Chapter Six
Her father never wanted to see her again, her sister—who was being investigated for murder—had very likely killed her mother. If there were better reasons to leave a place, Brynn couldn’t think of any.
She bent her head against the cold wet drizzle and wished for the hundredth time that she’d thought to grab a coat and her car keys…her passport. Her knit sweater was no protection against the chill damp air, clinging to her icy skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle, gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.
She should go back to the house, no matter how the idea twisted her insides. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could find her way. As soon as she’d walked out the door, she’d started away from the rush of the surf against the shore, into the woods behind the house and along a dirt path.
She stopped walking and turned in a slow circle. Thick gray tree trunks rose up around her, knotted branches stretching for the bleak sky and creaking with the wind.
It all looked the same. Even the dirt paths littered with dead leaves, winding through the trees and crossing over each other. She didn’t have a clue where she was.
“Perfect,” she muttered, shoving back her sopping hair. Now what? Keep going the way she had been, or try to find her way back? Her luck, she’d wind up walking in circles until she died of exposure.
This wasn’t who she was. She was organized, careful, a planner. She didn’t wander off into strange forests without knowing the way back, or stay with long-lost relatives without doing a little research. Without checking whether or not they were under suspicion of any major crimes, for instance. For the past week she’d felt like someone had picked up her world and shaken it and she couldn’t quite gain her footing.
Her gaze fell on something through the trees, wide and off-white. A structure. A house, maybe? A sign of civilization, anyway. She picked up her pace and started toward it. As the trees fell behind her, the building with its yellowing stucco and dark wood beams emerged from the gloom.
The Iron Kettle Pub. Brynn sagged with relief. Finally, something halfway recognizable, and it would be warm and dry inside. She could probably call for a cab, maybe even get something to eat that was actually edible first.
She hurried across the parking lot and hauled open the heavy door. Once inside, she froze. She’d left her purse back at the house. How would she pay for anything?
“Meris’s daughter come to see us again.” Stephen Paskin’s jovial voice broke into her thoughts, and an odd sense of déjà vu washed over her. He leaned forward, the flats of both hands pressed to the bar top, a wide grin spread across his face. “Come in and let’s get a drink in you to warm you.”
“I just realized I don’t have money with me. I’ll have to come back.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll start a tab for you. After all, it’s not like I don’t know where to find you.” He winked at her.
“Thanks. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to pay you.” On her way back to the airport.
She maneuvered between tables and settled at a booth near the fireplace. Hopefully the heat would dry her wet clothes. She flexed her hands, opening and closing her fingers in an attempt to regain some feeling.
There were fewer people in the pub than the night before, maybe because it was earlier. An older man, his gray hair a wild tangle on his head, watched her with narrowed blue eyes. She flashed a stiff smile, then shifted her gaze to Dylis standing by one of the booths near the window and chatting with a middle-aged couple.
“Here you are, then.” Stephen set a glass of whiskey on the table before her. “A little something to warm you, and this one’s on the house.”
“That’s really not necessary,” she said quickly.
“You drink that, love. It looks like you could use it.” He chuckled.
He had no idea. A stiff drink, edible food and a decent night’s sleep sounded like heaven to her. To be fair, she’d probably only wind up with two out of the three, but she’d take what she could. “Thanks.”
“Enjoy.” He set down a menu then made his way back to the bar.
She lifted the glass and took a deep sip. The bitter liquid heated her tongue, slipped down her throat and pooled in her empty belly, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. She set the glass down and lifted her gaze to find Dylis watching her, a slight frown marring the older woman’s puffy features.
Dylis said something to the couple then made her way over.
“Everything all right at Stonecliff, love?” Dylis asked.
Something about her careful wording, the hesitant expectation tightening her features. Dylis Paskin knew exactly why Brynn had turned up at her pub looking like a drowned rat. “Are you asking because my sister’s being investigated for murder?”
The woman gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s get some food in you. Then we’ll chat.”
Brynn flipped open the menu and ordered the first thing that caught her eye—a lamb burger and chips. With a nod, Dylis crossed the pub and disappeared into a room behind the bar.
Brynn sighed and sipped her drink. The crackle and pop from flames in the hearth and the steady tick of icy rain against the leaded window next to her table was soothing. She closed her eyes and slouched in her seat. The drink had warmed her, loosened the tension gripping her muscles. She could easily drift off.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” Brynn started and jerked her head around to the man from the bar. He stood next to her table, huge and hulking with broad shoulders that sloped forward as if the weight was simply too great for him to carry. In one hand he held a pint, and in the other a glass of whiskey. “You’re Meris’s girl.”
She nodded wordlessly.
“I’m Thomas Grady. I used to work for your father, groundskeeper.” He certainly fit the part better than Reece.
Wait a minute. She straightened in her chair. The same Thomas who had saved her from drowning?
He banged the whiskey glass on the table and shoved it toward her. “This is for you.”
* * *
Dull skies had darkened to slate, relentless drizzle giving way to fat drops of rain by the time Reece wrapped up for the day. He stashed his tools in the garage beneath his flat, wet clothes clinging to his frigid skin, hands numb and stiff from the cold. All he wanted was to stand under a hot shower then fall into bed and forget his conversation with the detective—at least for now.
He started for the stairs that would take him to his flat, but his gaze landed on two cardboard boxes tucked in the far back corner. ML was neatly printed in black magic marker on the sides. Matthew Langley’s few possessions cleared out from the flat to make room for Reece.
Nearly two months and no one had claimed them. No family, no friends, Matthew Langley—if that was even his real name—had died without a soul to mourn him.
Eventually, after a suitable amount of time had passed, those boxes would be tossed in the rubbish, and most people would forget the man altogether.
Reece stared at the pitiful legacy, two forgotten boxes that no one knew what do with.
Though, who was he to be so smug? If he dropped off the face of the planet tomorrow, who would claim his boxes of crap?
Lloyd, he supposed, the closest thing he had to a father, but once he was gone, who would Reece have? He’d never marry, never have children, never inflict what he was on anyone else.
He pushed the depressing thoughts aside. His life was the way it had to be. If Kendrick had taught him anything, it was that people like them couldn’t live like everyone else.
He rested his hand on the damp cardboard, closed his eyes and let down his guards, opening himself completely.
Nothing. Not so much as a whisper. Just a soft hiss like a radio unable to pick up a station.
He opened his eyes and sighed. What was it about this place? It was as if Stonecliff were trapped beneath an invisible bubble keeping those who had come before out. Hell, he’d even tried where Langley’s body had been found
, and still nothing.
The soft rasp of a throat clearing cut the quiet. He whipped around and froze. Eleri stood just inside the garage, her dark gaze boring into him. His pulse jumped.
Had she seen him, eyes closed, trying to make contact? His face heated at the possibility. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t know what it was he’d been doing. She, like everyone else, would just think he was strange, weird, off.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” Eleri’s fingers fiddled with the small silver cross at her neck.
“What do you need?” Normally, she stared him down with an icy glare, spoke to him as if he was something she’d stepped in and couldn’t quite scrape from the bottom of her foot.
“It’s Brynn,” Eleri said softly. “She’s gone and I’m worried about her.”
Cold swept through him. “Gone where?”
“If I knew, do you think I’d be here asking for your help?” she snapped.
Unless Eleri knew exactly where Brynn was and planned to lure him to wherever she’d stashed the body, add another notch to her count. Surely to God she hadn’t hurt her sister, not mere hours after the detective had been here?
“She doesn’t have her car,” Eleri continued. “I don’t even think she took her coat.”
“How long has she been gone?”
Eleri swallowed. “Two hours. I want you to find her.”
Bloody hell, provided she was even telling the truth, what did she expect him to do? Drive aimlessly about the countryside and hope he stumbled across her? Eleri’s gaze bored into him, and he realized that was exactly what she expected him to do.
“Brynn doesn’t know the area.” Eleri started to pace. “She might be lost. Something could happen to her.”
If it hadn’t already.
* * *
“You need to watch yourself with that lot.” Thomas nodded at Stephen behind the bar as he folded his oversized frame into the booth opposite Brynn. His clothes were wrinkled, gray stubble covered his ruddy face and his bloodshot eyes made his blue irises brighter, more intense. Even in a pub, while sipping her own drink, Brynn could smell the stink of stale alcohol oozing from his pores.
“Why’s that?” Brynn asked. So far, the Paskins were among the few friendly people she’d met.
“Your sister murdered their son a few years back. There’s been bad blood between the families ever since.”
She stared, too stunned to speak. He had to be mistaken. If her sister had murdered the Paskins’ son—or anyone’s son—she’d be locked up. Not free…to be investigated for another man’s murder.
“They call your sister The Witch of Stonecliff.” Thomas lowered his voice and leaned forward, relishing every juicy detail. “She lures men and feeds on their souls, feeding the evil in the ground. She’s not the only one, of course, but she’s the most dangerous, harvesting men close to her.”
“Huh.” Brynn gulped down her whiskey, draining the glass before setting it on the table. The liquid pooled hot in her empty belly. She probably shouldn’t have guzzled it back like that before eating, but she needed something to take the edge off.
“I understand I owe you a thank-you,” Brynn said, trying to change the subject. “You saved me from drowning.”
“Thought for certain you were dead when I hauled you out.”
A shiver raced along her skin, and she shifted back in her seat. “I don’t remember much about what happened.”
He stared at her with strange intensity. “I don’t suppose you would. Probably for the best, though.”
Maybe, maybe not. “Do you know who was with me that day?”
“It’s not her fault, you understand.” His hand shook a little as he lifted the beer to his mouth and gulped. “It’s the grounds themselves. They’re soured. Poisoned. You need to protect yourself, get away from this place before you wind up just like her.”
Great. Something to look forward to. She reached for the drink he’d brought her and took a long swallow.
“Hildy used to say there was nothing wrong with the girl,” Thomas continued, thudding his blunt finger on the tabletop. “But I’m telling you there’s an evil covering that place like a shadow. Hildy saw you sent away, didn’t she?”
Brynn set down her glass and frowned. “Who’s Hildy?”
If he heard her question, he ignored it. “The longer you stay, that darkness will creep inside you. Slowly, at first, but soon it will take you over, turn you like your sister, like your mother.”
Brynn blinked. “What…what did you say about my mother?”
“The darkness was in her, just like your sister.”
“For the love of God, Thomas Grady,” Dylis said, setting a steaming plate before Brynn. “Leave the poor girl to eat her dinner in peace.”
Thomas scowled at the woman. “I’m just talking to her.”
“Off with you.” She pointed one chubby finger to the barstool he’d been sitting on when Brynn arrived.
“Fine,” Thomas huffed and slid from the booth. He turned his pale gaze back to Brynn. “I wanted you to know I remembered you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, her insides frozen. He nodded and shuffled back to the bar. She drained her glass and shot Dylis a pointed look. “And thank you.”
The woman sank into the booth opposite her, lips pressed into a tight line. “Don’t give another thought to anything that fool says.”
“I’m fine, really.” She probably should have been more upset by the man’s claims, but two drinks on an empty stomach had left her fuzzy-headed and delightfully numb. She needed to get some food into her.
She lifted the burger, took a bite and nearly wept. God, that was good.
“How did you find out about the murders?” Dylis asked.
“The police were at the house today.”
Dylis leaned closer. “Did they arrest her?”
Brynn shook her head.
“I’ll tell you about your sister and what goes on at Stonecliff. Someone needs to warn you. Poor girl. You should never have come back.”
Brynn shot her a wry smirk. “Seems to be the popular consensus.”
“The first man to go missing was a little more than ten years ago, just before that sister of yours went off to school. He was your family’s caretaker and one day he just upped and vanished. Your father claimed the man had moved on, but he hadn’t told a soul he was leaving. With no body or proof of foul play, police took your father at his word. Everyone else knew Eleri had something to do with it.”
“Why?”
“Because he wasn’t her first victim, not after poor Meris.”
A chill blew through Brynn. “Eleri killed my mother?”
“I believe she did—pushed her down the stairs. Your father maintained Meris died accidentally, but she’d been terrified of the girl. That’s why she sent you away, to protect you.
“When your sister returned from school, another man vanished.” Dylis’s voice thickened and she blinked quickly. Her son, was he the next man to disappear by Eleri’s hand? Brynn’s stomach churned, and Dylis went on. “Two years later they had another hired man vanish. I thought for certain the police would arrest her, but she slipped through again. Not enough evidence that a crime had been committed. Eleri left Cragera Bay after that, and everyone in the village breathed a sigh of relief. We should have known better. Matthew Langley vanished nearly two months ago and was found about a week later by some boys in the woods near Stonecliff. He’d been stabbed to death.”
“But if Eleri had left the island—”
Dylis folded her arms over her chest and leaned back. “Oh, she’s been back. My own husband saw her the same night Langley vanished.”
“Between her history and with a witness, why haven’t the police arrested her?”
“Our word against hers. It’s no secret how Stephen and I feel about her.”
Bad blood, Grady had said, because of their son. Brynn couldn’t work up the nerve to ask about him.
“Langley had also been invol
ved in a scheme cheating some of the elderly residents in the village out of their savings. When he first disappeared, there was talk that maybe someone had put a stop to him on their own.”
“Dyl.” Both women looked up at the sound of Stephen’s sharp voice. He nodded to a table of four women who had just sat down.
“I need to get back to work and leave you to finish your dinner.”
Brynn looked down at her half-eaten meal. Her appetite had pretty much vanished, but the two drinks had left her bleary-headed. She needed to eat more.
As she ate, the pub filled with people, the clanking of glasses, boisterous conversation and laughter created a low din, which was oddly comfortable.
After she’d emptied her plate, she leaned back against the bench, stomach pleasantly stretched, and closed her heavy eyes. Despite everything she’d learned today, for the first time in weeks she was warm and relaxed. She could sleep the clock around, but she’d have to speak to Dylis or Stephen about calling a cab first.
“Good God, you’re not bloody passed out, are you?” Reece’s disdain-filled voice broke into her thoughts, chilling her mellow mood like a cold draft in a warm room. A thud, followed by the whisper of fabric against fabric filled her ears.
She forced her heavy eyes open and scowled at the man sitting opposite her. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” His greenish-blue eyes narrowed, straight brows drawing together in a frown. “Are you drunk?”
“Almost. And don’t get all judgey. I’ve had a lousy day.”
He had lovely eyes, like a sunlit ocean. She blinked and looked away. God, she must be drunker than she thought.
“Reunion not go well?”
She snorted. “No, it didn’t. Apparently my long-lost father didn’t want me then, and he sure as hell doesn’t want me here now. Oh, and did you know that my sister might be a serial killer and that the police found some poor man stabbed to death on the property recently?”
Reece nodded slowly, expression impassive. “I’d heard talk.”
“How nice for you. I was filled in when the cops showed up to question Eleri. The detective could hardly wait to tell me that Eleri was the one to push my mother down the stairs. I was also informed that my parents shipped me off because—and this is a direct quote—I served no purpose. And lastly, I just met the man who saved me from drowning when I was a kid—who, incidentally, looks a lot more like a groundskeeper than you do—and he happily informed me that my mother was and my sister is possessed by some kind of darkness that’s probably going to get me, too. So if I decide to have a drink—or two—I don’t think you’re in any position to give me crap about it.”
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