Deception. Carol Ericson
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the house.”
“I don’t blame them. What did you call it earlier? A magnet for crime? Even before this summer, it was a magnet for a whole lot of other things.” A tremble rolled through her body and she jostled closer to Dylan.
He charged through the doors of the police station like he owned the place. Hunching over the front desk, he called out, “Hey, Clark, do you have Ms. St. Regis’s stuff from the car crash?”
An officer came out from the back, hugging a gray bin to his chest. “Got it right here. You’re one lucky lady.”
“Don’t I know it.”
He placed the bin on the counter and slid it toward her. The odors of gasoline and burning tires wafted from her purse and laptop case.
“Ugh. I hope the contents are salvageable because I’m going to have to throw these bags away.”
“Do you want me to take those to your car and then follow you over to Columbella?”
“I don’t want to take up your time, Dylan, if you have other work to do.”
“I’ve been meaning to go out there anyway—a couple of things I wanted to check out.”
Dylan shoved the bin into her trunk and closed it with a snap. “If you need help retrieving anything on that hard drive, let me know. There’s a guy in town, a teacher, who’s good with computers.”
She leaned against the car door with her hands grasping the door handle behind her. He must think I’m still a total ditz.
“I appreciate it, Dylan, but you don’t have to hold my hand every step of the way. Believe it or not, I actually live on my own and manage to eat and pay my bills and everything.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue. Two red spots stained his cheekbones, and his jaw tightened.
“Just trying to help out.”
Pushing off the car, she grabbed his forearm, her fingers slipping up his sleeve to caress the mysterious tattoo.
“I’m sorry. I sounded ungrateful. I just want to let you know I’m not that silly girl who used to run to you for help killing a spider…or to tell some overeager teenage boy to back off.”
His lips quirked up at one end as he stepped away from her touch. “Guess I’m still overprotective. Do you still want me to meet you at Columbella?”
“Y-yes. Of course.”
“Tell you what. You go ahead and I’ll meet you over there in a bit.”
“Sounds good.” Mia pasted on a cheery smile and then slumped in the car when he walked away. Damn, girl. Why are you pushing away the one good thing left in this town?
Mia drove up the coast with the window down, allowing the wind to tangle the strands of her hair. She eyed the rearview mirror more than a few times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dylan’s squad car following her. He’d wanted to come along, but she’d implied she wanted him to back off.
Did she?
Not at all. She just wanted Dylan to take her seriously now. She’d gotten off to a bad start by being forced to confess how she’d set up Marissa and married Peter just to get her hands on a house. No wonder he felt she still needed saving from herself.
Coral Cove Drive looked a lot less spooky by daylight. The house didn’t look much better, though. In fact, it looked worse. It didn’t even have that haunted vibe going for it in the harsh light of day that exposed all its flaws and blemishes.
She rolled to a stop in front of the house and scrambled out, dragging her canvas bag with her. She pushed open the front door and poked her head inside before entering.
She expelled a sigh of relief when she saw the broken wood hanging from the balustrade. That was what she’d seen last night; that was what sent her scurrying for safety. Not that her rental car had proved to be safe.
She wrinkled her nose at the dust and decay in the house. Could anyone ever really restore the house? Would she want anyone to restore it?
She wandered around the downstairs, taking notes on a yellow legal pad. She jiggled the handle of the basement door, dreading the trip downstairs. Then decided to put it off for another time.
She climbed the stairs like she had lead weights on her feet. Reaching the second-story landing, she peered over the railing. Why exactly had she wanted this house?
Why had she wanted it enough to trick her sister and marry a man she didn’t love? Had she really expected Dylan to offer himself in Peter’s stead?
She threw open the doors to all the bedrooms and bathrooms. After taking inventory of the items in these rooms, she dragged herself up to the third floor.
Rosie Grant, the mother of Kylie Grant, the same psychic who had sent her the email about Marissa, had hung herself from the third-floor landing a few years ago.
Mia shivered and scooted past the spot where Rosie had jumped. But more terror awaited her at the end of the hallway. A gaping hole was all that remained of the cavity where some local man had walled up a body.
What was it about this place? It drove people to madness.
She took more notes on the third floor, and then sank into a chair, facing a set of double doors that opened on to a balcony facing the sea.
Crossing her arms behind her head, she stretched her legs in front of her. The only thing that made sense right now was Dylan Reese. If he wanted to play knight in shining armor, who was she to stop him?
But she didn’t want them to fall into their old, familiar pattern. She wanted him to see her in a new light, for the woman she’d become. Because now maybe she could meet him on equal footing.
She cocked her head. She could hear a rumbling of voices raised above the rush of the ocean beneath her.
Unless the Vincents were having one heck of a big party, there couldn’t be that many people gathered on this block.
She peeled herself from the chair and scuffed to the balcony. Here the voices came cascading along the sea breeze. Shouts. Yells. Jeers.
Mia jogged down the spiral stairs that led from the balcony to the rocks and then made her way to the front of the house.
She stumbled to a halt, her jaw dropping. Hordes of people were gathered around Columbella House, carrying signs and yelling at each other.
Then a few of them spotted her and started yelling at her. She set her jaw and marched to the front of the house.
She zeroed in on the closest person. “What is going on? What are you people doing here?”
“We just want to make sure you do the right thing.”
Before Mia had a chance to respond, another person pushed her way forward and wagged her finger. “Don’t try to force yourself in here and influence her.”
Sirens sliced through the air, but the noise didn’t faze the crowd. Two police cars pulled up to the curb, and Mia blew out a breath when she saw Dylan climb out of one of the cars. He cut a swath through the mob, and they parted for him.
“What’s going on here?”
Mia flung out her arms. “I was inside, and apparently, these people just spontaneously gathered here.”
He flicked a sign next to him. “Doesn’t look spontaneous to me.”
“This is a peaceful protest, Chief,” a voice yelled from the back of the crowd.
“It doesn’t look peaceful to me, and unless someone can produce a permit, you’re going to have to disperse.”
A low chant started slowly. “Restore, restore, restore, restore.”
Another thrumming began from the other side. “Rebuild, rebuild,