The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (55 page)

He loosened his embrace on Harper. Her eyes were filled with terror and disgust and he hated to let her go. She’d been through so much with losing her sister and now this, but he couldn’t hold her forever, no matter how badly he desired it. “Sweetheart, I think you should go stand away from the door. You don’t need to see this.”

Harper answered with a tight nod as he let his embrace fall away. She turned and stepped out of the doorway. Her footsteps made a hollow sound as she walked down the walkway in the direction of the next apartment, thankfully out of sight from the macabre scene.

Covering his mouth and nose, Chance stepped into the small apartment and glanced around the space. On the walls were a few pictures all of a black-haired girl at varying ages. The last photo was of a girl who was maybe about seventeen.

Chance couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no way Carey was dead.

Stepping next to the body, Chance did the only thing he knew — he reached down and pressed his fingers against Carey’s neck. Her skin was sickeningly cold.

There was no question in his mind as he glanced around at the white feathers that filled the room. Someone had killed her by pulling her feathers when she’d been in her shift. But who had gotten close enough to attack his ex-wife? Who wanted her dead?

Taking his fingers from her neck, he touched her eyelids and pulled them closed. Out of respect he mouthed a quick prayer, but it had been so long since he’d prayed that he barely knew the right words.

• • •

The nosey neighbors stood on the walkway and around the parking lot as the coroner and his assistant lifted the body and carried it down the three flights of stairs. The whole scene made Chance’s belief in people lessen. The only person who didn’t seem grossly attracted to the investigation was Harper. She leaned against a wall, seemingly not noticing the black bag and its macabre contents, as a police officer continued to ask her questions.

The only reason she had been exposed to this was because of him and his curiosity. He should have never asked her to tell him where Carey lived. He should have never brought her here.

A police officer walked up to him. The officer stared at the ground, the walls, the steps, everywhere except Chance’s face. The man gave a little cough as he attempted to clear his nerves. “You’re Chance Landon, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Sir, the investigator just let me know that we have a letter, which was left by the deceased. It looks as though she might have known her time was coming.”

“What? Who was the letter addressed to?”

“It was addressed to you,” the officer said.

“Can I have it?”

“First, I have a few questions that I need to ask you.”

“Why? I’ve made it more than clear I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Chance said, trying to clear any ideas the officer had of making him a suspect.

“At this point, it looks like a drug overdose, but we won’t know for sure until toxicology comes back — and that may take some time. However, from the state of her apartment, we do have to treat this as a crime scene since the death was not witnessed.”

“I understand,” Chance said, trying to be as compliant as possible. The last thing he needed was the cops on his ass for something he didn’t have any part of. “How long do you think she had been here before we found her?”

“I’m not an investigator, but from the rate of rigor mortis they approximated the death to be somewhere between eight and twenty-four hours ago.” The officer pushed one of his thumbs under the edge of his utility belt. “Just to cover the bases, I do have some questions for you about your whereabouts.”

Chance took a step back and bumped against the railing of the walkway. “I didn’t have anything to do with Carey’s death.”

“Sir, all I’m asking is where you were for the last twenty-four hours?” The officer seemed almost bored as he asked the required question.

Chance glanced over in Harper’s direction and remembered the drugs. He couldn’t very well tell them he’d been busy aiding in the disposal of narcotics. “I was with Harper. Before that I was in my hotel room with my buddy, and last night I was playing poker.”

“Both of these people can account for your whereabouts?”

“Absolutely.” His legs seemed to go numb as his body compensated for the shock of the officer’s questioning. “I’m sure if you need, the hotel might have cameras. You’ll see I never left until I went to see Harper.”

“Great. Just got a couple more questions,” the officer continued. “Sir, why were you here today?”

“I just stopped by.”

The officer finally looked him in the face. “And how would you classify your relationship with the diseased?”

What relationship?

Chance’s hands gripped the winter chilled metal railing. “She and I were married a while back. I hadn’t talked to her since our divorce.”

“When exactly was your divorce?”

He thought for a moment. “We signed the papers seventeen years ago, thereabouts.”

“So what would you say was the reason for your divorce?”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

The man gave a quick laugh. “I can certainly understand that … Me and my ex just went through one hell of a divorce.”

“Sorry to hear about it,” Chance said, grateful that the officer wasn’t digging too deeply into his life.

“When we get involved with these kind of women,” the officer said, as he motioned toward the black body bag in the coroner’s hands, “it’s never a good thing. Right?”

The man must have assumed Carey was just another druggie off the street, but Chance knew better — there was more going on than a simple overdose.

The cop stuffed his thumb under his utility belt and leaned back. “And what about your daughter? Do you know where we can find her?”

“I don’t have a daughter.”

The officer jerked and there was a flicker of confusion on his face. He pressed a button on the walkie-talkie clipped to his chest and turning, walked a few steps away. Chance tried to hear what the officer said, but he could only make out muffled whispers.

After a moment the officer turned back around and walked to him. “Sir, along with the letter left by the deceased was a birth certificate for one Starling Jackson.”

“And?”

“And you were named as the father of the girl.”

What was going on? Carey, as a nymph, couldn’t have gotten pregnant, could she?

“There’s no way.”

“Legally, sir, you are the girl’s father. We called her school, but they said she is already out for the day. She’s probably on her way home now.”

“Child? How old is she?”

“The certificate date shows she, Starling Jackson, is seventeen.” And then Chance remembered. The week the divorce had been finalized, he and Carey had run into each other in a smoke-filled bar. After one too many beers for him, and more than one or two too many cocktails for her, they had gone back to her place. Had their one last fling resulted in a child?

The knot in his stomach tightened. Was the child the reason Carey had been trying to contact him? It wasn’t beneath her to want to keep a child a secret from him. If she had told him about his daughter, she would have known he would have wanted to have parental rights.

He hadn’t hated her, but in that moment his feelings changed. Any woman who could deceive this much — a woman who could keep his child a secret from him, deserved his hatred.

“Sir? Are you okay?” the officer asked.

Was the guy kidding? He just learned he had a child. No. Not just a child, but a teenage daughter. It didn’t seem real.

“Yeah.”

“Here’s the letter and your daughter’s birth certificate.” The officer handed him an envelope.

Chance took the envelope. On the outside, in Carey’s familiar handwriting, was his name. He pulled out the first paper. On the top of the birth certificate was Starling’s name and then Carey’s information. Further down the page was he was listed as the father.

Even though Carey had problems, she wouldn’t have listed him if he hadn’t been the girl’s father. However, it surprised him that she wouldn’t have merely left the father’s information blank. Was it possible that her naming him was a safeguard in the event something happened — something like him finding her dead?

He folded the certificate and carefully slid it back into the envelope and withdrew the letter. He was surprised to see Carey had only written him three words — three agonizing words — Chance, I’m sorry.

The officer stared at him.

“Are you willing to take the child, or would you rather we put her in foster care when she arrives?”

“No.” Chance tensed. “I’ll take her.”

“Great. We hate to see children taken from the biological parents in cases like these.”

Harper excused herself from the officer she was talking to and made her way toward him.

“Chance, you look terrible. Are you okay?”

“I have a child. A teenager. Starling.” He blurted the words out. Her eyes widened and her face paled.

“What are you talking about? She couldn’t have had a child, Carey was a — ”

“Was a what?” the officer interrupted.

Harper’s gaze snapped to the officer. “She was always a surprise.” She gave an unconvincing laugh.

The officer stared at her. “How well did you know the deceased?”

Harper gave the officer a melting smile. “Officer, I already gave my statement to your friend over there.” She pointed at the secondary officer. “I’m just such a mess, would you mind terribly if you talked to him about it?”

A strange wave of energy passed by Chance, almost like a warm summer wind. The officer flipped his notepad shut and returned the beautiful woman’s smile. “Not a problem, thanks for being so open to questioning. I know this must be hard on you, ma’am.”

Harper fluttered her eyelashes and the strange energy intensified. His body warmed with the same sensation he used to feel when he’d first met Carey. It had been seventeen years since he had felt that, seventeen years since he’d been around a woman like Carey — a woman who was a nymph.

How could Carey possibly have gotten pregnant? It had been almost a century since the last nymph had been born, so it wasn’t completely impossible, but it seemed unlikely. And if Carey had birthed a child, how hadn’t the news spread through the sisterhood? Harper had more questions than answers, but one question rose above the rest: How much did Chance Landon know?

He had to have some idea that his ex-wife was a nymph. Or maybe not.

The gray sky was ominous, like a smothering pillow above them. The gray perfectly matched Chance’s face. He hadn’t known he had a daughter and, if Carey had chosen to not disclose her daughter’s life, it seemed unlikely she would tell him something as challenging as the fact that she was a nymph — not only a nymph, but one who had been cursed.

What man would stay around after he found out he would die if the woman fell in love? It was easy to understand why Carey would leave out the bits about her supernatural abilities and her curse. Harper was no different — she’d never told a human what or who she was — and she wasn’t about to start.

There was a slam of a door as the last of the officers got in their patrol car to leave. It had been a long day and something told her it was far from being over.

“What are you going to do about Starling, Chance?”

“I don’t know … ” He shook his head as if he was in a daze.

She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. It was a lot just to find out that someone you cared for had died. To add the fact that Carey had a child — and not just a child, but his child — was news that would change his life in countless ways. From the stunned look on his face, Harper could see he was thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry Carey kept her a secret from you. You had the right to know.”

“Apparently she didn’t think I needed to know about Starling.” A deep sadness filled his voice.

She wanted to take him into her arms, to hold him and tell him everything would be okay, just as he had done for her when they’d found Carey. Yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t lie to him.

“Well, Carey was wrong.”

He leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, she wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no saint, Harper. Carey had every right to keep the truth and the girl away from me.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. “I chose to leave Carey and get a divorce. I could have given up my life as a professional poker player, but I didn’t. I left. I’m sure she thought I didn’t deserve to have a relationship with Starling.”

“Starling is your daughter. Regardless of what you think you did, you should have known she existed.”

“You say that, but you don’t know anything about me.”

His words ripped at Harper like a shark its prey, but she forced herself to ignore the pain. He was hurting and angry — Chance was only lashing out and she was the closest available target. “And you don’t know anything about me, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn — that we can’t help each other. I don’t know about you, but without Jenna, I don’t have anyone. I could use a friend.”

“I’d love to be your friend, but I need you to know that I can’t offer you anything else. I’m too fucked up right now.”

“Chance, I wasn’t offering anything to you besides a friendship.”

The space between them filled with an awkward silence. In a way, she envied his ability to push others away. If she could only be as distant as Chance, she would never have to face getting hurt.

“That’s good, because I need a friend who can help me. I don’t know anything about how to raise a teenage girl.” Chance paused. “And the police told me that I have primary custody of Starling.” His eyes seemed to absorb the gray of the clouds — or it could have been the gray of his soul desperately trying to escape. “They told me if I don’t take her she will be taken into the foster care system. And there’s no way I would let my child grow up being shuffled from one hell to another. She’s almost eighteen, but no child deserves to be lost to a broken system.”

“You’re right, and I’m here — you can always call me for whatever you need.”