What was she going to do?
She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In and out. In and out. She couldn’t let herself panic. There had to be a way out. She just had to stay calm enough to think, stay calm enough to find it.
If water pressure from the outside was forcing the door closed, then equaling the pressure would free the door. She just had to wait for the car to sink. The slight odor of fish clogged her throat. The relentless lap of waves drummed in beat with her pulse.
She’d never been afraid of water. Her father had insisted she take swimming lessons so she wouldn’t suffer from the fear as he had. But the thought of letting the car sink, letting herself be trapped underwater…she didn’t know if she could go through with it.
The car listed farther forward, the heavy engine dragging it down. The water rose to her knees. It crept over the seat.
A shudder came from the back of the vehicle. Marie twisted in her seat. Sore muscles in her neck protesting, she strained to see where the movement had come from.
Behind her, the shoreline seemed to move away.
The car jolted again. Oh God. She knew what was happening. The back wheels were thunking down the rocks along the shoreline. Without brakes to stop them, they would keep rolling, pushing the car farther into the bay.
Where the water was deep.
A sound came from her throat, an involuntary whimper.
She pulled the emergency brake. The lever moved easily. Too easily. It wasn’t working, either.
She tried to breathe, struggling to remember the way Sophie had showed her. All she could think about was the car’s nose diving deep. The car flipping over. Would she be able to get out if that happened? Would she even be conscious by the time it settled on the bottom?
She couldn’t wait. She had to do something now.
She pulled her feet up out of the water. Twisting out from behind the steering wheel, she aimed the heels of her boots at the driver’s window. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she gasped in a lungful of oxygen and kicked with all her strength.
Glass exploded into tiny pieces.
CURSING HIS LEG, Brandon raced for the edge of the water. He’d been walking Doug Heller to the door when he’d seen Marie’s car go over the edge. For a second, he’d been stunned and confused. His body had burst into a run before his brain had caught up.
Marie was in the water. Maybe trapped in her car. Maybe hurt. He had to move. He had to reach her in time.
Pain clawed through his damaged tendons with each stride. He gripped his cane, stabbing it into the ground, pushing his legs faster.
He wouldn’t lose Marie.
He reached the crest of the shoreline. Water stretched in front of him, waves lapping on rock. A light mass showed through the undulating waves. The car. It was submerged.
He stumbled on the rock, almost going down to his knees. She couldn’t—
“Brandon.”
He turned to the sound of her voice.
She huddled on the sharp rock, ten yards down the shoreline. Her clothing was soaked, her hair dark with water. She struggled to stand.
He scrambled over rock. His cane slipped from his hand and clattered into a crevice. He didn’t care. He kept going. The only important thing was reaching Marie. The only important thing was that she was safe.
He wrapped her in his arms.
She clung to him, wet and cold and shaking. She looked up at him, her breath warm on his face.
He brought his mouth down on hers. Needy. Devouring the very life force of her. She tasted just the way he remembered. Warm and strong and oh so alive. He moved his lips over her face, her neck. Taking in all of her. Soaking in the feel of her body, the beat of her heart against his. He felt he’d waited forever for this. Wanted it. Dreamed about it. Pushed the dreams away. But he didn’t deny himself now. He couldn’t. It didn’t matter that it was all wrong. That they’d get hurt in the end. That it could go nowhere. He’d almost lost her, but she was here. She’d almost died, but now she lived.
And God help him, whatever happened next, he didn’t know how he’d ever let her go.
MARIE PULLED her big wool sweater tight around her shoulders and shifted closer to the fire. Her neck had changed from painful to stiff and painful. And although she was now dry, the chill hadn’t left her bones. It felt as if it never would.
“Here.” Brandon pushed a fresh cup of hot tea into her hands.
“Thanks.” She wrapped her fingers around the cup’s heat. He’d been hovering over her since he’d found her on the rocks, having escaped from the car and swum to shore. And even though she hated to admit it, she loved him taking care of her. It had been a long time since someone took care of her. Since she’d last lived at Drake House with a father who took care of everybody.
But Brandon wasn’t anything like her father.
She could still feel the desperate press of his body against hers. She could still taste his kiss. It had been everything she wanted, the passion between them unleashed, the barriers broken. But even though he looked at her now with the same fire in his eyes, she knew their moment had changed nothing.
And that was what confused her the most.
Brandon lowered himself into a nearby chair.
How she wished he’d sit closer. How she wanted him to wrap his arm around her and kiss her again. She knew he’d do it if she asked. After that kiss she was even pretty sure he still loved her. Not that he’d admit it. Not that it mattered.
Brandon blamed himself for loving her. He blamed his feelings for causing his wife’s death. And unless she proved to him Charlotte hadn’t taken her own life, there was no way he’d forgive himself. Not enough to find happiness. At least not happiness with Marie.
And there was no way she wanted to suffer that kind of heartbreak again. She knew better this time.
Brandon checked his watch. “Hammer should be here any minute.”
Marie almost groaned. “I’m not looking forward to explaining this to Hammer. He already thinks I’m making things up. My father’s murder. The break-in. Even the roof. He’s going to think I drove into the water myself. He’s going to be more convinced than ever that I’m a crackpot.”
Brandon didn’t disagree. Instead he leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Don’t mention your father’s murder. Or Charlotte’s.”
She wanted to protest that it was all related, but she’d told him that too many times before. “I won’t. He’ll have me committed for sure.”
“Just focus on the attempts to hurt you. That’s all we can do. It’s all Hammer can help with, anyway.”
And it was all Brandon believed.
A heavy feeling settled into the pit of Marie’s stomach. This whole thing was a no-win situation. Finding evidence that didn’t exist. Falling in love with Brandon all over again when she could only hope for more of the same pain.
Brandon shifted in his chair. “Where were you going this morning? The last I saw, you were having coffee.”
He looked up at her again, this time his expression less insistent and more filled with worry.
“I wasn’t going anywhere. Shelley asked me to move my car.”
“Why?”
She explained about the decorator and Shelley’s pressure to clean out her father’s things. She wanted to tell him the rest, too. The way Shelley worshiped Charlotte. The way she’d warned Marie to stay away. But it all seemed too close after the kiss. Shelley was more perceptive than Marie had given her credit for.
Brandon groaned. “I should have been more on top of that. You’ll have as much time as you need.”
“Thanks.”
He kept his eyes on her face. His brows dipped low. “What else?”
“I’m going back to the psychomanteum.” She hadn’t known that was her plan until she said it. But once the words were out, she knew it was what she needed to do.
“Are you sure?”
The thought made her nervous. But not more nervous than the idea of never
finding out who killed her father and Charlotte. Not more nervous than waiting for the police to track down whoever was trying to kill her, especially when Chief Hammer seemed determined to chalk it up to her paranoid imagination. And it didn’t make her more nervous than the growing feelings she had for Brandon and the certainty that she was heading for the same anguish she’d suffered ten years before. “I’m sure.”
It seemed to take a lot of effort for Brandon to nod this time. “Then I’ll take you. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re safely on a plane back to Michigan.”
The cold settled deeper into her bones.
“Mr. Brandon?” Shelley called from the doorway. “Chief Hammer and Officer Draper are here.”
Marie took a deep breath and braced herself for another round with the Jenkins Cove police.
MARIE STARED at the flickering candlelight reflected in the mirror. She tried to clear her mind, to relax, but a jitter circulated through her bloodstream like too much espresso, and she didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything. After more than an hour, she’d given up trying to reach her father. Now she’d switched her focus to Charlotte. If this didn’t work, she was out of options.
She breathed deeply, as Sophie had instructed. In and out. In and out. But all she smelled was the dusty odor of an old house. All she felt was a light head.
“Charlotte? Where are you?”
No scent. No voice.
“Charlotte? Please. I need your help.”
Again nothing.
Marie stared at the mirror. Her own face stared back. She didn’t get it. If Charlotte had been trying to tell her she’d been murdered, if she’d wanted Marie to find proof and seek justice, why wasn’t she answering? Why wasn’t she helping now?
“I can’t find anything to prove your murder. I don’t know where to look.” She buried her head in her hands. If Charlotte couldn’t communicate anymore, all this was no use. She might as well go back to Michigan. At least that way, she’d get far away from Brandon. She’d save herself the heartbreak of loving a man who wouldn’t let himself love her back.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. She drew in a shuddering breath.
Jasmine.
Marie raised her head. Swiping at her eyes, she stared at the mirror. She felt something. A pressure. A presence. Candlelight flickered from behind her. Her vision became unfocused. “Charlotte? Tell me who killed you. Give me some kind of sign.”
The scent of jasmine faded. Another odor took over the room. Something harsh. Sharp fumes stung her eyes.
Gasoline.
The whoosh of flame stole the air from her lungs. Heat seared her skin. Pain. Burning.
A scream ripped from Marie’s throat. She shielded her face with her hands. She wasn’t on fire. It wasn’t real. She knew it…and yet the brightness flooded her vision, the roar of flame deafened her, the heat made her feel as if she were dying. “Charlotte, please. Who did this? Who did this to you?”
Footsteps thunked up the stairs.
She dragged her hands from her face and stared into the mirror.
The image was faint, like a cloud on her vision from the pressure of fingertips against closed lids. Petals. A stem. A single leaf.
A childlike etching of a simple flower took shape. A flower with cupped petals. A tulip.
The door flew open behind her. Brandon’s reflection filled the mirror. Broad shoulders, dark brows, worried eyes. “Marie! For God’s sake, what happened?”
Marie stared deeply into the silvered glass, but the image had faded and was gone. All she could see was candlelight and shadows playing over Brandon’s face.
Sophie joined him in the doorway. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”
She felt weak. Sick. And although the burning sensation had stopped, she felt numb as if she were now covered with thick scars. “No, I’m not. I’m not okay at all.”
Chapter Twelve
“I know you don’t believe me.”
Brandon’s throat pinched. He followed her up the stairs that led to the upper floors of the east wing. Swallowing what she’d experienced in the psychomanteum was definitely a challenge. He’d never been one to believe in things he couldn’t see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears, touch with his own hand. “I’ve never had experiences like that, Marie. I’m trying to understand.”
She stopped on the landing and spun to face him. “Go to the psychomanteum. Obviously Charlotte is trying to contact you. She’s just using me to do it.”
“I don’t need to sit in Sophie Caldwell’s room, Marie. I know what Charlotte went through. I was there.”
Even in the dim light he could see her gaze flit over the right side of his face.
He clutched the head of his cane. He hated the thought that Marie could see his scars and imperfections every time she looked at his face or witnessed his limp. He wished he could be the same man for her that he’d been that summer ten years ago. Despite the raw emotion still between them, he knew damn well it was too late for that.
Just as it was too late for Charlotte.
“What are you looking for up here?”
Marie resumed climbing the stairs. “The other night I smelled Charlotte’s scent near the window in her study. I looked around, but couldn’t find anything.”
“I had Edwin give Charlotte’s personal things to her family and the rest to charity. He wanted to auction off the furniture at the Christmas Ball.”
“Shelley said you canceled the ball.”
“Edwin and Charlotte put on the ball. It just didn’t seem right to do it without them. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t feel up to having people in the house.”
“My father loved the ball. He loved Christmas.”
“Which is why I can’t see having it without him.”
Reaching the top of the stairs, she paused once again to face him. “I think he would like it to go on. I think it would be a fitting tribute, to both my father and Charlotte. Besides, the Drake Foundation does wonderful things with the auction money, things that help a lot of people.”
Leave it to Marie to see past the pain, to focus on the people in need and a tribute to the memories of those gone. “You are a strong woman, Marie.” He wanted to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair, to kiss her the way he had by the water. He wished he could kiss her like that every day for the rest of his life. He gripped his cane in both fists.
“Thanks. I don’t feel very strong.”
“Well, you are. That’s probably why Charlotte has contacted you instead of me. She knows you can handle it. She knows you’re a fighter.”
“You’re a fighter, too.” Her wide, caramel eyes looked straight into his, as though she believed what she was saying, as though she meant every word.
“I like the man I am in your eyes. I always have.”
“You are that man, Brandon.”
How he wished he could believe that. How he wished all the mistakes he’d made in his life would disappear and he could be as pure and strong and righteous as he’d felt when he’d fallen in love with Marie all those years ago.
But even then he’d already given Charlotte his mother’s ring. Even then he hadn’t lived up to Marie’s image of him. “I’m not. I don’t know if I ever was. But when you look at me, I can pretend. And that will have to be enough.”
She reached out and took his hand.
He clasped her fingers. Her skin felt impossibly soft, her bones fragile. But it was all an illusion. Marie was strong and tough and unflinching in her caring for others and in her belief that good would win in the end. She was everything he was not. Everything he’d lost over the years. Everything he’d never had. It was impossible to go back, impossible to change things. But at least for the moment, he could hold her hand and pretend. “Lead on.”
“DO YOU SMELL IT?” Marie leaned close to the desk where she’d smelled the jasmine before she’d been dragged to the roof. The scent tickled her nose, light and sweet. Barely there, yet every bit grounded in re
ality.
Brandon tilted his head and gave the air a sniff. “Where?”
It grew stronger. She gestured for him to move closer. “Right here. All around.”
He stepped beside her. Almost close enough for her to feel his body heat. Almost close enough that if she shifted to the side, their arms would touch.
Breathing slowly, he finally shook his head. “Where does it seem to be coming from?”
She leaned toward the window. Sure enough, it was stronger here. “Not the desk. Maybe the window.”
He followed, breathing deep, a frown still lining his brow.
Marie stood still. Cold flowed over her, digging deep and sucking the warmth from her skin. She glanced back at Brandon. “Do you feel that?”
“The draft?”
“A few days ago I would have thought it was a draft, too.” She raised her palm to the window. The air felt still. “This is not coming from outside. But the scent is strongest here.” She gestured to the mullioned window.
“I…I can smell it.” Brandon’s voice rang low and steady, not questioning anymore, but sure.
Goosebumps peppered Marie’s skin. “Do you feel her?”
“I…maybe. No. I don’t know.”
Marie peered through the rippled glass. The faint light of a slivered moon reflected off the waves of Chesapeake Bay. Below the window, the east garden nestled, ready for winter.
The garden where she’d first felt the still cold that was surrounding them now. “The garden.”
“Edwin had that garden redesigned this fall.”
Yes. She remembered that. But she hadn’t put it all together. A trill reverberated along her nerves. “Maybe that’s it. Let’s go down to the garden.” It didn’t take them long to retrace their steps down the staircase. They wound through the dimly lit house to the kitchen and headed for the exit.
“Mr. Brandon?”
Marie jumped at the woman’s voice.
Brandon spun around. “Shelley? Isn’t it kind of late? What are you doing here?”
Shelley smiled sweetly at her boss. “Just taking care of some loose ends. Can I get you something?” She glanced at Marie, at their joined hands. The smile faded.
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