Deadly Obsession

Chance parked the truck at the pumps.

Mr. Runyan beat him to the nozzle and started the flow of gasoline into the tank. “I take it you didn’t have any more luck talking Miss Taylor out of moving into the old Thompson house?”

Chance shook his head. “I didn’t know I was supposed to talk her out of anything.”

The older man leaned his back against the truck. “That house has been empty for a reason.”

“What reason?” Jillian asked.

Before Mr. Runyan could answer, a four-door sedan pulled up and an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair unfolded from her sedan. She was about the same height as Jillian and, despite her age, appeared capable of bench-pressing a refrigerator.

“Good evening, Mrs. Sims.” Mr. Runyan pushed away from the truck and walked to the other side of the pump.

Mrs. Sims nodded to Mr. Runyan. “Bud.”

“Fill ’er up?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” Mrs. Sims dug in her purse for her wallet. “Good evening, Miss Taylor. I hear you bought the old Thompson place in the woods.”

“I did.” Jillian braced herself for yet another person telling her what a mistake she’d made.

“Personally, I’m glad the old place is getting a makeover. All that nonsense about it being haunted is ridiculous.”

Jillian released the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. “Thank you. You’re the first person who hasn’t tried to talk me out of it.”

The older woman snorted. “Wouldn’t do that. All that work you’re doing to restore the building is keeping my son employed.”

Jillian thought she knew everyone in Cape Churn. “Your son?”

“Daryl.”

Jillian smiled. “Oh, yes. Daryl’s helping out.”

Mrs. Sims nodded. “He’s working with the contractor. They’ve been involved in the demolition so far.”

“Still think you’re courtin’ disaster with that old house. Nothing good ever happened out there,” Mr. Runyan muttered.

Jillian planted her fists on her hips. “Everyone is quick to believe in ghosts and hauntings. What concrete things have happened in that house that inspires all those tales?”

Mr. Runyan glanced across at Mrs. Sims. “What was it, fifteen or twenty years ago when that little girl disappeared?”

Mrs. Sims lips tightened. “Something like that. I still think her mother had something to do with that. Especially since they found the girl a month later.”

Jillian’s breath caught. “Found? As in dead?”

Mr. Runyan shoved a hand through his wiry white hair. “That was the dangedest thing. She appeared as suddenly as she disappeared, with no memory of where she’d been or what had happened.”

A chill slipped down the back of Jillian’s neck. “Did she live in the house?”

Mr. Runyan nodded. “It was her and her mother. Her father lived in town. They’d recently divorced. He’d lost his job, started drinkin’, and the wife wouldn’t put up with it. She kicked him out. Anyway, the girl probably got lost.”

“Or maybe she was mad about the divorce and ran away,” Mrs. Sims said.

“For a month?” Chance asked. “How old was she?”

“Nine,” Bud answered.

Jillian wasn’t buying it. “A nine-year-old ran away and survived on her own for a month? Doubtful.”

The older woman raised her hands, palms up. “Since she wasn’t talking when she reappeared, no one knows what happened.”

“And never will.” Mr. Runyan topped off the truck’s tank and hung up the nozzle. “Her mother packed her up and left the house, the town and the state, for all anyone knows. She and her daughter haven’t been heard from since.”

Jillian dug in her purse for the correct amount of money and handed it to Mr. Runyan. “Why hasn’t any of this come up before?”

Mr. Runyan took the money from Jillian. “When Mrs. Thompson and her daughter left, I suppose people forgot.”

“No use living in the past,” Mrs. Sims said. “And there’s no such thing as ghosts, so don’t you worry about any of that. I’d love to see the house when you get done with the remodeling effort.” The woman turned toward her car. “What do I owe you, Bud?”

Jillian climbed into the passenger seat of the truck, adjusted her seat belt and lifted the kitten onto her lap while Chance slipped behind the wheel.

Without a word, he started the truck and pulled to the edge of the road. “Which way?”

After giving him the directions to the marina, Jillian texted Dave to let him know they were on their way, and then she leaned back against the seat and stared out at the darkening sky. With the streetlights coming on, the stars were hard to see. That was one of the things she looked forward to when her house was finished—being able to gaze up at the sky at night and see the blanket of stars spread out in the heavens.

“Does it worry you at all that your house has a history?” Chance asked.

Jillian drew in a breath and let it out again before answering. “People are afraid of things they don’t understand.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I need to do a little digging to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Chance’s lips quirked upward. “And if there was a missing girl and the house is haunted, then what?”

“Then I will at least know the truth from an old wives’ tale. By the time the contractors are finished remodeling my house, no one will remember it as the place where something bad happened, and the ghosts will love it so much, they’ll leave me alone. Who knows, if there are such things as ghosts, they might be mad because the place has been left to deteriorate.”

Granted, she didn’t believe in ghosts or places being bad. People were bad. Not places. And since she’d bought the house and planned on living in it, she refused to believe differently. A cool draft found its way into the interior of the truck, stirring the fine hairs on the back of Jillian’s neck, and she shivered.

* * *

Chance shot a smile at Jillian. The woman was so feminine, yet she had a solid core and seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “Nothing much scares you, does it?”

“Nope.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her chin. “I’ve been on my own for a few years. My mother made sure I was trained in self-defense, and I’m a black belt in tae kwon do. People should be afraid of me.”

Chance held up his hand, schooling his face to be dead serious. “I’m shaking in my boots.” Then he couldn’t hold back the chuckle, ruining the effect. “Sorry. You don’t look very intimidating.”

“Well, I am.” She glared at him, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “A black belt, that is.”

“I believe you.” Chance pulled into the marina parking lot.

Jillian pointed. “Park near the dock.”

Following her directions, he pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. By the time he got out and rounded to the other side of the truck, Jillian was already out, the kitten in her hands, and was walking toward the long wooden wharf.

A tall, muscular man stepped out of a houseboat and waved. He crossed the dock and walked up the hill toward them, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt with Georgetown University embroidered on the front. “I didn’t expect you back with my truck until tomorrow.”

Jillian handed him the keys and hugged him. “I had help to unload, so it took half the time.” She turned to Chance. “Chance, this is Dave Logsdon. Dave, Chance McCall.”

Dave extended a hand and Chance took it. The man had a strong grip and a tattoo on his forearm.

“Prior military?” Chance asked.

“Army.”

Chance nodded. “Same.”

“Deployed?” Dave asked.

“Four times.”

Dave held up three fingers. “Three.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. As he handed them to Jillian, he asked Chance, “Action?”

“More than I cared for.”

Dave stared at Chance for a long moment.

Chance returned the stare, unwaveringly.

Finally, the tension left Dave’s stance and he jerked his head to the side. “Care for a beer?”

“Would love one, but I’m supposed to deliver Miss Taylor to the B and B for dinner. We’re running short on time.”

“Gotcha.” Dave turned to Jillian. “Everything all right at the house?”

She held the kitten beneath her chin and smiled. “Things are moving along.”

Chance wondered why she didn’t mention she’d passed out at the bottom of the basement steps and the basement door had been locked from the other side—and she had no idea how she’d gotten that way.

“Glad to hear you found a crew to work it. Let me know if you need anything.” Dave hugged her and kissed her forehead.

A rush of heat feathered across Chance’s cheeks. The longer Dave held Jillian, the warmer Chance grew. And his gut knotted. It was as if he was jealous of the other man. But then, how could that be, when he’d only known the pretty real estate agent for a few hours?

Dave glanced across at Chance. “Looking forward to that beer.”

Chance muttered something, but a second later couldn’t recall what he’d said.

Jillian led the way to a four-wheel-drive Jeep, opened the driver’s door and got in.

Chance slipped into the passenger seat, his gaze on Dave as the man strode across the dock and entered the houseboat. “Does he live there?”

Jillian handed the kitten to Chance. “The outside looks like hell, but he refinished the inside.”

Holding the tiny feline in his hand, he stroked its fur. “Are you two together?” As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he wished he could take it back. It wasn’t any of his business, nor did he have a stake in the Jillian game since he had no plan to form any kind of relationship with her or anyone else. Still, he had a burning desire to know more about this woman who wasn’t too terribly concerned about passing out on the floor of a basement.

She laughed. “Oh, goodness, no.” Jillian shifted into Reverse and turned the Jeep around. “He’s in love with Nicole Steele.” Jillian glanced across at Chance. “You might know her. She works for the same organization as you and Nova.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve run into her a couple times in the Virginia office.” He pulled his gaze away from Jillian and reengaged his brain cells. “I haven’t been with them long.”

“She’s supposed to come to the wedding. But, like you, we won’t know until she shows up.”

Chance snorted. “That about sums up my life. I’m glad I could be here for Nova.”

“I know he was sweating it. What about you? Are you bringing a date to the wedding? Do I need to set another plate at the main table?” She didn’t glance away from the road.

“No.” Chance hadn’t dated anyone on a long-term basis since he was in the army. Relationships didn’t last when one of the parties involved was deployed more than he was home. Since he’d joined SOS, he saw no need to change his single status.

Jillian smiled. “Good to know.” She navigated through Cape Churn, her confidence obvious in the directions she took and the smooth way she made the turns.

By the time they were on the highway to the McGregor Bed-and-Breakfast, Chance had settled back against the leather seat, his gaze straying to Jillian. “Have you always been a real estate agent?”

She shot a glance his way. “When I finished college with a marketing degree, the jobs just weren’t available in Portland. So I put my marketing degree to work on creating ads for a real estate firm. Did the training, got my license and voilà! I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“I’ll bet you’re good at it.”

She tipped her chin, her cheeks darkening with a blush in the light from the dash. “I am. I have a knack for finding just the right house for my clients. Granted, the market was much larger and more lucrative in Portland than in Cape Churn, but I like it better here.”

Once they left town, the road ahead climbed, twisted and turned around the cliffs hugging the coastline. When Chance had arrived earlier, he could see the water, the rocks below and the horizon. Now the darkness was also shrouded by fog, creeping in from the ocean.

Jillian slowed. “The fog’s getting thick. The weatherman predicted a devil’s shroud night.”

“Devil’s shroud?” Chance asked.

“That’s what they call the thick fogs that roll into Cape Churn. I think it makes it sound mysterious. Just another thing to love about this place.”

“You love a place that calls a dense fog the devil’s shroud?”

“It’s kind of creepy, but still adds to the ambience of the area.”

As that aptly named fog thickened, the Jeep careened around a bend in the road. Chance gripped the armrest with one hand, clutched the kitten with the other and dug his foot into the floorboard, aiming for a brake that wasn’t there. “Shouldn’t you go a little slower?”

“Oh, sorry. I know the roads really well, but the fog is getting pretty thick.” She eased up on the accelerator and continued through the haze.

At one point they rounded a curve carved out of the side of a cliff. Something big crashed onto the road and rolled in front of them.

Jillian yelped, swerved and slammed on her brake just in time to keep from falling off the edge of the road.

“Are you all right?” Chance asked, peeling the kitten’s claws out of his shirt and skin.

For a long moment, Jillian didn’t respond. Finally, she said, “I’m okay.” She turned to Chance. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, but let me take a look.” He climbed out of the Jeep and checked the road in the area. He found a boulder the size of big watermelon on the edge of the road ahead. When he got back to the Jeep, Jillian stood at the edge of the cliff.

Seeing her so close to the drop-off made Chance nervous. He circled her waist with his arm and eased her back. “Do you want me to drive?”

“I can do it,” she said, but her body trembled and her gaze remained on the edge of the cliff. “If we hadn’t stopped we’d have hit that boulder or...”

“But you did stop and we didn’t do either.” He turned her to face him and brushed a strand of her silky blond hair back from her cheek. “Come on. Molly was making fresh bread. I haven’t had fresh bread since...well, hell. I don’t think I’ve ever had fresh bread. Mom wasn’t much of a cook because she worked full-time.”

He guided her back to the Jeep and settled her in the passenger seat. Then he took the wheel and eased away from the cliff and back onto the right side of the road. The rest of the trip was completed in silence, with Chance focusing all of his attention on what little he could see of the road in front of him.

Devil’s shroud was an accurate description of the fog. But what had been the white aberration that had nearly caused them to fly off the edge of the cliff?

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