“I have a magnifying glass,” Echo said, and Bram insisted on retrieving it for her and received in return a smile of thanks that warmed him more than the tea.
“I only wish we knew for certain that these men were the only ones wearing vests at the party.”
He tried to be positive, however. With the help of magnification, they easily eliminated one of the three men whose buttons were too small and ordinary. That left two to choose from.
“Hard to tell against all that brocade,” Echo muttered. “And the masks cover too much of their faces.”
Bram didn’t answer. He was staring at the other costumed people in the two photos, one of which he recognized. His mother. Her head was tilted and she was laughing gaily at something the man was saying.
“Is this guy at all familiar?” he asked Echo.
“No, not really. Wait.” She stared harder. “From the build... the posture... he kind of looks like Travis Ferguson.”
“Who was eight years old at the time.”
Her eyes rounded and met his. “His father then?”
“Just what I was thinking. Unless I’m mistaken, Norbert Ferguson lost a very costly button that night.” And Aunt Addy’s neighbor thought he had some kind of claim on Dunescape Cottage, Bram remembered. “Somehow, I don’t feature the old man Norbert has become chasing you down and almost killing you to get it back.”
“Someone else involved,” Echo suggested.
But who? Sipping at his tea, Bram considered the current residents of the estate. He couldn’t feature one of them being a potential killer, either. If murder had been the person’s intent. Perhaps the driver of the truck had only meant to scare Echo half to death.
And had succeeded.
“The truck was parked at the boathouse,” Bram said, “practically on the Ferguson property line. The button was Norbert’s. And Travis seemed awfully interested in getting to know you better.”
“He was more interested in knowing how much I had learned about the secrets of Dunescape Cottage than in me or in buying anything,” she admitted. “And he followed us to the library.”
Considering how upset he’d been over Mrs. Ahern’s gossip about his father, it wasn’t any wonder he’d missed that.
“Travis always was a bully,” Bram told her. “I wouldn’t put a trick like this past him. It makes more sense than it being someone from Dunescape. Aunt Addy hasn’t driven in years. Mother doesn’t know a stick shift from a golf club, and I doubt Lena could drive a truck, either.”
“But we don’t know about Sibyl or Uriah.”
“Uriah?” Bram hadn’t warmed to the man, and he had wondered if the groundskeeper was taking advantage of Aunt Addy. “What makes you suspect him? Other than the fact that he’s the only male resident other than me.”
She covered a yawn and shrugged. “He’s pretty hostile to me. Then, that could apply to Lena, too.”
No, Lena hadn’t seemed too fond of Echo, but as Bram had told her, that was the housekeeper’s way. Suddenly Echo’s earlier statement hit him.
“Wait a minute. You said there were a couple of things. What else haven’t you told me?”
She gave him a pained expression before looking down into her mug. “Someone locked me in one of those hidden staircases you were harping about.”
“What? When?”
“Earlier this evening, when you went to find the string for the kids. I thought one of them was exploring. Actually, I thought Jason was playing one of his pranks on me and I went after him. But it wasn’t Jason. Someone pushed me into the stairwell and locked the door.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I, uh, got kind of freaked.” She wouldn’t look at him, just kept focused on what was left of her tea.
“Go on.”
“I found my way to Sibyl’s bedroom. That’s when I saw the pouch.”
Certain she was still holding back, Bram was tempted to press her until he noticed how tightly she hung onto the mug. As if she were afraid of telling him. With wisps of damp hair curling around her pale face, she appeared vulnerable. Almost fragile. Not adjectives he would normally apply to her. He assumed she was fighting some inner demons. Having demons of his own to deal with, he sympathized and left it alone.
Reminded of how exhausted she must be, he promised, “I’ll see what I can find out in the morning. In the meantime, you need a good night’s sleep.”
“I doubt that I’ll be able to close my eyes.”
“You will.”
They were already closing, whether or not she realized it. Setting down his mug, he inched over to her side of the rug and pillows and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was meant to be reassuring. A tenderness that he’d never experienced with another woman filled him as she gazed into his eyes with trust.
“Relax.” Taking the mug from her, he placed it on the floor next to the other. “When you’re ready, you’ll go to bed, and I’ll stay out here on the couch.”
But in the end, he never made it to the couch. She never made it to the bed. Within minutes, Echo fell asleep in Bram’s arms and he couldn’t bear to wake her. Protective instincts he’d never before recognized surfaced and held him captive.
He lay wide awake for a long, long time, staring into the fire. He was mesmerized and halfway to dozing when an unbidden voice pierced his thoughts.
We’re in love. A woman’s voice. We have been for a long time.
And you helped him in this foul scheme?
Bram jerked. Something new. By try as he would, he couldn’t focus, couldn’t dig further. The voices were as elusive as his memories. He cursed softly and held Echo tighter. He had to remember, now for her sake, as well as his own.
For he suspected that if only he could break through the fog that had held him prisoner for the past thirty years, he might see the face of a murderer.
NORBERT FERGUSON stared out into the fog, certain he saw the flicker of lights around Dunescape Cottage. Did ghosts need help seeing their way in the dark? Or was someone trying to cheat him again? About to investigate for himself, he was startled by his son’s sudden appearance.
“Where have you been? Have you gotten to the woman?”
Travis ignored the first question. “Not yet,” he said to the second.
“What are you waiting for?”
“The right opportunity.”
“No time to wait! You have to make your opportunity. Make it!” he echoed. Would the boy never learn? “Take what you want.”
“Words from the master,” Travis said dryly.
“Don’t smart mouth me, boy. Too much is riding on this. Too much.”
“So you say.”
“Too many years of waiting,” Norbert went on, muttering to himself. “Now that snot-nosed brat is back and years of searching could be for nothing.”
“Could be for nothing anyway, Dad.” Travis sounded disgusted. “Maybe there’s nothing left.”
“You’re wrong. Dead wrong. We’re so close, I can smell the jewels.”
He’d been saying that off and on for years, but this time he really meant it.
Time. It was running out, especially for him.
He might be an old coot, but he was stubborn. One way or the other, he meant to be rich before he died.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“INSURANCE,” Echo mumbled in Bram’s ear.
He blinked himself awake. They were still snuggled together in front of the fireplace, but the logs had burned down to mere embers. A gray dawn had broken outside the front windows, making him wonder how long he had slept. The room was decidedly chilly, but the woman beside him was warm and inviting and appeared to have been talking in her sleep.
“Echo?” he probed softly.
Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened. For a moment she appeared confused. Then she frowned, murmuring, “The insurance to cover the Haunted Mansion. I forgot all about it.” She sat straight up as if she were going to rectify the situation right that moment.
&n
bsp; Feeling the loss of her closeness already, Bram stayed her. “I already took care of it.”
She finally focused on him. “You what? But you said I had to. When?”
“Two days ago. I figured you had enough on your hands. Consider it my contribution to the youth group.”
She stared at him for a moment as the full implication of his words sank in. “You’re full of surprises.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
He reached out to run his fingertips along her cheek. Her eyes widened slightly and her lips parted, a small exhalation the only sound. With her hair a vivid tangle, and the bloom of early morning flushing her cheeks, she looked utterly desirable. His physical response was immediate and painful. She wasn’t like any past experience. Other women would pale beside her. As would his past emotions involving matters of the heart.
Slipping his hand behind Echo’s neck, Bram recognized a softness in her she didn’t often let the world see. He hadn’t been tempted to take advantage of her the night before, when she had been so afraid and vulnerable. He’d only wanted to protect her. But now someone had to protect her against him or.
As if the tension between them suddenly registered, she stared at him. Her eyes remained open as he dipped his head and tasted her lips. He explored cautiously and was gratified when she didn’t resist, but melted into him and opened herself. He cared about her. Had told her so. She hadn’t said how she felt about him. When he broke the tender kiss, he would swear she was blushing.
She shifted away toward the glass and driftwood coffee table. Unable to conceal a groan at the movement, she followed with, “What time is it?”
Disappointed if not surprised, Bram checked his watch. “Nearly seven.” He rose in one fairly smooth movement. Part of his leg was asleep where it had taken her weight. He shook it until the pinpricks subsided. “I should get home, but you could use more shut-eye after what you went through yesterday.”
Echo ran shaky fingers through the hair around her face. “So much to do. I have to open the shop this morning. Then everyone involved in the fundraiser will meet at Dunescape to put the finishing touches on the decorations this afternoon. And my hatchback—”
”I’ll check it out when I get back to the estate,” he promised, offering his hand and a boost off the floor. He noted the tightening of her facial muscles, though she didn’t complain. “Don’t worry, give me your keys and I’ll take care of everything.”
Though she was smiling, she looked wan and a little frightened still. “You seem to be good at taking care of things.” She tested her limbs, did a few gentle stretches. “Thanks for last night. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown.”
“You would have walked home,” he said with certainty.
Without him there, she would have drawn on her well-developed inner strength. He was only glad he’d been there for her, so she hadn’t had to go it alone.
“Probably,” she admitted. “But I would have been afraid.”
“Good thought. Be careful and stay safe.”
Bram assumed she would be safe in broad daylight, and he planned to do some investigating on his own, to see if he couldn’t ferret out the person responsible for putting her through hell.
“Maybe you should call the sheriff,” he suggested.
He’d been so wrapped up in taking care of her the night before that contacting the authorities hadn’t occurred to him.
“No. Not yet.”
“Echo.”
”Please. Drop it.”
An edge of panic entered her fathomless gray eyes. Bram let it go.
The fog had cleared by the time he set out for home. He chose to walk rather than send for a ride. The fast-paced hike was preferable to a cold shower and gave him time to think. To make some plans. To figure out what he was going to say to his mother.
But when he set foot on the grounds twenty minutes later, he knew he had to take first things first.
The hatchback.
A quick check proved someone had indeed disconnected one of the cables to Echo’s battery, leaving it in close proximity to the terminal so it would seem as if it hadn’t been properly tightened down. He rectified the situation and got behind the wheel. The vehicle started immediately.
The construction truck was his next stop.
Whoever had driven it the night before had reparked it in front of the boathouse. He descended the stairs from the terrace to take a closer look. Nothing in the driver’s compartment to tell him who might have been inside.
But, rounding the nose of the truck to the other side, he noticed one of the cement bags had fallen over, releasing a pile of white powder on the ground. And someone had tracked through the stuff, leaving a trail of sorts on the blacktop. He stooped to finger one of the splotches. Damp, but not fixed. That meant the cement had been spread after the rain had stopped, presumably by the person who had tried to run Echo down.
Too bad there weren’t actual footprints, or he might be able to tell more about the villain. He followed the traces of cement around the back of the guest wing before the stuff disappeared altogether.
That pretty much cleared the Fergusons, Bram decided, either of whom would have returned to their property. And Aunt Addy and his mother would have used the front door, not that he thought either of them had learned to drive a truck overnight. That left Sibyl, Lena and Uriah.
Uriah. Hmm.
Putting the thought aside for the moment, he entered the house through the ballroom, which had not yet been decorated. Shadows filled the corners of the gloomy room whose scuffed parquet floors and dull paneled walls had been neglected for three decades. Real cobwebs clung to the crystal chandelier and a musty smell permeated the air.
“Perfect as it is,” he muttered wryly as he went in search of his mother.
He found her in the east parlor where many of the valuables from the other rooms had been temporarily stored in boxes. She was sitting in a wing-back chair, staring at something in her lap. As he drew closer, approaching from the side, Bram got a clear view of the hinged silver frame holding two photographs. the Vanmatre twins. Her fingers smoothed the glass protecting the image of his father, and her mind seemed to be very far away, as if she were lost in the past.
“Mother.”
She started. “Oh, Bram. I was just looking through some old things.”
What she sounded was nervous. Tension oozed from her, raising Bram’s suspicions. “Nostalgic?”
“Mm,” she murmured, closing the hinged frame with a metallic slap. “Sometimes I forget how very much you look like your father.”
The question slipped out of him. “Is that why you never cared about being my mother?”
“Pardon me?”
He’d never tried to analyze his feelings concerning his relationship with her before, but now they surfaced in a rush.
“You let Lena and Aunt Addy raise me while we lived here.”
“I shared you, that’s all.” Her voice was a shade tight, her posture a tad brittle as she sat forward in her chair. “You were the only child on the estate, and everyone loved you.”
“Then in Chicago, you allowed a series of servants and schools do your job for you.”
“You’re exaggerating.” She laughed, but the sound was forced. Unnatural.
“I don’t think so.” The vague feelings he’d suppressed all his life swiftly clarified. He stared down at her, his gaze intense. “How long did you hate my father?”
She appeared surprised and discomfited by the accusation. “I didn’t hate Donahue. I loved him.”
“Then why the divorce?”
The blood drained from her face and she dropped back into the chair. “Adrienne!” she spat. “That woman never could mind her own business.”
“Aunt Addy didn’t tell me. People gossip.” Though his aunt had told Lena and possibly Priscilla Courtland. “Not that I ever heard it before, because you took me away from here so quickly. If you didn’t hate my father, then why the divo
rce? And why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I loved my husband too much to want to share him. And because I killed him.”
Stunned, Bram sank into the couch. “You killed him.” Not having been prepared for such a confession, his mind whirled. True, he’d wondered if his mother had reason to want his father dead, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. He still didn’t want to. “You were responsible for the accident?”
His mother shuddered. “Donahue’s death was no accident. It was the divorce. He was shocked when I told him I planned to leave him and take you with me. He told me he couldn’t live without us. That he wouldn’t live without us. He meant you, my darling, not me,” she said sorrowfully. “He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“And what? You fought? Struggled? And he fell off the terrace into the lake?”
“No, nothing like that. I don’t know exactly how it happened.” She paused as if trying to put her thoughts together. “Your father made good on his promise.” She sucked in a shaky breath and got it out in a rush. “He committed suicide. All these years I’ve lived with the guilt that I drove him to end his own life by threatening to take you away. I hated myself. I didn’t want you to know, because I thought you would hate me, too.”
Suicide. An alternative to accident or murder that Bram hadn’t considered. No one had ever offered the theory before. He hadn’t gotten the impression that his father was so weak-spirited. Of course, he’d been so convinced his mother had been having an affair that he’d nearly been willing to think her capable of murder. Though his mind was muddled, he realized she’d spoken of loving his father too much to share him. The lawyer in him surfaced.
“Share father?” he asked. “Who with?” Lena?
His mother laughed, the sound brittle this time. “His other half, of course. Adrienne never wanted Donahue to marry just as she herself never married. She thought they were enough for each other. She was so terribly possessive. Donahue was part of her, and she wasn’t even willing to share.”
DANGEROUS, Collection #1 Page 34
