Myth and Magic

by Mae Clair

  “You’re a sap, Aren. Galen’s an ass and you’re a sap.”

  “And you’re as eloquent as ever.” Aren grinned as if knowing he’d struck a nerve. “What’s it going to be, Caith?”

  “I have open cases.”

  “Anything that can’t wait?”

  Could he really go back to Coldcreek? Could he face the past? Veronica? Why the hell was he even considering it?

  The thought of seeing her again…

  “One I need to wrap up in the next few days.”

  “So finish it,” Aren insisted. “By the weekend, you can be on a plane for Coldcreek. We’ll put you up at Stone Willow Lodge. The family and Veronica will know why you’re there, but to anyone else you’ll be one more BI employee needing stress-relief therapy. Even if you’re not licensed in Pennsylvania, you can still nose around and give us your professional opinion. I happen to know any private citizen with the gumption and knowledge can legally investigate a crime as long as they don’t interfere with the police.”

  “It’ll never work. Twelve years isn’t that long. Someone will recognize me.”

  “Not if you stay at the lodge. It’s only been in operation six years, and believe it or not, everyone employed there moved to Coldcreek after you left. We’ll set you up with a fake identity, fake name. No one will make the connection.”

  Silently weighing the options, Caith roamed to the sofa again and propped on the edge. The money was enticing, but he’d never been about cash. The thought of seeing Ron again, of having a second chance to right his horrible wrong, had him waffling on the fence. He’d never stopped loving her. “What about Derry?”

  “I already checked with Matt and Noah’s school,” Aren supplied. “Derry can attend with them while you’re in Coldcreek. And he can stay at my place. Melanie and I would love to have him.”

  Caith jerked reflexively. “He wouldn’t be with me?”

  “Not at the lodge. Children don’t fit with the concept of a corporate retreat.”

  A ripple of alarm shot through him. Leaving Derrick with someone else in Coldcreek…

  “Listen up.” Aren slid into a chair across from him and rapped a knuckle against his knee. “What happened to you and Trask as kids was a freak incident. You’ve got to stop being so overprotective. I’ll look after Derry. You’ll know where he’ll be when you want to see him.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “It’ll be good for him, and he’ll enjoy the time with my boys.”

  Caith wavered. “I don’t know.”

  Before becoming a private investigator, he’d been exposed to all manner of grisly crimes as a homicide detective. He’d seen the worst of humanity, forced to develop an exterior callousness. But there was one offense that still had the power to terrify him.

  A hesitant shuffling drew his attention to the hallway. Derrick stood just inside the room, his expression hopeful. Realizing he’d overheard a portion of the conversation, Caith frowned. “Derrick, what are you doing here?”

  The moment for retreat past, Derrick fiddled with the belt on his robe. As young as he was, he’d already picked up a number of Caith’s childhood traits—ever-inquisitive, always exploring, dissecting some story or fact. It led him to frequently poke his nose where it didn’t belong.

  “Are we gonna stay with Uncle Aren?” Derrick blurted.

  Caith’s scowl deepened. “I thought I told you to finish lunch and then watch TV in the family room?”

  “There’s nothing on. It’s all soap operas and stuff.”

  “Derry.”

  “I finished my soup.” Derrick traipsed into the room and plopped on the couch beside Caith. Still fighting his cold, he sniffled. “How come we never go to Coldcreek, Dad? Even when Grandma visits, it’s always here.”

  Caith stilled, not wanting to broach the subject. How could an eight-year-old understand the bitter rift that led him to cut ties with his father? Exhaling, he rubbed the boy’s shoulder. “You’d have to leave school for a few weeks and your friends. What about Halloween? I thought you wanted to go trick-or-treating?”

  “I can go in Coldcreek, and I heard Uncle Aren say I can go to school with Noah and Matt.” Bowing his head, Derrick plucked at the seam on Caith’s jeans.

  “You were listening when you shouldn’t have been.”

  “Uh-huh.” Derrick exhibited just enough contriteness to pacify Caith. He’d obviously heard only the tail end of the conversation. Rolling his head against the sofa, he glanced up at his father. “Dad, can’t we go to Coldcreek? I don’t understand why you never wanna go home, and how come you won’t talk to Grandpa or I can’t see him?”

  Caith sighed. Between Aren, Galen, and Derrick, he fought a losing battle. “All right, we’ll go.”

  “Yes!” With a wide grin, Derrick clambered to his feet.

  “Not so fast.” Caith snagged his waist as he moved to dash away. “You’re not going anywhere if you still have a cold this weekend.” Cupping Derrick’s cheek in his hand, Caith tilted his head, searching his eyes for signs of a fever. He pressed his palm to the boy’s forehead. “Not too bad, partner.”

  “So we’ll go for real?”

  “We’ll go for real.” Caith grinned at his son’s wide-eyed earnestness. “Now go watch some TV or find a book to read while I work out the details with your uncles.”

  “’Kay.” Smiling happily, Derrick bounded out of the room.

  Caith looked to his brothers. “Mission accomplished. It looks like I’m going home after all.”

  Chapter 3

  Veronica took the afternoon off. With the all the strange occurrences taking place, the vacancy rate was climbing. She’d managed to keep the incident with the hand in the fireplace low-key, but rumors were spreading. It helped the police had come up empty, smoothing over her guests’ jumpy nerves. Four remained at the lodge with five more expected by the weekend.

  Leaving matters under the watchful eye of her caretaker, she agreed to meet Merlin for lunch at Coldcreek’s Bristlecone Tavern. Set on the fringe of town, the converted stone farmhouse was normally too rustic for her GQ boyfriend who preferred sushi and bottled water over sourdough sandwiches and homemade pies. He probably wanted their relationship back on track, and was obviously willing to make concessions. They hadn’t been exclusive for some time, but that wouldn’t stop Merlin from wanting to cozy up if he was in the mood. She’d given up trying to figure out his motivations long ago.

  As she pulled into the parking lot, Veronica spied his sporty black Mercedes near the entrance. Flipping down the window visor, she checked her reflection. Her skin still carried a lingering hint of tan from the late summer sun and the amount of time she had spent outdoors.

  As a child she’d enjoyed hiking Pennsylvania’s Blue Mountains, canoeing on lakes, and catching fish along the muddy banks of rivers and streams. It was why she’d bonded so well with Merlin, Caith, and Trask. They’d never really looked at her as a girl. At least Caith hadn’t. Not until the night before he’d left for college, and their friendship had taken an unexpected turn after a shared kiss.

  Snapping the visor in place, she slid from the car and headed across the lot, pushed by a brisk October breeze.

  “You look great.” Merlin smiled as she joined him at a table near the door. He bowed his head like a performer, offering a single red rose with exaggerated flourish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

  “You’re sweet, Merlin.” She accepted the flower, twirling it beneath her nose to inhale the delicate scent. He often brought her flowers. Carnations, lilies, and red roses. Red because he thought it was her favorite. She knew his secretary was responsible for most of the flowers that came by courier, but never made a point to call him on it. The same way she never bothered to remind him yellow roses had been her favorite since childhood. Somewhere, years ago, she and Merlin had simply become convenient for each other.

  “I already ordered you a soda.” He slid a menu across the table toward her.<
br />
  She set the flower aside. “I hope you weren’t waiting long. I hit construction at the bottom of Fenbridge Road and had to detour.”

  “Yeah, I saw they’re trying to widen that turn.”

  He seemed on edge, almost jittery. Physically not a hair was out of place, his wavy gold locks were brushed into gleaming strands behind his ears. He wore a white Ralph Lauren shirt with black pants and a sweeping coat of Italian leather. Shrugging out of the coat, he draped it on the chair beside him. Veronica knew he’d bought it during a March trip to New York, yet another month when their relationship had been in a nosedive. She’d long grown accustomed to his cavalier personality and flighty emotions, surface-ripples that never penetrated with depth. When had he become so superficial?

  She flipped open the menu. “Merlin, is something wrong?”

  “No. I was just thinking.” He smiled secretively. “I bet Galen and Aren haven’t told you about their latest scheme to stop problems at the lodge.”

  Veronica scanned the menu. She had a feeling where the conversation was heading. It had been her suggestion that prompted Aren to consider hiring a private investigator in the first place, though she had no idea if he’d followed through on the recommendation.

  “Aren tells me what I need to know as Stone Willow’s manager. He doesn’t discuss everything BI-related with me.”

  “BI.” He snorted softly, stretching his arm over the backrest of his chair. “My great grandfather started this business building carousels for amusement parks. My father expanded until it became a leading manufacturer of multi-faceted recreational rides. You’d think someone would wake up and realize Coldcreek is no place to headquarter a multi-million dollar company.”

  Veronica frowned. Privately, she supported Stuart Breckwood in his effort to keep BI where it was. “Your father never lost his small-town roots. Keeping BI headquartered here keeps Coldcreek afloat financially. Besides, there are BI offices in Boston and Baltimore for anyone who doesn’t like hayrides in October or May Fairs in the spring. I thought you were considering taking Aren’s position in Boston?”

  “I’d rather have Baltimore.” Merlin sipped at his imported spring water, and then bobbed a straw in the glass, upsetting a floating lemon wedge. “There’s still opportunity for growth in Maryland with the right man calling the shots. Galen and Aren are bogged down. They’re growing static and Dad’s listening.”

  “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  Before he could answer, the waitress appeared with Veronica’s soda and asked if they were ready to order. Finding little on the menu she didn’t like, she settled on a hot turkey sandwich with provolone cheese and sourdough bread. Merlin ordered baked sole and wild rice, smiling at the pretty brunette who obviously found him attractive. Accustomed to his flirting, Veronica merely waited until the waitress left before continuing their conversation as though nothing had happened.

  “What is it you want to tell me about Galen and Aren?”

  Merlin shifted, forced to refocus on business. “I’m surprised they didn’t already tell you since you’re the manager. They think the way to solve the problems up there is to hire a private investigator and have him pose as a guest.”

  “An investigator?” Veronica tried to act surprised.

  “You won’t believe what those idiots did.” Merlin smiled, but there was something off-kilter about his grin. “They hired Caith, Ron. My screwed up, black-sheep brother is coming home.”

  * * * *

  Veronica sat on the bank of Stone Willow Lake, the lodge looming over her shoulder on a treed hillside. The setting sun gleamed on the surface, kindling an iridescent dance of magenta and gold. Across the expanse of the water, the opposite shore was visible, dressed in the russet and cinnamon shades of fall. According to legend, the lake burned with fire when fate was sealed. She’d seen that quirky event only once in her lifetime, on the evening before Caith Breckwood left for college.

  Damn Aren for bringing him back! She’d made a reasonable suggestion to get BI out of trouble, never expecting he’d hunt down his PI brother. The last person she wanted to see was Caith. She’d been in love with him since high school, too afraid to tell him, fearful any hint of real affection might shatter their fragile friendship. He’d grown introverted after Trask’s death, holding people at a distance. She’d stood by and watched him make a fool of himself over Kelly Rice only to have the prom queen dump him for the captain of the football team.

  Idiot, she thought, and wasn’t certain if she was referring to Caith, Kelly, or herself.

  The first year following Trask’s murder had been the worst. The trauma had left Caith emotionally unstable, frightened to venture anywhere alone, terrified those close to him might be plucked away and murdered. There had been counseling and doctors, lengthy stays in hospitals away from home. At first, the doctors had said it was best not to trigger memories, but eventually Caith returned to the town where he’d grown up, to the place where he’d been held captive and Trask was murdered.

  Bidder Farm.

  The house had stood abandoned for years until eventually the land was sold and a Quik-Mart sprouted in its place. She knew he’d never been comfortable going there, even after every trace of the dilapidated house and root cellar had been demolished. There were times, however, when he’d seemed almost recovered.

  Like his last summer before college. She vividly remembered the two of them riding with Merlin in his red convertible, the top down, music blaring, the air rich with a mixture of honeysuckle, freshly cut grass, and chlorine from the community pool. But even among the laughter, there’d been sadness and distance in Caith’s eyes.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t be like your brothers and do what your father wants,” she’d insisted.

  Veronica closed her eyes, recalling Caith’s agitation and pain. They’d spoken on this same bank, sitting, shoulder-to-shoulder, a seventeen-year-old girl trying to hide her feelings, and a long-haired eighteen-year-old boy trying to explain his.

  “And become another BI cog?” Caith’s eyes had flashed distaste. “My father wants me to become a business executive, Ron. To find ways to increase company revenue and expand the family business. I want to make the world a safe place to live. To contribute something beyond the next corporate advance. If that means being cut off from my family and the Breckwood fortune, I’ll accept the consequences.”

  And he had. Instead of attending an Ivy League college as his father expected, he’d excelled at a less prominent eastern university. A straight-A student, his naturally inquisitive mind and innate problem solving ability had aided him well in his decision to pursue criminal justice. But it had also placed him at a permanent crossroads with his father, Stuart Breckwood.

  That evening, sitting side-by-side on the bank of the small lake, it had hurt to think of life without him. She’d suffered through watching him date Colleen Parker and Toni Charleston, then make a fool of himself over Kelly Rice.

  Behind them, the sun had sank into the horizon, the brooding shadow of Barrister House looming over their shoulders. Sun and moon merged on the water with the vermillion kiss of flame.

  “Look at the lake,” Caith whispered in awe.

  Dazzling bands of ruby-red and flaming gold unraveled beneath the surface as though the sun melted into the water. Liquid silver defined the edges where moonlight webbed the shoreline in a sparkling tapestry of color and magic.

  “It’s beautiful,” Veronica breathed, entranced. “Like it’s on fire.”

  “Like the legend. Sealed fate.” Caith lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ronnie…” His voice caught. “I…I’ll miss you.” Then as if sensing something he’d long overlooked, he’d leaned forward and kissed her, a shy, experimental touch of his lips. When she responded, he drew her into his arms, giving rein to something they would later regret.

  Beneath the encroaching veil of twilight, they shared the electric passion of explorato
ry touches and moist, open-mouthed kisses. Kisses that sent her emotions careening out of control, her body responding in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. Her skin burned with the need to be touched, her mind consumed with the desire to be loved only by him. Every fantasy she’d entertained about being in his arms had fallen dreadfully short of the reality.

  Far too experienced for a boy of eighteen, he’d stroked, nuzzled, and caressed until her flesh burned with the same raging fire as the lake, and her body arched beneath his, silently begging release from the shocking torment. His lips brought ecstasy and his hands coaxed her over the edge.

  All she’d cared about was him. The insatiable need for flesh-to-flesh contact and the raw, painful love in her heart.

  The red-gold glow of the lake washed over them, and Veronica had willingly surrendered her heart with her virginity, certain there would never be another man.

  The next day Caith had kissed her and left for college, promising to call. Three weeks later he sent a letter telling her the evening had been a mistake and he’d met someone else. Veronica never replied.

  In the years that followed, she’d heard rumors from his family. How he’d supported himself through college on scholarship money and tips earned working nights as a waiter in a steak house. How he’d changed his name, eventually becoming a homicide detective with Boston’s police force, then later a private investigator. He’d had a child with a woman he never married, taking up residence in an upscale neighborhood where homeowners worried more about the state of their lawn than who might be selling drugs to their children.

  Veronica drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She propped her chin on her knees. It wasn’t fair. Not of Aren, not of BI and, especially, not of Caith.