Shadows of the Past

by Debra Webb

  “You do what you have to do.” Chase hurled the words back at him. “And I’ll do what I have to.” With that said he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Chase strode to his vehicle, ignoring the pouring rain. He’d warn Olivia that she needed to find an attorney. He would help her. Find a way to prove his uncle wrong.

  He swore hotly, repeatedly, as he started the engine, then fastened his seat belt. This whole thing was completely out of control. He didn’t doubt that his uncle felt he was doing the right thing, but he’d clearly had it in for Olivia from the moment she’d arrived on the island—which meant he wasn’t being objective. Maybe dredging up the past had pushed him over some edge.

  Chase’s cell phone rang, dragging him from the troubling thoughts. He pulled it from the carrier at his waist and flipped it open. “Chase Fraley.”

  “Deputy Fraley, this is dispatch.”

  Chase’s senses moved to a higher state of alert. “What’s up?”

  “Got a call a couple minutes ago from a woman who sounded more than a little hysterical. She asked for you, but as soon as she realized she’d gotten 9-1-1 instead of your office she hung up. I attempted to call back but didn’t get an answer. She was on line long enough for the system to pinpoint the location.”

  Uneasiness slid through Chase. “What’s the address?”

  The dispatcher rattled off the island address that turned Chase’s blood to ice.

  “Got it,” he said and ended the call. He tossed the cell phone into the seat and rocketed away from the curb flanking city hall.

  The hysterical woman had been Olivia. The address, her inn. Chase imagined every sort of horror in the few precious minutes it took him to reach the long winding drive that led to the inn. About fifty yards from the house he skidded to a stop when he came upon Olivia’s car sitting in the middle of the drive.

  He jumped from his SUV without even bothering to close the door. She was in the car. Sitting up. Alive. Relief gushed in his chest.

  She stared up at him through the trails of water sliding down the glass of the driver’s side window. He tried to open the door but it was locked.

  “Unlock the car, Olivia,” he called loudly enough for her to hear over the still raging storm. Lightning flashed and he got his first good glimpse of her starkly pale face. Absolute terror glinted in her brown eyes.

  Her movements robotic, she depressed the unlock button.

  He opened the door and crouched down to put himself at eye level with her. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, his eyes visually examining what he could see of her body.

  “I can’t go back in the house.”

  Her voice was so small he almost didn’t hear her. “Tell me what happened,” he urged, afraid to touch her but wanting to so badly he could hardly restrain himself.

  She looked back at the inn. “I think…something is in there.”

  It took Chase several minutes, but finally he talked her into getting into his SUV. The robe she wore was soaked. She shook so brutally her teeth chattered. The cool night air combined with the rain had no doubt chilled her to the bone, but he imagined her physical condition was more a result of the fear he’d seen in her eyes than the cold.

  But she needed to get out of those wet clothes. With that in mind, he drove up to the inn. The front door stood wide open.

  Chase shut off the engine and turned to her. “Is someone in there?”

  She struggled with her answer. “I—I’m not sure.”

  “I’m going inside to check it out. I’ll lock the doors. You’ll be safe in here.”

  Livvy shook her head. “Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  The concern on Chase’s face gave her such relief. Thank God he’d come. She’d known she could count on him.

  “All right. Let’s check it out.”

  Once they were inside and Chase had secured the front door, Livvy gathered her scattered wits and told him everything that had happened. She led him through each room, finally coming to the kitchen where the cupboard still stood open, the tins of tea staring out at her, taunting her.

  Chase stood silent a moment. Her hopes fell. He thought she was crazy. She should have seen that coming. Even she had to admit that the whole thing sounded completely nuts.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s consider what we’ve got here.”

  Hope glimmered once more.

  “The house is empty and secure. But the music was real. We have to assume the weeping was, as well.” He indicated the cupboard. “It’s possible Edna could have taken it upon herself to order a different blend of tea.” He looked down at Livvy. “That’s something we can confirm tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded. This was good. A plan. She needed a plan. But a part of her couldn’t believe that with all the blends of tea on the market that Edna would have ordered that particular one. And so much of it…

  “Let’s see if we can find where that weeping was coming from,” he suggested.

  Livvy blinked back the tears that had crested. He believed her. Thank God. She’d been so afraid that no one would.

  They started upstairs where she’d first heard the sound. From there they searched every room, every closet, every single nook and cranny. Chase Fraley didn’t miss a thing.

  But they found nothing.

  Until they reached the downstairs laundry room. In the storage closet where the vacuum cleaners and miscellaneous mops were kept, high on a shelf above Edna’s line of vision, was a cassette player. Wires ran from the player to the ceiling above it.

  From his position on a step stool, Chase counted four different wires. “They probably lead to speakers located in various places in the house.” He studied the cassette player again. “It can be set like an alarm clock, allowing the playing of the tape to start at specified times.” He depressed the rewind button, then the play button and within seconds the distant, forlorn sound of weeping could be heard upstairs.

  He shut the machine off. “Let’s leave it where it is so we don’t do any more damage to any prints that might be here.”

  Livvy nodded. “What do we do now?” She shivered. Her robe had started to dry but it was still a little damp and she felt as cold as a Sub-Zero freezer.

  Chase stepped down off the stool. “We get you warmed up.”

  His clothes were wet, as well. “What about you?”

  He smiled, not his usual high-voltage charmer, but one brimming with warmth. “I’ll be fine.”

  Livvy led the way up to her bedroom. No way was she going anywhere alone. She was glad she hadn’t had to ask him to accompany her.

  She rounded up a towel for him and retreated back into her bathroom. She blew out the candles she’d forgotten all about. Thank God a fire hadn’t started. Working quickly, she peeled off her robe, swabbed her body with a dry towel and slipped on a flannel gown. It fell all the way to her ankles and fit like a tent, but it was warm. She’d worry about panties later.

  She tugged a comb through her damp hair and hurried to rejoin Chase in her bedroom.

  He’d removed his shirt and was in the process of scrubbing the towel over his sculpted chest. Livvy paused in the open doorway, her gaze riveted to his movements. She had known his body would be beautiful. Heat slid through her, warming her as nothing else could. A throb of need followed the path of the heat, reminding her of just how long it had been since she’d wanted…

  He looked up, apparently noted her wide-eyed gaze. “Sorry.” He gestured to the shirt he’d draped over the back of a chair. “I thought I’d take it down and put it in the dryer for a few minutes. If that’s okay.”

  She nodded jerkily.

  His gaze roved over her granny gown. “You look comfortable.”

  Definitely not a compliment, but he was right. She hugged her arms around her chest. “I feel…comfortable.” And she did…oddly. She felt no need to withdraw. It felt right being alone in her bedroom with him.

  Good Lord. What was she thinking? />
  Her cheeks flushed. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “That’d be nice.”

  She started across the room, a spear of unexpected pain bringing her to an abrupt halt. She winced. Rubbed at her leg.

  “You okay?” He was at her side so fast she swayed.

  “I’m okay.” She remembered falling outside. All the fear and excitement had kept her from noticing the nagging pain, she supposed. She rubbed her thigh a little harder and considered that her worn-out body only added to the granny picture. How romantic. She shook herself. What man would want damaged goods? And she was damaged, inside and out.

  “Olivia,” he said softly.

  Meeting his gaze proved the most difficult task. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes and she was certain that’s what she would find.

  “I know what happened to you,” he went on when her gaze at last came to rest on his.

  Her heart bumped hard against her sternum as she recognized what she saw in that sea-blue gaze. Not sympathy, not pity. Desire…need, almost as strong as the need strumming through her soul.

  She twisted her fingers together, unsure how to react. “It’s not such a pretty story.” She had to look away, couldn’t bear the intensity any longer. So much had happened. Everything was out of balance…out of control.

  “I would never hurt you, Olivia,” he murmured. “I want you to know that. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”

  She lifted her face up to his, desperate to believe he could mean such sweet words. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she admitted. “I…” She shook her head. “Beverly’s murder. The tape.” She shivered. “The tea. Who’s doing this?”

  He caressed her cheek so gently that she whimpered with longing. No one had touched her that way in so long.

  “I promise I will get to the bottom of this. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

  The feel of his warm hand, the strength emanating from his touch…made her want to lean into him.

  “Thank you.” She worked up the courage to say the words. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  She saw him lean toward her. Her body instantly went rigid with trepidation.

  “I have to do this,” he whispered as his lips brushed the same cheek he’d caressed.

  Livvy’s eyes closed, her heart fluttered like a caged bird.

  “I’m not taking any chances…I’m staying with you tonight.” She felt his words against her cheek, those full lips moving with infinite softness and restraint.

  For the first time in nearly half a decade she followed her heart, reached out to another human being. Her arms went around his lean waist and she wilted against that powerful chest.

  “Hold me.”

  She vaguely recognized the desperate plea as her own voice…her own aching need.

  “All night long,” he promised.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AT 2:00 A.M. Livvy awoke. The digital clock on her bedside table glared insistently through the darkness.

  For several seconds she held very still, grappling to get her bearings.

  The feel of a big, strong male body next to her sent a barb of terror ripping through her before she remembered who that body belonged to. Chase. That knowledge rose above the other frightening scenes from the night before that flashed one after the other across her mind’s eye.

  She was safe.

  He would protect her.

  She exhaled a heavy breath. He would find out who was doing this to her…who had murdered Beverly.

  She tried to think if a dream had awakened her. Chase had held her close to him for a long while. After he’d dried his clothes, he’d settled her onto her bed, then lain beside her. He’d held her close in that same way all night, not once taking things further than that chaste embrace. She gave in to the urge now to glide her palm over his chest. She was glad he hadn’t slipped his shirt back on before lying down with her.

  The sensations of pleasure that flooded her made her pulse pound and her heart race. His skin felt so soft and smooth, the muscles beneath so powerful and hard. The contrast intrigued her. She licked her lips, held her breath and kissed that soft skin, tasted him. Couldn’t help herself.

  He groaned, tightened his arms around her. “I thought you were asleep,” he whispered.

  Her face heated with embarrassment. She was glad he couldn’t see. “I thought you were.” No telling what he thought of her now.

  Chase rolled to his side, peered down at her through the darkness. “I should move to the chair,” he suggested huskily.

  Livvy shook her head. “Stay with me.” She splayed her fingers over his chest again, relishing the wondrous feelings that mere touch evoked.

  He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressed a tender kiss there. “We should be careful.”

  He was right. She wasn’t ready for this to go any further. Deep down she knew that, but a part of her had yearned for this kind of intimacy for so long.

  He tensed. Sat up.

  “What is it?” She hadn’t heard anything.

  He moved up from the bed and across the room to look out the window. She hurried to his side, unable to wait on a response.

  The storm had passed, taking with it the cold rain. But in its wake had come the fog, thick and swirling, ghostly. She shivered as she watched it curl around a lamppost in the courtyard. Chase had suggested they leave the exterior lights on. Now she was glad she had, though she still couldn’t see a thing except the wispy snakelike path of the ever-moving mist.

  Chase grabbed his shirt and tugged it on. “I’m going to take a look around outside.”

  “What?” He had heard something.

  He pulled on his utility belt next. She didn’t need any light to see what that meant. His weapon was among the items on that belt.

  “You think someone’s out there.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “I just want to be sure,” he offered, his voice devoid of any telltale emotion, unlike hers. He’d surely heard the fear in hers.

  “I’m going with you.”

  He took her by the shoulders and held her still. Though she couldn’t make out the features of his face, her eyes had adjusted enough to know that he looked directly at her.

  “You stay here. Lock the door behind me. Call 9-1-1 if you hear anything suspicious.”

  A new rush of fear detonated in her chest. “Call someone now, Chase. Don’t go out there alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. You just do as I say.”

  She didn’t want to stay put, but he was right. He had a gun. He had the training. He knew how to handle this sort of thing. “Okay.”

  Reluctantly she followed him to the door.

  “Lock it,” he ordered. “Don’t let anyone in but me, not even the chief. Call 9-1-1 if I don’t come back.”

  Before she could demand to know why he’d specifically mentioned the chief, he was gone. She closed the door and locked it. She hurried to the bedside table, fumbled for the phone, then went back to the window and strained to see anything in the eerie mist.

  She sent a quick prayer heavenward for God to keep Chase safe.

  The reality that whoever was behind these incidents was no mere ghost set in all over again. James Hamilton was dead, but whoever had committed these acts knew what he had done to her. Knew how to use her past against her. Maybe the whole point was for her to look crazy. A crazy woman might very well murder her employee and not even remember it.

  Had Chase’s warning meant that the chief believed she was guilty? Or had his warning carried a more ominous message?

  She pressed her shaking fingers to her mouth, the phone clutched to her chest. God, what did all this mean?

  A crashing sound echoed up from the courtyard. She peered through the fog. Had Chase bumped into something in the murky mist? Could she take the chance? No. She had to call for help. Now. He shouldn’t have gone out there alone.

  She pressed the talk button and then the three nece
ssary numbers. She frowned. Nothing. She tried again. No dial tone.

  Livvy threw the phone aside. Where was her cell phone? Downstairs in her purse.

  Without hesitating, Livvy unlocked the door and rushed down the stairs, ignoring the insistent throb in her leg. She moved through the darkness, alert to every sound, afraid to turn on a light. She found her purse. Made the call. Refused to stay on the line…she had to find Chase.

  She listened.

  Nothing.

  She couldn’t let that stop her.

  Cold air wafted in from the doors leading to the courtyard. She didn’t need any light to know they stood wide open beyond the stairs. He’d gone out there.

  Before good sense could dissuade her, she padded quietly to the open doors and strained to see through the thick gloom. She couldn’t see a thing.

  Her heart hammering, she carefully eased out onto the courtyard. The cold, wet flagstone sent another fizz of adrenaline upward from the soles of her bare feet. She opened her mouth to call out to Chase but quickly snapped it closed. Not smart. If someone else was out here, she would give her location away.

  She moved cautiously forward, listening, trying hard to make out any moving form in the creepy fog.

  Her foot struck something solid. She stumbled but caught herself. Barely.

  A body.

  Anticipation bursting in her veins, she squatted, her head starting to spin. As if on cue, a sliver of moonlight cut through the darkness just enough for her to see that it was Chase and then it went dark again.

  A scream died in her throat. She quickly ran her hands over him, searching for injury. Leaned her face close to his to see if he was breathing. He was. Thank God.

  Her breath coming in ragged spurts, she forced her brain to analyze the situation. She felt no sign of injury, then her fingers encountered something warm and thick in his hair. Her heart climbed into her throat. She forced herself to pay attention…to think. A lump and gash. But his breathing was steady. Help was on its way. He would be all right. He had to be all right.

  Then she smelled it.

  Smoke.

  Her gaze shifted across the courtyard. Her chest seized with terror when she saw a flame lick upward through the darkness.