Whispers (5 page)

Reilly didn’t wait to hear what Zach had to say in return. He advanced into the sitting room in front of him, feeling like he was stepping back in time.

“
It has changed, no? Since the last time you were here?” Chloe’s voice came deep and melodic.

“
I only made it past the porch once.”

“
But you would have seen had it been this?”

He had to say he would have.

He remembered the house as being bright and cheery, TV-mom clean and neat. There’d been a serviceable sofa of everyday blue and a matching chair in front of a console television set. Nondescript, outdoorsy paintings had adorned the walls and blue-checked curtains covered the windows.

All of that was gone now. A scene from the old West had taken its place.

He’d told Zach the truth. The Diablo had once been a saloon as well as a house of ill repute. Scars on the floor defied the renovation from saloon to boardinghouse by clearly marking the path the large bar must have taken in front of the western wall. He wondered why Carolina had never had it repaired. Even though the bar and stools and tables were gone, Reilly could still picture what it must have looked like all those years ago, filled with smoke and drunks and cowboys shooting the moon.

To the right were stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Straight ahead was a swinging door into the kitchen. The decor now leaned heavily to Victorian—as ironic as it was fitting. Chintz upholstery and tiny crystal lamps communed in front of the stone fireplace. Dainty tables on spindly legs displayed doilies and ornately framed pictures. The wood was dark, the curtains heavy, and the atmosphere cloying.

“
Wow,” Zach said, coming to stand at his elbow. “This is some place. It still looks like a whorehouse.”

Chloe’s expression tightened and her eyes narrowed. “If I were not a woman of honor, I would be hexing you young man.”

Zach waved his hands in mock terror. Chloe turned her back to him and advanced into the room. Her black sneakers brushed the floor in an eerie whisper.

Ignoring her, Reilly moved deeper into the sitting area, still picturing how it must have looked a hundred years ago, filled with unsavory men and sleazy women.

“
Who do you think all these pictures are of?” Zach asked, circling around behind Reilly—giving Chloe a wide berth despite his show of mockery.

Reilly stared at the yellowed photographs in their antique frames, not recognizing anyone.

“
Think they’re the whores?” Zach whispered so Chloe wouldn’t hear.

An old-fashioned portrait hung above the enormous stone mantel on the fireplace. In it, four women sat at a table in front of a bar. Sunlight spilled through the cloudy windows and pinned them all in place like butterflies on a board. Beyond their circle of light, a scattering of dusty and disreputable men watched, as if picture-taking were the most interesting thing to behold. A large black woman stood in the background, her eyes cold even from the distance.

The women in the center seemed to be in various stages of dress and of different ethnic backgrounds. A pale and freckled young woman stood between two other girls, both creamy dark with liquid eyes. None of them looked old enough to be in such a profession. The last sat in the center, features unremarkable except for her light eyes, which looked nearly translucent in the faded picture. Though she was as young as the others, she looked out of the glass with a steady, weighted stare. A woman, not a girl.

There was something hauntingly familiar about her but it took a full minute before he realized what it was. She looked like Gracie Beck. She looked a
lot
like Gracie Beck.

He stared at the picture as a knot of conflicting emotions tangled inside of him. He didn’t feel Chloe approach until her breath fanned over him. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Like a spider, her words crept across his skin. He jumped and brushed at his ear, turning to face her angrily.

“
I know I’m getting sick of this little guessing game of yours.” He’d been raised to respect his elders, and his sharp tone embarrassed him, but Chloe LaMonte would try the patience of a saint and Reilly was hell and gone from sainthood. He wanted to get away from her. Suddenly, he wanted to get away from
here
regardless of the fact that he had come by his own free will. The air was thick and muggy, the storm loud and isolating.

“
I’m going to open some windows,” he said, despite the storm, despite the fact that outside was nearly as hot as in. Easier said than done, however. He tried one, then another, but neither would budge. Frustrated, he moved to a third when a loud whirring came an instant before the sound of air blowing through a vent.

Air-conditioning. Miracles did happen. He looked around for the thermostat and found it by the kitchen door. It seemed anachronistic in its surroundings, but Reilly was relieved it existed at all. He crossed to the control, nearly laughing when he saw it fixed at ninety-five. Leave it to Carolina Beck to install air, but refuse to keep it turned low enough to cool. He moved the lever to sixty-five, hoping she wouldn’t go nuts when she found out.
Sorry, Carolina, but this is hard enough without being steamed alive.

The sound of a siren approaching startled the entire group. Zach went to the window and looked out.

“
There’s a police car out there,” he said.

Reilly opened the door and watched a uniformed man step from his car and hurry up to the porch. When the officer raised his head and looked at Reilly, his mouth fell open.

“
Son of a bitch,” he said.

Reilly silently echoed that. Though a couple of years younger, Reilly knew him. It was a small town and they’d all gone to school together. Eddie Rodriguez had been a local hero, star athlete, and, last Reilly heard, he’d been given a scholarship to UCLA. Eddie should have escaped Diablo Springs long ago. But here he was with a sheriff’s uniform and a shiny badge.

“
How the hell are you?” Eddie said.

It seemed a ridiculous question after the bizarre night and Reilly couldn’t help the humorless laugh he gave. “I could use a drink.”

“
You and me both, but I’m here on business. Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

The direct switch from personal to professional threw Reilly off, but he recovered and said, “Actually, I’m trying to figure that one out myself.” Reilly’s answer came across more insolent than he’d intended. But why was it Eddie’s business what he was doing there?

Eddie’s friendliness seemed to fade a bit as he looked past Reilly to Chloe and the others. “You with them?”

Chloe stepped forward and stopped at Reilly’s side, setting her hands on his arm in a proprietary manner. “Rather, we are with him.”

“
No,” Reilly said. “You’re not.”

Chloe smiled. “Nathan is looking for his next story. He thinks he’ll find it here.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at that. “What makes you think so, Reilly?”

“
Wait a minute. Rewind. They”—he jerked his thumb at the small group—“are the story. I mean, look at them.”

Only the priest appeared to be offended by the comment.

“
We have reservations, Officer,” Chloe said, looking concerned and anxious—two things Reilly knew she wasn’t.

“
That may be, but chances are you’ll need to find another place in the morning. Carolina Beck died tonight. We found her body out by the ruins.”

Reilly heard the news, but couldn’t quite process it. He looked at Chloe and she stared back, pulling him into the deep wells of her eyes, pulling him into the subtle blackness at their core. She’d known.

“
That’s not all we found, either,” Eddie said. “I’ll be damned if I can explain it, but that’s not all.”

Chloe’s eyes glimmered and a sad smile curved her pink lips. The question formed in Reilly’s mind, filling him with an unsettling mix of curiosity and outrage. What else did she know? But before he could ask, the front door swung open with a bang and a burst of rain. A woman rushed through.

Reilly stared as the night surpassed strange and hit downright unbelievable. It was Gracie Beck.

She’d always been tiny—even before he’d filled out and shot up to his six-two height, the top of her head had barely reached his chin. She was still small, but age had rounded the sharp angles of her shoulders, added fullness to her breasts, smoothed the slope to her waist. She wore khaki capris that followed the curve of her legs and a black T-shirt. Reilly’s eyes were drawn to the rain-soaked fabric pulled gently across her breasts. He could just make out the faint outline of a lace bra.

She still didn’t look like she could live off the land for more than a day or two, but there was flesh now, where once there’d been little but skin and bones. Her soft brown hair was drawn back in a ponytail, but a few wisps escaped to frame her face. The eyes were still gray, the color of a turbulent ocean, overflowing with the kind of secrets that would drive a man insane with wanting to know. But gone was the cocky defiance that had marked Gracie Beck from the cradle. Gone was the devil-may-care smile that had teased him into wet dreams as a teen. In its place was a somberness that had no place on a mouth so soft.

She scanned the room quickly, eyes widening as they moved from one stranger to another. She frowned when she saw Reilly—as if finding him among this group of misfits was the most incredible of all. He knew how she felt.

“
What… ” she began.

And then she saw Eddie and dismissed them all without a word.

She crossed to the sheriff’s side, grabbed his arm, and demanded, “Where is she?”

Chapter Five

IT had felt like the dead of night when Gracie pulled into town. She’d bypassed Diablo Springs’ tiny municipal building, which was dark and still. From the corner she’d seen the Diablo, lit up like Christmas morning, and the patrol car parked in front, bubble light swirling red and blue against the night. She’d stepped inside the front door expecting to find Eddie Rodriguez waiting, but what met her eyes was something entirely different.

For a moment an utter sense of displacement stopped her. Nothing was the same. Not the furniture, the pictures, the curtains. Not the strangers crowded inside. She tried to sort through her confusion as she stared at the clustered group of people. A man who looked as if he’d neglected to remove his Dracula costume after Halloween, an older, light-skinned woman wearing an African turban, and a priest of all things. Rounding out the group was a young man with the classic good looks of a model or an actor. And, nearby, most bizarre of all, Reilly Alexander.

“
What...” She couldn’t even think of what she wanted to ask. It was like a nightmare that kept morphing from one psychotic scenario to another.

She shook her head and fixed her attention on Eddie. He, at least, was supposed to be here. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?” she asked. Her voice cracked with the necessity of asking.

“
She’s fine, Gracie,” Eddie said, taking her shoulders in his reassuring hands. “Dr. Graebel checked her out. She has a bump on her head and she’s shook up, but no permanent damage. He’s got her over at the clinic and is going to bring her here as soon as he gets the boy settled in.”

The boy? Brendan? Brendan brought her here. Why?

“
How is he?”

“
Hard to say. Doc’s got some tests going—he isn’t conscious yet, but so far Doc can’t figure out why. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he gets here with Analise.”

“
I’ll go get her,” Gracie insisted. “I don’t want to wait to see her.”

“
Gracie, she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

From the porch she heard her dogs barking like maniacs. She’d tied them there before coming in. Gracie pivoted and stepped outside.

“
Tinkerbelle, Juliet, heel.”

Both dogs obeyed immediately, sitting with ears pricked and shamed faces. Romeo trotted to her side and sat on his hind legs.

“
Stay,” Gracie commanded them and they contritely did as they were told. The three tracked her with their eyes as she left the porch, but none of the dogs moved so much as a hair.

When she came back inside, it seemed like the whole room had responded to the authority of her voice. The priest and the good-looking young guy both stood attentively. The old woman was smiling at her, though Gracie didn’t know why. Dracula waited close at her shoulder, protective as any watchdog she’d ever seen. Reilly was beside Eddie, watching her like she was a ghost.

Gracie wanted to ask about her grandmother, but not with an audience, especially one as strange as this group. In fact, why were they here? Why were they all gathered by the door at this late hour?

“
Eddie,” she said, lowering her voice and turning her back to them. “Who are all these people? What are they doing in the Diablo?” In the middle of the night, dressed for a masquerade?

Eddie looked blankly back. “Your guess is as good as mine. Reilly brought them.”

Reilly’d had his mouth open since she’d walked through the door. Eddie’s comment shut it.

Gracie hadn’t seen Reilly since she’d left Diablo Springs. He was taller now, more broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped—a bigger man than she’d remembered him being—but she could have picked him out of a crowd. Sure, he was a little older, a little harder. A lot less boy, a lot more man. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt that showed a golden tan and the thick corded muscles of his arms and shoulders, faded Levi’s, and flip-flops. A Chinese symbol was tattooed on his right forearm, and a series of them made a chain around his left bicep. His hair was just shy of shaved and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw.