Jake held up his hand. “I understand your misgivings, Dev, but Officer Lowell will have backup. I’ll have several deputies and officers stationed at various points in the village, along the castle road, and on the grounds. I won’t be far away myself. If he shows himself, we’ll be on the bastard.”
Devlin rose, placed his palms on the desk’s surface, and moved his gaze from Jake to Officer Lowell and back again. “You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with here. Victor Morgan is a paranoid schizophrenic. He’s not only delusional, but his level of strength is abnormal, especially when the voices scream louder in his head.” He leveled his gaze at Officer Lowell. “He’s fast as hell, Officer. You could be dead before anyone reaches you.”
Jake shook his head. “I promise that won’t happen. Besides, Beth is a trained police officer, Dev. This is her job.”
Devlin straightened and glared at the sheriff. “Dammit, Jake, you don’t get it, do you? If there’s a screw up and she dies --” He pointed a finger at Officer Lowell. “-- guess who gets blamed? Me! Victor’s on this island because of me. In case you’ve forgotten, the bastard wants me dead.”
“Mr. Morgan,” Officer Lowell leaned forward in her chair, “I’ve had a great deal of training in hand-to-hand. In addition, I’ll be carrying one of the most effective self-defense devices used by law enforcement agencies around the country.” She laid a small object on top of his desk. It looked similar to a gun and was slightly larger than a cell phone. The square shape of the barrel did not look like a firearm, though. “This weapon is called a Taser. It might not look like much, but believe me, it will bring Victor down. When fired, the Taser releases probes connected by thin, insulated wire. When they make contact with a body or clothing, the perpetrator loses neuromuscular control and collapses.”
“I still don’t like it.” Devlin shook his head. “Sounds like you have to get pretty darn close for that thing to work. What if Victor knocks it out of your hand? What if he catches you from behind?”
“There’s one other thing that might help ease your mind. Before the probes reach the attacker, an electrical pulse interferes with communication between the brain and the muscles. You’ve got to trust me about this, Mr. Morgan, and let me do my job.”
She was obviously full of confidence now, but how would she feel if and when she faced Victor?
“Dev.” Jake drew his attention back to him. “I’m a cautious man. I wouldn’t put an officer’s life in jeopardy if I didn’t believe this plan had a damn good chance of succeeding.”
Dev rubbed the back of his neck. “Your plan has disaster written all over it. I can tell by the look on your face that you’re determined to go through with it, no matter what I think. But Jake, the stakes are even higher now. The bastard got inside the castle last night. He left me a calling card in the library ... a rabbit with a set of chimes twisted around its neck.” Devlin heaved a heavy sigh. “Everything was locked up tighter than a convent around here. I checked every door and window myself after I found the gull.”
Jake studied him. “Have the locks ever been changed? Victor is cagey; he’s clever.” His words were slow and deliberate. “Could he have gotten a key and hidden it somewhere on the island? The guy’s so paranoid, he could have hidden one, or more, years ago.”
“I don’t think so. I could ask my grandparents, but if they get wind of the trouble around here, they’ll hot foot it back to the island. No way am I putting them in danger, as well. I’ll have Otis call the locksmith and have all the door locks changed ASAP.
Jake nodded. “It can’t hurt. If that’s how he’s getting in, it’ll at least slow him down a bit and make it harder for him to gain access. I think we’ve covered everything we need to, Dev. I’ll keep you informed on how it goes.”
Devlin let Jake and Officer Lowell out the front door. When he closed the door behind them, he heard a rustle at his back and turned. Abby stood in the foyer, adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder with one hand and gripping an umbrella with the other. “Where do you think you’re going?” Devlin listened to the rain hammering against the roof of the castle. She’d be soaked before she made it to her car.
Her back straightened at the censure in his voice. “Into the village.” Her tone was excruciatingly polite.
Devlin crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “What about breakfast? You finished awfully fast.”
“The French toast was delicious, and now I need to pick up a few things.”
“You need to stay close, remember?” He mustered his most patronizing tone. “If you want something, Otis will be glad to pick it up for you.”
Abby leaned on the handle of the umbrella and crossed one of her feet in front of the other at the ankles. “When you said I needed to stay close, I thought you meant at night.” Her expression stilled and grew somber. “I admit that hearing about that poor rabbit last night was frightening, but I figured since the ferry isn’t running, there won’t be any day-trippers coming to the island today. Maybe some of the shopkeepers will have more time to talk about my sister and the website.”
Devlin didn’t want her snooping around. The bastard could attack Abby, and there might not be anyone around to help her. He needed to tell her just enough to make her cautious. Besides, one of the locals might accidentally spill some scuttlebutt about him and his family. Devlin hoped to get Abby out of town before either of those things happened.
Thankfully he had the support of the locals, since the Morgan family had founded the village and helped restore the economy. But people were people, and there was nothing as tempting as a nibble of juicy gossip. “I showed the sheriff the rabbit and the gull. He said it could be just a high school prank. However, until he finds out who is responsible, you can’t leave the castle alone. Understood?”
Her shoulders squared even as her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I understand. I guess you’ll have to come with me. You can make notes on who says what to whom, can’t you, Devlin?”
“Wait here a minute.” Devlin found Otis and told him to call the locksmith out to the castle today. Afterward he walked back into the foyer, where Abby was waiting for him. “I’ll drive. Just let me grab my coat.”
Chapter Six
Four down and several more to go, but she’d definitely made a start.
Abby reluctantly left the comforting warmth of the Wolf Island Library. She walked beside Devlin, beneath the large black umbrella he gripped in his hand. Rain pattered around them, creating small rivers of water on the sidewalk’s surface, soaking her shoes, but she was too happy to care. Devlin stood close to her like a knight defending his lady.
Under any other circumstances, she might find that particular male characteristic annoying, but today she found it charming.
Abruptly, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Abby halted midstride, and he threw her an irritated look.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” A smile played around his mouth.
“That was the fourth place we’ve been in. The people I’ve spoken to so far have been very enthusiastic about me building a website to advertise the island. You should be happy, as well.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Everyone was willing to give me their opinion. Mrs. Watts, the librarian, even offered to help with research. So far, everyone thinks the site is a great idea. Just think what it will do for the island’s economy. There was only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“With you hovering over me, everyone avoided my questions about Miranda.”
Devlin grinned and curled a hand around the back of her neck. Before she had a chance to react, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. “You trying to get rid of me, Abigail?”
Her lips tingled and her knees weakened. So what if one little kiss brought the events of the previous evening back to her in stunning clarity? “Yes.” Her voice wasn’t as steady as she’d like it to be. But how was she supposed to control her reactions when Devlin smelled so w
onderful, a mixture of rain, soap, and the distinct spicy aroma that was his alone.
He rubbed his thumb slowly over her cheek. “Too bad. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
That’s what she was afraid of. What was he hiding? Why didn’t he want her asking questions about her sister? What did Miranda’s disappearance have to do with him? “Could we at least stop for tea? It’s freezing out here.”
· * * * *
Abby and Devlin were just finishing up their lunch when the door to the restaurant and inn called Wolf’s Lair swung open. A lanky, red-faced man, covered from head to toe in a bright yellow slicker, rushed over to their table. Water trickled onto the floor, forming a puddle at his boot-clad feet. “Dev, Otis called and asked me to find you. Your boat broke its moorings.”
“What?” Mild disbelief colored Devlin’s voice. “The storm’s bad, but not ...” His voice trailed away, and Abby watched anger and fear blanket his face. Devlin tossed his napkin on the table, scraped back his chair, and dug some bills from his wallet. He threw them on top of the table -- the cost of their food, along with a generous tip. He laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Anson. I’m right behind you.”
As the man headed toward the door, Devlin stepped close to Abby and gently grasped her chin. “Wait for me here.”
Without another moment’s hesitation, he walked swiftly toward the door. Right before he opened it, he turned his head and looked at her. Then he was gone.
Abby waited until the door closed behind him, then rose from her chair and walked to the bar. She slid onto a stool and introduced herself again to Corinne, the owner. Corinne nodded in greeting and prepared two bowls of rich blueberry cobbler. Her curly brown hair hung in a thick braid down her back. Loose strands had escaped and wreathed her round face in a tawny halo. “That smells wonderful. Mind if I try some?”
Corinne set a bowl on the counter in front of Abby and topped it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. “Seems Dev’s deserted you. Hope he gets his boat back in. Doesn’t deserve to lose it.”
Loyalty. It seemed everyone on this island was loyal to Devlin Morgan. Their loyalty bound the village and Devlin together like an invisible net. Abby lifted a spoonful of cobbler to her lips and tasted it. “Delicious.” She licked her lips. “There’s a flavor I can’t identify.” Abby smiled at Corinne. “What is it?”
“Secret ingredient.”
More secrets. “There seems to be a lot of secrets on this island.”
Corinne threw her a casual smile. “You were in here the other day, looking for a room. We had a ghost chaser here recently -- Miranda Chapel. Any relation?”
Abby sat up straighter on her stool. “She’s my sister. Did she come in here often?”
A customer called out for a refill, and Corinne went to oblige him. After serving the man another beer, she moved to a small stainless-steel sink and began washing glasses in soapy water. “She came in a couple of times. Nice girl.”
Abby ate another spoonful of cobbler and swallowed. She thought about the e-mail she’d found on Devlin’s computer from someone named J.D. “Did she come in alone?”
Corinne stopped her washing, looked at Abby, and went back to scrubbing glasses. “I can’t remember.” She plucked a clean dishtowel from a drawer and wiped her hands.
Abby sipped her tea. “You know more about Miranda than you’re telling me.”
Corinne smiled. “Like I said, she was in here a few times and seemed like a nice girl.” Despite her patient tone, she seemed eager to end the discussion about Miranda.
“I’m worried about her, afraid something might have happened to her. If you know why she left or where she is, please tell me.” Abby used an urgent voice, hoping to gain more information from Corinne.
Corinne looked away and wiped the already clean countertop. “I don’t know anything.”
Abby felt sure she was lying. But why?
Was Miranda still somewhere on the island? Abby spooned more of the cobbler up, but this mouthful seemed to stick halfway down her throat. “I think you do. I’ve already been to the authorities, but the sheriff hasn’t been much help, and Devlin is --”
“Look, Dev’s a good man,” Corinne interrupted. “He’s not responsible for --” Corinne shook her head and got busy washing more glasses.
“Not responsible for what?”
“Never mind.” The words weren’t much more than a mumble.
Why was everyone on this island so steadfast in their loyalty? It was as if Devlin could do no wrong. No one was above reproach.
Corinne’s demeanor changed and she warmed up to Abby a bit more as Abby told her about her plans to build a website promoting the island and offered some ideas Corinne could implement for advertising Wolf’s Lair.
Abby remembered the mutilated rabbit Devlin had found and the mysterious sound of ringing chimes. “Do you know if Miranda found anything unusual while she was here on the island?”
“No.”
“What about the rape and murder of a young woman years ago?”
Corinne leaned in close. “What are you driving at, Ms. Chapel?” Curiosity suffused her low voice.
“I found the clipping about Alice Howard’s death at the castle. I wondered why Devlin would save something like that.”
Corinne shrugged. “Lot of people cut stuff out of the newspaper. No law against that. Besides, when Alice was killed, it shook everybody up. Especially Dev. Make no mistake, Dev cares about the people here and what happens on this island. He took Alice’s death almost personally. As if he could have prevented it.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose if my ancestors dated back two hundred years, I’d feel the same way.”
Abby longed for deep roots and a strong sense of family connection. She had none. She’d never had grandparents. Her family had always consisted of her mother and Miranda. How wonderful it must be to know about your ancestors, know something about their livelihood and have a record you could hold in your hand.
“The article mentioned a Ms. Townsend. Does she still live on the island?”
Corinne nodded. “Cathy runs the gift shop at the end of the block. It’s called The Amulet. Can’t miss it.” She nodded toward the table where Abby and Devlin had been sitting. “Dev left the umbrella for you.”
Here’s your hat; what’s your hurry?
Abby rubbed her arms as a sudden chill swept over her body. Why was Corinne protecting Devlin? Was there truly a connection between him and the murder of Alice Howard? Was that the real reason he’d kept the newspaper clipping all these years?
Despite Devlin’s air of mystery and danger, he’d intrigued her and made her like him. Deep inside, Abby didn’t want to believe that Devlin was connected to Alice Howard’s death in any way. It just seemed odd that he would have tucked away the clipping in a scrapbook. Weren’t scrapbooks supposed to contain mementos and photographs that evoked happy memories? Brushing aside her internal questions, she pulled some cash from her purse to pay for the cobbler.
Corinne shook her head. “On the house.”
“Thank you, Corinne.”
· * * * *
Devlin raced past the marina, with rain pelting him every step of the way. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs, and the rubber soles of his boots fought for purchase on the rain-slicked road.
He didn’t like leaving Abby alone. Even in the café, surrounded by people he knew. But if she took it into her head to leave ... anything could happen. What if the bastard was lurking about the village? There were a few alleys in between some of the buildings.
What if she went snooping again? The streets were virtually deserted because of the storm, and the visibility was reduced. What if he was there, in one of those alleys, waiting, even in the light of day? With the wind howling, would anyone hear her scream? If Victor harmed Abby, Devlin would never forgive himself. He would have Anson, the harbormaster, call Corinne as soon as he got to the marina, to make sure that Abby stayed put.
When he reached
his private dock, hidden by a stand of pine trees, he pounded over the wet planks of the dock and rushed to the slip that normally housed his boat. Waves capped with foam churned long, watery arms upward and swept over the pier. Devlin held his hands up to shield his eyes from the driving rain and looked out into the writhing ocean. His twenty-eight-foot cruiser bobbed over the choppy sea and moved steadily away from the island.
Devlin knelt down and looked closely at the thick rope that had secured his boat. He couldn’t believe it. He blinked rapidly and wiped a hand over his eyes, thinking the rain had blurred his vision. When he picked up the rope, he stared at the end.
It had been sawed clean. If the rope had ripped away from the cleat, the end would be frayed.
Someone had cut the line. Deliberately.
He dropped the rope and covered his face with his hands. It was him. Damn him. Damn him for this. He was the only one who would have done this. A hand gripped his shoulder, and Devlin jerked. Anson stood behind him.
“You okay?” Anson shouted above the sounds of the storm.
Devlin nodded. “Yeah.” He stood up and faced Anson. “Rope’s been cut. I need to borrow one of your boats.”
“Let the boat go for now, Dev. Water’s too rough. Storm’s supposed to let up in a couple hours. I’ll help you get her back in then.”
“No. I’m going now. She might be lost for good.”
Anson cursed. “Damn it, your grandpa won’t care.”
“I will!” It had been a gift from his grandfather, and no way was that bastard going to make him lose it. He wanted to take everything away from Devlin, but he was going to have a fight on his hands.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, boy.” Anson shook his head. “Take my inboard. She’s a hardy little bitch.”
Devlin nodded. “Thanks. Call Corinne at the café and tell her to make sure Abby stays put until I get back. And call Jake, let him know what’s happened.”
Wolf Island Page 7
