Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams (50 page)

Severance came to his feet immediately. “There you are, Montserrat. It took you long enough to get here.”

Dominic leaned back against the battered table. “What's the idea of dragging me into this? It's a simple enough case—attempted murder. We've found the company who delivered that wine to you before you added your poison. There's no reason for me to be involved.”

“That's where you're wrong.” Severance turned and paced the narrow room. “She's got the same hold over you, hasn't she? I know how it works. I saw her, and from that minute on I couldn't get her out of my mind either.” Severance laughed grimly. “I've seen that same hunger in
your
eyes.”

“So?”

“So I didn't give in without a fight. I made it my business to find out everything I could about Cathlin O'Neill. I studied her father, I studied her mother, and I studied her past. Oddly enough there wasn't that much to find, which made me curious. With the kind of access I have to people in high places, I'd expected to find more.”

“Get to the point, Severance.”

“I'm not certain
what
Cathlin has in her past.” Severance frowned and pulled a hand through his now disordered hair. “Oh, there were a few fragments about her mother's murder at Draycott Abbey, but after that nothing. Stranger still, I found out
that someone else had been along that same paper trail. Whoever it was made damn sure to sweep every detail clean after him.”

“Which only made you more curious.”

“You're bloody right it made me curious.” Severance shrugged. “I won't say I loved her. I won't even say that I liked her all the time. But I couldn't seem to get Cathlin O'Neill out of my mind. Especially her eyes. All I could think of was seeing them hot with passion, just for me.” He cursed softly. “Yes, I was damned curious. I've made a great deal of money by being curious, Officer Montserrat. Business is about information, after all. So I pushed and then I pushed some more and bit by bit the pieces of Cathlin's past finally began to emerge.”

Dominic sat back, waiting to hear the rough outlines of the story Cathlin had already told him along with some of the details he had learned from Harcliffe's file. “Go ahead, Severance, astound me.”

The other man studied Dominic. “Tough, aren't you? But you weren't so tough in Rome, not when those three teenagers died from your gun. And you weren't so tough when it turned out that one of them was a girl.”

Dominic's jaw hardened. Less than half a dozen people knew about that bloody episode. It had been carefully covered up, not out of concern for Dominic's reputation but as a precaution in case other members of the royal family might be attacked. “Just how the hell do you know that, Severance? Not that I'm agreeing there's any truth to it, of course.”

“I have access to the best sources, Montserrat. I'm not talking about receptionists or clerical staff here, but about highly placed cabinet-level contacts. These people owe me all kinds of favors. That's how I began to fit the clues about Cathlin together.” He began to pace again, his expression growing more and more tense. “And finally those pieces began to make sense.”

“Why did you go to so much trouble? Certainly not just because of a pair of remarkable eyes?”

“At first that's all it was. Then it changed. My instincts began screaming that there was more here than met the eye. Secrets are power, Montserrat, and power is what keeps me where I am.” Severance laughed grimly. “Or where I
was.
” He frowned at Dominic. “You still don't believe me, do you? You think this is all a scheme to work my way out of the charges. But this is absolutely true. Someone else was going to a great deal of trouble to destroy the details of Cathlin's past. Those psychological files of hers are not available even to fellow physicians. They're considered national secrets, don't you see? There's only one reason that would happen.”

“Because Cathlin knew something important?”

“Exactly! Do you understand now? Somewhere in that jagged, tormented memory she holds a scrap of information that someone considers very, very deadly. That's why they want her past erased.”

Dominic sat forward, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me who.”

 

C
ATHLIN STOOD IN THE WINE
cellar, her hands locked at her chest, images of past and present flooding her mind. Around her lay piles of rubble, remnants of the wall that had been Gabriel Ashton's lonely tomb.

A wall that reminded her of the jagged hole in her own mind.

Fragments. Images. So much of the past she could never get away from. As Cathlin moved over the floor, something glinted from the shadows. Bending down, she sifted through the dust and picked up a small metal link, the kind that came from a piece of expensive jewelry.

Cathlin studied the piece of silver, turning it in the light. Something about it nagged at her memory, but she couldn't
decide what. After a moment she slipped the smooth link into her pocket, where her fingers continued to turn it over and over.

What had happened to Gabriel? And what had happened to this wistful amber-eyed woman that he'd left behind at the abbey?

Frowning, Cathlin touched the old bottle. The glass was cold, dust-streaked, heavy beneath her fingers, but now it held no answers, its secrets locked in the same tomb that had held Gabriel's bones.

Behind her the new generator popped sharply. She heard a faint hiss. A moment later the cellar was plunged into utter darkness.

“A
NICE STORY
, S
EVERANCE
,
but you're wasting my time. I need facts, not speculation.”

The rumpled financier gestured irritably. “Get me some coffee, for God's sake. I've been cooped up in this place for six hours. The least you can do is get me something to drink.”

A stalling tactic? Dominic shrugged and moved to the door, spoke softly with the man outside, then returned. “I need something specific if you want my help. This kind of empty speculation won't get you an extra blanket on your prison bed.”

“It's far more than speculation, you fool! It's about secrets, damn it. The kind of secrets that keep governments afloat—or shatter them.”

“I need a name or I can't help you,” Dominic said flatly.

Severance rubbed his neck and cursed.

At that moment there was a tap at the door and a uniformed man brought in a paper cup. Dominic noticed he was a different guard from before. “Where did the other officer go?” he asked.

“Off duty,” came the bored answer, coupled with a shrug.

Severance turned the cup nervously in his hands and took a quick drink. “Help me, Montserrat. That wine was just to scare Cathlin. When I saw her with you in the car I went a little crazy, I admit it. But I never meant to kill her. There wasn't supposed to be enough poison for that.”

“Says you.”

Severance stared into the steaming coffee, as if looking for hidden answers. “My God, you still don't understand!” He took another swallow and rubbed his throat. “It was all planned.
All
of it, don't you understand? Someone knew.” His fingers tightened on the coffee, which sloshed over his wrists.

There was another tap at the door. The uniformed guard beckoned to Dominic. “Mr. Severance's lawyers are upstairs,” he explained softly. “He is to be released in fifteen minutes. Mr. Harcliffe wanted you to know.”

Dominic bit back a curse. Did Harcliffe expect him to get answers before Severance walked? He turned back, his face expressionless. “If there was someone involved, tell me how. Then maybe I can help you.”

“That's just it, I never found out. And I should have been able to find out. Whoever buried Cathlin's records had access to the very highest levels. He
also
had the power to keep his involvement totally hidden.” His eyes widened, desperate. “But I did learn one thing, Montserrat. The palace was never interested in that wine you're shepherding down at Draycott Abbey.”

“What wine?” Dominic's tone was cool.

“That Château d'Yquem 1792, you fool! I told you, information's my business. When I found out, naturally I was interested as a collector. But no one at the palace was showing any interest and that bothered me, since it could mean the wine was a fake. When I looked into it, I found out the palace was told discreetly that the wine is only a modern copy.”

Dominic's palms began to sweat as he felt a noose of betrayal slipping around him. “Why should I believe you're telling me the truth?”

“Because I need you too much to lie.” Severance's fingers were trembling and his voice was agitated. “That man you caught the day before yesterday at the abbey was my man. I sent him for pictures of the wine. I wanted verification. Of course, he
wasn't as good as you, Montserrat. He barely made it out, bleeding badly.”

“Tell me about the palace. Where did you get this information? No one on their staff leaks information for long.”

“You're right. But this time an old associate there called me. It seems a member of the royal family was searching for a fine wine to give as a family birthday gift. He knew I occasionally obtain unusual vintages and can be counted on to be discreet. I can assure you, he had
no idea
that the wine in the abbey's cellar was authentic. Which means, Montserrat, that someone is double-crossing you.” Sweat covered Severance's brow and his face had gone pale. “So now will you help me?”

Dominic tried to hide his fury. Severance couldn't be lying, not when so many of his facts were correct. And that meant someone had betrayed him. Harcliffe? Or someone even higher? “What about the car that tried to run Cathlin off the road? Were you behind that, too?”

“Car?” Severance ran a hand clumsily over his brow. “I don't know anything about a car. The poison was just to scare Cathlin and make her leave the abbey. Something's wrong there, don't you believe that now?”

He did believe it, Dominic thought grimly. But who was the person who stayed one step ahead of him?

“Did you send Cathlin the letter with the scrap of plaid?”

“What plaid?”

Another dead end. Dominic rubbed his shoulder idly, feeling it burn. “Maybe you can be useful to me, Severance. When you're released from here, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything. Just get me out.”

“I want you to start asking questions again. Pull in all your old debts and make it clear that answers will be well rewarded.”

“You want me to be the bait, is that it? To make my interest clear and see who comes looking for me?” He nodded slowly.
“Risky, but I'll do it. Just give me your assurance that in return, you'll—” His hands lurched. A shudder ran through him.

“What's wrong?”

Severance's body tensed. He swayed toward the desk. His coffee cup fell to the floor and liquid ran in a brown stain across the dirty tiles.

“The woman,” Severance muttered. “Harcliffe. Might be—” Abruptly his eyes closed and his body twitched convulsively.

And then his head slid back and he did not move again.

 

D
OMINIC'S FACE WAS GRIM
as he watched the medical team carry out Richard Severance's body. “What was it?” he asked the doctor making notes in a small black pad.

“Impossible to say for certain, not until the blood tests and tissue samples are complete.” The man closed his pad with a snap. Dominic thought his eyes looked tired and slightly bitter. “Myself, I suspect a fast-acting alkaloid. Probably something in the curare family, since you say it happened over a matter of minutes.”

“What about the guard?”

The doctor shrugged. “He's in the clear. Someone phoned down and told him to come upstairs in order to show Severance's lawyers down here, in preparation for his release. He waited until a relief guard took his place and then he left.”

“And that relief guard who brought the coffee has long since disappeared, no doubt,” Dominic said grimly.

“Right again.”

Dominic looked down at the floor. There were still a few beads of coffee dotting the old, cracked tile. The paper cup had been removed for evidence, of course, but Dominic doubted there would be any found. Whoever was behind this wasn't the sort to leave any clues.

Slowly he sank onto the table, his hands clenched. Who
wanted Severance out of the picture and had the knowledge to see it done so cleanly?

And then Dominic sat forward.
Cathlin.
Whoever had gotten to Severance could just as easily get to Cathlin. He had to get back to Draycott.

The tired man with the notepad watched him rush from the room, then sighed and went back to his grisly report.

 

C
ATHLIN MOVED QUICKLY AS
the wine cellar was plunged into darkness. She crouched by the new security system and punched in the code Dominic had programmed to retrigger the alarm. At least its secondary power source was secure for the moment.

Nearby she heard a thump, the kind that came from a body stumbling into something heavy. Tensely, she pinpointed the noise, four yards to her right. If she made her way along the far wall past the champagne racks, she would be in reach of the stairs.

She caught her breath and inched through the darkness. When her fingers met the cool wood of the stair rail, she threw caution to the winds and bolted straight up, calling hoarsely for Marston and the friend of Dominic who was supposed to be on watch by the front door.

But neither the butler nor the other man was anywhere to be seen. The abbey was empty.

“My dear, what's wrong? You look quite distraught.”

Cathlin spun around, gasping in relief as she saw Joanna Harcliffe's anxious face. “Where's Marston? There's someone down in the cellars and I have to get help.”

“Oh, I assure you no one has gone down there. I've been sitting here for at least twenty minutes. Marston said he had to go into town with that nice friend of your husband. I believe they had to pick up some new equipment. Marston seemed quite delighted to be involved, actually.” The older woman touched
Cathlin's arm. “You're not looking at all well, my dear. Come into the study and sit down while you tell me all about it.”

Perhaps she
had
been mistaken, Cathlin thought. Lord knows, her nerves were stretched thin these last days. Given her anxiety in the darkness, she might merely have imagined the noise.

She followed the older woman into the study, sank into a chintz armchair, and took the glass of water that Joanna Harcliffe had poured from a nearby carafe.

“I was certain I heard something. Just my imagination, I suppose. I've been imagining all
sorts
of strange things since I came to the abbey.”

“Have another drink.”

Cathlin took the glass, studying the woman's competent hands. She noted every line and texture, from the square, unpolished nails to the expensive but out-of-date Baume and Mercier wristwatch.

“Just close your eyes. It will help, you know. It will let you forget.”

Cathlin stared at the silver watchband flashing in the sunlight as Joanna's Harcliffe's voice murmured on, soft and rhythmic. “Sleep. Sleep now.” Sunlight glinted back and forth across the silver links. It was the kind of expensive and classic watch that would last a lifetime, Cathlin thought dimly.

Then her eyes sank closed. Her breathing grew deep and regular.

When the phone rang, the older woman reached out and unplugged it. “There's no need for us to be disturbed,” she said gently. “Just sleep, Cathlin, my dearest. Close your eyes and sleep. Exactly the way your mother did.”

 

J
AMES
H
ARCLIFFE KNOCKED
at the door of his wife's study, then pushed it open. He did not go into this room as a rule. Medical confidentiality had to be strictly preserved, as his wife had repeatedly explained to him. Because Harcliffe had his own office
at home, this had never bothered him before. But lately Joanna was spending more and more time in here, and he feared she was overworking.

But today she was not at her office and she should have been home hours ago.

He looked down, surprised to see a torn sheet of paper crumpled on her desk. Nearby a little crystal jar with paper clips lay overturned.

Harcliffe frowned. His wife was usually the soul of neatness, entirely a creature of habit. It annoyed her when something was not in its place. This was not at all like her. He picked up the paper and studied the single word that ran across it, written in his wife's neat handwriting.

Cathlin.

Beneath he saw a file and skimmed the first sheet. His frown grew as he turned sheet after sheet. When he finally snapped the file shut and sank down in the chair at his wife's desk, his face was grim.

He grabbed the phone and punched the number for Draycott Abbey. A mechanical voice came on the line, informing him that there was a circuit malfunction and would he please try his call again later.

Cursing softly, Harcliffe broke the connection, studying the unbelievable information he held in his hands. For the first time in twenty years there was fear in his eyes.

 

T
HE SUN BURNED AWAY OVER
the hills, leaving Draycott's windows a blaze of crimson. The air was still and silence covered the sweeping hills like a veil.

Out of that veil came a shimmering wave of light that worked into black satin and white lace, into a face with brooding eyes and hard jaw. Adrian Draycott stood on the rise overlooking his beloved abbey, a gray cat at his feet.

His hands clenched to fists. They had no right to be here, severing the peace of this place, threatening those who had come back to heal a long-forgotten wound. He had tried to warn Cathlin and her stubborn husband, stirring their sleeping minds with fragments of their bitter past. He had hoped that with his warning, they might be better prepared for the dangers to come.

But the evil that had waited for two hundred years had only grown stronger. Now the dark past was about to be repeated and in spite of every shred of will and ghostly inclination, Adrian Draycott feared he would not be allowed to interfere.