Behind The Veil

His throat constricted, and he dropped his hand from the door. The room belonged to the past, to a love as pure as the white roses he scattered on the cliffs every week, and he wouldn’t defile it with the thoughts running roughshod through his mind now.

He hurried down the hall and descended the steps, not stopping until he reached the back door. Pushing through it, he breathed deeply, letting a rush of brisk, damp air penetrate to the deepest cells of his lungs.

“Is something the matter, sir?”

He turned at the sound of Richard’s voice behind him. “No. Should there be?”

“No, sir.”

David read the doubt in his butler’s eyes. It was uncanny the way the man read his moods—uncanny and at times extremely disconcerting. Not that David had ever considered himself a complex person. He simply did what he had to do in order to survive, a skill he’d been forced to learn at a very young age.

Reaching into his pocket, Richard retrieved a white handkerchief and dusted the seats of a couple of wrought-iron garden chairs. “Why don’t you have a seat, sir? Let me fix you a martini.”

“Not yet. I just want to watch the sun set.”

Richard settled in one of the chairs and undid the top button of his shirt. After five, he tended to be slightly more relaxed, though David had never requested or understood his need to be more formal during the day. It wasn’t as if they ever had unexpected guests drop by for tea.

“I thought the day went well,” Richard said. “I like Becca Smith. What do you think of her?”

The question caught him off guard. Not because he hadn’t considered it, but because he had considered it so frequently since the first night he’d spotted her leaving her shop, head high, unafraid even when she’d noticed him in the shadows. She’d looked him in the eye and met his gaze.

The moment lasted briefly, yet something strange and incomprehensible had passed between them. He’d felt it in every part of his body, and the unfamiliar feelings had left him so shaken, he’d missed his turn on the way home. Driving as if in a trance, he’d wound up five miles past the winding road to the Bluffs.

Now, weeks later, he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. In five years, no woman had elicited any interest for him. But with one look, Becca had cast a spell on him that he seemed powerless to break.

“She’s open and direct and she has lots of ideas for the Bluffs,” Richard said. “I think she’ll do an excellent job.”

“I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t.” David stared at the horizon, at the sprays of orange-and-gold bands that painted the undersides of the puffy clouds. “I hope the two of you will be able to work together agreeably on this project.”

“I think she’d prefer working with you.”

“I doubt that very seriously,” David said, finally turning back to face his butler. “Besides, I don’t deal well with people anymore.”

“You deal well with me.” Richard crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. “I think you’d do fine with her. You’ll never know unless you give yourself a chance.”

David touched his fingers to the side of his face, bitterly aware of the effect it had had on the nurses in the hospital when they’d been forced to change the dressings on his wounds and deal with the countless skin grafts. And his face, as disfigured as it was, was no match for the blotchy red patches of skin that covered his stomach like some infectious disease. “My chances ran out five years ago, Richard. I’ve learned to live with the fact.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.” At least his mind had accepted the truth. Until Becca came along, his heart and body had, as well. Surely, in time, it would be that way again.

The wind picked up, tearing dry leaves from the branches of the trees and sending them flying in an avalanche of golds, reds and browns. “Fall has definitely arrived,” David said, past ready to change the subject.

“Yes. Time for McFarland Leary to rise from the grave.”

“The guy has been buried since the late 1600s. He’s probably already come back—as a handful of dust.”

Richard rubbed his right hand along his jaw. “Not if the locals are right. They say he was consort to a witch. When she caught him cheating on her with a mortal woman, she damned him to an eternity of torment. Not only that, but he still seeks revenge on Moriah’s Landing for claiming he was a warlock and sentencing him to death.”

“I know. I’ve heard it all since I was a child. He supposedly comes back every five years and kills a young woman or two, to exact revenge on the town and in hopes the sacrifice will appease the witch so that she’ll set him free. Mostly it’s a tale for the tourists, but I’m sure there are some poor superstitious folk in the town who actually believe that nonsense, even though the facts don’t bear it out. There have been no unsolved murders in town in twenty years.”

“There’s already talk in town that it was Leary who killed the woman whose body was found on Old Mountain Road last night.”

“How did you hear that?”

“I stopped at the grocers when I took Becca back to Threads.”

“And while they’re worried about a ghost, some dangerous lunatic is running around free.”

“So is the man who abducted and tortured Claire Cavendish five years ago.”

“Surely you haven’t succumbed to ghost tales.”

“No. I don’t believe Leary’s responsible for any of those horrors, but there’s something evil and angry in Moriah’s Landing. I can never put my finger on it, but it’s always present, as if the heart of the town is beating inside a madman.”

David had no argument for that. The evil was in the black heart of a killer who’d destroyed his world. The anger and the madness lived inside him. He took one last look as the rays from the setting sun glanced off the rocks along the cliff. “I think I’ll go for a walk,” he said, standing and stretching his weak leg.

“Would you like dinner at seven?”

“Let’s make it eight tonight.”

“Whatever you say.”

Would that all of his life were that easy. If it were, he’d be with Becca Smith tonight. His body came alive at the thought, the need inside him so strong it rocked through him with the force of a tidal wave, making it difficult for him to keep walking.

He shouldn’t want her this way. He had no right. Even if he wasn’t still in love with Tasha, he had nothing at all to give Becca Smith. He was forty. She was surely no more than in her early twenties. He was scarred and hideous. She was young and beautiful, with her whole life in front of her. He was the Beast. She was Beauty.

And he’d given up believing there would ever be a happy ending for him five years ago.

But he wouldn’t give up on having her near him. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Chapter Four

Becca arrived at the Beachway Diner at ten before seven. The place was less crowded than it would have been during the week. Dates went to the more classy Crow’s Nest for Saturday dinner and families took advantage of the gorgeous fall weather to drive up in the mountains for the weekend or to barbecue hot dogs and steaks on their back decks.

But the diner would pick up later, when craggy old fishermen needed some food to soak up the whiskey they’d been tossing down their throats and when the college kids and locals tired of the carnival and came wandering in for hot bowls of chowder and steaming mugs of apple cider.

Becca scanned the area and spotted Brie Pierce and Elizabeth Ryan at a table in the back. The sight reassured her and took away some of the chill she’d experienced while reading the sparse details of the murders from twenty years ago. She’d met lots of people since moving to Moriah’s Landing just under a year ago, but Brie, Elizabeth, Kat and Claire were the only ones she’d call true friends.

Brie looked up and waved her over. Becca waved back and started in their direction. Her pumps clicked along the slick coating of grease that had accumulated on the plank flooring over the years, and she wished she had on her loafers the way she usually did when she came here. Comfortable jeans and a sweater would have been nice, too. As it was, she was seriously overdressed.

“Are you meeting someone?” Brie asked, as soon as she could be heard above the splattering of meat patties on the grill and the clattering coming from the kitchen.

“Claire Cavendish.”

“Then join us,” Elizabeth insisted. “Drew’s speaking to a group of students at Heathrow and Cullen’s on duty tonight.”

“And they trust you two out on the town?” Becca teased, sliding into one of the two empty chairs at their table.

A blast of cold air circulated as the front door swung open. Becca turned, but the newest customers were a couple of uniformed cops. She directed her attention back to her friends, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake about the time or the place she’d arranged to meet Claire.

The conversation stayed light, tiptoed along the edges of the murder, though Becca was certain it was in the backs of both Elizabeth’s and Brie’s minds. Elizabeth was a few years younger than Brie, though they had both been freshmen at Heathrow at the same time as Tasha, Kat and Claire. Becca had heard that Elizabeth’s IQ fell somewhere in the genius range and she’d earned her Ph.D. in criminology by the age most students got their undergraduate degrees. With her long brown hair and flawless complexion, she looked more like a student than the professor she was.

Every time the door opened, Becca turned, but after ten minutes, there was still no sign of Claire. If she’d forgotten or changed her mind, that was fine, but Becca couldn’t help but worry that something might be wrong.

Brie pushed a clump of curly red hair back from her face. “What time were you meeting Claire?” she asked, her green eyes shadowed and her usual quick smile drawn into a worried frown.

Becca was certain they were picking up on her apprehension. “Seven.”

“Then I’m certain she’ll be here any minute. It’s only ten after, and promptness was never one of Claire’s virtues.” Brie squeezed a wedge of lemon into her iced tea and stirred the mixture, sending the ice cubes chasing around the inside of the glass. “Drew and I were just commenting earlier today on how well Claire’s doing. I think the fact that you’ve befriended her has helped a lot.”

“I hope,” Becca said. “It’s hard to tell. Some days she seems fine, but others she gets lost so deeply in one of her depressed moods, I can’t seem to reach her at all.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s the same for me. I keep thinking it’s because I was one of the girls there the night she was abducted, that by just being with her, I bring on the depressed moods.”

“I doubt that’s it,” Brie said. “I know she needs her friends now, the new and the old. I’m certain she’s upset by the news of the body that was found on Old Mountain Road.”

“We all are,” Elizabeth said.

“I know, but I don’t want to think about the murder tonight,” Brie said. “It’s just too terrible, as if the horror of five years ago is about to start all over again.”

“No one was murdered five years ago,” Elizabeth reminded her.

“I know, but Claire was abducted and she’ll never be the same again. And then poor Tasha was killed in that horrible explosion. And look at David Bryson. He’s been wounded, slinking around in the shadows and never having anything to do with anyone in town.

“David’s not so different.” Becca felt the glare of her friends even before she’d gotten the whole sentence out of her mouth. She’d been too assertive, sounded more like a defense lawyer than a casual observer. “I mean, he’s probably just more comfortable staying out of crowds.”

“He does more than stay out of crowds,” Elizabeth reminded her. “He stays out of town altogether during the daylight, and when he does come to town, he hangs out by himself in the shadows.” Elizabeth stared at the front of the diner, then turned and put a hand on Brie’s arm. “Isn’t that Drew’s uncle standing at the cash register?”

Brie turned. “That’s Geoffrey Pierce, all right. I’m surprised to see him in here. He never came in when I was working here.”

“Aren’t you going to go over and say hello?” Becca asked.

“I don’t think so. We haven’t been on the best of terms since I heard him accuse Drew of marrying me just to avert a scandal. Not that he has that much to do with any of the Pierce family anymore. Mostly, he stays at the beach house.”

Becca watched Geoffrey. He was in his mid-forties with thinning blond hair and a wiry mustache and beard that made him look ten years older than the last time she’d see him. In fact, if Elizabeth hadn’t said something, she doubted she’d have recognized him at all. His eyes were narrowed as he paid the cashier, and he had an air about him that gave the impression he was not to be messed with. Still, he’d been polite and very attentive the few times Becca had met him.

“Was there a falling out between him and the rest of the family?” Elizabeth asked as Geoffrey finished paying his tab and left the diner.

“Not exactly, but Drew doesn’t fully trust him. He thinks he may have been involved in some of Dr. Leland Manning’s projects, though Geoffrey’s denied it.”

Becca listened to the talk. She found the Pierces fascinating. If it was true that every town had one family that seemed to be the rulers, the Pierces were definitely that family in Moriah’s Landing. Not only were they the founding family, they were the wealthiest and most influential in town. A close-knit group, they all lived in the same area of town, a huge walled-in family compound with a number of private homes clustered around a parklike setting that had served as the backdrop for Drew and Brie’s garden wedding.

The largest home in the compound belonged to William and Maureen. William was a United States senator, already a local legend. His son Drew was running for mayor and, according to the polls, was going to win by a landslide.

She hoped it worked out like that. Of all the Pierces that she’d met, Drew was her favorite, especially since he’d married Brie, his first love from the wrong side of the tracks. Theirs was a true Cinderella story. Brie had worked as a waitress in the Beachway Diner up until Drew had found out that Brie’s young daughter was his. Now he and Brie were as happy as any couple Becca had ever seen.

The door opened again and this time it was Claire who stepped inside, and the minute she did, Becca was certain she had not had a good day. Her face seemed paler than usual, and her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

But no matter what had spooked her, Becca was certain that wouldn’t keep her from making Becca’s meeting with David Bryson the main topic of conversation.

DINNER WITH CLAIRE turned out to be a very bad idea. As Brie had feared, news of the murder had really upset her. She was distracted, lost in her own thoughts for much of the meal, barely touching her food or even trying to make conversation with any of them.

And, just as Becca had feared, when Claire did talk, it was to beg her not to go back to the Bluffs. Brie and Elizabeth jumped right into that conversation, questions popping as quickly and as randomly as kernels of corn in a hot skillet. Neither of them felt as negatively about David but they agreed that Becca’s working for him was asking for trouble.

For the first time since Becca had settled in Moriah’s Landing, she was beginning to think she might have made a mistake in moving to such a small town. She wasn’t used to having people tell her how to handle her business. But then, she wasn’t used to anyone’s caring about her safety, either. Perhaps it was a fair trade-off. Still, she was thankful when they paid the bill and exited the restaurant.

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