Shadows of the Past

by Debra Webb

  The garden shed was on fire.

  Oh, God!

  Livvy shot to her feet and ran as best she could over the stone courtyard’s slick surface. She carefully avoided the obstacles she knew to be present. She had no idea what she would do when she got there but she had to do something. The shed was very close to the house. Would the dampness from the rain slow the flames? If a spark were to fly onto the roof of the inn…

  She skidded to a stop at the gardener’s shed. The fire appeared to have started on the inside. The exterior walls looked unharmed as of yet but the flames were quickly devouring their way through the wooden shingle roof. The door stood ajar.

  Her first thought was to look inside, at the same time a self-protective instinct warned her to stay clear. But she couldn’t. She had to be sure no one was inside. She couldn’t risk allowing anyone else to die at Lost Angel Inn.

  She shrugged off the hesitation and rushed to the door, the pain in her thigh shooting sharply up to her hip, sending its own kind of warning. She’d pushed too far tonight.

  When the door banged against the far wall and her eyes surveyed the interior, a new terror ballooned in her chest.

  Ralph lay facedown on the floor.

  She dashed inside and tried to rouse him.

  “Ralph!” She shook him hard, but he didn’t respond.

  The crackle of the fire, the falling embers, alerted her that she didn’t have much time.

  Using all her strength, she grabbed him under the arms and dragged him toward the door. She grunted with effort, coughed as the smoke seared her lungs.

  Hurry!

  She tugged hard, falling backward as she pulled him into the cold night air.

  Scrambling for purchase, she dragged him a little further away. She felt for a pulse, put her face close to his. He was still breathing, but it was shallow and weak. She needed help.

  She stood and hurried toward the house, as fast as her lame gait would allow. She needed an ambulance. Help should be coming but she couldn’t be sure if EMTs would automatically be sent.

  In her haste she completely forgot the wet flagstone…the fountain…the digging…

  Her feet hit the mud, flew out from under her and she landed in a heap in the wide, shallow ditch that had been excavated near the fountain.

  She disregarded the pain arcing up her leg, fought to get back on her feet. The slippery mud made it difficult.

  Her fingers dug into the sodden earth in an attempt to brace herself for some upward momentum.

  She stilled.

  The fingers of her right hand had encountered something long and hard…slim and smooth.

  She plopped back down on her knees, pulled her hand and the object upward. The fingers of her left hand traced the length and form as her mind assimilated the clues her senses provided.

  Long…cylinder-shaped…

  Moonlight peeked from between the clouds once more, highlighting the slender white object in her hand.

  Bone.

  Human.

  The angel hovering over the fountain peering down at her seemed to cry out in agony.

  She heard the scream echoing off the walls of the inn, only then recognizing that it had come from her.

  The bone dropped into the muddy water with a splash.

  Punishing fingers gripped her from behind, dragged her upward. A brutal hand covered her mouth before she could scream again.

  She was suddenly moving backward, being hauled by some force that she couldn’t see. Human. Male.

  For what seemed like an eternity, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight back. But when they rounded the corner of the west wing, survival instinct kicked in once more. She tried to jerk free, pounded with her fists, dug her feet into the wet ground.

  Her assailant’s grip turned even more brutal. Her efforts didn’t slow his forward movement in the least. When they passed between the far corner of the house and the blazing garden shed, she tried to twist around to see her captor’s face in the light of the flames.

  He wrenched her back, almost snapping her neck. Fear surged anew inside her. Livvy relaxed in his hold. Her heart flopped helplessly in her rib cage. She had to do something. Had to get free.

  The terrain under her feet changed…the grass gave way to gravel…then back to grass.

  The cliffs.

  He was moving her toward the cliffs.

  She struggled again. Fought to free herself. Her elbow collided with an object at his waist, sending a shattering vibration up her arm.

  And then she knew.

  Chief Fraley.

  The weapon on his belt was just like the one on Chase’s. Her elbow had collided with the unmistakable butt.

  He flung her to the ground. She landed so close to the jutting land’s edge, the sudden downward drop of the landscape made her head spin as if she were still falling.

  “Stand up!”

  She looked up at him, the gruff order echoing over the restless sea. His frame vaguely visible in the veiled moonlight.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you wouldn’t leave it alone,” he snarled. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you wouldn’t give up and go away.”

  She shook her head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t mind so much that you reopened the inn but the renovations had to stop. I couldn’t let you do that. But you screwed up everything, causing the death of an innocent woman, then there was no turning back. I had to stop you at all cost.”

  He was the one who’d killed Beverly.

  The revelation shocked her, rumbled through her like an earthquake. Nausea roiled in her stomach.

  “That’s right,” he said. “I killed her. I thought she was you.”

  Livvy hadn’t realized she’d said the words out loud. But his admission, spoken with such indifference, sent rage rocketing through her.

  “What did you care about the renovations?” she demanded. She carefully got to her feet, conscious of her closeness to that lethal precipice.

  A bout of déjà vu struck her…just like before…she would fall…only this time she wouldn’t survive.

  “All I wanted was to keep the past where it belonged,” he said, sounding unexpectedly weary, “but you wouldn’t let it go.”

  Everything…all of it…coalesced at once. “You buried that body in my courtyard. That’s why you didn’t want me digging.” The chief hadn’t complained so much as the interior renovations had taken place, but the very day the digging around the fountain had occurred, Beverly had been murdered.

  “It was an accident. I loved him…”

  Livvy couldn’t make out the details of the chief’s face but she heard the regret in his voice and she knew then and there whose body had been buried.

  “You killed Chase’s father.”

  The words rang in the air, a death toll for her since she would never be allowed to live with the knowledge.

  “I should have moved the remains a long time ago, but I never figured on anyone like you coming along. Now it’s too late. More lives will be lost because of you.”

  “Ralph?” Her heart surged into her throat. He needed immediate medical assistance. And Chase…God…Chase was hurt, too.

  “That’s right. The two of you did this. Edna took all the bait I’d laid. Went along with my every theory. She’ll be my material witness.”

  Livvy clenched her fists into determined balls. “Chase will never believe you.” He had to be all right. Help had to get here in time. She had to keep the chief talking until then so he wouldn’t have time to go back to finish what he’d started with Chase or Ralph. Though she doubted it would do her any good. Even without any real assistance from the moon she knew he had drawn his weapon.

  “Eventually he’ll believe me. He always does. I’ve got enough documentation on your background and what can happen to a person suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome to convince any jury. You couldn’t help yourself.” He made a sound that wasn’t quite a
laugh.

  “I’ll make everyone believe that you killed Ralph to try to blame this on him. But I caught you…you struggled to get away and well…” He gestured to the cliffs. “The rest will just be another tale for folks to pass along to the tourists. I’ll clean up my own mess and call in the mainland authorities. Poor Chase will have been unconscious through the whole thing. You even fooled him.”

  That’s why she’d found that bone in the mud, the chief had been getting rid of the evidence. Had likely just finished digging up the remains.

  “You’re throwing Wayne’s remains over the cliff.”

  “That’s where everyone thinks he is anyway.”

  His words were empty, emotionless.

  “Why did you kill your own brother?”

  The chief charged her. She couldn’t back up, barely kept her balance as she stood on the very edge, held herself so very still. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and snapped her face upward, nearer to his.

  “Because he was obsessed,” he snarled. “I had Melissa’s murderer. It was Maxwell, I knew it. But Wayne wouldn’t believe it. He kept coming out here and pining over her like a fool, trying to find the answer. He’d had a beautiful wife once, had a good, strong son. It wasn’t right. I should have been the one grieving over Melissa’s death. People should have been comforting me. But he always got the best. I had to make due with his castoffs. Just like this job. I was never as good as him…never.”

  Livvy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The man had obviously lived in his brother’s shadow for years. “You were in love with Melissa Carlyle, too,” she murmured.

  “That’s right,” he growled. “Even I had feelings back then. But she paid me no mind, was too busy flirting with my brother and screwing my best friend. I wasn’t good enough for her. But I would never have hurt her.” His grip on Livvy relaxed. “I loved her.” A bark of cruel laughter issued from his throat. “It wasn’t right for him to grieve for her…she should have been mine. He’d already had a wife…had the son I’d always wanted. Had it all. The whole town loved him. With his help, I could have nailed Maxwell even without real evidence, but he wouldn’t go along, so the bastard walked.”

  And there it was. Jealousy…obsession.

  “So you killed your own brother to stop him,” Livvy reiterated. God, how sad. Chase would be devastated.

  “I didn’t mean to kill him.” The chief released her entirely now, so abruptly she almost toppled over that treacherous edge. “But I couldn’t take it anymore. I found him back at the inn, pining around like a fool. Looking for clues that didn’t exist. I told him how I felt. How he was being selfish. We fought. He hit his head on the fountain…it was an accident.”

  “Why did you bury him there?” Livvy asked, surprised at his lack of foresight. It would have been so much simpler to have thrown him over the cliffs. Like he is about to do with you, a voice cautioned.

  “I couldn’t risk his body falling on the rocks,” the chief murmured more to himself than to Livvy. “Too much time had passed to get away with blaming it on Melissa’s murderer. I couldn’t be sure Maxwell wouldn’t have an alibi. So I buried Wayne next to the fountain.”

  The chief moved toward her. “You caused this,” he accused.

  “Don’t move!”

  Chase.

  Livvy’s heart jolted with equal measures relief and fear.

  The chief spun away from her, focusing his attention on the new threat. As the two men argued, she tried to ease away from the edge.

  “Don’t make me shoot,” Chase warned.

  Livvy froze. This couldn’t be happening again. No! Her mind reeled. History was about to repeat itself…

  For long moments nobody budged. Then just as she moved to throw herself to the ground, the chief dropped his gun.

  “It was an accident,” he said, the hollow words directed at Chase. “I tried to protect you from it.”

  And then he jumped.

  Livvy screamed.

  Chase was suddenly at her side.

  “It’s all right now,” he murmured against her temple as he held her close.

  She sagged against his strength. Let the tears flow.

  Abruptly she remembered, pulled back. “Ralph!”

  “Shh.” He rocked her in his arms. “Help is here.”

  Everything happened at once then. She was dimly aware of the mainland police hurrying toward them.

  An EMT from a local emergency clinic followed immediately. He assured her that Ralph was alive.

  Chase’s face was covered in blood but he was not seriously injured.

  Livvy was bruised and battered but she had survived worse.

  She was alive. Chase was alive.

  For now that was enough.

  He stayed close as the EMT checked her over.

  His presence gave her the courage to get through the night.

  The night the final mystery of Lost Angel Inn was laid to rest.

  EPILOGUE

  SNOW FELL SILENTLY outside Lost Angel Inn.

  Livvy peered out at the delightful, thickening blanket of white. The weatherman had forecast another six inches on top of the ten they’d gotten three days ago.

  “Are you going to take this tray or daydream?” Clara scolded.

  Livvy jerked to attention. “Sorry.”

  The inn was filled to capacity, both wings. Christmas was only one week away, and she was booked for the entire season.

  Smiling, she took the tray laden with lovely biscuits and muffins and backed out of the kitchen. The guests would be stirring soon and no one wanted to wait for Clara’s famous breakfast treats, including a new, special blend of coffee available no other place on the planet. Clara’s own secret recipe.

  Ralph and Edna were scurrying about, as well. Both had been cruelly used by the chief but were putting the past behind them. The chief had been the one to special order the Assam tea and place it in the kitchen cupboard that fateful night. He’d prepared the CD to play that haunting music as well as set up the weeping sounds.

  But all that was over now. Livvy settled the tray on the buffet and began to arrange the baked goods on the various platters. Hmm. They smelled heavenly as always.

  Footsteps echoed behind her. Before she could turn around strong arms had enveloped her.

  “And how is my Livvy this morning?” Chase stole a kiss before she could answer.

  She couldn’t possibly resist, even if Clara had a stroke in the kitchen waiting for her. Livvy melted in his arms, loving the feel of him…the taste of his lips.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the office?” she inquired between his attentive little teasing nips.

  Chase had intended to walk away from law enforcement but the whole town had come out in support of his staying. A proper funeral and burial for his father had been conducted. A separate, quiet service had been conducted for the chief, a man consumed by jealousy and obsession.

  Any lingering tarnish to Martin Maxwell’s reputation was cleared once and for all. In fact, Christopher and Emily were busily planning a Valentine’s Day wedding at Lost Angel Inn.

  “Well,” Chase mused, those beautiful blue eyes staring with adoration down at her, “I decided to take the morning off and come back home to make love to my wife.”

  Livvy grinned, her body quivering in response to his words. Lovemaking with Chase was everything it should be and more. It had taken time and he’d been patient, but she’d come around, giving him her full trust. He’d proposed long before that, but she’d put him off until she could be the kind of wife he deserved. One free of the past.

  They’d married the weekend before Thanksgiving. Most everyone in town had filed into the inn, taking up every square foot of space to hear their favorite son exchange vows with the woman he loved on the second-story landing of the spectacular staircase.

  “Clara might not like my taking a break,” Livvy countered, her fingers walking down his shirtfront toward dangerous territory.

  “She’ll
get over it,” he said silkily as he swept Livvy into his arms.

  She gasped. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she teased as he strode determinedly toward the staircase.

  He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She smiled and relaxed against his broad shoulder. “Right,” she relented.

  He mounted the stairs with no visible effort. He kicked their bedroom door closed behind him and lowered her onto the fluffy down-filled comforter.

  “In a few months I doubt you’ll be able to do that,” she teased as she nestled into the mound of equally fluffy pillows. “Pregnant women put on weight, you know.”

  He pushed up the hem of her sweater and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her still flat belly. “I’ll just keep you in bed then.”

  She pulled his face up to hers. “I love you, Chase.” She searched his eyes and wondered how on earth she’d gotten so lucky. He’d made her life everything she had ever dreamed it could be. He would be an amazing father, already was the best husband in the world. He’d taken her to a level of happiness that transcended the shadows of her painful past.

  “Olivia Fraley, I love you,” he echoed.

  As if nothing else existed outside that room, he unhurriedly undressed her, then himself. Slowly, thoroughly, he made love to her the way a man should make love to a woman.

  Minute by minute, day by day, they would make a new history in this lovely old inn, hopefully filling it with at least four or five sweet little real-life angels of their own.

  * * * * *

  Want something SEXI-ER? Look for USA Today bestselling author Debra Webb’s new Colby Agency book, Finding the Edge, wherever Harlequin® Intrigue books are sold.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Edge, Chicago

  Friday, May 4, 9:50 p.m.

  “We’re going to need more gurneys!” Dr. Ma­rissa Frasier shouted.

  Someone amid the fray yelled that more gurneys were coming. They had nine new victims besides the dozen already in the ER. All bleeding, some worse than others. All had been shot and all were armed. And every damned one sported white T-shirts with an odd circle inside a circle in the center and wore black beanie caps. Their shouted threats echoed like thunder, inciting fear. Thank God most of the other patients had been checked in and were either already triaged and stable or had nonlife-threatening emergencies.