“No, they didn’t talk about…” She shook her head, thinking. “Would Declan know him for sure?”
He lifted a thick shoulder. “If the volunteer hung out at the station, but if he wasn’t called in much? Maybe not.”
“Would he know Declan?”
His eyes widened. “More than likely, yes.”
Then maybe the name was just a coincidence. It was common enough.
She thanked the chief and tucked the papers into her bag, but couldn’t shake the unnerving sense that crawled up her chest when she thought of the things that man had said to Declan. He knew the history of the house…and about the fire.
Was that a coincidence?
No. And Gloriana House was open right this minute—open and empty. They’d left the back door unlocked so the Historical Society ladies could get in to host the open house after the parade.
She needed to lock that door, and fast. She checked her watch and made a quick decision to head back to the bookstore, get her car, and zip up to the house right now. On her way, she broke down and called Declan, but it went straight to voice mail.
Where was he?
* * *
When Declan had parked his truck at the old campsite last night, the lights shining on the dock and lake, he’d braced for a long, ugly trip to the place he hated most. As he walked down the dirt path that he once ran before cannonballing into the lake with Evie, he imagined himself crawling into the old subterranean hellhole, ready to unpack some pain.
But when he sat down, the only thing he could unpack was the sound of Joe Mahoney’s voice.
All night long. In the chilly mountain air, he barely heard the lake waves splash against the wood pilings or the cool breeze through the pines. No, he heard a steady stream of Joe Mahoney’s life advice, from midnight until he finally crashed. And maybe even after that, Joe kept talking in Declan’s head.
And his message was loud, clear, and pointed. It started with, I didn’t raise you to waste your life wallowing over stuff you can’t change, and ended with a simple, Get your ass back to that woman, and don’t ever leave her again.
Now, Declan finally pushed up from the dock, squinting into the now bright sky over the mountain lake. A good night, he decided, even if it was hard, cold, and a little bit miserable at times.
He guessed by the sun that he had exactly enough time to drive back to Bitter Bark and get to town hall to stand on the steps to wave to his girl in the parade.
He made a face at the crick in his neck. Oh hell, his whole back was destroyed by a very long, chilly night with only Judah’s blanket from the truck and a wool jacket, once worn by a Bushrod, to keep him warm.
Both were covered in dog hair, but they’d done the job.
Now, he had to do his and get to Evie. He needed to tell her that he would leave his life, job, and family to follow her wherever she went. And they could keep or sell Gloriana House, whatever her family wanted. All she needed to do was understand that, and she’d believe he’d left the dark days behind.
As he walked to his truck, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, swearing softly at the black screen. His battery had died, but not before he’d sent a text to Chief Winkler telling him he wouldn’t be taking the job.
He snagged his keys, opened the truck, and tossed the blanket in the back. Stretching again, he slipped off the jacket, but folded it carefully, knowing it was valuable to Evie.
When he did, something fell out and clunked to the ground, making him inch back to see what it was. Damn. The lighter Max had given him to “help on his quest.”
He bent over and scooped it up, almost tossing it into the center console when an engraving on the front caught his eye. He stared at it for a moment, the outline vaguely familiar in the shape of a…
Bell.
He’d seen that…tattooed on the arm of James Bell, the asspain who started this. Was it the same design?
He angled the lighter into the light to study the engraving, which could simply be another bell, but it was a strangely unique shape, and he could still vividly see it on that man’s arm.
Penny found it on the grass while we were doing construction and insisted it was part of my collection, but I never saw that lighter before.
Maybe it wasn’t dropped by a construction worker? Maybe it was accidentally left behind by someone…
His chest tightened as he stared at the lighter. He turned it over and sucked in a breath at the sight of a completely different engraving on the back. The four curved rectangles with a circle in the middle might not be immediately recognizable to most people, but to a firefighter?
The Maltese cross formed the insignia for thousands of fire departments around the world. So yes, this could have been dropped during S&O by any firefighter…except for the name Jamie etched in the middle.
Jamie? Like James? With a bell on the front?
The tightness in his chest squeezed so hard he couldn’t breathe for a second. James Bell…the man who wanted Gloriana House so bad that he’d get it one way or another?
No, no. He hadn’t said that. He’d said, I get what I want, one way or another. What if what he wanted was this lighter? Because, oh hell. It was evidence.
Declan mumbled a rough curse as he threw a look at his phone, furious that he didn’t have a charging cord in the truck, but then, he was a guy who never let his phone battery go below twenty percent. And his radio was at home on his dresser.
A fresh jolt of adrenaline took all the aches out of his body. Who the hell was James—or Jamie—Bell, and why was he so desperate to buy Gloriana House?
Because he’d left his lighter there one hot August night? Was he on the roster back then? Had he been at the fire and dropped it? Did he know something about Dad’s death?
He twisted the key and hit the accelerator, not entirely sure where he needed to go first. The sheriff? The parade to find Evie? The fire station?
Or maybe he’d better haul ass to Gloriana House, because everyone in Bitter Bark knew the house was empty while its occupants were in the parade. And James Bell wanted something there…and Declan wanted him.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Evie barreled up the driveway, grateful to see it was empty, so no open house guests yet. She tried to reach Declan a few times, anxious to share with him the name she’d found on the roster, but the calls again went straight to voice-mail.
He’d been right to have it out with that guy, she knew now. There was something weird about James Bell. He had to know Declan if he’d been a volunteer twenty years ago…but had he mentioned that last night?
No doubt James Bell would be the first in line at an open house, even though Declan had summarily booted him out the night before. Well, they’d handle that later. For now, she wanted the back door locked.
She rounded the side yard, looking around, peering into the sunroom as she passed, but everything looked empty and quiet. When she reached the unlocked kitchen door, she stepped inside, listening for Judah’s bark of greeting. But he must be sound asleep.
She walked past the back stairs and headed toward what she now thought of as her bedroom. The door was open, and Judah’s fuzzy dog bed was empty, the pillow Gramma Finnie had embroidered for him resting against the side where his head usually was.
Had she left this bedroom door open? Had she left those drawers open? She frowned at the dresser, trying to remember even accessing those drawers this morning. For underwear, yes, but the dress she was wearing had been hanging in the closet.
She shook her head. Her memory of this morning was a blur because she’d gotten ready with the single-minded determination to find Declan and set things straight. She walked back into the kitchen, glancing around, noticing some open cabinets. She’d been certain the caterers had left it spotless last night, but again, she’d been in a fog.
Rounding the corner, she headed down the wide corridor toward the front of the house, which still bore evidence of the big party the night before. The staff had cl
eaned up glasses, but the area rugs looked a little askew on the hard wood, and the museum room…was a hot mess.
“Wow,” she whispered, pausing at the double doors. Had her guests been so rude they’d opened the drawers of Grandmama’s secretary desk and looked through the lighter collection?
She took a few steps toward the display, blinking in surprise at how many were knocked over, and…could some be missing? She couldn’t remember how many there were supposed to be.
Did she have time to get this back in order before the open house and still make the parade? She pulled out her phone to check the time as she walked back into the hall, stopping completely when she heard a sound.
Was that a…growl? From upstairs?
Judah? He shouldn’t have gone up the steps yet.
Instead of taking the time to get to the front and up the massive staircase, she returned to the kitchen to head up the back stairs. They were closer to Granddaddy’s room where, she had no doubt, Judah was not so patiently waiting for his favorite person.
Just as she passed the landing and made it up a few more steps, Judah let out a massive howl, making Evie freeze in stunned surprise.
“Shut up!”
The man’s voice nearly took her breath away. Someone was up there. With Judah. She took a millisecond to think through the best course of action, then pulled her phone out of the pocket of her dress to call 911.
She turned and tiptoed down to the landing, blinking as the camera app on her phone flashed to indicate movement in Granddaddy’s room. She tapped the icon, and the image opened, the camera angle locked on the bed, of course.
But the angle was enough to see some nightstand drawers had been opened, and she could hear someone yanking at dresser drawers now. What the hell was he doing up there?
Judah started barking.
“Shut up!” the man yelled. “Unless you ate the damn lighter! Did you?”
Ate the…lighter? Why would he be looking for a lighter? She couldn’t answer that, but the voice was familiar enough that she knew exactly who it was—exactly who she’d suspected.
She tapped to her keypad to call for help, but as she did, she heard footsteps crossing Grandaddy’s room. If he came this way, he’d see her. And if Judah heard or smelled her…
Swallowing, she started to run down the rest of the stairs as Judah’s barking got louder. He was coming this way. Straight down these steps.
She had seconds to decide what to do. Try to make a run for it, or…she looked down. Hide in the hole.
Without a second’s hesitation, she leaned over, grabbed the tiny handle that few people even knew was in the floor, flipped the latch, and yanked up the door. In a flash, she scrambled down, pulled the door over her head, and rolled into a ball in the complete darkness.
She heard footsteps right overhead, followed by the slap of Judah’s distinctive paws. Poor guy, following this jerk around hoping for love and getting told to shut up.
James Bell wouldn’t hurt Judah, would he?
The thought sent a shot of horror through her, making her push the door up, her fingers pressed against cold metal. She lifted it about an inch, peering right into big brown eyes.
Oh God. Judah.
Instantly, he pawed at the wood, pushing it down, followed by a series of noisy barks and one long, loud howl.
Stop, Judah! Don’t let him know I’m here!
She bit her lip, forcing herself not to lift the wood and try to quiet the dog. That would only make him more worked up than he already was. Bell didn’t want the dog. He wanted a lighter.
Why?
She tapped her phone, the light spilling out over the tiny basement-like space. It wasn’t very deep, really meant to store food for the winter, and it sure was cold. Would he hear her voice when she called 911, or would he be gone by then? She had to get help before he got off the property and could deny the whole thing.
She angled the light to the ceiling right above her head, surprised to see the bronze glint of copper. God only knew why those Victorians would line this space with copper, probably to keep it freezing, but…
Copper.
Shoot. Would she even be able to make a call? She tried tapping 911, but nothing happened. The Wi-Fi signal, never the best in this house, was flat. And she had no cell service, either.
Judah was still barking and pawing at the floor, so she waited a minute and then pushed the floorboards again. This time, the copper-covered wood wouldn’t move.
“Hey,” she murmured, shoving a little harder. Damn it! Judah must have bumped the latch and locked her in. With no Wi-Fi or cell signal. Seriously?
He was smart, but not smart enough to undo the latch. Right overhead, he barked and growled and howled in frustration.
And then she heard a crash. What was that? She pushed again, a low-grade desperation growing from the eerie sound of glass breaking. What did Bell do? How long would she be down here until someone heard her?
She stopped pushing for a moment, tried the phone again, then slowly lowered it to think.
But all she could do was…smell. Something pungent and unpleasant. One of the oil lamps?
Kerosene?
Was he setting the house on fire?
She pushed again with all her strength. “Judah! Judah! Get out of the house and get help!”
But all he did was howl in panic, echoing exactly how she felt.
* * *
Declan broke a few speed limits on his way to Gloriana House, but he had enough time to put some puzzle pieces together. Some fit, some didn’t. But he saw enough of the picture to suspect James Bell wasn’t who he said he was. Without a phone, he couldn’t find out more yet, but he’d charge it when he got to Evie’s. He’d have time to plug his phone in to make a few calls, hang around for a while in case Bell showed up, and then get to town to meet Evie at the end of the parade route so he could tell her what he’d decided.
He bypassed town, which would be a traffic mess, and powered up a back route to the top of Ambrose Acres, reaching Evie’s street in record time. As he neared the house, he caught a glimpse of Evie’s red car, which didn’t surprise him, because he knew she and Max were going in the parade car with Nellie.
But then he saw the BMW on the street and, one second later, the now familiar scrawny figure of a man hustling down the drive, his head down as he walked.
Declan whipped his truck into the driveway and damn near mowed the guy down.
“Whoa, whoa!” He held up two hands. “I know you don’t like me, but—”
“I knew I’d find you here.” Declan said as he climbed out of his truck. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, there’s supposed to be an open house.” He smirked up at Declan. “Which, by its very name, means it’s open.”
“Not to you.”
“Not to anyone, since the door’s locked.” He stepped away. “Relax, man. I was only coming by to tell Evie I changed my mind about wanting to buy the house. It’s cool.”
Cool? Nothing about this man was cool.
“So no need to beat me up, Captain. I’m out.” He hustled away, toward the street.
“Jamie?” Declan called.
He spun around, eyeing Declan. “I go by Jim.”
“Do you? Your lighter says Jamie.” He held up the lighter, and Declan saw all he needed to in the flash of shock on the man’s face.
“Never saw that before,” he said.
“Really? Because this engraving here matches your tattoo.”
“A drawing anyone could find on the internet if they google ‘bell images.’” He snorted. “Not a family crest, sorry. Now if you’ll excuse—”
“I won’t excuse you. We’re not done with this conversation.”
“Yeah, we are. And now I have places to be. And don’t you? There’s a parade in town, right?” He tipped his head back, and when he did, he reminded Declan of someone again, but he couldn’t quite nail who. “She’s not here if you’re looking for her. I knocked for ten minutes whe
n I saw her car.”
Bell jogged down the drive, but this time, Declan followed.
“What’s your deal, Jim?” he asked.
“We’re finished here.” He almost reached his car, pulling out a set of keys.
“No.” Declan put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. “I know you.” The words spilled out the moment they hit his brain. He did know this guy. But from where? “How?”
Beads of sweat formed on Bell’s upper lip. “I have no idea.”
“No. No. I’ve met you before.” He rooted through his brain, back in time. Twenty years. The station. A training session. Dad was there. “Jamie Bell. You were a volunteer.” But not a very well-regarded one, he remembered. Some of the guys had called him Lamie Bell.
“A hundred years ago,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
“Twenty years ago,” Declan corrected. “Were you here? Did you work the fire that night?”
He yanked the door open and threw Declan a look. “I was not at the fire, and that is not my lighter, and I’m done.”
Then there might have been a completely different reason for why he’d lost his lighter here.
“Then why was this on the grass after the fire?” He flipped the lighter. “Catch!”
He whipped his hand out and snagged the air, just missing the toss. But before he could bend over and pick it up, Declan grabbed his arm, twisted it back, and got right into his face, hearing the man’s keys hit the ground. “What the hell was your lighter doing in the yard?”
Blood drained from the other man’s face, leaving a dusting of orange freckles over pale skin. “I don’t know,” he ground out. “I lived in this town briefly a long time ago, and I was on the vol roster. Maybe one of those blowhard guys in the department stole it from me. You ever think of that, Mahoney?”
“Nice try. Then why do you want to get inside this house so bad that you cooked up some stupid story about buying it for your fiancée? To find something you lost?” Even as he said the word, things started to make sense. Sickening sense.
Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers Book 6) Page 29
