Wicked Lies (21 page)

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said seriously, his gaze touching hers through the wire-rimmed glasses he wore while working on the computer. Oh, God, how she wanted to believe him, to trust him, but he really didn’t understand about Justice’s sense of injustice, his need for revenge, how deep the seeds of evil had been planted in his heart.

She licked her lips nervously and walked to the small pantry near the back door, to search for tea . . . to do something, anything to keep busy.

“I told you I won’t write anything you don’t want me to.” He turned all the way around in the chair and looked at her with such honesty that she believed him. Sort of.

“Thanks.”

“Can you tell me a little more how Justice fits in, though?”

She snagged a bag of herbal tea, something called Calm, and closed the cupboard door. “All I know is that Madeline Turnbull is a cousin to my aunt and mother. So Justice is some kind of distant cousin to me.”

“But you’ve met him? He was part of your . . . clan?”

She tried to roll back the years, the memories that for so long she’d kept at bay. “Yeah, I’ve met him. When I was a kid. He used to come to the lodge when he was younger, I think.” She found a cup and filled it with water.

“You were how old then?”

“Six, maybe?” In reality she wasn’t completely certain. There were secrets within secrets between Catherine and Mary, and Catherine never felt compelled to bring them to the light of day unless it was absolutely necessary, even to Laura and her sisters.

“Around Justice’s age?”

“I guess.” She placed the cup in the microwave and set the timer before hitting the
START
button. “You want some tea . . . or coffee or . . . ?”

He shook his head, intent on his questions. “And your mom died when you were around ten?”

“That’s what I said,” Laura said stiffly. He’d hit a nerve again. Because she just didn’t know, and really, she should. But the details around her mother’s death were hazy, and Laura was almost embarrassed that she knew so little.

“And she’s buried in the graveyard on the property?”

“I think I already told you that.”

He took off his glasses and set them on the table. Lacing his fingers on the crown of his head, he looked over at her. “What happened to her? I mean, what killed her?”

“Catherine said she died of a broken heart. I know that sounds . . . unreal.” The microwave bell dinged and she grabbed the cup, then dunked the tea bag into the steaming water.

Harrison skewered her with a look. “What does that mean, exactly? ‘Died of a broken heart’? People say that all the time, but what does it really mean? She wasted away after being rejected by her lover?”

Laura shrugged and shook her head. “I think there wasn’t any one particular cause. She just died.” She hesitated, stared at the darkening blossom of water from the bag, then added, “She had a number of lovers, apparently.”

“You all have different fathers.”

“Yes . . .”

“It must have been before they closed and locked the gates.”

“Not funny.”

“A little funny,” he argued, one side of his mouth lifting. “I was just trying to lighten things up.”

“Sure.”

“Really. I’m sorry,” he said, but the glimmer in his eyes told her otherwise. “So, how many sisters do you have?”

Back to business. Of course. “There are seven living at the lodge,” Laura admitted.

“How much do you remember of your mother?”

“Not much.” There were a few memories, of course. Mary smiling rarely at her daughter, even laughing on a rare occasion. She’d spent hours braiding her daughters’ hair, or looking wistfully in a mirror at her own image. Laura remembered Mary taking long walks, toward the sea, always alone, never letting any of her children tag after her. They’d followed, of course, and found her standing upon a cliff, staring down at the crashing waves far below. In those moments, she’d seemed lost to Laura and her sisters. As they stood under the canopy of shivering firs, rain plopping along the forest floor, Mary had seemed unconscious of the weather.

She blinked, chasing away the blurry images and finding Harrison Frost sitting in her cozy, if worn little kitchen, staring up at her so intently, her heart kick-started. “It’s Catherine who’s forefront in my mind. She was the one who was with us. She might have been my aunt, but she was available . . . she was there . . . when my real mother wasn’t.”

“Where was Mary?”

“Oh, she was around.” Laura set the wet tea bag on a saucer near the faucet. “Just living her own life. I remember different men coming from her wing of the house, where we weren’t allowed,” Laura admitted uncomfortably. “And then they stopped coming, and for a while we didn’t realize she was gone, until Catherine showed us the headstone.”

Harrison got to his feet and leaned back against the table, his fingers curling over its edge. “That’s some story. It’s strangely fable-like.”

“This is still off the record, right?” She blew across the hot, fragrant water.

He lifted a hand of surrender. “Until you give me a signal, I’m just gathering information.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, felt slightly panicky. She had set this in motion but still wanted to put on the brakes. She buried her nose in her teacup and took a long swallow of a blend of jasmine and spice, trying to calm herself. She was a jangle of nerves, as much from Harrison Frost as Justice. Maybe it was because her hormones were out of whack from the pregnancy, or maybe it was the race of adrenaline through her blood at the thought of Justice free and stalking her, but she found it difficult to stay calm. Despite the name of the damned tea.

“Your mother named you?”

“Yes.”

“You know, Lorelei had an unfaithful lover and threw herself to her death into the Rhine River. Sailors were lured by her voice from the large rock where she drowned and to their own death. There is a real voice-like sound that spawned the fable, apparently, an auditory trick of nature around that area that’s been smothered now by the sounds of modern urbanization.”

“You have a good memory,” she said.

He smiled and threw a glance at the computer. “I have the Internet.” He pointed to the device sticking out from the side of his laptop; his wireless connection enabled him to pick up the Internet anywhere.

“Ahh . . .”

“Have you ever wanted to find out more? About your father, for instance?” he asked curiously.

“Mostly I’ve tried to blank it all out. It’s always seemed . . . safer. I didn’t want to move back here at all. That was my ex’s idea.”

“But now you’re divorced, and still you’ve stayed.”

She nodded slowly.

“And you’re not leaving, even though Justice is out there, because you want to help protect your family?” he guessed, having been around her enough, she supposed, to read her.

“Yes.” She looked past him, then said, “What if I call him and it just spurs him to come after us? Speeds up the timetable.”

“That’s a risk.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted.

Harrison looked at her. Really looked at her. As a man eyes a woman. She felt a blush start beneath her skin. Embarrassed, she turned away. What was wrong with her? Good Lord. She’d met him yesterday, the day she’d learned she was pregnant, and she was thinking these kinds of thoughts?

It wasn’t right. It was downright wrong.

There was an awkward silence between them. Then he said, “Tell you what. Let’s take five. I’ve got another story I’m working on. One that’s popping. You want to help me with that one tonight?”

“What story?”

“It’s a project I’ve been working on for a couple of weeks. In Seaside. My Deadly Sinners.”

“Your what?”

“Get your coat. I’ll tell you on the way.”

“So now you’re cryptic.”

“So now I think we need to get going.” Glancing outside, he added, “This damn fog’s making everything hazy and cold, but it’s perfect for their purposes. It’s probably reached Seaside.”

She looked at him, mystified.

“Come on. It’ll get you away from Deception Bay for a few hours,” he went on. “Give you some time to think about what to do about Justice. Grab your hoodie. It’s bound to get colder tonight.”

“Okay,” she said uncertainly.

“You help me, and I’ll help you,” he said. “Maybe all the stars will align and we’ll get my Deadly Sinners tonight, and Justice Turnbull tomorrow.”

She snagged her coat from a hook by the back door. “Dreamer!”

“Always,” he said, his gaze searching her, and ridiculously, Laura’s heart did another little flip.

She walked to the back door and told herself that Harrison Frost was trouble.

Right now she had more than enough.

The last thing she needed was this reporter with his strong jaw, knowing eyes, and quick wit. But like it or not, for the rest of the day, it seemed, she was stuck with him.

The problem was, she did like it. She liked it far more than she should.

CHAPTER 17

I
t was like she’d been transported from one life to another, Laura thought as the miles spun beneath the tires of Harrison’s brown Impala while they traveled north to Seaside. Yesterday morning she’d been a nurse at Ocean Park Hospital just getting over a divorce; today she was a source, companion, and possible sidekick to an investigative reporter who was bent on dragging a story from her. A
pregnant
source, companion, and possible sidekick to an investigative reporter who was bent on dragging a story from her. And she was a willing participant in his plan. More than that, she was half counting on him to keep her safe from a killer focused on a mission of evil.

Less than twenty-four hours earlier she hadn’t known him. Hadn’t known that she was pregnant. Hadn’t known Justice had escaped and had her and her family in his sights again.

Now, as she cracked open the side window, she closed her eyes, turning her face to the rushing wind that swept inside. She was worried about Catherine and her sisters, though she knew they were probably as safe as they could be behind their locked gates and with the sheriff’s department—the whole damn state—alerted to Justice’s escape. It was certainly no secret whom he was targeting. There was nothing to do to help them. She was the one in the most danger.

So, it was with a feeling of relief that Harrison was taking her away from Deception Bay. She hadn’t wanted to come back to the town, anyway, and now her fears had been proved right. She shouldn’t have listened to Byron. Ever.

But she couldn’t leave now. She had to see this thing through and do what she could to protect herself, her family, and her baby from Justice.

She wondered if she should tell Harrison Frost that she was pregnant. Was it germane to anything they were dealing with? Only in the fact that Justice was doubly focused on her because she was carrying a child, one of their kind, and he was determined to send them all to their doom. She knew that much. She’d heard it in his mental ravings, and it scared her to the bone.

Sliding a look Harrison’s way, she examined his profile and felt a flutter of interest, a quickening of her own breath.

Good. God.

“
Clean up the beach!”
he muttered as they encountered vehicles parked in every view point, turnout, and parking lot all along the way and everywhere as they entered Seaside’s outskirts. Harrison drove through the clogged town, his frustration mounting as he tried and failed to find a parking spot to save his soul. After a few slow trips down crowded side streets clogged with pedestrians, bikers, and trams, as well as the usual cars and trucks, he finally got lucky and nosed into a lot behind a Space Age gas station, just as an older couple in a Buick pulled out.

Laura, lost in thought, wondered if the intensity of the situation was sending her nerve endings into overdrive and she was ascribing something more, some deeper emotion and desire, to the man she was currently with because of fear. Out of desperation? Was her own susceptibility in this cat and mouse game with Justice making her think she wanted Harrison?

She was in a strange, strange place, all right. A thrum of fear ran beneath her skin, and it was jangling up her thought process, turning random emotions into desire.

Or was it something more?

After switching off the ignition, Harrison yanked out a tin of breath mints from the glove box, opened it, popped one in his mouth, then offered the tin to her. Her stomach twisted in minor revolt at the thought, and she shook her head.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You keep making little sounds.”

“I do? What kind of sounds?”

He let out his breath in a weary sigh a couple of times, and Laura faintly smiled. “I’m . . . thinking,” she said.

“
Overthinking.
Try to forget about Justice for a while.” He grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze.

“Oh, yeah. That’s going to happen.”

“No more messages today?”

She shook her head as he let go of her hand. “I think he has the ability to block me out, too. At least he does now.”

“You think he knows you’re outside of Siren Song?”

“Oh, yeah. He knows it,” she stated positively. “But okay, I’ll try to put him aside. Tell me what’s on your mind for the Deadly Sinners.”

On the ride to Seaside Harrison had explained to Laura about the group of teens burglarizing their wealthy classmates’ homes, had related his subsequent conversations with Lana and Jenny, and had explained about their leader being N.V., like Envy. Now he added, “I want to catch them in the act, maybe tonight.”

“Why tonight?”

“It’s a Saturday. They seem to be escalating. They like what they’re doing and feel smarter than everyone else. Then there’s the fog,” he said, gesturing to the thick mist hovering through the streets, like an ethereal curtain. “It makes it harder for them to be seen. I figure they’re not going to let an opportunity go by.”

“Don’t the police have any idea?”

“Oh, yeah. The Seaside police know about the burglaries and have been patrolling some of the nicer residential communities around, but they can’t be everywhere, and summer weekends in Seaside have their own problems. Brawls. Public drunkenness. Domestic disputes. Other theft. You name it.”