Death at First Sight

by Lena Gregory

  A familiar form backlit by a floodlight crossed the lot. All caution fled the instant recognition came. She scrambled to her feet and lurched into the parking lot.

  “Luke!” The scream tore from her lungs.

  The form stopped. It moved toward her quickly. “Get down.”

  What? She stumbled toward him, had to reach him. Her heart hammered painfully. Blood roared in her ears.

  He waved at her with one hand, but the other hand stayed in front of him. A gun was pointed straight at her. Luke?

  “Get down, Cass.”

  Down?

  “Freeze. Police. Drop it, Langdon.”

  Langdon?

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Langdon had emerged from the woods about twenty feet farther down than Cass and stood aiming his weapon straight at her.

  Time slowed. She hurled herself to the ground. She tried to use her hands to break the fall, but her already-damaged chin took the brunt of the impact.

  Chaos erupted around her. People running and yelling. Sirens pierced the night.

  “Don’t move, Langdon.”

  Tank? Cass rolled onto her side in time to see Tank remove the gun from Chief Langdon’s hand and put handcuffs on him. From the number of guns aimed at him, she didn’t figure he would even flinch, never mind move. He turned his head, and his stare bored straight through her.

  She held his gaze and started to climb to her feet, but Luke pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Stay still. The ambulance is here.”

  “I can’t, Luke. Please. Let me up.”

  He followed her gaze and stepped back. He held up a hand to halt the two men running toward her with a stretcher.

  Her vision tunneled until her whole world came down to her and Langdon. Cass stood. Tank read the chief his rights and put him in the back of a police car. Pain hammered at her, but still she stood. Waited. The car pulled out of the lot.

  “Good?”

  “Yeah.”

  Luke lifted her off her feet and put her on the stretcher.

  Her eyes fell shut.

  * * *

  “Ouch!” Cass winced as she shifted her weight to allow Beast to drop his head in her lap. She raked her fingers through the big dog’s fur.

  “Hey, be careful. The doctor was nice enough not to admit you, after all the whining you did about wanting to go home, but he said no exerting yourself for a day or two.” Bee pushed the coffee table over to the love seat so she could prop her feet up. He held out a mug of hot chocolate, and she reluctantly removed her hand from Beast’s fur to take it.

  She smiled at him. “Thanks, Bee.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. You have one week to recover before the final preparations for the fashion show.” He arranged a pillow beneath her arm, which was in a sling, then patted her arm affectionately. If it hadn’t been for his frantic phone call to Tank, the outcome might have been much different.

  The doorbell rang, and Bee went to answer.

  Tank looked after him. “You know. He’s really not such a bad guy.” He turned his gaze back to Cass. “He was hysterical when he called. It took almost five minutes for me to figure out who it was and what he was talking about. He’s a good friend.” He lifted his and Stephanie’s entwined hands, kissed her knuckles, and stood. “I gotta run. I’ll stop back and check on you guys again later. If you want, I’ll bring Chinese.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on Cass’s head. “Stay out of trouble.”

  She laughed.

  Stephanie moved to sit next to her. “Are you really all right?”

  Cass shrugged. “Yeah. I’m still a little nervous, but I’m okay.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to stay tonight?”

  She hugged Beast’s neck. “Nah. I’ll be all right.”

  She squeezed Cass’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna walk Tank out.”

  Luke poked his head around the corner. “Hey. How are you feeling?” He walked in and held out a huge bouquet, which Bee promptly took and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m doing okay, thank you. I’ve been mostly sleeping the past few hours, but I feel a little better now.” She frowned. “Tank said Bee called him and said I disappeared, but I don’t understand what was going on at the hotel. What were all the lights about, and why did you say you were the police? I asked Tank, but he said you’d come by later and explain everything.”

  “I asked him not to say anything until I had a chance to talk to you.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m with the state police on the mainland. I was here investigating an art theft ring when my boss got a call from Kyle Benedict. He suspected Otis Langdon killed Marge Hawkins. He also told them there was no way the sweet, young girl he was pinning it on could have done it.” Luke grinned.

  Cass lowered her gaze as heat crept up her neck into her cheeks. “Sweet, young girl? Then why did he give me such a hard time about keeping the dates for Bee’s show?”

  “It wasn’t anything personal against you. When I spoke to him privately about letting you continue production, he said the only reason he was so adamant against it was that Marge begged them to halt production. It obviously meant a lot to her, and . . . well . . . you know how he felt about her.”

  Cass shrugged. “I guess I can understand that.”

  “Anyway, my boss called and told me what was going on. He didn’t really believe Mr. Benedict, but it did have to be checked out. Since I was already here, and it wouldn’t raise any questions, he asked me to look into it.” Luke sat across from her on the coffee table. He lifted the mug from her hand, placed it on the coffee table, and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth.” He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. “When I found out you were missing . . .” He shook his head. “We were setting up a search party when you stumbled out of the woods.”

  “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  “Does that mean we’re okay?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.”

  He grinned, and her heart stirred in ways she wasn’t yet ready to examine too closely. “Whatever happened with the theft ring?”

  “Actually, we inadvertently solved the art thefts when we talked to Bee and confiscated Jay Callahan’s truck.” He laughed and shook his head. “Turns out Jay’s love interest, Carmen, was smuggling artwork stolen from the Hamptons onto the island. She’d take it to Jay, rolled in carpets, then he’d take it across on the ferry to the North Shore and on to Connecticut. You didn’t witness him carrying a carpet from the hotel but from a truck parked out front.”

  “Does that mean he’ll go to jail?” Cass asked.

  Luke’s expression turned sober. “He will if we find him. Unfortunately, we found his truck abandoned at the marina with the carpet still in the back, but no sign of Jay. A boat’s missing.”

  Cass contemplated the implications. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

  Luke shrugged. “There’s no way to tell. He’d be foolish to return to such a small island where everyone knows him, but who knows?” His expression hardened. “You should have stayed out of it, Cass. You had no business investigating on your own. I wish you would have trusted me enough to ask for help.”

  She squirmed. “I really had no clue it was Langdon. I thought it was Jay.” Or maybe you . . .

  Luke nodded. “In all honesty, he would have gotten away with pinning it on Callahan if it wasn’t for you. Without him confessing to you and kidnapping you, we had no proof against him.”

  “What made you search by the hotel?”

  “When Bee wasn’t getting anywhere with officially reporting you missing—especially with Langdon running the investigation most of the day—he reported the car stolen.” Luke smiled and shook his head, and she could only imagine the hissy fit Bee had pi
tched in the sheriff’s office. “A patrol officer found it in the woods and broadcast it over the radio. So, we had a general idea of where to look for you, and Langdon couldn’t control that aspect of the investigation.” His mood brightened, and that sexy dimple returned. “Now that these cases are pretty much wrapped up, I have a week’s vacation time coming, so I thought I’d hang around. Maybe we could take a ride and visit some farm stands.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Luke stood, and Cass’s stomach flip-flopped. He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” The thick southern drawl sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Mmm . . . hmm . . .”

  His smooth, rich laughter slid over her as he left. She was going to have to develop some sort of resistance to that good ol’ boy charm. Or she just might be in trouble.

  Bee walked back in and set the vase of flowers on top of the mantle. He fussed with them for a minute before propping himself daintily on the edge of the chair. “So . . . did you hear?”

  Cass resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his theatrics. If she didn’t check the urge, he wouldn’t share whatever good gossip he was about to dish. “No. What?”

  “Hey. You promised you’d wait for me.” Stephanie perched on the arm of the chair beside Bee.

  “Remember how strange Emmett was acting the night of the group reading?” Bee fluffed his scarf and waited.

  Cass grinned at Stephanie. She couldn’t help it. “Yeah.”

  “Well . . . Ellie told me Jay told her—before this whole . . . incident, of course—that Emmett has the biggest crush on Sara Ryan, Jess’s mom.”

  Cass sucked in a breath. “Are you serious?”

  He slid back into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Can you even imagine those two . . .” Warm laughter filled the room.

  Cass shifted in an effort to settle herself more comfortably. Bee got up and tucked the afghan tighter around her legs. “Are you okay, dear?”

  “I am now.” She smiled at him. “Thank you, Bee.”

  He waved her off, but his eyes glistened. He leaned down to hug her.

  “Don’t forget me.” Stephanie wiggled between them to join the pile.

  A surge of love washed over Cass. These were her two best friends, the two people in the world who had taught her that it was okay to begin to trust again.

  • • • • •

  KEEP READING FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF LENA GREGORY’S NEXT BAY ISLAND PSYCHIC MYSTERY . . .

  OCCULT AND BATTERY

  COMING SOON FROM BERKLEY PRIME CRIME!

  • • • • •

  “Stop the car!”

  Bee Maxwell slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop on the sand-covered shoulder. Without loosening his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he turned and glared at Cass. “Are you crazy? What’s the matter?”

  Cass released her hold on the dashboard and shot him a grin. “We’re here.”

  A hand the size of a baseball mitt fluttered to Bee’s chest, with all the drama of a true diva. “You nearly gave me a heart attack because we’ve arrived at our secret destination?” Gritting his teeth, he shifted gently into park. No way would he jam the shifter into gear, even though she could tell he badly wanted to. The black Trans Am was his baby, always to be treated tenderly. Cass, on the other hand, was a different story. Bee looked about ready to throttle her. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me where we were going?”

  Stephanie Lawrence poked her head between the seats to stare at Cass. “Not that I want to agree with Bee, but really, Cass, you could have just told him where to go. Then maybe this maniac wouldn’t have nearly put us through the windshield.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d agree to take us if I told him where we were going.”

  Bee waved a hand in dismissal and glanced out the window as if realizing for the first time where they were.

  The old—supposedly haunted—Madison Estate crouched in the center of the highest ground on the island, amid dried-up beach grass, trees long devoid of leaves, and garbage from kids that were brave—or stupid—enough to ignore their parents’ warnings. Thick, gray clouds gathered overhead, lending credence to the haunted house stories Cass had heard since childhood.

  A dainty shiver ran through Bee’s bulky frame. “Well, if your destination has anything to do with that house, you can just count me out.”

  “But it’s perfect.” She opened the door and shot him a quick grin over her shoulder.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  Ignoring Bee’s protest, Cass climbed from the car. She closed the door behind her, effectively cutting off any further argument. Bee happened to be deathly afraid of ghosts. Not that he believed in them.

  As she stared up at the abandoned mansion, ideas ran around in her head.

  During the summer months, tourists flocked to the small island that sat nestled between Long Island’s north and south forks. They rented cottages, swarmed the beaches, hung out until all hours in the beach bars, climbed to the tops of lighthouses, and swamped Mystical Musings—Cass’s small psychic shop on the boardwalk.

  But with winter in full force, the island was less than thriving. The murky waters of Gardiner’s Bay were rough and choppy, and the piercing wind was a bitter enemy that made the ferry ride to the island less than comfortable. As much as Cass loved living on the tiny island, if she couldn’t drive business into Mystical Musings during the harsh season, she wouldn’t be able to stay. She’d have to go back to New York City and her once-thriving psychiatric practice.

  An icy gust of wind tore through Cass, chasing the thoughts away. Something touched her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Stephanie laughed.

  “Jeez, you could at least say something before you grab me.”

  Bee glared at them from inside the car.

  “What are we doing here?” Stephanie zipped up her thick down coat, tucked her wild mane of frizzy brown hair inside it, and tried to pull the collar farther up around her ears.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” Cass shoved open the rusty wrought iron gate.

  Screeeeeech!

  Bee’s muffled protests followed her through the gate and up the cracked cobblestone walkway.

  She smiled.

  Bee was one of her best friends, but he was also the biggest drama queen she’d ever met.

  It was a house; nothing more and nothing less. At one time, people lived in it . . . and died in it. She swallowed hard.

  A seagull shrieked as it dove toward the dark, churning waters of the bay behind the mansion.

  A shiver raced through her, and she pulled her long coat tighter around her, failing to ward off a chill that had little to do with the near-freezing temperatures. Although Cass didn’t consider herself psychic in any traditional sense—despite the fact that she made her living reading people and “talking” to the dead—she had to admit the house gave her the creeps. Perfect!

  The stone had long since weathered and cracked. Many of the shingles, which once might have been brown, were now a dull gray and hung precariously, if they weren’t missing altogether. The front porch sagged, but the steps looked sturdy enough. She tested each one before putting her full weight on it. They creaked, but held. She tiptoed across, her heart hammered erratically, and she cupped her hands around her eyes to peek into the large front window. Nothing. Dirt, grime, and salt made it impossible to see the dark interior. A chill crept up her spine.

  This is ridiculous. No one has lived in this house for longer than I can remember.

  Using a crumpled tissue from her coat pocket, she rubbed a circle of dirt away and leaned closer.

  “Cass Donovan!”

  She jumped, whacked the back of her head against Stephanie’s chin, and spun around, startled by Bee�
�s booming voice from behind her. “Ouch.” She rubbed the back of her head. “What’s the matter with you?”

  He stood just outside the gate, his gaze darting around frantically. “You get back in the car right this minute, missy, or I’m leaving you here. You and your sidekick.” He gestured toward Stephanie, who was moving her jaw from side to side and rubbing her chin.

  Cass pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to keep her heart from jumping out, and laughed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  At better than six feet tall—even without his platform shoes—Bee could have been an imposing figure, if not for the hand resting on his cocked hip and the look of sheer terror marring his pale face. “Try me, sugar.”

  She started back toward the gate. A flicker of something, movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she stopped short and turned. What the . . . ? A reflection? She squinted, but the sun was hidden behind the thick cloud cover. Her imagination?

  “Oh, come on.” Bee’s whine followed her as she started around the side of the house.

  The screech of the opening gate told her Bee had given up his threat to abandon them and decided to join them, or at least come closer to argue his point. He muttered to himself as he stalked toward Stephanie, probably figuring she was the more reasonable of the two. He was probably right.

  Cass glanced up at the huge house. She’d never been inside, but from the number of wings and windows, she guessed it had a lot of rooms. Her gaze caught on the huge stone chimney running up between two Quarter Round windows, giving the impression of a face staring back at her. Another flicker of movement grabbed her attention as a curtain rippled in the rounded cupola that sat slightly off-center on the roof.

  Her heart stuttered, and she tore her gaze from the house and jogged back to the porch, where Bee and Stephanie stood arguing.

  Ignoring them, she headed for the front door.

  “What are you doing now?” The fear in Bee’s voice made her pause, but only for a moment.