The Curse of Raven's Cliff

“No, I’m here for an extended stay. You can reach me at the Cliffside Inn. Tell you what, come by later with your questions, and I’ll have your mastic gum.”

“Are you a guest there?” he asked.

A twinge of disappointment squeezed Jocelyne’s chest. The older man hadn’t remembered her. What did she expect? As a teenager, she’d done her best to be invisible, wearing drab clothing and a hat over her brilliant red hair. Not until she’d moved away from Raven’s Cliff had she had the courage to be herself. “No. I live there.”

“Do I know you?” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Baker, huh? Any relation to Hazel?”

Jocelyne inhaled and let it out. She was an adult now, and she could handle any ridicule thrown her way. “She’s my mother.”

“Ah, the innkeeper’s daughter.” He nodded, a smile softening his face. “I thought you looked familiar. I’d heard you’d come back to Raven’s Cliff. Well then, good. I’ll know where to look when I need to ask questions.”

She nodded, a swell of relief rushing over her. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

A large, calloused hand clamped onto her arm. “I’m taking you there.” Andrei’s chin set in a hard line.

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. For the past ten years, she’d been independent of anyone telling her what to do. Even the two men in her life hadn’t interfered with her decisions. But with a body lying at the base of Raven’s Cliff, she didn’t want to make it a big deal.

With firm resolve, she peeled his hand off her arm. “No. You have much more important things to do. I’ll be fine on my own.” That said, she left, refusing to give him the opportunity to argue.

Having lost her sandals somewhere along the cliff, Jocelyne walked barefoot, her feet more tender than when she was a girl. The day was dreary, with clouds hanging low on the horizon and no sun to cast shadows or shed light into dark corners.

She hurried past the shops, hoping she didn’t bump into anyone else before she got home. All her old insecurities about being the village kook’s daughter surfaced to haunt her every step.

The Cliffside Inn stood near the town square, stately and welcoming after the horror of finding a woman’s dead body floating in the surf. Until she reached the inn, she’d felt fine. Numb, but fine. As soon as her feet touched the first step, her knees shook. By the time she opened the door, her entire body shook.

When all she wanted to do was go up to her room and collapse across her bed, she knew she couldn’t. Her baby needed nourishment. She had to get food in her stomach, even if eating was the last thing she wanted to do. This living being growing inside relied on her to care for him or her. This baby had not yet been introduced to this cold, callous world, where a woman wasn’t safe even in a small peaceful town like Raven’s Cliff.

Tears stung Jocelyne’s eyes. What a world to bring a child into. Had her curse followed her back to Raven’s Cliff?

When her first lover died seven years ago, she’d attributed it to bad luck that he’d been run over by a city bus. When the father of her unborn child fell on the subway tracks and was crushed by several tons of train, Jocelyne had thought long and hard. The common denominator was that they both loved her. Nothing else about their lives was the same. They had different occupations, different looks and different philosophies. But they’d dared to love her.

Despite her desire to put her mother’s Wicca beliefs behind her, Jocelyne couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth in the saying, Nothing is ever a coincidence. All actions, all events have a purpose.

With the death of Tyler Reed, her baby’s father, and newly pregnant, Jocelyne had struggled to hold it together. In the end, she was drawn back to where her troubles began. Maybe if she resolved her anger with her mother, the rest of her life would get better and the curse would lift. She hoped so for the sake of her unborn child.

The image of a girl dressed in white, lying at the bottom of the cliff, stabbed at her empty stomach, making it knot in pain. So far it looked as though her curse had followed her and extended beyond men who loved her. Was she destined to be followed by a black cloud of doom?

AFTER SPENDING THE DAY watching the state crime team comb the cliffs and the rocky shore below, Andrei was physically and emotionally exhausted. But he couldn’t stop until he found the murderer. He owed it to Sofia, his beautiful little sister who’d been the third victim of the Seaside Strangler.

Angela’s body had been recovered before noon and taken directly to the coroner where an autopsy was begun immediately. Mayor Wells had been there holding his breath when they pulled her from the surf, his face gray and lined with worry. Only when they turned her over and proved for certain she was Angela, did he draw in a shaky breath and run a hand through his thick, graying hair, standing it on end. He’d left shortly afterward, without a word to the captain, disappearing from the scene like a ghost.

Andrei knew what the medical examiner would say. Died of strangulation by a necklace of rare seashells. The same fate as his sister, her friend Cora and Rebecca Johnson.

Failure ate at his gut, stirring his anger. No clues had surfaced thus far to point the police force in the right direction. No fingerprints, no DNA samples from the attacker. Nothing. In a small community like Raven’s Cliff, it shouldn’t be so hard to find a killer.

But for the past several months, the perpetrator had eluded detection, slipped through their grasp and killed again.

Ten o’clock at night, and having sat at his desk for the past three hours, Andrei tapped a pencil to the file before him. The file he’d compiled and studied over the past couple months until he could recite every word, describe every picture. In it were the happy, unmarred faces of the women who’d died and the pictures taken after their bodies were discovered. A morbid before and after testimony to the killer’s impact.

After interviewing family, friends and acquaintances, Andrei had determined that none of the victims had enemies sufficiently angry with them. At least not enough to warrant killing them.

So far, the killer preyed on young women, yet none of the women had shown signs of rape. All of them had been dressed in white wedding gowns, strangled and thrown into the sea. What was the connection to the young women, the white wedding dresses and the sea? The whole situation reeked of sacrifices. Some sick ritual dreamed up by a demented mind.

A chill slithered down the back of Andrei’s neck.

Who would he target next?

His thoughts drifted to the woman he’d found by the cliffs. The image of Jocelyne Baker, pregnant, standing straight, facing the ocean, the wind whipping her dress against her thighs swam through his mind. God, he hated to think of finding her facedown in the water, her fiery-red hair floating around her pale face. Andrei clenched his fist, the pencil between his fingers snapping in two.

So far, the maniac had preyed on unmarried, young women, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take a pregnant one. He needed to stop by the inn and stress the importance of personal safety to Ms. Baker. Not that she’d listen to him. But maybe for the sake of her unborn child she’d hear what he had to say. He glanced at his watch.

“Go home.” Captain Swanson stepped up to Andrei’s desk. “Get some rest. You look all done in.”

“I have to figure this out.” He slammed the broken pencil into the trash bin beside his desk.

“You’ve been on it for months. Hell, the entire force has been on it for months and we’ve found nothing.”

Andrei pounded the middle of the file with his fist. “Another girl died on our watch, damn it.”

“Take it easy, Lagios.” The captain laid a hand on Andrei’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill her. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s my fault I didn’t catch him before he struck again. It’s my fault I didn’t catch him before he took my sister and her friend.”

“We don’t have anything to go on. This guy isn’t leaving us a bone to gnaw on.”

“Then we have to interview every last person in this town, knock on every door, search every closet, basement and attic until we find something.”

“We can’t do that. People have rights.”

Andrei pushed to his feet so fast, his chair fell over backward. “What about Sofia’s rights? Or Angela’s or Cora’s? They had the right to live and he took that right away from them.”

“You know the law. We can’t search houses without probable cause and a search warrant.”

“To hell with search warrants. We have a killer to catch before he does it again.” Andrei’s lips pressed together and he breathed fast, exhaling through his nose. He wouldn’t let the bastard kill again—he couldn’t. “We have to be missing something. Some small trace of evidence that will lead us to the suspect.”

“This is his fourth victim, he has to slip up sometime.”

As the last statement left the captain’s mouth, the phone on Andrei’s desk rang. Could he dare to hope it was a sign?

Andrei lifted the phone. “Lagios.”

“Andrei, this is Gordon Fennell, I think I might have found something.”

“Are you done with the autopsy, already?” Andrei glanced up at Swanson. “Wait. I have the captain here. Let me put you on speakerphone.” He punched the button and laid the receiver on its rest. “Go ahead.”

“First of all, the victim has the same markings as the others. The same seashell necklace strung together on generic fishing line. She’s wearing a wedding dress that could have been bought in a resale shop anywhere in Maine.”

Tension built behind Andrei’s temples as the medical examiner listed what Andrei already knew. He resisted the urge to tell the man to cut to the chase.

“Everything points to the same attacker.”

“What is it you found?” the captain asked.

Andrei held his breath, hoping this would be the big break they were looking for.

“A trace of a chemical found in her bloodstream. I retested blood from the other three victims and found it in their blood as well.”

“What is it?”

“From what I could tell, it’s a chemical that comes from the henbane plant, not something you find around these parts on a regular basis. In some places it’s illegal to grow.”

Andrei leaned toward the speakerphone. “What does it do?”

“In smaller doses, it’s considered a painkiller or hallucinogen. In larger doses, it’ll kill. Although there wasn’t enough concentration in their blood to kill them, it would certainly have made them very high, docile and malleable.”

Andrei sat back, his mind wrapping around this new information. “Where would someone get this drug?”

The medical examiner paused before answering. “They don’t sell it in the drugstore, that’s for sure. And you can’t just order it online. Someone would have to grow the plant itself. Someone with an herb garden, possibly in a greenhouse.”

Silence stretched over a full minute before Gordon broke the tension. “That’s all the new information I have. I still have a few more things to check. Hope it helps.”

“Thanks, Gordon. It helps.” The captain hit the off button and stared down at the phone for several long moments. “Who has a greenhouse or herb garden in this area?”

Andrei’s mind wrapped around the knowledge that an herb was used in drugging the young women. The only person he knew who might understand the use of herbs was the woman he’d met this morning beside the cliff. “How long has Jocelyne Baker been back in town?”

Captain Swanson shook his head. “Not long enough to have committed the first three murders. Besides, she’s in good shape, but she’s not strong enough to strangle a full grown young woman, drugged or not.”

“Yeah, besides, she’s pregnant.” He glanced up at the captain. “Where’s the husband?”

“She told me that she came back alone. The father of her child isn’t part of her picture. Whatever that means.”

So she wasn’t married. A swell of relief filled Andrei’s conscience, and he quickly downplayed it. Not that he was interested in the strong-willed Jocelyne Baker. Although it was sad to think she’d be faced with raising her child alone.

Swanson tapped a finger to his chin. “Miss Baker might be a good source to consult over the use of this herb, henbane. Being a holistic healer, she’d have a good understanding of the chemical properties of natural substances.”

Andrei stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. “I’ll drop by the inn tomorrow and see if she knows anything. Maybe she can point to the nearest greenhouse or herb garden. After all, she’ll be looking for a new source of the herbs she uses in her business.”

Jocelyne Baker might be strong-willed, but Andrei couldn’t see her as a murderer. With nothing else to go on, he needed a straw to grasp and she was his straw. He had to find the murderer for his sister. If getting close to Jocelyne helped him in his search, then he’d stick to her like duct tape.

“I was by there earlier to get her statement and that mastic gum, so be forewarned she might be leery of another cop snooping around.” He patted his belly. “So far the stuff she gave me seems to be working. My stomach doesn’t hurt nearly as bad.”

Andrei’s lips twitched. The woman knew her stuff and she knew her mind. She’d given as good as she got when he’d held her against her will by the cliff. She sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy on him if he came around asking more questions. He’d have to come up with some way of making her want to help him. Make it sound like her idea. He’d have to turn on the Lagios killer charm.

The captain turned toward the door, stopped and glanced back. “While you’re at it, check out her mother.”

Andrei glanced up from plotting the strategy he’d use on the lovely Jocelyne, suddenly anxious to get started. “Isn’t she the one everyone thinks is a witch?”

“Yeah.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “She might just be crazy enough to be in cahoots with the killer.”

Chapter Three

A restless night’s sleep did nothing to refresh Jocelyne’s mind or body. Her dreams had been full of the overwhelming sense of fear. Dark clouds churned the sky and some unknown hand stirred the sea into a slate-gray froth of swells, the waves slapping against the rocky shoreline.

In the relative safety of her childhood home, a dark stranger lurked in the shadows of the Cliffside Inn, waiting to strangle her and toss her into the sea. She’d been wearing the white skirt she’d worn yesterday, almost like the one the dead girl in the water had been wearing. Two times in the middle of the night, she’d awoken drenched in sweat as if she’d been running. The baby kicked in protest, recognizing its mother’s distress. Exhausted and dispirited from lack of sleep, Jocelyne gave up near dawn and climbed out of bed. She went to her computer, answering e-mails and responding to orders for her herbal remedies.

A couple hours later, the smell of bacon, eggs and homemade biscuits drifted through to her upstairs bedroom, reminding her of her need to nourish the growing child in her belly. Despite her intent to remain aloof from other boarders and guests of the inn, Jocelyne couldn’t resist the breakfast call and descended to the bottom floor.

In the kitchen, with an apron tied around her gently rounded figure, her long, fading red hair neatly twisted into a knot on top of her head, Hazel Baker scrambled eggs in a large skillet. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Could you hand me that bowl on the counter over there?”

Jocelyne settled into the routine she’d grown up with, helping her mother cater to the guests that made living in the huge old mansion possible. “What can I do to help?”

“Mr. Gibson likes toast instead of biscuits. Would you pop two slices in the toaster?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her mother scraped the eggs off the bottom of the pan and flipped them, careful not to brown the pale yellow. “You look tired, dear. Are you not feeling well?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jocelyne slid two slices of bread into the toaster and prayed her mother wouldn’t question her too much on her dreams.

Hazel’s hands paused in stirring the eggs. “I’m not sure now was a good time for you to come home, honey.”

A lump settled in the empty cavity of Jocelyne’s belly. “What do you mean?” After all these years, she’d come home to mend fences and wash away all the built-up resentment of her childhood. And now her mother was trying to get rid of her?

“What with the curse and all, it’s just not safe for you and my grandbaby.” Her mother stared across the hardwood floors of the kitchen at Jocelyne, her gaze dropping to her daughter’s midsection before she turned back to the eggs. “Maybe you should go back to New Jersey.”

Her words hit with the force of a baseball bat to Jocelyne’s chest. “I can’t, Mom. I don’t have a home to go to. I gave up the lease on my apartment and I have my entire inventory here. I don’t have any other home. Raven’s Cliff is the only home I have left.”

“Don’t you have a friend you can stay with until after the baby is born? Maybe by then I’ll have come up with a cure for the curse.”

Jocelyne pulled the slices from the toaster and carefully laid them on a plate. Then she dusted the crumbs from her fingers and walked across the kitchen to where her mother scraped the eggs into a large serving tray. When she set the pan in the sink, Jocelyne stood in front of her. “What curse are you talking about?”

“Captain Raven’s curse, of course.”

“The one about Beacon Lighthouse? I thought that was an old fish story.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, my dear. Captain Raven left strict instructions that the lighthouse was to be lit and pointed to the exact position where his ship went down. He lost his entire family in that wreck, all those years ago.”

“So where does the curse come in?”

“The Sterling family kept the promise to shine the light on that day until five years ago. Young Nicholas Sterling the Third…forgot.” Her mother’s voice softened, her eyes became sadder.

Despite her determination not to let her mother’s superstitions affect her, Jocelyne couldn’t stop the goose bumps rising across her arms.

“When his grandfather saw that the light wasn’t lit, he climbed the steps himself, but it was too late. In his attempt to light the flame, he started a fire that destroyed the lighthouse. Nicholas tried to rescue his grandfather from the inferno, but he fell into the sea. It was all so horrible and his body was never recovered.” Her mother buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

The older woman had bought into the curse with all her heart. Jocelyne pulled her mother into her arms and held her, rubbing her back until the sobs diminished. When Hazel raised her head, tears trembled on faded red lashes, her pale skin splotchy and wet, emphasizing the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and the worry lines on her forehead. “I missed you, sweetie, but I’m so afraid for you.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mom. I can take care of myself. Why don’t you go lie down and let me finish getting the breakfast out on the table?”

“Oh, no, you’re the one who’s pregnant. You should go put your feet up. I’ll be all right.” She wiped the tears from her face with the corner of her apron.

“I’m pregnant, not crippled. I’m in better physical shape than I’ve ever been.” Jocelyne gently pried the spatula from her mother’s hand. “Let me help. It’s the least I can do to repay you for giving me a home to come to.”

“You’re always welcome, dear. This will always be your home. I just wish it was safe for you and your baby.” Her mother wiped her hands down the front of her apron and stared around the kitchen. “The biscuits will need to come out of the oven in a few minutes. Don’t forget the pancakes in the warmer.”

“I can find things, go lie down.” Jocelyne steered her mother toward the dining room.

Leah Toler was busy setting out napkin-wrapped silverware at each place setting. “Morning, Jocelyne.”

“My mother is going to lie down for a few minutes. I’ll be handling the kitchen duties.” She gave her mother a stern stare. “We’ll do just fine. Now go.”

“I’m not used to letting someone else handle the kitchen.”

“Then get used to having a little more help around here.” Jocelyne smiled at Leah to let her know her comment wasn’t meant to belittle Leah’s work. She’d been a godsend to her mother.

Once her mother was out of the dining area, Jocelyne turned to push the swinging door into the kitchen. At the same time, the door swung toward her, jamming her hand. Pain shot through her wrist and she jumped back. “Ouch!”

Rick Simpson strode into the dining room from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” He grabbed her hand and held it, studying her wrist for a brief second. His hands were cool and clammy like beached fish.

Jocelyne jerked her fingers out of his grasp. “I’m fine, you just surprised me. Most guests enter through the front door.” If her voice was sharp, count it up to the shards of pain shooting through her jammed fingers.

“So they do.” Simpson’s attention moved from her to the breakfast buffet set up against the wall of the large dining room. Without another word, he stepped around Jocelyne and lifted a plate so that he could be first in line when the food came out.

Jocelyne used her other hand to push the swinging door. “Jerk,” she muttered beneath her breath as she strode across the kitchen, shaking the kink out of her damaged hand.

“I hope you’re not referring to me.”

The voice behind her made her jump. “Don’t do that!” She faced the man who’d occupied much of her thoughts yesterday and most of last night in her dreams. If not for him, her nightmares would have been much worse, but that didn’t excuse him sneaking up on her.

He leaned against a counter, incredibly handsome in his police uniform.

“Guests enter through the front door, not the kitchen.” She marched to the oven and pulled out the tray of biscuits, ignoring the tingle of awareness she’d felt at his nearness.

“I’m not here to eat.” Andrei Lagios pushed away from the counter he leaned against and moved toward her, gliding like a jaguar toward his prey.

Had heat from the open oven caused the temperature to rise so dramatically in the room? Jocelyne stood in his path, her gaze fixed on his mesmerizing dark eyes. Not until heat seeped through the hot pad did she return to her senses. “Yow!” She looked for a place to set the hot tray but the countertops were full of the dishes to be carried to the dining room.

Andrei snatched an oven mitt from a hook on the wall and relieved Jocelyne of the laden cookie sheet. “Do you have a basket you want to put these in?”

“Uh, yes. Of course.” She scrambled for her wits and the basket her mother had set out. After laying a colorful cloth on the bottom and draping it over the side, she plucked each fluffy biscuit from the pan and dropped it into the basket, all the while gathering her thoughts. “Did you have further questions for me, or is this a social visit?”

“Questions.”

A small part of her that she had thought buried poked its disappointed head up. She squashed it down and dropped the last biscuit into the basket. “You can put the pan in the sink.”

While Andrei’s back was turned, Jocelyne took the opportunity to study the man who’d carried her most of the way back to town yesterday. Encased in a sexy blue-gray uniform shirt, his impossibly broad shoulders all but filled the air in the spacious kitchen. No wonder he could carry not only a woman, but a pregnant woman that far and not look the least worn out. He was a cop, he probably worked out on a regular basis. Jet-black hair was longer than what she’d consider regulation for a man in his profession, but then it made him look more dangerous, a rule breaker. And the eyes—

He chose that moment to face her and pin her with his ebony gaze. “I found out something interesting yesterday you might be able to help me with.”

“Me? I’ve been out of this town for close to ten years. I barely know anyone. How could I possibly help?” And she didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with this man who made her feel strangely off balance.