The Secret Thief

by Nina Lane

  An eternity passes before we’re both breathing steadily again. I lift my head slowly from his chest. Though his expression is controlled, a storm still rages in his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I will be.” I shudder and lean against him. “You?”

  “Same.” He rubs his hand over my arms. “Let’s get you home.”

  Home. God. What if the reporter is waiting for me there? I have no doubt she knows where I live. As if sensing my thoughts, Flynn eases me back over to the passenger seat. “We’ll go to the lighthouse.”

  He starts the truck and maneuvers back to the road. I’m cold all over. The reporter’s words assail me like ice pellets. Alleged rape… rape.

  God in heaven. Had I been with a man capable of that? Could I have done something more to challenge him? To prevent him from hurting another woman? Nausea curdles in my stomach.

  Flynn pulls into the lighthouse parking lot. It’s not until we’re inside that a sudden, shocking thought hits me.

  He closes and locks the front door behind him, turning to face me.

  “Flynn, they…” My panic sparks to life again. “They probably have you on camera.”

  “Good.” His expression darkens. “They’ll get the message they have to go through me to get to you.”

  “But what if they try and find out who you are? What if they start harassing you?”

  The idea that I could be responsible for the destruction of his privacy is almost more than I can bear.

  “Eve.” He grasps my shoulders and lowers his head to look at me, his eyes weighted with conviction. “That is the last thing you need to worry about.”

  “But… what if the cameraman comes after you with some sort of assault charge? What if they find out you’re Riley Flynn?”

  “Eve.” Urgency threads his voice. “I can take care of myself. The only thing that matters is that you’re safe. Has that reporter contacted you before?”

  I shake my head. “No one from the press has, not since I was fired. I… she said something about a rape charge…”

  With a shudder of revulsion, I grab my phone out of my bag. Rather than try to scour the internet for information, I call Graham.

  “I didn’t want to tell you.” He lets out a long sigh. “But I figured you’d find out sooner or later. It’s ugly. An undergrad says she’d made an appointment to talk to him about a paper. She went to his office. He made insinuations about improving her grade, then touched her inappropriately. She tried to leave, he locked the door… and forced her on his desk. He’s on suspension while the university investigates.”

  My nausea intensifies. Flynn rests a comforting hand on the back of my neck.

  “Has anyone asked you about it?” Graham says.

  “A reporter, yes. I made no comment, obviously.”

  “Good call. Mary told me about your job interview. Sounds like it’s come at a perfect time, if the press knows you’re in Castille now.”

  That’s certainly true. Getting out of town for a few days might be a blessing.

  “Speaking of which, I’ll have you know I’ve made no calls on your behalf,” Graham continues. “Not since you asked me not to. Any offers you get are solely based on your credentials.”

  The compliment eases my tension a bit. “Thank you.”

  “That’s not to say I won’t give you a glowing recommendation when they ask for one. Good luck, Eve.”

  I thank him again and end the call. Fatigue hits me hard. My shoulders slump.

  “I don’t get it,” I tell Flynn. “What do they want with me? I have nothing more to give them, nothing more to say. I thought it was over.”

  Sorrow and regret fill his eyes. He runs his hand over my hair, rubbing a few strands between his fingers.

  “I know.” His voice is heavy. “That’s the tough thing about life. Some things are never over.”

  A light snow drifts past the lantern room windows, collecting on the edges like salt. In Andersen’s fairy tale, Kay’s grandmother called snowflakes “white bees.”

  The Snow Queen is the queen bee, who flies where the swarm is the thickest. When winter arrives full-force, the glass windows will be etched with beautiful, icy patterns left by the Snow Queen on her midnight flight.

  A shiver skates down my spine. I sit back on the sofa, pulling Flynn’s gray sweatshirt tighter around me. The Snow Queen is never defeated. Before Gerda arrives at the palace to rescue Kay, the queen flies away to cast her cold spell over other parts of the world.

  I’ve always wondered if she knew Gerda was coming. If she feared the little girl’s power.

  At one point in Gerda’s quest, she takes shelter with a woman from Lapland. A reindeer asks the woman to give Gerda a potion to increase her strength.

  The Lapp woman replies, “I can give her no more power than what she has already. Don’t you see how great it is?”

  Gerda doesn’t feel strong or great. But still she struggles forward, battling exhaustion and cold. In the end, she finds both her beloved best friend and a rose-filled summer. She returns home to her family. She has new friends, animal companions, the wisdom of experience.

  Her bright, colorful life is her triumph over evil.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Flynn won’t leave my side in the few days following our encounter with the reporter. Inwardly, I question our plan to attend the city council meeting about the potential zoning change that could allow for the hotel development, but then I remember the day I felt as if I could do anything if he were beside me. Now he is.

  I place The Green Fairy Book on a shelf, turning to look at the workroom. All of the boxes are gone. Books and manuscripts fill the shelves. Any bare space on the walls is covered with framed illustrations and paintings of fairy tale scenes—historical works by Rackham, Dulac, Harbour, Goble, and Nielsen alongside contemporary artists with their own unique twist on the stories.

  Flynn’s drawings belong among them, these wildly imaginative pictures of poisoned apples, hidden doorways, straw spinning into gold.

  What has he done with all the original artwork he created for the Mirror Mirror books? I can’t imagine—or bear—the thought that he’d have thrown it all away.

  I still have stacks of books to shelve and paintings to display, but there’s no more room. Either Flynn will have to store them somewhere else or find a place for them in the lighthouse.

  My work here is almost done. Uncle Max’s collection is cataloged and searchable through a robust database. I’ve finalized the details for my job interview.

  What happens then?

  That’s the thing about fairy tales. We start reading them already knowing what will happen at the end. We know the witch will be defeated, the prince will marry the princess, the curse will be lifted.

  That’s why the tales have endured for generations, why storytellers wrote them down for posterity, why they’ve been retold again and again. We know there will be a happy ending. We all need the assurance that it’s not only possible, but inevitable.

  Because life itself can be so painfully different.

  “You look as if you’re thinking very hard.”

  I glance up as Flynn enters the workroom, all rumpled male beauty in jeans and a flannel shirt that stretches beautifully over his broad shoulders. Though I love the sight of him in a suit, I much prefer the warm masculinity of his everyday look.

  “I’m an academic. Thinking hard is what I do.”

  “And you do it so well.” He slips his hand under my chin and gives me a kiss that spins pleasure through me, light and airy like cotton candy.

  We indulge in each other for a few moments before he lifts his head and runs his hand over my cheek. “I need to get the rounds done before the meeting tonight. You want to come with me?”

  “I can’t.” I glance at my watch. “I need to get home to feed Ghost and pick up all our notes about the zoning laws. I should also shower and change. Why don’t we meet downtown?”

  “No, I�
�ll come pick you up. If you’ll take my suit with you, I can change at your place.”

  He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear before stepping back. To my enjoyment, he touches me a lot, as if now that he finally can, he’s not about to pass up any opportunity to do so.

  “This place looks great.” He sweeps his gaze over the shelves and walls. “You’ve done a phenomenal job. I might have to give you a bonus.”

  “I’m pretty sure you already did. Oh, no wait. You gave me your boner.”

  He chuckles, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. “I’d give it to you again right now, except we’d be late.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No.” His expression darkens a little. “Just not all that convinced it will make much difference. The majority of the residents are against the zoning change, but that doesn’t mean the council won’t vote in favor of it. Especially when that much money is involved.”

  I squeeze him around the waist in reassurance, even though I have the same concern. It’s a lot for two people to go up against.

  “Go get your suit and I’ll take it with me.” I stand on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “Then after the meeting, I’ll take it off you.”

  “Deal.” He pats me on the rear and heads out of the workroom.

  After packing up my things and collecting his suit, I return home. Darkness cloaks the sky, and snow flurries whirl through the cold air. An almost full moon peers out from behind the clouds.

  Ghost trots around the side of the house to greet me, tail wagging and ears perked. I walk around to the back door to pick up his food and water dishes from the back porch where I leave them during the day. I open the door and refill both dishes, setting them down in the kitchen.

  I head upstairs to the bedroom and check my phone for messages. The council meeting is scheduled for eight, which gives us an hour to get ready and be there early to distribute the handouts we’ve compiled.

  After showering, I dress in a navy pleated skirt and white blouse. Next to Flynn in his charcoal suit and gray-and-blue striped tie, we’ll hopefully serve as a subconscious reminder of the coastal landscape. I add silver earrings and slip my feet into navy heeled pumps before returning downstairs.

  A chill washes through the living room. Ghost is gone, and the back door is wide open. Had I left it open for him? I close and lock it.

  Turning my attention to the notes for Flynn’s statement, I ensure they’re all in order. A knock sounds at the door.

  I hurry to let Flynn in. Then hesitation shivers down my spine. The reporter hasn’t tried to contact me since the other day, but given all the weirdness happening, I can’t be too careful.

  I peer through the smudged peephole, catching sight of a man’s shoulder in a black coat. Not entirely certain it’s Flynn, I open the door a crack.

  William King is on the front porch, wearing an impeccable dark brown suit beneath his coat. Though relief flickers through me that he’s at least familiar, I can’t grasp a reason why he’d be here.

  “Hello, Eve. May I come in?”

  “Actually, I’m just getting ready to—”

  “I won’t be long.” He edges his foot into the door and lays one hand flat against it, pushing it open. My heel catches on the loose floorboard, tipping me briefly off-balance.

  “Whoops.” William catches my elbow. “Sorry about that. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I ease my arm away from him, sharply aware that he’s now blocking the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you before the city council meeting.” He closes the door behind him. Slides the deadbolt into place. “I understand you and Mr. Alverton are on the agenda to give a statement about the potential lighthouse development.”

  “That’s correct.” I back toward the living room.

  William remains in the foyer, his hands in his coat pockets, and his eyebrows drawn together in curiosity.

  “My son tells me you and Mr. Alverton are now a couple, so to speak.”

  “Our personal lives have nothing to do with what happens to the lighthouse.” My voice hardens with irritation.

  “Sorry.” William lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “I just hate to see a nice girl like you getting involved with a man like him.”

  I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve second guessed myself over the past year. The times I thought I might be misremembering, misunderstanding, going crazy.

  Then I trusted myself about Flynn. I believed my instincts about him were sound and true. I knew in the deepest part of my soul that he was good.

  I was right. And that knowledge makes me trust myself again now. Something sinister radiates from William King. I need to get away from it. From him.

  “I need to ask you to leave.” I eye the front door. I have to get around him in order to get to it. “Flynn will be here any second.”

  “Eve, I realize you have little reason to trust me,” William says. “But I must warn you about your lover. Given his recent opposition to the development plans, I was forced to hire a private investigator to conduct research on Mr. Alverton. I’m sorry to tell you his findings were quite grim.”

  Anxiety twists my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  He smiles, his eyes softening with sympathy. “He didn’t tell you, did he? He hasn’t told anyone.”

  “Told me what?”

  He eases his cuff aside to look at his watch. “Time is running short. Why don’t we drive to the council meeting together, and I’ll explain everything?”

  I shake my head. Nothing will make me get into this man’s car.

  What the fuck is he talking about? And why is he here? If he wants to scare me away from the council meeting, he’s had plenty of opportunity in the past week to—

  Oh shit. He’s the one who tried to run me off the road.

  But that happened before Flynn and I even thought about attending the meeting. Long before we were put on the agenda.

  So what the hell is going on?

  My heart hammers. I step toward the kitchen. I left my phone in my bedroom. I can’t get to it. There’s no way to escape from upstairs.

  I edge closer to the kitchen. My car keys are on the counter. Near the back door. William’s keen gaze follows me. He doesn’t move.

  “As I said, I’m expecting Flynn.” I try to keep the tremble from my voice. “You need to leave.”

  “I realize this is upsetting to you.” He steps toward the opposite entrance to the kitchen, the one facing the back door. “Given your experience with your last… gentleman, I’m sure it’s painful to hear that your current lover has been keeping such unpleasant secrets from you.”

  I clench my jaw. From the corner of my eye, I spot my car keys.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come with me, Eve.” He stops in the doorway and regards me across the expanse of the kitchen. “I’ll tell you everything you don’t know about your lighthouse lover.”

  Grab the keys. Get out the back door. Run for the car.

  “Eve.” William takes a step toward me. “Mr. Alverton is—”

  I lunge for the keys, closing my fist around them. Swerve toward the door. Snap the lock. Behind me, William curses.

  I yank the door open.

  Run.

  I rush down the porch steps and toward the front driveway. My heels sink into the soft dirt, slowing my pace. I pray for Ghost to attack William. I round the corner of the house and head toward my car… closer… almost there…

  A force slams into me from behind, knocking all the breath from my lungs. The keys fly out of my hand. I hit the ground. Pain cracks through me. He pins me down, one big hand closing around my hair and yanking my head back. I gasp, tears springing to my eyes.

  “Goddammit,” he snaps. “Why didn’t you just come with me, you stupid bitch?”

  Anger swells, firing my blood. I lash out, twisting to throw him off. He tightens his hand on my hair.
For an instant, the pressure of his body lessens. I thrust my elbow back, connecting with his rib cage. He grunts. I pull my hair from his fist and turn, kicking his kneecap. A flash of silver glints.

  Panting, I sweep the ground for my keys, but it’s too dark to see. Panic spurs me forward. I reach the edge of the woods and start to run.

  Icy snowflakes stings my face. My body goes on autopilot. Never before have I been so grateful for my coastal jogs. I sprint into the brush. My heeled pumps stick into the ground. He’s behind me, the leaves crushing beneath his shoes.

  Oh God… oh God…

  Tremors race over my skin. My foot slips out of my right pump. I stumble, yank my other shoe off, and keep running, running, deeper into the forest. Trying to throw him off, I zigzag, darting right and left through the labyrinth of trees and brush.

  Multicolored wings striking out. Fire lashing from every feather. Strength. Courage. A flame.

  The harsh sound of my breath fills my ears, and my heartbeat throbs in my throat. Stones rip the soles of my feet. A branch claws at my face.

  The safety of the forest is gone. Menacing shadows lurk and crawl in the underbrush. Trees grab me with skeletal arms.

  I trip over an exposed root and fall, catching myself on my hands. Jarring pain shoots up my arms. My chest heaves. No sound comes from behind me, only the rustle of wind.

  Did I outrun him?

  Not willing to risk stopping, I haul myself upright and keep going. Tears blind me. My pulse thunders through my head, my blood. I’ve lost all sense of direction, but it doesn’t matter. I just need to keep running, to lose myself in the forest, as far as I can—

  He hits me from the side, leaping from the moonlit darkness like a wolf. Fear explodes. A scream lodges in my throat. I fall, struggling to resist his weight and strength.

  “You thought I couldn’t find you?” His breath is hot against my face, his eyes glinting through the black. “I grew up in these woods. I know every fucking tree and path. I know exactly how to make sure you’re never found again.”

  Get away from him. The order flashes through my panicked brain. I lash out with my hand, seeking any vulnerable spot I can reach—his eyes, his throat. A sharp, fiery pain lances through my arm. I gasp, falling back.