by Dawn Brown
“She showed psychotic tendencies as a child—” Declan began.
“Not just that,” Harding snapped, reaching for his cigarette packet. Carly’s stomach was already swirling dangerously. She didn’t know how much longer she could last in a perpetual cloud of cigarette smoke. “There were witnesses. With every disappearance, Eleri James was the last person to interact with the victim. Olivia Dodd saw Eleri have words with Daniel Forbes the day before he vanished. Sean Leonard said Billy Lewis complained about Eleri watching him days before he vanished. No one saw him again until we pulled him out of The Devil’s Eye. And Eleri had been seeing Griffin Paskin secretly for months when he vanished.”
“There was evidence, photographs, that his father killed him,” Carly added. She remembered that point very clearly; it was one of the more sensational aspects of the story and the media focused heavily on it.
“She was involved.” Harding lit another cigarette. “I know it. If you want to find your friend, find Eleri James.”
Somehow she really didn’t believe Eleri had driven up from Dorchester and kidnapped Andy. A man nearly a foot taller than her and who probably outweighed her by three stone.
“Thank you for seeing us, Detective,” Declan said, standing. “We appreciate the insight.”
What insight? The man clearly hadn’t given up on blaming Eleri James despite all evidence to the contrary.
Still, she smiled and offered a polite thank-you before she and Declan finally hurried back outside. The sky had darkened to blue twilight and a chilly breeze sent dead leaves scuttling down the cobblestone road.
“What do you think?” Carly asked, once seated on the passenger side of Declan’s aging Land Rover.
He slammed the driver’s side door closed and tugged his seat belt over his shoulder. “The man fucked up and would give anything to prove he hadn’t been wrong all those years.”
“So you don’t think he’s right about your sister?”
Declan looked at her, his features shuttered in the fading light. “You met her. What do you think?”
“There’s no way she had anything to with what happened to Kyle Peirs. I’ve seen them together. As for the rest, I just don’t see it. Stephen Paskin kept photographs of all the people he’d killed. While just how involved his wife was in the murders has never been proven, Dylis Paskin knew what he’d done and actively aided him in keeping the killings secret.”
“And the other man, the doctor?”
“He confessed to Peirs while he was holding him captive.”
“Peirs is the witness, the one who said there were three of them, right?”
She nodded. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering if there’s any significance to so many people seeing Eleri with the victims before they disappeared.”
“Given her reputation, those people might have just been looking for attention, claiming to have seen her to impress others.”
“Maybe.” He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “I’m also thinking that if we want to figure out what happened to Andy, I’m going to have to meet my long-lost sister, after all.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was dark by the time Declan turned up Stonecliff’s narrow drive. A steady ache had blossomed at the base of his skull and he could still smell the odor of Harding’s house—either his clothes and hair had absorbed the stench of old cigarettes, or the man’s chain smoking had burned the stink into Declan’s sinuses.
He needed a shower. He needed sleep. And he might very well need a psychiatrist to explain to him why in the hell he was still contemplating visiting a sister he had no interest in knowing.
Because Carly needed his help; it was as simple as that. When had she started to mean something to him? He didn’t have an answer, but counting down the days until he left Stonecliff no longer gave him something to look forward to. Instead, the idea of leaving left him hollow inside.
Not good, and definitely not practical. He had a home, a business, a family who needed him. Even if wanted to see what he’d started with Carly through, he couldn’t. He had too many people counting on him.
A flash of light in the dark car caught his eye. He glanced at Carly beside him while she checked her phone—again.
“No word?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, on a soft sigh.
He lifted his hand off the shift and gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re going to find him. He’ll be okay.”
When she’d told him that morning that Andy was gone—and as they’d searched it became clear something had happened to the man—a wave of protectiveness rolled through him. Until they knew what happened to Andy, Declan didn’t want Carly out of his sight.
He pulled into the courtyard and his headlights swept over the side of a blue Jeep parked in front of the house.
Carly stiffened beside him. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.” Apprehension tickled the base of his skull.
“Maybe it’s the police. Maybe they found Andy.” Her voice trembled slightly. “It can’t be good news. He would have called or texted if he were okay.”
“I doubt it’s the police with a Jeep. Maybe my real estate agent’s showing the house.”
They got out of the car, and Declan laced his fingers with hers as they started to the front door. Carly’s cold hand gripped hard as he led her into the foyer where Warlow stood waiting as if he’d sensed Declan’s approach, a scowl etched into his smooth features.
“What is it?” Carly asked, her voice unusually small.
Warlow shot her a hard glare before turning his attention to Declan. “You have guests waiting for you. They said you were expecting them.”
Declan frowned, confused. “Who?”
“Your sister.” The man’s eyes glittered like shards of blue ice.
“Eleri?” That would be handy, save him a five-hour drive according to Carly.
Warlow’s scowl deepened. “Brynn and Conway. I can see you were not expecting them, and I will see that they leave immediately.”
“Wait.” Carly grasped the man’s sleeve to stop him. His eyes widened, nostrils flared as he looked down at her hand. “Sorry,” she muttered, then turned to Declan. “I sort of invited them.”
“You did?” What the hell? “You invited my sister, who I’ve never expressed an interest in meeting, here?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’ll send them on their way,” Warlow said, and started for the door to the parlor.
“Just leave it,” Declan snapped. His brain was running on overdrive. He couldn’t believe one of his sisters was waiting in the other room, or that Carly had brought her here. He needed a minute to think, to process without the damned butler running his own agenda. “I’ll deal with them. Go on to your room. We’ll be fine.”
Warlow’s face hardened, his eyes bore into Declan like twin lasers. If looks could kill, no doubt all of Declan’s internal organs would have burst under the pressure of his glare.
With a short nod, the fuming butler strode from the foyer to the rear of the house. Once gone, Declan turned his attention back to Carly.
“I called Reece this morning, told him about Andy and asked for his help. I didn’t think he’d bring Brynn if he came, but I guess it’s not surprising he did. Maybe she wanted to meet you.”
“Why did you think he could help you?” Something far too close to jealousy was burrowing low inside him, and he did his best to ignore the sensation.
“Reece will have an insight that no one else will.”
“Oh, the psychic thing.” Declan managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but couldn’t keep the derision from his voice.
Carly’s gaze narrowed. “He’s a medium, not a psychic.”
Sure, why not? He’d been seeing ghosts since he got here, so why not this Conway? “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Anxiety knotted his insides, though he wasn’t sure why. Why did the idea of meeting his sisters make him so u
neasy? Another tie to a place he couldn’t wait to leave?
Though that wasn’t entirely true. He glanced at Carly beside him and she offered him a reassuring smile.
“This isn’t going to be as bad as you think it is,” she told him.
Maybe, maybe not. He pushed open the study door and stepped into the room. Pale lamplight fell over the cream-colored walls and cracked blue inlay. A fire burned in the hearth, casting long flickering shadows over the shabby furnishing. A man and woman seated on the couch both looked up when he walked in.
“Hi.” The woman stood, a soft, hesitant smile pulling at her mouth. She was a few inches shorter than Carly, copper-colored hair falling just past her shoulders, pretty in a quiet sort of way. “I’m Brynn.”
She was the youngest of his sisters, by Arthur’s third wife. She was probably only a few years older than Josh. He thought of his brother who couldn’t hold down a job, who’d washed out of school, slept until midafternoon every day because he’d been out at the bars with his friends the night before like some perpetual frat boy. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare him to this woman standing so self-possessed before him, but he couldn’t help himself.
Her smile faltered. Probably because he was standing there staring like an idiot. He gave his head a shake. “I’m Declan. Sorry, this is just really strange.”
Her shoulders sagged and her smile stretched wider. “It is, isn’t it? Eight months ago, I didn’t think I had any family. I had no idea about any of this.” She waved her hand around the room. “Now, I have a sister and a brother. It kind makes you wonder if Arthur has more children out there. More ex-wives.”
He chuckled. “I hope not for their sake.”
“We should have…I should have come to meet you sooner. It’s just this place.” Her smile dimmed and she wrapped her arms around her middle as if to ward off a sudden chill.
All the things Warlow had told him about his sisters, abandoning their father, grasping for Stonecliff even before the man had gone, Brynn only coming here to get what she could before Arthur had passed. None of it was true. The woman before him wanted Stonecliff about as much as he did.
“Do you want something to drink or eat?” he asked. “I can’t imagine Warlow offered you anything.”
The man on the couch snorted, drawing Declan’s attention.
“This is Reece,” Brynn said, gesturing the other man.
Right, the medium. He wasn’t what Declan had been expecting, either. He figured the man would have been all smooth charm like most of the conmen he’d met. Like Josh when his brother wanted something. Or pale and all dressed in black like some kind of vampire wannabe. Instead, Reece looked ordinary, sort of. Jeans and a thick gray sweater, his hair in need of a cut even more than Declan’s, the ends falling past the man’s collar—but there was a hardness to him. It was etched into his broad, angled features, glinted in his cool, light eyes.
“We’re okay,” Brynn said, sitting down again beside Conway. He stretched his arm across the back of the couch behind her. “I’m sorry I waited until this happened to come to see you.” She glanced past him at Carly perched on the edge of her seat. “Have you heard anything about your friend?”
Carly shook her head, her attention shifting to Conway. “You haven’t picked up anything?”
He shook his head. “Not about Andy.”
She leaned forward, gripping the chair’s frayed arms. “But something.”
Conway held up his hand. “Later. For now, tell us what happened to Andy.”
Carly explained all that had gone on the day before. When she finished, Reece was frowning.
“Are you certain he didn’t just go home? Maybe he was frustrated by the investigation.”
Carly shook her head. “He wouldn’t have taken my car.”
“When the men who worked for Stonecliff vanished, so did their personal items,” Brynn said. “As if they’d just moved on.”
“He couldn’t be connected to those men. There were arrests,” Carly insisted. “All three people involved are dead.”
“Do we know for sure there were only three people involved? I realize there’s a witness who claims he saw three, but couldn’t he have made a mistake?” Declan asked. Andy disappearing the same way so many men had before was too big a coincidence for him to believe they weren’t related in some way.
“It’s possible. Kyle had been drugged, and given the trauma from the attack, he may not have been completely aware of his surroundings. I think it’s unlikely, though. He managed to escape by pushing the man who had ahold of him into the bog. I doubt he would have managed to get away, especially injured, if there’d been many more people there.”
“Maybe this is a copycat of some kind,” Brynn said, carefully. “Dr. Howard told Kyle they’d been sacrificing men at The Devil’s Eye for the good of the village. Cragera Bay is dwindling. Half the businesses have closed. Maybe someone out there believes if another man is sacrificed things will get better.”
“I feel sick,” Carly muttered, skin pale. “I dragged him into this.”
Declan sat next to her, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find him.”
“Kyle was convinced that the date the men were killed was as important as the murders themselves. He emailed you that pattern he found, didn’t he?” Reece asked.
She nodded. “Initially, the dates, while seasonal, still appear random. Most of the men disappeared around the end of January, April, July or October, but rarely on the same day. Of course, knowing now that the men may have been held captive before they were killed, the dates are not random at all. They line up with the four main Gaelic holidays.”
“What’s the closest holiday?” Declan asked.
“November first, Samhain. It celebrates the harvest, and is also when the barrier between the living and dead is lowered.”
“Something to look forward to,” Declan muttered. He had enough ghosts roaming the halls of this house, he really didn’t need more.
“It’s how Halloween came to be,” Carly added.
“It’s also two days away,” Brynn said. “If he’s being held somewhere, is the round room too obvious?”
“What’s the round room?” Declan asked.
“It’s a dovecote on the doctor’s land. That’s where they kept the men they took,” Reece said, frowning.
“And the women,” Brynn added.
Declan had heard women had been killed by the man who ran the pub, but no female bodies were discovered in The Devil’s Eye. “What happened to the women? They weren’t part of the sacrifice?”
Brynn shook her head. “No, the women seemed to be exclusively Stephen Paskin’s thing. He would find the men—he called them harvest—and as a reward Dr. Howard would let him bring a woman to the round room to do God knows what with until he killed her.”
Carly shuddered. “Lovely.”
“Did they find any of the bodies?” Declan asked.
Brynn shook her head. “Not so far. Police searched all over Cragera Bay, but there was no trace.”
“We’re on the coast,” Conway said. “Paskin could have weighted down the bodies and dumped them into the sea.”
A likely possibility, Declan thought. “So if Paskin’s job was to find the men for Dr. Howard to sacrifice, then he’s given a woman to torture as reward, could that be the extent of his involvement with the men he took? Maybe he wasn’t at The Devil’s Eye at all when the men were killed. His part was finished.”
Brynn leaned forward, her eyes wide. “His wife was arrested also. She knew what was happening, covered up for him, but there’s no way to be sure she’d been present at The Devil’s Eye when the men were killed.”
“So if we go forward with your theory that the Paskins weren’t actually present when the men were killed,” Carly said, releasing his hand and tilting her head to meet his gaze with bright silvery eyes. “There are still two people out there who murdered countless men.”
“Maybe there’re even more people th
an we realize involved here,” Reece said. “Three people actually killing the men, but if it was Paskin’s job to find the harvest, maybe other people in Cragera Bay had jobs, too. Someone to dispose of bodies. Someone to throw off police.”
Brynn turned to Reece. “That would be a huge conspiracy.”
Reece shrugged. “Maybe it had to be. How long does Kyle’s list go back?”
“I don’t remember off the top of my head,” Carly said. “But about twenty-five maybe thirty years.”
“One man per year, that’s twenty-five to thirty men—and women, too, depending on how long Paskin was involved. Are you telling me three people could have pulled that off without anyone in the village becoming suspicious?”
“You’re right,” Brynn said, nodding. “The man who found Kyle after he’d been attacked knew that there was more than just one person involved. He lied about where he found Kyle, even moved Kyle’s car to discredit his story to police. And God knows, Harding would jump at anything that made Eleri look guilty.”
“I believe that. We just met the man,” Declan said.
Brynn’s gaze narrowed. “I thought he had been fired.”
“He was,” Declan said quickly, the sudden chill in Brynn’s voice catching him by surprise. “We went to see him because he’d been the lead detective in the murders.”
“You shouldn’t have wasted your time.”
“I wanted to know why the man was convinced Eleri was guilty, when everything I heard indicated she wouldn’t have had the physical strength to overpower these men,” Declan explained. “Harding said witnesses came forward claiming they saw Eleri with the victims just before they disappeared.”
“They’re lying,” Brynn said, jaw tight, eyes hot and fixed on him.
Declan held up both hands. “I believe you. But why did they lie to the police? We thought,” he nodded to Carly, “they did it for attention. Fifteen minutes of fame saying they saw this dangerous woman with her next victim, but maybe that wasn’t it at all.”
“They lied to hide what was really happening at The Devil’s Eye,” Reece said.
Declan nodded.
