Deception. Carol Ericson
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a P.I. In fact, he worked the case with Kylie. Matt Conner, do you remember him?”
She nodded, trying not to press her body against his solid frame and soak up all his warmth. She turned her head, dangerously close to finding his shoulder again, and her gaze collided with a wavy blue line from a tattoo peeking from the long sleeve of his shirt.
She traced the swirl with the tip of her finger and he winced as if in pain. “When did you get this?”
“A few years ago.”
She shoved his sleeve up to get a better view, but the cuff stuck on his forearm. She could see that the blue tail-end of the tattoo curled around his wrist, ending in an arrow pointing to his palm. “What is it?”
Pinching his sleeve between two fingers, he yanked it down. “Another time. It’s getting late. You’re probably going to be sore from the accident. Do you have some ibuprofen?”
“Plenty.”
His arm slid from her shoulder. “Then take it and get some rest. That guy Peter…your ex…husband, he’s not going to try anything, is he?”
“He’s harmless, just annoying.”
Dylan pushed up from the bed, and she jumped up next to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Thanks for everything today, Dylan. Just like old times, when you used to come to rescue me and Devon.”
The arm beneath her fingers tensed, and a storm passed across his blue eyes. “Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
He bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Even that affectionate gesture left a scorching imprint of his lips on her skin.
At the door he turned. “You might want to book up all the vacant rooms in this motel so I don’t look like a liar.”
“Believe me, this isn’t Peter’s style. Just another empty threat on his part. He has plenty of those to spare.”
“Take care. I guess we’ll be seeing each other around town…as long as you’re here.”
“Maybe I can buy you dinner some night.”
“Looking forward to it.” He smacked the doorjamb and ambled away.
Mia snapped the door closed and leaned against it. Maybe she should’ve taken him up on his dinner offer tonight. That way she could’ve spent more time with him.
At least he hadn’t laughed about her suspicions about Marissa. That was Dylan—always willing to listen.
She pushed away from the door and strolled to the bathroom, her head in the clouds. She was not here to reconnect with Dylan Reese. She hadn’t even realized he’d be here. Devon hadn’t written much about her brother when she’d sent Mia that email about the diary.
Rolling her shoulders, she winced. She’d better get that ibuprofen. She’d be sore for sure tomorrow. A bath might ease her muscles, too. She cranked on the hot water in the tub, letting it run over her fingers.
A large thump at the door almost had her pitching face-first into the bathwater. Had Dylan forgotten something?
She rushed to the door and pulled it open, Dylan’s name on her lips. The word died away on a hitched breath.
There was nobody at the door, but whoever had knocked left her a present—a doll. She’d never liked dolls, even when she’d been doll-age appropriate.
She stooped down to snatch the toy from the cement and gasped. This was no ordinary doll. Someone had cut the photo of her out of the paper and glued it over the doll’s face, and added one more touch…a needle through the doll’s heart.
Chapter Four
Mia clutched her hand to her heart as if she felt the prick of the needle. Stepping back, she banged her elbow on the doorjamb, and pain radiated down her arm. Her gaze darted back and forth along the cement walkway through the bushes.
“Peter?” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “Peter, is that you?”
A rustling of bushes answered her, and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead despite the cool breeze from the ocean. She backed into her room and slammed the door. She scraped the battered chain into place, twitching the curtains at the window for a final peek outside.
Coward.
If Peter thought he’d be getting any more money out of her by playing childish games, he’d better put away whatever it was he’d been smoking.
Pinching the doll by the leg, she dangled it in front of her face. The other soft limbs flopped up and down, and the doll’s blue gingham skirt slipped over its head, the head with Mia’s face pinned to it. She’d seen these dolls before. An artist up the coast made them and sold them to shops in the neighboring towns.
Lots of people had them, but Peter would’ve had to buy the doll here in Coral Cove. It would be easy enough to track that down and nail him. She didn’t know if he’d broken any laws by dropping a voodoo doll on her doorstep…but Dylan would know.
Her gaze slid to the telephone by the bed. She knew he was off duty, but police chiefs in small towns like Coral Cove never went off duty. Someone at the station could rouse the chief.
She shook the doll again and then dropped it on the table by the window. She couldn’t go running to Dylan every time someone yelled boo in her face. She’d played that game enough when they were kids, just to see Dylan come running to her rescue.
But she didn’t play games anymore. She’d learned her lesson. The last game she’d played had been bringing Raoul to Coral Cove with her, knowing Marissa wouldn’t be able to resist his boy-model good looks and sexy accent. Look where that had gotten her.
Saddled with a house she no longer wanted and estrangement from her twin. Surely the only price she had to pay was Marissa’s estrangement…not her death.
She shivered as her gaze glanced off the discarded doll, limbs askew, needle through her heart.
Surely not death.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Mia followed up with the rental car company after Dylan’s report of the accident the night before. Their solicitousness made Mia’s teeth ache, but an agent personally delivered a fresh car to the Sea View Motel.
Driving into town, Mia stomped on the brakes a few times just to test them out. She didn’t have her driver’s license, but she figured Chief Reese would show some understanding.
She pulled into a public parking lot and fed some quarters into the meter. Emerging onto Main Street, she scanned the storefronts, looking for the little touristy knickknack places.
Mia stepped into the first one, the bell on the door dancing in a frantic jingle as she swept into the shop. A tidy woman with a long gray braid down her back looked up from her dusting.
Her ready smile faded and she pursed her lips. “Can I help you?”
Great. Seemed her reputation preceded her everywhere. She may as well have a bull’s-eye painted on her forehead.
She practiced her sweetest smile. “Hello, I was wondering if you could help me out.”
The woman grunted.
“Do you carry these dolls?” Mia marched forward and thrust the floppy doll, picture on its face and needle in its heart, under the clerk’s nose.
The woman jerked back and took a sharp breath. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Yeah, apparently on me.” Mia waved the doll. “You know what kind it is…Cassie’s Creations.”
Wiggling her fingers, the clerk reached out her hand. “Let me see that. I do carry some of Cassie’s Creations.”
Mia happily relinquished the squishy doll, wiping her hands on the seat