Wolf Island (6 page)

“What
kind of deal?” He tried to tamp down the attraction he felt for her, but didn’t
have much success.

“Two
days. Just give me two days.” She had confidence; he’d give her that. “I’ll go
into the village, talk to as many locals as I can, and get their opinion on
building a website. If the majority of them agree it’s a good idea and want to
go ahead with it, then you give me a few extra days to take pictures, interview
people, and start working on the site. Once the site is built, I can do the
maintenance, add any updates, and make changes for free.”

“You
seem to know what you’re doing.”

She
smiled, and excitement lit her eyes. “You agree, then?”

Danger
snapped at his heels. If she stayed, she’d be in danger, too. And he would have
put her there. “No, you leave first thing in the morning.” He deliberately
sharpened his tone in order to make his intentions clear. “Staying a few extra
days is out of the question.”

“But --”

“No
buts.” He wadded up the piece of paper with J.D.’s name and address on it and
tossed it into the trashcan beside his desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have
work to do.”

Chapter Four

Devlin
watched Abby from the darkened stairs to make sure she went back to her room.
He didn’t like having found her snooping around the castle.
He
had never
come inside the castle, but there was always a first time.

Things
had been too quiet the last few days, like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
No, it wasn’t safe. He couldn’t let her stay. The click of her bedroom door
sounded down the hallway, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The indignation
that had dogged him since he’d found her accessing his computer eased a little
now that she was safe inside her room and away from his office. But desire
still hummed through his blood.

Why
couldn’t he make these feelings go away? Even as his mind formed the question,
he already knew the answer. Thoroughly loving this woman might ease the guilty
shame he carried like a hot stone in his heart. He wanted her, but he held
himself back. He had to.

The
only reason he had come on to her in the first place was to scare her off. He’d
figured a British schoolteacher like her would go running back to England if he
so much as touched her. Only, his plan to pretend to seduce her had backfired.

What
was it about Abby in particular? Why should such a prissy, English woman tie
him up in knots? He knew in an instant. He liked her prim manner, the way she
held her head and folded her hands in front of her, the set of her mouth when
he irritated her.

He
admired her quick, intuitive mind. Even though he hadn’t liked finding her in
his private office, he respected her for going to such lengths to locate
Miranda. She made him feel proud of her, for some odd reason. Could she ever
feel proud of him? He shook his head. Not a chance. If she knew the truth about
his past, she would turn away in disgust.

Lightning
flickered through the downstairs windows, briefly illuminating the paintings
hanging on the stairs. Devlin couldn’t help but look up at the portrait of his
mother. He drank in the sight of her even as he relived the hurt and pain of
her rejection. He longed for just one smile from her lips, one gentle touch of
her hands.

He
wanted that more than he wanted to live, but knew he would go on wanting it for
the rest of his life. Even though she lived in Boston, he could never go and
see her. She hated him. Nothing he could ever do would change that.

After
his birth, she’d thrust him into the waiting arms of his paternal grandparents
to raise, unable to bear the sight of him even then.

His
own mother loathed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take down her
portrait. He needed to see her face, to know that a part of her still lived in
him and cast a ray of goodness on the ugliness he held inside.

Devlin
skimmed his gaze over her delicate features, the soft, gray of her eyes, the
gentle curve of her mouth. Her legs were slim and tucked to the side as she sat
on a white velvet chair.

He
thought about that chair and knew it occupied a corner of Abby’s room. He
wanted to see Abby sit in that chair and look at him with gentleness in her
eyes.

The
last time Devlin had seen his mother, he was barely seven. He’d taken a trip to
Boston with his grandmother. He’d begged her to take him by his mother’s house.
She’d been standing in the garden, clipping roses, when her gaze lifted and she
saw him. He would never forget the revulsion he’d seen on her face.

He
closed his eyes and let himself remember. His grandmother had put her arm
around his shoulders and squeezed. He could still hear the gentle sound of her
whispered words: “Don’t ever forget that I love you.”

Devlin
shook away the bittersweet memory and headed back to his office. He walked to
his desk. Little castles floated across the screen of the computer that hummed
quietly on the desktop. On one corner of the granite top, the fax machine tray
brimmed with messages he’d received late in the evening.

He
picked up the stack and settled into the chair behind his desk. The first fax
was from Dr. Robin Hale, the head scientist in charge of research for Morgan
Research and Development.

As
he read, a grin spread over his face. The scientists had made a breakthrough in
their efforts to find a new drug to help treat the devastating effects of
schizophrenia. A tiny chip of the guilt he continuously nursed dissolved.

Researching
drugs to heal people, lessoning their pain and giving them a better life,
helped him draw closer to justifying his existence.

A
couple of hours later, he rose from his chair to light the fire in the hearth
and realized he was out of wood. Leaving his office, he walked through the
kitchen and out the side door to the woodpile.

A
strong wind whipped the rain around him, quickly soaking through his clothes.
He turned back toward the door and stumbled to a halt. His fingers dug
painfully into the coarse wood.

Damn
it, not again.

A
small bundle lay to one side of the kitchen door, half hidden in the shadows.
Still as death. Devlin’s heart raced, and his breath lodged in his throat. He
set down the firewood and approached the bundle while dread built with each
step.

Newspaper.

Bending
down on one knee, Dev touched the bundle. Warmth seeped into his fingers. He
pulled back the top fold of paper and shuddered. Inside were the remains of a
dead gull. A set of chimes was tied about its small neck.

Devlin
glanced around the grounds for any movement, but the darkness and steadily
increasing rain revealed nothing. He did notice some muddy footprints near the
kitchen entrance.

Footprints.
Larger than his own.

The
rain fell harder now, the drops soaking the gull’s white feathers. Devlin squeezed
his eyes shut and grimaced. He opened his eyes and thought about the little
orange kitten he’d left napping in front of his bedroom fireplace. If the
bastard ever harmed that tiny animal, he’d -- Quickly, he covered up the
carcass with the newspaper and left the wood and the remains of the gull lying
on the stoop as he went back inside.

Moments
later, he lifted the receiver of the phone on his desk and dialed. The tired,
sleepy voice of the sheriff crackled over the line. “Sheriff Dutton.”

Devlin
explained what he had found. This was the second gruesome calling card he’d
discovered on the castle grounds since --

“Dev.”
Jake interrupted his thoughts. “I got a call this evening from the Maine State
Police. Remember I told you that when he escaped from the institution, he beat
that guard nearly to death? Well, the guard died today.”

The
news of the guard’s death settled on Devlin’s soul like a black pall. He raked
a hand through his hair, leaned back in his chair, and huffed out a breath.
“How many more people have to die before this nightmare ends?” Weariness nearly
overwhelmed him.

“None.
We’ll catch him.” Jake’s voice radiated confidence.

Devlin
slammed his palm down onto the surface of his desk. “How?” He rose from his
chair, and paced to the windows, gripping the cordless phone in his hand. He
stared through the glass into the darkness. With each flash of lightning, the
silvery drops of rain glowed on the grass. Wind ruffled the leaves of a birch
tree growing next to the nearest window.

He
finally fixed his gaze on his reflection in the windowpane. Every time he
looked into a mirror, he saw his father’s face, and it was abhorrent to him.
Devlin closed his eyes.

He
balled one hand into a fist at his side and squeezed. Hard. “How do you stop a
mad man?” Even though he knew his past would once again be the focus of
everyone on the island, there was nothing else for it. What choice did he have?
He was certain the monster was back on Wolf Island, and the citizens had to
know. Their lives depended on it. “Call an emergency town meeting first thing
in the morning so we can warn everyone.”

“And
tell them what?” Jake’s calm, clear voice grated on his nerves. “That you found
a dead seagull and you think you know who did it? I don’t think he’ll show up
nice and convenient to turn himself in.”

“He’s
been caught before.” Devlin had to make him understand. “And he was put away.
We can put him away again.”

“Ayah,
but he wants to finish what he started.”

“And
the people who live on this island have the right to know that their lives are
in danger!” Devlin shouted into the phone. “Why the hell didn’t we say
something before?”

“Because
we have to be smart this time, or he’ll slip through our fingers. Besides, what
about all the tourists who have been pouring in here this summer, throwing
money around?” Jake emphasized his words. “How do you think everybody is going
to react when you chase off all the sightseers just because you found a dead
gull and you think he’s back? This is the biggest year this island has ever
had.”

Ice
surrounded Devlin’s heart. “He’s here, and he has to be stopped!”

“We’ll
catch him, Devlin.” Jake’s placating tone irritated him. “But we need to tread
carefully. If we make an announcement, the tourists will leave and he’ll
disappear ... until the urge to kill has him crawling out of his dark
hole.”

“Jake,
what you’re saying makes sense, but the bastard’s playing with us. He left a
dead gull this time. He’ll wait until he’s ready to push us over the
edge ... then he’ll leave a body.”

Jake
huffed on the other end of the phone line. “No, I have a plan. I called in a
couple of favors on the mainland, and the local authorities are sending a
policewoman to the island first thing.”

“How
will one officer help us?”

“I’ll
explain everything when she gets here. How are things going with Ms. Chapel?”

“Fine.
She’s leaving in the morning, if the weather lets up.”

Jake
chuckled dryly. “How did you convince her to do that? She seemed very
determined to find her sister.”

Devlin
pressed his mouth into a firm line. “Yeah, but I’m even more determined to get
her off this island.”

“Be
careful, Dev. This wacko’s delusions made him see Miranda as his former wife
and J.D. as the man she ran away with. His eye is obviously on you now, and
maybe Ms. Chapel, too.”

A
shudder crawled over Devlin’s skin. If something happened to another innocent
woman like Abby, he couldn’t bear it. “I’ve got to get her off this island.”

* * * * *

As
the kitten snoozed contentedly on his bed, Devlin smiled and rubbed the back of
his hand over the animal’s soft belly. The kitten opened his eyes, looked at
Dev, and went right back to sleep.

Devlin
rose from the bed and paced to the French doors leading out onto the balcony
off his bedroom. The sounds of the storm brewing outside seemed to close the
walls in around him.

He
needed somebody to talk to in order to soothe his uneasiness.

Otis
went to bed early because he rose at the crack of dawn, and Devlin didn’t want
to wake him.

That
left Abby.

But
he needed to stay away from her. She churned him up too much inside, made him
start dreaming again. Dreaming about having a woman to love him and a child to
wrap his or her arms around his neck and say, “I love you, Daddy.” Dreams that
could never come true. Maybe if he went back to his office, he could get some
more work done and shake off this mood.

When
he neared Abby’s room, he noticed her light beaming from beneath the door and
heard the sound of her footsteps moving over the wood floor. He stopped in
front of her door, raised his hand to knock, then lowered it again. He clenched
his fingers into a tight fist.

I can’t.

He
raised his hand again and held it a half-inch from the door. Damn it, he knew
he shouldn’t, but he didn’t want to face the rest of the night alone. Always
alone.