page 16
