Stolen Skye (Book One, The Skye Trilogy)

by Nina Loard

  My realtor when I moved to Newport, Cecelia Romano was somewhere in her late thirties, according to her, and taught school part-time at Rogers Elementary. She took me under her wing and introduced me to the town traditions, so I didn’t commit an unforgiveable sin like leaving my trash bin on the curb past 5 PM or voting for anyone except her husband, Earle, in the clam chowder cook-off. Short and solid with an Italian flair for the dramatic, she always brightened my day with her zealous championing of my actions. It was nice to have such loyalty from others, since I waivered on how much I gave myself.

  “Seriously, he’s a dead man.” She put her hand on mine to pledge her commitment.

  “Absolutely, an Italian blood bath a la The Godfather, it will be legendary,” Jasper exclaimed. He had never really liked Bunderson and was having way too much fun. I reminded him more than once that he was still employed and we were in a crowded bar with familiar faces.

  “Guys, I totally love you for the solidarity, but it’s not Bunderson’s fault. Times are tough and they needed to cut some of the bigger salaries. Maybe I could have pulled my weight more. It sucks, but I get it.” I listened to myself and wondered if something like martyr-Tourette’s existed.

  “That is total crap in a sack and you know it, Evy,” Jasper scolded. “Please don’t start with that ‘it’s all my fault’ stuff, or I will totally go insane.”

  Cecelia nodded in agreement, “Yeah, Evy, you just lost your job, it is okay to have some healthy rage about it. We’re both kidding about hurting Bunderson, unless you want us to, and then I totally know a guy.” Her brown eyes flashed when she smiled.

  “I know it isn’t my fault, really. I’m just going to look at this as time off. I can’t change what happened so I just need a distraction.” I tried to sound more positive than I felt.

  “And by distraction, you mean a man… it’s only been a hundred years.” Jasper spun in his chair to scour the deck for eligible candidates.

  “Seriously, that’s the last thing I need. Let’s just drink, okay?” I hoped a fresh round would keep them from mounting an offensive. From all I could recall, romance wasn’t something that had worked out well for me in the past.

  “Oh no, there are a ton of potentials tonight.” Jasper began to relay his opinion on the men and women who hopefully sat outside earshot. With no hope of reining either of my friends in, I leaned beside Jasper and took in the view. Occasionally, he would whisper a tale about some of the surrounding couples like, “he totally bought her on eBay”, or “no boob jobs after Labor Day”. I giggled and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for lifting my spirits.

  Just past Jasper by the door, a fiercely handsome man was looking in our direction like he recognized us. The focused attention from him caused heat to lick up my spine and explode onto my cheeks in a fiery blush. He continued to stare, contorting his face as if trying extremely hard to place me. I looked away before I wanted to, embarrassed by my obvious reaction to him. After a sip of my drink and enough time had passed to appear casual, I glanced back and he was gone.

  Cecelia suddenly threw her hands up and asked, “I almost forgot, did you guys hear about the Deiderich robbery?”

  With a hint of sarcasm I answered, “Yes. Other than my firing, it’s all anyone can talk about.”

  Cecelia frowned at me and went on, “There’s a rumor that a lot of the art was taken from wealthy Jewish families back in Germany. Can you imagine? They must be pretty incredible thieves to have pulled that off without a sound, and in Newport of all places.” Cecelia was clearly in awe of the criminals.

  Jasper shook his head. “Where there’s money, there’s crime.” After too many cocktails and just enough laughter, I felt like I could face whatever the next day held for me. Cecelia and Jasper took great pride in my buoyed spirits and went to pay the tab and scope the crowd inside the bar.

  “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” The attractive man was back. He sat himself across from me, staring intently. His skin had the warm coloring of someone who spent time outdoors and stood out against his immaculate white shirt. He reminded me some of the Newport sailors with his cropped hair and healthy build. He waited for my response, wearing a somewhat anguished expression on his handsome face, like he had been punched in the stomach, but was determined to smile through the pain.

  “Um, yes, I am. Do I know you?” I asked, surprised by his boldness.

  “That’s a great question. Do you?” His look intensified as he leaned across the table, making me nervous. The candlelight brought out some of the blonde in his short hair. His heavy brows had streaks of gold through them, but the lashes that framed his almond-shaped, light eyes were much darker. He was acting completely odd, certainly, but he was also beautiful.

  “No, not that I’m aware of. Should I?” I laughed nervously, confused by him.

  He took a moment and then cracked a brilliant smile. “No, I guess not. I’m staying at the Harborview.” His tone and expression lightened significantly, but his eyes stayed fixed on mine.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve known. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.” I couldn’t keep the jilted edge out of my voice after two martinis. He smiled at my response, but made no other reply.

  As I tried to find something to say to break the awkwardness, he straightened and said, “Well, it’s getting late. It was good to see you again. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He gazed at me for another second, like he wanted to say something more. I waited, but he suddenly bowed his head, turned and strode quickly through the front door, taking two steps in one leap to the deck. Dumbfounded, I stared after him, wondering what could have spooked him and then remembered my luck with men. Amnesia-ridden basket case was probably written in man-code across my forehead.

  After sharing my encounter with Jasper and Cecelia, Jasper vowed to find out who he was in the morning. I tried to think if I’d seen him in the lobby at all, but nothing came to mind. Still, something about him was vaguely familiar, and his too sudden disappearance had disquieted me. It wasn’t every day that an intriguing man burst into existence in front of you and then was gone just as fast. Not ready for home, we strolled along the waterfront. December was not the touristy time of year and we had the streets almost to ourselves. A pink, neon hand hanging above the entrance to a thin building wedged between two larger ones captured Jasper’s attention.

  “Ladies, we must.” Jasper turned to us, pointing at the sign for Aurelia’s Palm Reading. After my day, seeking spiritual knowledge from a fortune-teller sounded like a logical pastime. Jasper opened the saltwater-aged door a crack, triggering a cheerful bell ringing. A small waiting area was off to the right. A plump woman with short, salt and pepper hair approached us quickly from a back room. She was chewing as she considered us. We must have been disturbing her dinner.

  “Oh, sorry, we saw the sign on. Are you open for readings?” Cecelia questioned.

  “Yes, yes, please come in. I was just grabbing a bite. Welcome, I am Madame Aurelia. Who would like to know their destiny this evening?” While she slipped into character, she also straightened magazines that were left open on chairs and turned off her cell phone. It detracted from the fantasy of the experience. I wasn’t impressed.

  “All three of us please. How much for a reading?” Cecelia took out her wallet.

  “$35.00 for a full reading.” She listed the less expensive services also, including a five minute handwriting analysis.

  “I’ll take a full reading. Guys, you ready?” Jasper was anxious to start.

  “Sure, you go ahead. We’ll wait here.” I saw a recent Vogue that looked interesting and took a seat in the corner. Cecelia sat down beside me and Aurelia beckoned Jasper back through the beaded curtains. We could hear the striking of a match, her whispered voice, and the occasional gasp of surprise from Jasper.

  After fifteen minutes, Jasper emerged happy with his investment. “She’s good,” he declared, nodding in complete agreement with all he’d heard.

  “Cecelia, you
go next. I want to hear what’s in store for Mr. St. James here.” Cecelia stepped to the back and the same low voice began again. Aurelia had foretold that Jasper would become a general manager of a hotel one day and a dark man from his past would reconnect within the month. We spent the next few minutes trying to decide if dark referred to his mystery man’s coloring or a general outlook on life. There were more than a couple of men to consider.

  Cecelia pushed through the plastic bead curtain looking disappointed. Without Aurelia seeing, she made a face at me like she didn’t enjoy her experience. She doled out her money anyway, placing it in Aurelia’s outstretched hand.

  “You next, my dear?” Aurelia turned toward me while counting the bills.

  “Um, no, not right now. Thank you, though. We should be going.” Before I could step back into the hallway, she stuffed her money in her purple velour pant pocket and took my hand.

  “How about a five minute quick read for $10.00? If you want to know more, we can go from there. Such a lovely girl, I am sure there is much in store for you.” She kept hold of my hand, turning it over to look at my palm.

  Feeling like I would disappoint the others if I didn’t have some type of psychic experience, I agreed. Cecelia sarcastically whispered for me to enjoy it as I passed her.

  A card table was set up in the corner of the dark room. We were partially illuminated by candlelight and the fluorescent glow of the small kitchen off to the left. Tarot cards and magazines were lying precariously on the space heater and a dusty crystal ball rested on a leaning bookcase. Aurelia didn’t strike me as a woman at the top of her game. I sat across from her and placed my hands on the table, palms up as instructed. A two dollar minute went by.

  “You’ve had some loss in your life, yes?” She waited for me to agree.

  “Yes, my father when I was young.” Many people could say the same.

  “More than that, my dear. You are searching for something you’ve lost. Something you ache for.” She captured my attention, but, again, the same can be said for many. Everyone had lost something.

  “I just lost my job.” I didn’t want to give too much away as I’d heard that was how psychics “read” your future, educated guessing based on your current situation.

  “It makes no difference. It wasn’t your path. Be at peace, dear child. You don’t have to search much longer… what was gone is coming for you.” She raised her dark eyes from my palm and smiled wickedly at me.

  “What is coming?” I felt my heart quicken despite my inner skeptic. Somehow she had found my vulnerable spot.

  “Our time is almost up, however, before we part…a warning. You must be brave and follow your heart, but know that death will come before the truth.” After she looked at me sternly to make certain I heard her, she patted my hand, seeming satisfied, and blew out the candle. I followed her back out into the lounge, not sure of what to say.

  “Yes, well… thank you. Have a good night.” I shelled out my ten dollars, looking wide-eyed at Jasper and Cecelia to let them know it was time to go.

  “Good night. Come back and see me again if you want to know more.” Aurelia waved and returned to the back room where it smelled like fried chicken was waiting.

  Once outside in the cold, I could see what an easy target I’d been. “Seriously, we just gave that woman eighty dollars.” I mocked the three of us openly.

  “Worse, I tipped,” Jasper confessed with a laugh.

  “What was that stuff about death and the truth? Are you okay?” Cecelia looked concerned by what she’d overheard.

  “She just wanted to peak my curiosity and make me pay for a full reading. She probably says that to every fourth person she meets. I’m not worried,” I scoffed, so thankful I hadn’t paid for more. I went over what she had said and saw the vagueness of it. “What did she predict for you, Cece?”

  “Crossroads in my marriage where I may have to choose between my husband and my career. I had no idea being a part-time teacher was so demanding,” she laughed.

  “You can’t trust gypsies,” Jasper added, shaking his head as we made our way back to the cars. After promising to meet for dinner the following night, I stopped by the market and then drove home. There was a coveted parking spot on my street, and I backed in, feeling very lucky, just as cold rain began to fall. I lugged my groceries and box of work items up the steps, searching for the right key for what seemed like an eternity. I was sure Brutus was waiting impatiently on the other side of the door. There was no way I could’ve known that he wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 3. Revelation

  “Hey, Buddy. Miss me?” Brutus was sprawled across the leather couch. I heaved everything into the house and took off my shoes so I didn’t track wet sidewalk through my living room. Only the lamp by the door shone in the entryway. Shaking out my hair, I went into the kitchen to put down my things and decided to build a fire.

  I walked through the living room to go out back for some wood. “Crap.” I had already taken off my shoes. I spied my rain boots by the dryer and pulled them on over my jeans. I made a run for it out the back door and threw off the tarp covering the wood pile. I grabbed an armful of logs and darted back inside. After putting the wood down just inside the door, I took off my boots, picked up two logs and walked over to the fireplace by Brutus. Placing the wood just so on the grate, I straightened to get some newspaper.

  Surprise and horror hit me in my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. A man stood in front of me in my darkened living room, between me and either door. He stood partially bent, like he was ready to lunge if I moved. He was large, muscular and terrifying, with an obvious commitment to subduing me. Suppressing a scream, I searched my memory for anything I’d learned about self-defense — stepping on the instep, knee to the groin, blunt force to the nose — all requiring me to get way too close to him.

  “Evy, I’m a friend. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, sit. I can see how scared you are.” He motioned to the couch. “I’m sorry I broke in, but I wasn’t sure how to get you to listen to me and I needed you alone.” I stared into his eyes, waiting to see him clearly and understand what he was saying.

  “I don’t know you. Please, get out. I don’t have anything valuable.” Tears burned in my eyes and my voice shook violently. He took a step closer. Faster than I thought I could move, I lunged to my left and grabbed the poker from the fireplace. I knew in that moment that I’d fight to the death if I had to, which made me feel stronger. He stopped his advance and cocked his head, evaluating my threat level. After considering me a moment, he removed his jacket, tossing it over the armchair. He put his hands up, surrendering to me.

  “If you give me a chance, I’ll explain. I know you’ve forgotten. Please put the poker down.” He looked at me with an intense mixture of exhilaration and worry. My mind cleared and I realized I’d seen him before. He was the strange man from the restaurant. My fear spiked. Was this more than a burglary?

  “Sit in that chair and don’t move.” I pointed to the arm chair with the poker and tried to see if I could get around him to the kitchen. A knife seemed much more threatening if I could manage it. To my amazement, he stepped aside to let me pass. I walked quickly over to the phone to call for help, giving him a wide berth. The line was dead. I cursed and reached for my bag on the kitchen island. My cell phone was gone. He moved his hand by his side and I saw the glint of silver off my case cover. I threw down the poker and grabbed a knife from the butcher’s block.

  “We didn’t know you were alive. Not until today. I get you wanting to kill me, but I haven’t been this happy in years.” He smiled broadly, making him look even more frightening to me. “Just hear me out. I have a photo.” He took something out of his jacket pocket and placed it gently on the coffee table. I tried to think clearly minus the terror. Maybe if I listened I could understand what was happening and see a way out? I was certain if I ran, he could catch me. If I screamed, he would be on me before anyone heard a sound. He looked determined and physically deadly,
like a prize fighter.

  “S-sit down and talk then,” I stuttered, trying unsuccessfully to sound like I was in control.

  He paused, looking at me carefully. “Didn’t you want to light that?” He gestured toward the fireplace. I stared at him in disbelief, still holding the knife. He walked over to the kitchen and picked up a section of newspaper by the trash bin, crumpled some pages and struck one of the long matches from the mantle. I stood motionless, trying to make sense of his behavior. The fire roared to life as he sat in the armchair, gazing at me with a smile.

  “How do we know each other?” I began, trying to get a hold of what he believed to be the truth.

  “We met a few years ago in London. You became a part of our organization, so to speak.” He sat forward, glad that I was cooperating, I supposed. Many people knew I had memory loss and spent time in London. Finding out my nickname could have been easy if he’d listened hard enough. I thought he’d called me Evy. Having a little knowledge of me proved nothing.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, my eyes darting between him and the picture.

  “Fintan Edwards. You always called me Finn. Sometimes you went by Evelyn Skye. Does any of this ring a bell?”

  Shaking my head, I answered, “What exactly are you telling me?” I began to get impatient, ready for a fight if there was going to be one before I fell exhausted from the waning adrenaline.

  “You and I worked together. We were friends. Look at the picture.” He picked it up again and handed it to me, causing me to step closer. I was on a bench, sitting next to him by what looked like the Thames River off to our left. There were other people I didn’t know around us. They looked… we looked like we were having a good time. I recognized my favorite green cashmere sweater from college. It was lost with my other clothes in the accident. I threw down the picture in frustration.

  “I don’t understand this. Why are you here? What do you want?” I demanded, forgetting any pretense and the knife.