Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1)

by Denise Moncrief

  She moved closer to Chase. “I trust you, Chase. I know Tino was lying to me, and I don’t think he’s working for Rand any longer. He told me to hang onto the travel drive and he’d come get it.” They had moved within inches of each other. “I think he’s already here.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He used Rand’s words. I know you know. I think he wrote on the bathroom mirror. And he said someone was here instead of saying someone was there, like he was already here himself.”

  He took her hand and pulled her toward the bath.

  “Let’s go take a look at the mirror.”

  The warmth of his hand wrapped around hers settled her jumpy nerves.

  They crowded into the tiny room. No sign of the message was left.

  He dropped her hand and ran his finger across the mirror. “My guess is he used glycerin. He could have done this any time. Anything written on the glass wouldn’t appear until the steam from the shower fogged the mirror up.” He turned the tap and allowed the room to fill with steam again. “There. See? It’s appearing again.” He shut the water off and then slid an arm around her waist. “I think we need to go to town tomorrow...”

  She turned to face him, slid her hands up his chest, and twined her fingers together behind his neck.

  He smiled down at her, warmth radiating from his eyes. “It’s already tomorrow. I mean let’s go to town later today, when we wake up. We need some rest, both of us.”

  “Why do we need to go to town?”

  She hated going into Fairview and he knew why she hated it.

  “The whole time we were gone I had this bad feeling we were being followed.”

  She loosened her fingers and tightened her arms around his neck, then leaned her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her backbone, a very comforting gesture she’d gotten so used to.

  “I kept thinking there were so many times he could have run us off the road.”

  The soft cloth of his shirt felt like heaven against her cheek. She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder forever. Was it too soon to talk about forever? They’d both said so at the truck stop.

  Chase chuckled. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at defensive driving.”

  She loved the sound of his deep throaty laughter. She leaned back a little to study his face, memorizing every line, every curve, just so she could recall every contour when she closed her eyes or when, God forbid, they were apart.

  “If you say so. Why are we going to town, then?”

  “You want a gun, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She shuddered once when she answered.

  “Well, we can’t do anything about it until the sun comes up. We’ll have to keep our friend the bat close by, but maybe we should try to get some sleep.”

  “I don’t think I can sleep.”

  He rubbed her back right between the shoulders, right where the tension wound her muscles tight.

  “I’ll be right here with you. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay, but can we sleep on the sofa? I want to be close to a door so we can make a quick escape if we have to.”

  He snorted. “Are you spooked, baby?”

  She stared up at him. “Yes, I am.”

  “So we should stick together. Okay?”

  She didn’t mind him calling her baby. No. Not at all.

  When his lips met hers, all of her pent up emotions exploded inside of her. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth. The feel of his body next to hers. The thrill of her heart pounding against his chest. She twisted her hands in the back of his shirt, and he pulled her toward the sofa. Once again, she realized there would be no sex. There was no way she was ever taking her clothes off at Laurel Heights again. No way she’d ever allow herself to be naked and vulnerable with so many men running around in the dark who wanted to harm her.

  She trusted Chase. With her life. Right or wrong, she depended on him. They were in this thing together, protecting each other.

  One day they would be together in every way possible, bodies melting into each other, giving each other pleasure. But not today. Yet the hope of things to come sizzled between them and sleep would not come anytime soon.

  Somehow the night passed without incident. When Laurel finally awoke the next morning, it was well past sunrise and she was still asleep beside Chase. Their arms and legs were tangled together, and her backside was dangerously close to falling off the edge of the sofa. Chase took up a lot of the space.

  She sighed and shifted a little, better to watch him while he slept. When she moved, his eyes popped open.

  He startled and then focused on her face. “Morning, baby.”

  His smile warmed her in all the right places.

  ****

  It was nearing one in the afternoon when they headed back toward Laurel Heights from Fairview. It had been surprisingly easy for Chase to acquire a small caliber handgun. The unloaded weapon nestled in the console between them. He’d tucked the ammunition in the glove box so that it would take deliberation of purpose to load the gun and fire it. Every instinct in him warned him that having the gun was a bad idea. He’d left it in the open because if he was caught with it, he didn’t want a concealed weapons charge added to the list of his crimes. Owning an unregistered firearm would be bad enough. Didn’t matter that his murder conviction had been overturned.

  He glanced at Laurel from the corner of his eye.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Was she dwelling on what Grayson had told her about her parentage or the lies Tino had told her trying to get her to turn on Chase? He’d never met Tino, so either Rand told him about the tattoo or Tino had seen it himself.

  “I was thinking about what happened to Grayson in the garage. What do you think really happened?”

  Laurel was thinking about her ghost problem. Not what he expected, yet he wasn’t surprised by her choice of problems to agonize over.

  “Both of them seemed to be freaked out. I don’t think they were faking it. Still...”

  “I can’t believe anything like that is happening in my house. Why me?”

  Too much was going on at Laurel Heights. The sooner they left, the better. He stared at the road ahead of them, unwilling to meet her eyes when he uttered his next thought.

  “What if there is a ghost on the place and it’s trying to protect you.”

  She remained so quiet for so long he thought she’d drifted off to sleep. After all, she was still very exhausted. But then, so was he, and he was wide awake. He had spent much of the early hours of the morning too wired to sleep. Just as he’d drifted off, Laurel had shaken him awake.

  “Laurel?”

  “Huh?”

  Where had she gone? With him, yet burrowed somewhere deep in her own thoughts. He needed her to tell him what was going on in her agile mind.

  “What do you think? Could a ghost be trying to protect you?”

  She sniffed and he dared to glimpse at her. A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “It doesn’t make sense that the ghost is protecting me. That night, after we went into the apartment... When you were upstairs and I thought you were in your room downstairs... I heard someone call my name, and then when I tried to leave the kitchen, I felt like someone was choking me. That doesn’t seem much like protecting me.”

  “What if the ghost...if there is a ghost...was trying to keep you from confronting whoever was in the house. I know choking seems like a hard way to stop you, but maybe that was the only thing the ghost could do.”

  She laughed. “Really, Chase? You think a ghost would be that intelligent...or care about me that much? I don’t think the entity, if there is an entity in my house, is a friendly ghost. Besides, I still don’t believe in that stuff. Someone is playing tricks on me. Someone who knows how easy it is to upset me. I probably had a panic attack. I’ve had those before, you know. Nothing new for me.”

  No, he was not going to let her convince herself that she was going down crazy road.

  “I’
m willing to be open minded about it for the sake of argument.”

  “Okay, well, then... Why would the ghost push you and make you fall into me? That could have injured or killed both of us, you know. That’s not protecting me.” She sounded so vehement as if the thought of a ghost protecting her was abhorrent to her.

  At least, she wasn’t accusing him of faking the fall.

  “I don’t think a fall like that would have killed us.”

  “One of us could have ended up with a broken leg or a broken arm. You know that.”

  “But what if the ghost was just trying to...you know...give me a little shove in the right direction.” He glanced at her again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe the ghost of Laurel Heights wants us to be together.”

  One more glance found her smiling, staring at him with a delighted gleam in her eyes.

  “Smart ghost.”

  “See? And you questioned her intelligence.”

  “Her?”

  “Well, that was a woman’s voice on Grayson’s recording.”

  The smile dropped from her face. She shivered once and then focused her gaze forward.

  “If that was the voice of my biological mother, then my mother is obviously dead. I’ll never be able to find out what really happened or who my real parents are.”

  “Grayson has no proof that you were adopted. He shouldn’t have said anything to you unless he had more information. He could be wrong. He could be reading too much into things. He’s searching for answers and grabbing at anything right now that might make sense. You shouldn’t depend on what he said to be the truth. Not yet. Besides, the woman who raised you is your real mother. You should be grateful you had a woman in your life who was willing to be your mother.”

  She released the breath she’d obviously been holding. Her hand slid across the console, but instead of grabbing his hand, she accidentally nudged the gun. She drew her hand back a moment, stared at the weapon as if she’d never seen a gun before, and then shoved it further back into the console compartment before she reached over and offered her hand for him to hold. He took it and relaxed. Maybe the tense moment was behind them. He liked flirty, hopeful Laurel much better than depressed, anxious Laurel.

  “Why a black rose with thorns?”

  He sighed. Such a tough question. Getting the tattoo was the first thing he had done after he got out of prison.

  “The black rose is a memorial to Angie. The thorns represent how tough it’s been...You know... Her killer hasn’t been arrested. Not enough proof. Just me beating... I went to jail and he’s still a free man.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “I know. That was empathy. Not remorse.” She waited a moment before speaking again. “If I ever find out for certain that Rand did that to you, I’ll—”

  “No, Laurel. Whatever happens to him, don’t be the one who makes it happen.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t let him ruin the rest of your life. Not for me.”

  “I won’t. I just... I just want this to be over so we can figure out what happens next.”

  He smiled. They were on the same page, looking toward a future without Rand’s threat hovering over their lives. Once they left Laurel Heights and disappeared again, maybe they could live the happily ever after she craved. He longed for that. More than anything. He was ready to start his life over again...with Laurel.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chase closed and locked the kitchen door behind them. Laurel followed him around the house until he cleared each room before she allowed herself to exhale.

  “I don’t think anyone has been here since we left this morning.”

  After he had led them back downstairs into the living room, Chase wrapped his arms around her again. He had been doing that a lot the last twelve or so hours and she was in no mood to discourage the habit. Being in his arms felt safe, secure, and so much like being home.

  “I’m going to pack.” But she didn’t make a move to do so.

  “So this is it. We’re leaving?”

  She nodded, so glad he’d assumed they were leaving together.

  “I can’t stay here anymore. I’ll lose what’s left of my sanity.”

  She leaned her head back and rubbed her hands up and down his upper arms. His biceps flexed, and she enjoyed the deliciousness of his strength.

  “You’ll go with me?” She wanted confirmation.

  “Where are we going?”

  His eyes blazed with longing, capturing hers and sweeping her along with him on a tide of strong emotion.

  She spoke past the lump in his throat. “Uh...good question.”

  She wanted to be wherever he was and it appeared he wanted the same thing. She had no plan. If they left Laurel Heights, they had nowhere to go and little money. They’d be drifters, but at least, they’d be drifting together.

  “Let’s just go. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

  He released her and pointed toward the stairs. “Go on. Get packed. I’ll get my stuff together.”

  She moved in that direction, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

  “I know we’ve only known each other a short time, Laurel, but I want us to be together. No matter what happens. No matter what we have to do or where we have to go to hide. I’m with you...as long as that’s what you want.”

  “That’s exactly what I want.” She smiled and caressed his cheek.

  Once again, he kissed her, and the power of the kiss shot through her, warming her inside and out. No one had ever made her feel as much as this man made her feel. Indefinable emotions that went so much deeper than attraction. Sexual, emotional, spiritual, all rolled into one big heap of longing that bordered on desperate need. She hadn’t known the man long enough to fall in love with him, had she?

  What was love anyway? So ill-defined and misunderstood by so many people. She’d lived enough to know what love wasn’t. It surely wasn’t what she’d had with Rand, or anyone else before him. Could it really be defined by what it wasn’t?

  Her mother used to tell her she’d know it when she felt it, but wasn’t love more than just a mushy feeling, more than just sexual attraction? Someone once, a long, long time ago, had warned her that her body would betray her when her feelings lied to her. Who had told her that? She couldn’t remember. Well, whoever said it had been right. Her emotions had lied to her when it came to Rand.

  What she felt for Chase was so, so different.

  She sighed. “One day...”

  “One day what?”

  “One day I’d like to be normal with you.”

  That was the best way to describe how she felt about him. Maybe, just maybe, if she had to explain why she loved him, it wasn’t really love.

  “I’d like that, too. Very much.”

  “Then let’s get out of here. I don’t think we can be normal here.”

  She pushed away from him and rushed toward the stairs, ready to get the rest of her life started, away from Laurel Heights, away from Rand’s threats. Ready to fall hard and fast for Chase. No explanations. Just letting it happen.

  It seemed she practically floated up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom door. The prospect of spending her life with Chase made her tingle all over. Hope exploded from deep inside her. Happiness seemed to spring up from some long forgotten place in the depths of her soul.

  She pushed the door open and entered the room, only to stop short. Hope and happiness abandoned her in a heartbeat. Her eyes focused immediately on the out of place object in the room. Propped on the lamp on her nightstand was a large manila envelope. She took a couple of steps forward, her heart pounding. Somehow she knew the contents would change her life forever.

  The return address seemed to vibrate on the outside of the envelope, written in bold black ink, large enough and thick enough to read across the room. How had a package from Det. Foster in San Diego ended up on her nightstand? It wasn’t there when they had sea
rched the room only a few moments ago. Her instincts screamed at her that someone had placed it there for her to see when she entered the room. Someone who might still be in the house.

  A million thoughts zoomed her mind. Run. Stay. Escape. Read. Hide.

  With trembling fingers, she reached for the envelope. The package had been addressed to her, but someone had already opened it. She glanced around the room, wondering if she was being observed. Electricity raced up and down her arm when she touched the envelope. She quickly shook the contents out, and a half sheet of paper fluttered onto the bed, message side up.

  Miss Standridge,

  One of our officers found these things in your garage during our search. Now that the trial is over and these items were not used in the prosecution of the case, I thought you might like to have them back.

  Foster

  The detective had always been a man of few words, and somehow his reticence had always provoked a flurry of explanations from her. She had told the detective more than she meant to tell. He had coerced some incriminating admissions out of Rand. Probably by force. Laurel didn’t want to know how much force he’d used. Between Rand’s admissions and her testimony, he had gone to prison for a long, long time.

  Among the items that had tumbled out of the package were a few photographs and an unopened envelope addressed to her. The unread letter vibrated with significance on the unmade bed, its paper appearing yellowed and dingy against the bright white of her fitted sheet. The letter seemed to jump into her shaking hand. She slit the envelope and carefully pulled the folded paper out, wanting to know what it said and dreading the inevitable pain she knew it would cause.

  My dear Laurel,

  She teared up at the sight of mother’s familiar handwriting.

  I am writing this to you, knowing that I might die any day. The cancer has spread and the pain is unbearable. I don’t have much time I have left, so I must tell you some things that it’s only decent to tell you before I die.

  Her heart hurt as if a hand squeezed it hard. The letter was no doubt her mother’s last words to her, probably written after Laurel had moved in with Rand and after she’d quit speaking to Mary. Regret overwhelmed her. The tears flowed unchecked, dotting the page and running the blue ink.