Wolf Island (21 page)

After
the first bite, she glanced at the clock. Two a.m. Dev and the sheriff had been
gone only ten minutes. Dev had asked the sheriff to walk the castle’s perimeter
with him once more before he returned to the village. Even though all of the
castle’s locks had been changed, Dev wanted to make sure he hadn’t overlooked
another way Victor might gain entrance to the castle.

She’d
tried to convince him everything was okay, but Devlin insisted he had to go.
He’d simply given her a quick kiss and headed out the door.

Abby
convinced Otis to go up to bed while she waited for Dev, assuring Otis that
nothing would happen with Dev and the sheriff right outside.

She
padded over to one of the kitchen windows, drew the curtain aside, and peered
through the glass. Outside lights illuminated the sheriff’s car. Clouds
shrouded a pale moon.

Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound of the kitchen clock marking the seconds boomed in
the dreadful silence of the kitchen. Abby pulled a chair out from the table,
then shoved it in again just to hear the noise.

She
tried turning on the radio, but only static buzzed into the silence, so she
switched it off.

Another
check of the clock. Two-twelve.

She
plopped down at the table and flipped through the
Wolf Island Gazette
.
The words ran together. All she could think about was Victor Morgan’s presence
on the island and Devlin being in danger.

A
gust of wind whistled softly against the castle walls. Thunder rolled around
overhead and set her teeth on edge, while a hiss at the windows told her rain
had started to fall.

Another
soggy night. But maybe the rain would bring Dev back inside sooner. Inside
their home.

Home.
Abby smiled slightly. Since when had she started thinking of the castle as her
home?

She’d
only been here a few days, and already she’d grown used to the place. It was so
different from her airy little cottage by the lake. And yet, here she felt more
rooted in her life than she did back in England.

She
knew why.

Devlin.

Abby
rose from the table and paced over to the fireplace. She rubbed an absent hand
over the kitten’s belly. He stretched out his legs, opened his eyes to slits
for just a second, then closed them again and went contentedly back to sleep.

Had
she ever felt such contentment?

Not
until she came here. And the feeling had arrived unexpectedly. Abby poked at the
fire, sending a dance of sparks up the chimney. She walked back across the
kitchen to the stove to set the kettle on to boil for tea.

She
had just started searching through the cabinets for the tea when the lights
flickered once and then winked out. Her heart did a mad pitch in her chest.
Shadows wavered over the walls from the dwindling fire.

Outside,
the wind blew harder and the rain picked up. Where was Devlin? What was taking
so long? She squinted at the clock to try and make out the time, but couldn’t
see the dial in the darkness.

Okay. Pull yourself together.

The
first thing she needed to do was look for a flashlight or a stash of candles.
She pulled open drawers and cabinets and rummaged through them.

Finally,
she located the stub of a candle and a box of matches. She lit the wick, and
when the flame cast a small circle of light, she felt marginally better. Abby
set the candle on the table and prepared to wait. The clock continued to tick,
the wind to howl, and the rain to fall. But still no Devlin.

A
squeak, followed by a bump.

Abby
stiffened her spine and turned her head toward the kitchen door. She’d never
been a particularly brave person, but her experiences since she’d arrived on the
island had taught her that she was more courageous than she’d ever thought
possible.

Thud.

Her
heart tripped in her chest before she realized the probable source of the
noise. Suddenly she wasn’t afraid anymore. Otis. He probably couldn’t sleep.

Scrape.

Then
she heard them. Chimes tinkled in the hallway outside the kitchen. Abby
swallowed hard. The authorities had searched the castle. Devlin had told her
all the castle’s windows and doors were secure. The effigy had been left
outside the kitchen door, so whoever left it had not been inside the castle.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Rustle.

She
heard a metallic sound, like metal hitting stone. Her heart slid into her
throat. The sound was very similar to the one they’d heard the night Devlin
found the rabbit in the library.

Abby
slipped off her shoes and crept toward the kitchen door in her stocking feet.
Footsteps scraped against the stone floor, the sound echoing off the walls. The
steps sounded light as they moved closer and closer. She backed up against the
kitchen counter and waited. The footsteps halted right outside the door. A beam
of light shone under the door and spread out onto the floor of the kitchen.
Abby snuffed out the candle.

The
door opened, and Abby saw a figure step into the room but couldn’t tell for sure
if it was Otis. If she called out his name and it wasn’t him ...

She
set her shoulders even as fear tapped its way up her spine. Abby reached behind
her to the wooden block that held the kitchen knives and withdrew one as
quietly as she could. She raised the knife above her head, ready to strike if
the person attacked.

The
door closed at the person’s back. The figure swung the flashlight’s beam around
the kitchen until it landed on a door beside the fireplace. The person shuffled
across the room, opened the door, and went inside, the light from the
flashlight casting an eerie glow within. She heard a squeak, then a click.

The
lights blazed back on in the kitchen. She had to do something, but she refused
to run.

She
couldn’t run. What about Devlin?

Abby
rushed across the kitchen with the knife in her hand. She halted outside the
door the figure had disappeared into. Otis stepped through the door. He fixed
his black eyes first on the knife she held in her hand and then on her face.
“You lookin’ for a fight, chère?”

Abby
laughed nervously and lowered her hand. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

Otis
closed the pantry door at his back.

Abby
laid the knife on the table. “I might have used that knife, if you hadn’t
turned on the lights.”

He
was dressed in a worn robe and slippers. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You look
like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Abby
smiled while her heart settled back into her chest. “I thought you were trying
to frighten me.”

Otis
laughed. “Now, why would I do something like that? I just came down to check
the fuse box. I didn’t want Mr. Dev coming inside to a dark house.”

Lightning
flashed outside, and another crash of thunder boomed.

Where
was Devlin?

Otis
walked around her and across the kitchen. “Might as well put on a pot of
coffee.”

After
Abby convinced Otis to go back to bed again, she poured herself a cup of tea
and waited. In a few minutes, the door flew open and Dev strode in, dripping
wet. Abby smiled. He was home. His gaze settled on her. “Abby, you waited up
for me.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Otis?”

“I
sent him up to bed.”

Devlin
frowned. “He was supposed to stay with you until I got back.”

He
was worried about her. “If it makes you feel better, he went reluctantly,
objecting all the way.”

Devlin
shrugged out of his coat and hung it by the door. “I’ll have to talk to him
about who’s working for whom. That fresh coffee I smell?”

“Yes.
Otis made it.”

He
winked at her as he walked to the stove and she felt that slow melt down.

Abby
swept her gaze over him. He looked tired, and the worry was still in his eyes.
She wanted to cuddle him, give him a long kiss, and fall asleep in his arms.
But that would have to wait. He poured himself some coffee and flopped into a
chair at the table.

“Where’s
Sheriff Dutton?”

He
reached out and took Abby’s hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Went
home to bed.”

“Did
everything look okay?”

“Yeah.
All the doors and windows appeared secure -- at least the ones we could
inspect at ground level. Everything looked normal, but Victor’s gotten pretty
good at covering his tracks and slipping away unnoticed.”

Abby
fixed her gaze on him. “You said you would explain when you got back. I want
you to tell me everything, including the truth about Alice.”

Devlin
looked at Abby with anguish in his eyes. “She was Emily Good’s daughter. Victor
Morgan raped and murdered her.” He lowered his head and stared at their
entwined fingers. “I found her.” His voice was so soft, Abby almost didn’t hear
him.

She
felt ice spread through her stomach at Devlin’s words. Abby squeezed Devlin’s
hand, then lifted his chin with her other hand so he had to look her in the
eye. Anger and devastation burned in his gaze. But how else should he feel?
“Dev, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but you need to tell me the
whole story. Only then can you be free from the past.”

Devlin
let go of her hand, shoved back from the table, and paced over to the
fireplace. Sam woke, blinked his eyes at him, and meowed softly. Devlin reached
over and stroked the kitten’s soft head. Abby wanted him to turn and look at
her. She wanted him to see that she didn’t care who or what his father was.

She
would never regret allowing him to touch her, to make love to her, because she
loved him.

Devlin
turned his head and gazed at Abby. “I wanted to protect you from all the
ugliness, the poison he’s spread around. I’ll never be free of the past. Can’t
you see that?” Abby shot up from the table and faced him. “No, I can’t! The
only person who is keeping you from being free of the past is you. Until you allow
yourself to let it go, it will be a noose around your neck.”

“Damn
it, Abby. He’s a part of me!”

Abby
pushed back her chair and strode to his side. She laid a hand on his arm.
“Biologically, maybe, but that’s all.”

He
jerked his arm away as if he couldn’t bear her touch. She felt a stab of hurt
slice into her heart, but she pushed it aside. Abby needed him to look at her,
really look at her. Only then would she know his true feelings. She touched her
fingers to the side of his face and shifted his eyes to hers.

There
was shame in his eyes and, dear God, love on his face. “Why did you pull away?”

He
lifted a hand and rested his palm on her cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s not you,
honey. It’s me. Come, I want to show you something.”

He
didn’t wait to see if she followed him, just barreled through the door and
walked purposefully down the hall.

He
continued past a sitting room, then turned left at the end of the hall and
switched on a light. Paintings hung on both sides of a long gallery. He walked
about halfway down and stopped in front of a portrait. Abby stared at it.

“See
some resemblance?”

Devlin’s
mother sat by her husband with her hand resting on his arm. She saw parts of
Devlin in both their faces, but particularly his father.

They
made a gorgeous couple. How could two people that much in love journey to such
a sad and violent parting? There were other portraits there. As they moved back
in time, the paint was a little cracked and the manner of dress more
old-fashioned, the expressions on their faces a bit more staid.

There
was a portrait of Devlin’s mother quite different from the one on the stairs.
This was a very young Valerie, holding a bouquet of white flowers, her eyes
filled with happiness, a blissful smile on her lips.

She
sat on an iron bench in front of an arbor with roses clamoring over it. From a
shepherd’s hook by the arbor hung a set of chimes. “Was this painted just
before or after she and your father were married?”

“Right
before.” He paused a moment, as if some painful thought floated through his
mind. He inhaled a deep breath, then let it out in a shuddering sigh. “My
grandparents were thrilled when they became engaged.”

It
seemed to Abby that Devlin’s face aged considerably before her eyes. His
shoulders hunched, and the vital, strong man she’d grown to love seemed to have
changed into an older man.

“When
I was born, my mother left the island. My grandparents tried to see Victor
once, but it was a mistake. My father had completely lost his grip on reality.
They tried talking to him, but ... they told me he looked at them with
such hatred.” Devlin’s voice broke, and Abby’s heart along with it. “He tried
to attack them, and one of the guards pulled him off.

Devlin
paused and heaved a deep breath before continuing. “He escaped once and
murdered Alice. I found her, with the chimes twisted around her neck.”