by B. J Daniels
Down at Vi Mullen’s antiques barn, she found Jen and Benjamin apparently enjoying themselves, digging through dusty junk.
“I need to talk to you,” Shirley whispered. “Privately.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Ben, here,” Jen said.
Benjamin didn’t correct her on his name. He merely smiled.
“Tina invited me to her baby shower.”
Jen raised a brow. “That’s pretty bold of her. Her mother will have a fit.” She laughed. “Sounds like the shower is going to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be.” She turned to Benjamin and gave him a short explanation of why.
“What if it’s his baby?” Benjamin asked.
Shirley just shook her head, but Jen piped up. “It’s more complicated than that. The baby is like a line in the sand. Once that little one comes into this world, well...” She raised her gaze to her friend’s. “Well, someone will finally make a decision.”
“I need a beer.” Shirley looked at the two of them and saw that she wasn’t going to have to go to the bar alone.
* * *
MEGAN WAS DEAD. There was no ghost. But someone wanted Casey to believe that Megan’s ghost roamed these halls wearing her signature perfume. That was why the door was locked. Casey felt anger replace that earlier moment of shock and fear. Whoever was behind this, she was going to find them.
Turning, she ran down the hallway to the registration desk. She was only mildly surprised that the keys to room 33 weren’t in their slot. She rushed into the office for her spare passkey. It was gone. Finn probably had it. That was an unsettling thought. It meant he could get into any room at any time.
Where was he? In his room? She headed for the stairs. As she climbed, she realized that Finn must have smelled Megan’s perfume in the staff hallway. Why else had he left the note to meet him down there? He would know Megan’s perfume. But if he had the passkey, then why hadn’t he opened Megan’s old room?
Casey swore under her breath. She was going to put an end to this as soon as she could get into that room. If she got there in time. She feared that with all this wasted effort, any evidence in the room would be gone.
Storming up the stairs, she was almost to the top of the staircase when she looked up and saw Finn. Startled, she heard him say “Where’s the fire? Sorry, bad joke, and not funny in an old hotel like this.”
Her head had jerked up and, taken by surprise, she lost both her momentum and her balance. As she began to fall backward down the staircase, she’d grabbed for the railing, but it was too far away to reach. Her arms windmilled as she frantically tried to grasp anything to stop her from falling.
Suddenly Finn’s warm, strong hand closed over her wrist. For a few seconds, the two of them were suspended on the top edge of the towering staircase before he pulled them both up and onto the landing.
“What the hell, Casey?” he demanded, breathing hard as if his heart was drumming like her own. She could hear the fear in his voice. That had been too close. Had she been any more off balance, they both would have been plummeting down the stairs at this moment.
* * *
FINN’S BLOOD WAS pounding in his ears. He could see that Casey was visibly shaken as well. He drew her away from the stairs, trying to slow his thundering pulse. Gripping both of her upper arms in his hands, he turned her to face him. “What is going on?” he demanded.
She blinked, looking even more upset than she’d been when he’d seen her on the stairs. “Your note.”
He stared at her as if she were speaking a language he didn’t recognize. “What note?”
She reached into her pocket and shoved the note at him. Taking it, he unfolded the paper and read the words, then looked up at her, his gaze meeting hers. “I didn’t write this. This isn’t my handwriting.”
“You weren’t on the staff wing? You weren’t in room 33?” she demanded.
He let go of her. “No. Why would I have gone—” He stopped and sighed. “Megan’s old room?” He knew it was her room, and she knew he knew. “What happened?” His voice came out a little high, the scare on the stairs still fresh.
“I...I smelled her perfume.” He didn’t have to ask. He remembered Megan’s signature perfume. She wore it all the time. That smell had haunted him many a lonely night as a teenager. “If you didn’t leave the note...” He could hear the doubt in her voice.
“Someone did who knew you would come down there if I asked you.” He saw that his words hit home. She would have come because she trusted him. Because she had every reason to trust him. “Where were you headed in such a hurry?”
“I was looking for you. I assume you have my grandmother’s passkey. I want to open the door to that room before anyone destroys any evidence they might have left behind.”
He looked at her, remembering the creepy things that had happened in the months he’d been here alone. “I have the passkey in my room. I didn’t want to leave it at the main desk.” He sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. “You can’t think I had something to do with this.”
They’d reached his room. He stepped inside. It took him a moment to locate the key. He turned to her, holding the passkey on the once-red, now-faded ribbon that her grandmother used to wear around her neck. “Let’s go check room 33. Unless you don’t trust me to go with you.”
“I don’t know what to think right now.”
He handed her the passkey. She put it around her neck. It upset him that she didn’t trust him. “Good idea keeping it around your neck,” he joked. “What are the chances I would ever get it off you?”
She shot him an unamused look. “Yes, what are the chances?”
He walked with her down to number 33. He’d gone to the room when he’d first gotten to the hotel. He’d had the crazy idea that he’d pick up some vibe, some sense of Megan. It was ridiculous. For years after her death, other staff had lived and breathed in that room after it had been fine-combed by the cops and then cleaned hundreds of times. He hadn’t found Megan in there any more than he’d found her anyplace else in this hotel.
Casey used the passkey to open the door. As it swung open, he caught the once-familiar scent. His reaction was like a punch to the gut. He stood frozen in the doorway as Casey entered the room and began to search it.
No wonder she’d reacted the way she had. The perfume was so Megan. He could picture her, all confidence and defiance. Poor little rich girl. Wasn’t that what someone on the staff had called her? While she’d complained about her life, he’d always thought that she didn’t have a care in the world. How little he’d known.
Casey stopped at the small table next to the window. She bent down, running her finger over what appeared to be a mark on the carpet.
As she slowly rose, he saw her touch the top of the table with a finger and then hold it up to her nose. The movement had dispersed the scent into the air again. He breathed it in, assaulted with memories, all bittersweet. He’d never known Megan. He wasn’t sure anyone really had.
“Someone dragged this table over by the door,” Casey said. She pointed to another spot on the carpet, this one closer to the door.
“They probably used some kind of spray device to disperse the perfume into the hall.” Had whoever had done it been waiting for someone to come by as they hid behind the locked door? Or was this just for her—the reason they’d left the note for her?
Finn felt a draft and quickly stepped to the window. He shoved aside the drapes and could see where the screen had been bent when it was shoved aside. He looked for tracks in the soft dirt outside, but there were none. There was a rock ledge along the exterior. It appeared someone had been coming and going from an adjoining room.
Turning, he met Casey’s gaze. He doubted that the two of them were the only ones who remembered Megan’s perfume, but whoever had left the note had been targeting her. Targeting them both. “T
he person could have gone out the window. Or wanted us to think they did.”
“I’m sorry I thought it was you,” she said.
He nodded, still upset that she didn’t trust him. “Whoever did this might have wanted to come between us. Isn’t that what Megan had done with you and your grandmother? If so, it almost worked.” He raked his fingers through his hair again. “This could be all for the reunion.” But even as he said it, he remembered those sleepless nights when he’d heard things and been convinced he wasn’t alone.
“If they did it to scare me, they’re wasting their time. I’m leaving as soon as I can.” She met his gaze. “Maybe I’m not moving fast enough to suit them.”
“I think they don’t want you to trust me,” he said, holding her gaze. “We both know who might benefit from that.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“DEVLIN?” CASEY SHOOK her head. “He knows I’m selling the hotel to you. Let me see the note.” She’d barely glanced at it before, but now she felt a start as she recognized the handwriting. It was the same as the message that had been left on her bathroom mirror.
She felt Finn’s gaze on her.
“Casey? Is something wrong?”
It was on the tip of her tongue. Tell him. He isn’t going to stop until he learns the truth. “I don’t think it was Devlin.” She thought of the offers he’d made her just that morning. Not his handwriting.
“Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t want the truth to come out,” he said.
Maybe. What if the person who left the message on her mirror believed that she’d read the diary and that Megan had named her killer? Was the perfume stunt just another warning? Except, this time, whoever had written the note had involved Finn. To make her not trust him so she wouldn’t tell him?
For ten years, she’d lived with her secret. But she couldn’t keep lying, especially to Finn. She opened her mouth, the words just lying there on her tongue. Releasing them seemed so easy.
But they weren’t what came out. “You’re the only one who still cares what happened to Megan.” The words were tinged with bitterness and jealousy and anger and, of course, guilt. Look at the trouble he’d gone to for Megan. Months in this old hotel.
And he still wouldn’t let it go. It made her angry that anyone could care that much about Megan, especially Finn. Especially since Casey had nothing but contempt for her.
Finn looked as if she’d slapped him, and then, slowly, he nodded. “You’re right. In all these years the killer hasn’t been caught. The marshal who got the call that night has retired, and while the case might still be open because there’s no statute of limitations on murder, no one is actively looking. Except for me. You’re just wrong about why I’m doing this.” He settled a look on her that sent shivers down her spine.
Stepping to her, he took her shoulders in his big hands. “I might be the only one looking for the truth, but someone sure is going to a lot of trouble to make us think Megan’s ghost is in this hotel. I’m afraid it’s a distraction for what’s really going on behind the scenes. Whoever is behind this, they don’t want you and me together. Why is that?”
* * *
FINN LOOKED INTO Casey’s blue eyes. She couldn’t have been more beautiful right now, her cheeks flushed, those blue eyes glittering bright, her bow-shaped lips slightly parted.
She looked so damned kissable. He felt that pull again—just as he had in the tower earlier. “Why would anyone care about keeping us apart?” she asked.
Their gazes locked, and it was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. “They’re worried that we know more than we do.” But at this moment, he didn’t care what their motives might be. That alone was sending up a red flag. Abort! You can’t get involved with this woman. Not now.
“The person must know that you’re determined to find Megan’s killer,” she said.
He swore under his breath. She still thought this was about Megan. He ignored the warnings flashing in his brain as he drew her to him. There were no words that would convince her he’d gotten over Megan a long time ago.
Casey Crenshaw? That was a whole other story, and one he wanted desperately to delve into. Her eyes widened as he pulled her to him, needing to hold her, to taste her, to show her how he felt—even knowing that the timing couldn’t have been worse.
She came to him, her body molding against his. He could feel the thunder of her pulse so like his own. He wanted this woman with every fiber of his being. He looked into her eyes. She wanted to trust him, but even though he could see that she was afraid she shouldn’t, desire flamed in those blue eyes.
If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his room and ravage her. The door to the room slammed closed as if caught by the wind.
Casey started and pulled free of his arms as a cold breeze stirred her hair and then his own. He felt the chill all the way to his bones. It was as if Megan had brushed past them both, coming between them.
* * *
CASEY COULDN’T BELIEVE how close she’d come to surrendering to the powerful desire Finn had lit inside her. She felt shaken as she stepped back to rub away the cold chill that had circled her neck.
“It seems I need to check the windows around here,” she said as she shivered. She knew she hadn’t fooled Finn. He’d felt it, too. She wondered how many windows in the hotel were open, causing the drafts. In a few days, it wouldn’t be her problem.
She could feel Finn looking at her. He must be thinking the same thing she was: how close that had been. “That wasn’t Megan. There are no ghosts.”
“Just keep telling yourself that,” he said and chuckled softly. She could hear the desire still thick in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Bad timing.”
She nodded. They stood almost awkwardly now. She still felt an aching need inside her, a raging desire that he’d set ablaze. If he touched her right now... “So who do you think it is, the person trying to come between us?”
From his smile, she knew that he’d thought of Megan when the door had slammed, when that cold breeze had brushed past them. “Not a ghost.”
“No,” she agreed, even though if the door hadn’t slammed when it did, she could very well have been in one of these rooms naked in Finn’s arms. Just the thought sent a tremor through her. It would have been just like Megan to keep them apart. If Casey believed in ghosts.
* * *
DEVLIN COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d drunk this much or been this sick. “Just shoot me,” he said to the empty hotel room. He’d opted for his own room without a roommate and was glad of it now. He thought he might die as he lay half-naked on the bathroom floor waiting to heave again.
Why had he drunk so much?
The answer came back to him in a wave of nausea: the conversation at the bar earlier about who’d been in the woods the night Megan died. Jason had been going around the table trying to remember the timeline they’d told the marshal.
“Devlin,” he’d said as if forgetting for a moment that he was even there, “what were you doing in the woods that night?” The way Jason asked it, the words intimated that he was a loser who wasn’t out there with a girl, so what did that leave?
“I was taking a whiz,” he’d said and motioned to the bartender for another beer since, after all, Jason was buying.
“Oh, right, sure,” Jason had said, making it sound as if Devlin had been lying. “And Benjamin—”
“I’d stepped away to do the same thing,” Benjamin had said quickly.
“Amazing that you two didn’t piss on each other,” Jason had said and laughed.
“So Jen and Shirley had gone to get more beer. Megan and Casey had been at the fire. Jen and Shirley returned. Shirley...” He’d stopped and looked over at her.
Shirley had been staring down at her beer as if knowing he would be coming to her soon. She’d told him the
same thing she had the marshal ten years ago, she’d said. “I was sick in the car coming back with the beer. I didn’t want to go all the way back to my room, so I went through the trees down to the creek and washed up as best I could. I was on my way back, turned around and a little lost, when I found Megan.” Shirley had looked relieved when Jason took her at her word and moved on.
He looked at Jen. “I was at the fire. Casey was there. Maybe she saw Megan wander into the woods. I didn’t really notice.”
Jason nodded. “Now, if we just knew what Claude had been doing.”
“I think we already do,” Patience had said and ordered another round. Shirley had said she needed food, and the others had agreed.
Devlin left them to hit the bathroom. When he returned, he noticed that his cell phone was lying on the bar but not where he’d left it. He picked it up, feeling as if someone had opened it. Anyone at the bar could have seen him put in his passcode.
“I’ll buy the ingredients for taco salad,” Jason was saying magnanimously as Devlin had looked around at the others. Only one met his gaze: Jen. She smiled as if everything was fine. Or was it a knowing smile?
“Just tell me what to buy,” Jason said as he borrowed a pen and pad from the bartender and began to make a list. “Who’s up for making it back at the kitchen?”
Devlin ordered another drink as Jason and Patience climbed off their bar stools to head to the store, with the others following shortly after them.
That had been hours ago. Why hadn’t he left the bar with them?
* * *
FINN STILL FELT shaken because he’d almost kissed Casey, something he’d been wanting to do since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. He’d come so close. And then that damned door had slammed.
