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His hands burrowed deeper in his pockets as he hunched his shoulders. “I wanted to check up on you. Rough night.”
“Thanks.” Pleasure fizzed through her veins, pooling in all the right places. She could get used to a man like Colin Roarke looking out for her.
Michelle jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Do you want to come inside and have some coffee? Tea?”
“Sure.” He pointed at the brown puddles on the porch. “Looks like you could use more tea yourself.”
“When I saw the petals on my doorstep, I dropped my cup. It didn’t occur to me at first that someone could’ve brought them up here on the bottom of his shoe.” She shoved open the screen door, and Colin followed her into the house, dwarfing the small room with his large frame.
“You have reason to be jumpy.”
“Tea okay or are you a coffee drinker?” She held up the copper teapot.
“Tea’s fine.” He hunched over the counter, making his shoulders look broader than ever.
Looked broad enough to accommodate all her worries, but he hadn’t come here to give her an excuse to fall apart. He’d probably had a lifetime of people dependent on his strength.
“You know, I had enough people traipsing up to my door this morning. There are probably rose petals strewn up and down the entire length of my walkway.”
“I’m checking out the house today.”
“What?” She clanged the teapot onto the stove top with unexpected force.
“Columbella House. I’m checking it out. It was too dark to see anything last night, but it would’ve made a great hiding place for someone looking to get away in a hurry.”
Folding her arms, Michelle wedged her hip against the counter. “I’m coming with you.”
“You sure?”
“I’d rather know what’s over there than not.” She dug her fingers into her upper arms. “Amanda was my friend. I can’t sit around and do nothing. Maybe if I’d walked her out to her car…”
“Then you might both be dead.” He came around the counter, joining her in the kitchen, crowding her. “Don’t blame yourself, Michelle. It’s a useless exercise.”
Blue-gray clouds scudded across his eyes, veiling them. Again, she sensed a deep sadness lurking behind the confidence and courage. The caretaker in her wanted to banish his sadness.
As if she had that power.
She turned toward the cupboard and grabbed two cups from the shelf. “I guess…it’s like stories of survivors. There’s always that sense of guilt, isn’t there? I wonder if it ever completely goes away.”
Colin was so close behind her the warmth of his body penetrated her cotton T-shirt. When he spoke, his breath stirred the tendrils of her hair.
“I don’t know if it does.”
She reached for her tin of tea bags. “Earl Grey okay?”
“Earl Grey?”
She turned and Colin took a step back, blinking, as if coming out of a trance. She held up the foil pouch. “Earl Grey? You’re not much of a tea drinker, are you?”
“Coffee man.”
“You could’ve told me.” She ripped into the pouch and dropped the tea bag into a cup. “I can make coffee.”
He lifted one of those square football-player shoulders. “I’m a low-maintenance guy. Besides, I came over here to make sure you got through the night okay, not to demand breakfast.”
The kettle whistled and Michelle poured the boiling water over the tea bags. “I’m glad you stopped by, and brewing a pot of coffee would have been a small price to pay for the chance to search the house…with you.”
He thanked her for the mug of tea, and then blew on the surface of the liquid.
She averted her gaze from his puckered lips. Slurping her own tea, she burned her tongue. “Are we going to wait until the vultures out there scatter before sneaking into Columbella House?”
He crossed the room and flicked the curtains at the window. “Are they ever going to scatter?”
She joined him, her shoulder brushing his. “Believe it or not, the crowd’s a lot smaller than it was earlier.”
“We’ll go around the side of the house. Nobody has to know we’re there.”
“So we are sneaking.”
He cocked his head at her, one side of his mouth curving into a smile. “Does that make it more appealing to you?”
“This is a small town. People talk.”
“I think we’re both aware of that.”
She took a sip of her tea, hiding the bottom half of her face with the mug. “People said good things about you.”
“People say good things about you, too, Michelle. It was just your mother, and you’re not your mother.”
Not according to those emails. “I know, but when your parent screws up, the trash gets heaped on you, as well.”
“What your mom did is in the past, and I’ve heard nothing but people singing your praises since I’ve been back.”
“You must be talking to the parents of my students. They like that I hold their kids’ feet to the fire in algebra.”
He blew out a noisy breath and ruffled the back of her hair. “You make it hard on a guy to pay you a compliment.”
She ducked her head, embarrassment warming her cheeks. That’s what Amanda always used to tell her. Pain sliced through her left temple and she pressed the mug to her head.
“Are you okay?”
“Let’s get over to Columbella House and see if we can find something. Amanda didn’t deserve to die in the street like that.”
Michelle put their cups in the sink and dragged a hoodie from a hanger in the closet. “I’m sure it’s cold in that old house. I don’t think anyone’s been in there since the twins were last here.”
“And they haven’t been back?”
“Mia’s in New York and nobody’s heard from Marissa since she took off with Mia’s boyfriend.”
Colin grinned. “I remember Mia’s temper. If I were Marissa I wouldn’t come back, either.”
Michelle crouched by the front door and plucked the flashlight she’d used last night from the basket. “I don’t think the electricity is on over there.”
Colin opened the door for her. When he stepped onto the porch, he shoved the rose petals off the step with the toe of his shoe.
Michelle unlatched the front gate and pushed through, keeping to the sidewalk and avoiding the people on the street.
“Michelle!”
Darn. Not fast enough.
She cranked her head around and spotted Ned Tucker, the high school football coach, peeling away from the group.
“Did you see anything last night?”
She shook her head, shoved her hands in her pockets and continued up the sidewalk with Colin close behind her.
He took her arm. “Let’s cross here like we’re heading toward the beach path.”
On one side of Columbella House, a path led down to a rocky beach. A cave was carved out in the rocks and teenagers hung out there even as they avoided the ramshackle house.
A gate hanging from one hinge separated the sidewalk from the path, and Colin unlatched it and shuffled onto the sandy path.
Instead of taking the winding trail down to the beach, he hopped over the dilapidated fence that enclosed the side yard of Columbella House.
Although the fence was low, Colin lifted Michelle to the ground on the other side. They stood silently in the yard, listening to nothing but the sound of the waves crashing below them.
And the thud of Colin’s heart beneath her cheek.
A strange sense of lethargy seeped into Michelle’s bones. She didn’t want to move from this spot, encircled in Colin’s arms, protected, safe. Once they moved, the magic spell would dissipate like sea spray.
Colin cleared his throat and gave Michelle’s waist a squeeze. Not that he couldn’t stand here forever holding Michelle close and inhaling the scent of wildflowers that clung to her hair. “Let’s try to get in through the side door.”
She jumped back, as if his words had startled her, had dragged her out of some dreamworld. He’d gladly return there with her, but right now he had a murder to investigate. And he had to do it before his vacation ended.
He kept hold of her hand and led her through a tangle of weeds and tall grass. He motioned toward a side door sporting a broken window. “Looks like someone already had the same idea.”
He jiggled the door handle, but it was locked. “Can I borrow your sweatshirt? I promise to replace it if it rips.”
Michelle raised her brows and dangled the sweatshirt from her fingertips.
Colin tucked his hand and arm into the hood of the sweatshirt and plunged into the hole in the glass. He grappled for the dead bolt and turned it, and then felt for the door handle. He turned it once, popping the lock.
He shook out Michelle’s sweatshirt. “Thanks. Not one tear.”
“I knew there was a good reason to bring it.”
Colin opened the side door and poked his head inside the house. “It’s the kitchen.”
He stepped onto the chipped tile. Someone had already shoved aside the pieces of glass from the broken window. Considerate.
Michelle wrinkled her nose. “It smells musty.”
“Thanks to the ocean, it smells a lot better than I expected. At least that broken window let in some fresh air.” He poked around the kitchen, but the previous residents had left nothing there. “Did the twins actually live here the last time they were in town?”
Michelle opened the fridge, pinched her nose and slammed the door shut. “No. I think Mia was going to try to fix things up a bit, but after her boyfriend took off with her sister, she abandoned that idea along with the house and went back to New York.”
“Is there anything in the fridge?”
“Just that unused fridge smell.” She peered into the hallway. “No sense in searching this big house together. It’ll take half the time if we split up. Just tell me what to look for.”
“You sure you’re okay looking around here by yourself?”
Michelle straightened her shoulders. “I’m good. If there’s anyone else in here, I’ll make a run for it…and you have a gun.”
“You take the upstairs and have a look in the bedrooms and bathrooms up there. I’ll stay on this floor and head down to the basement. Just be on the lookout for anything new. I mean any sign that someone has been here recently.”
“Rose petals?”
He nodded and squeezed her hand before she headed for the staircase.
“And be careful on those stairs.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, feeling like an idiot. Michelle was a grown woman, not a shy teen anymore.
He turned his attention to the search. Columbella House had been beautifully crafted and designed. It was a shame it had been left to ruin, but the house had a reputation.
Bad things happened here.
He snorted. He was as pathetic as the superstitious residents of Coral Cove, avoiding the house and calling for its demolition. The mayor was probably on that bandwagon.
He ran a hand along the intricately carved banister, his fingers clearing a trail in the dust. He called upstairs. “You okay up there?”
Michelle’s muffled reply floated down. “I’m okay. You?”
“Going to look around a little more and then head for the basement.”
She didn’t respond, so he finished wandering through the dining room, the living room, another sitting room, a library and a half bathroom. Nothing amiss.
He pushed open the basement door and flicked on the flashlight Michelle had given him. A flight of stairs tumbled into the darkness below. He aimed his beam of light on the first step and grasped the scarred wooden handrail. He tested the step with his weight and continued downstairs, the chilly air wrapping its fingers around him the farther he descended.
That fresh ocean breeze hadn’t permeated the depths down here. The dank smell of mold and water rot assaulted his nostrils.
When he reached the bottom step, he aimed his flashlight into the four corners of the room. The sword of light cut across generations of beach paraphernalia—tattered umbrellas, broken beach chairs, deflated inner tubes and air mattresses. Their bright colors muted and depressed by the darkness shrouding their final resting place.
Colin shuffled across the floor, his footsteps the first to imprint the dust in many years. He poked through the long-forgotten summer accoutrements. Nobody had been hiding down here.
He brushed his hands on the thighs of his jeans and turned back toward the stairs. As the beam of light tripped up the steps, something glimmered on the floor.
Colin crouched in front of the staircase and reached between the steps. He ran his fingers across the cement. They stumbled over a chain of some sort. As he scooped it up, the hair on the back of his neck quivered.
* * *
MICHELLE SMILED AS she pushed through the door of the first bedroom after the bend in the hallway. Colin’s concern for her well-being sent tingles along her skin. And the fact that he’d taken the basement sent a wave of relief through her body. No way did she want to head down those stairs into the darkness.
The bedrooms at Columbella surprised her with their order. A thick layer of dust coated everything in sight, but the grime couldn’t hide the beautiful lines of the furniture, and all the beds sported full linen, including matching bedspreads, shams and pillows.
She lifted a flounced duvet and peered under the bed. She strode to the closet and sneezed as she flung open the doors. Empty hangers swayed on a rod, boxes sat in neat rows on the floor.
She exited the room and a creaking noise from the next bedroom slowed her gait. Probably just the floorboards protesting her intrusion.
Despite her commonsense approach, her heart skittered in her chest as she eased open the door. She glanced over her shoulder, longing for Colin’s reassuring voice.
She shuffled into the room. Her gaze darted toward the bedspread, wrinkled and wavy with indentations. She ducked and peered under the bed. Dust bunnies scurried into the corner.
She slid a sidelong glance at the closet, almost wishing she could ignore the sliver between the two doors. Every other closet door in every other bedroom had been closed. Holding her breath, she tiptoed to the closet.
“Colin?” She licked her dry lips. He was probably in the bowels of the house…the spooky part. She squared her shoulders and whipped open the closet door.
Her mouth dropped open and she stumbled backward. She hit the bedpost. The jolt of the collision cut through her shock and she let loose with a scream that had to be piercing straight through the floors to the basement.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SHAGGY MAN in the closet spread his arms wide and smiled. “Caught me.”
Michelle crossed her arms over her chest as if to ward off a blow or a bullet…or the man’s pungent odor. His hands were empty, but that didn’t mean anything. He could have a hidden weapon or he could strangle her with his bare hands.
She choked and spun around, colliding with Colin as he charged through the door, his weapon grasped in one hand.
He gripped her arm with the other hand to steady her. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
She thrust a shaky finger at the closet where the disheveled stranger still hadn’t moved. “He’s in there.”
Colin shoved her toward the door and strode toward the closet. He flung the doors wide and leveled his gun at the man slouching amid the dresses and skirts.
“Get out now and put your hands where I can see them. Call 9-1-1, Michelle.”
She patted the pockets of her shorts and dragged out her cell phone. While she breathlessly relayed the pertinent information to the dispatcher, the man in the closet inched a tentative foot forward.
“Be careful, Colin.” The fact that Colin had the man at gunpoint didn’t ease her fears.
Colin gestured with his gun. “Hurry up and keep your hands in front of you.”
The man shuffled forward a few more steps, his arms held out. He started whistling.
Michelle sucked in a breath. Was it some sort of signal? She dipped into the hallway and looked both ways.
The man stood before Colin and peered at him through a veil of stringy hair. His filthy clothes hung on his gaunt frame, his lips, still puckered in song, framed by a wild beard. He dropped his arms to his sides and his hands nestled amid the folds of his raggedy clothing.
Colin steadied the metal-gray barrel of the gun. “Put your hands back in front of you where I can see them.”
The man gave him a gap-toothed smile. “I had a gun once. Don’t have it no more.”
“Let me see your hands. Real slow.”
The man hunched his narrow shoulders and raised his arms again. He held his hands, tipped with dirty fingernails, in front of him where they trembled. “Is that what you want, boss?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Is this your house, boss?”
Colin’s jaw tightened. “No.”
“Not mine, either.”
“So what are you doing here?”
Michelle glanced at the time on her cell phone. The police had a mile to get here at high speed. Where were they?
The man moved his hand toward his face, and Colin’s finger tightened on the trigger.
He scratched his beard and turned his head toward Michelle. “I scared the pretty lady, huh?”
Michelle nodded, and her heartbeat began to return to normal. He seemed harmless enough now, but maybe Colin’s big gun had something to do with that impression.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and the grungy man swore. “You didn’t have to go and call the cops on me. I didn’t do nothing wrong. Just scared her. Wasn’t even trying. Heard her going through the rooms and figured I’d better wait it out in the closet. Didn’t know she’d go snooping in the closet.”
Colin narrowed his eyes. The hand on his gun seemed to relax, or at least his knuckles were no long the color of white marble.
Michelle shifted her gaze to Colin’s face. Was he thinking what she was thinking? This man with his long hair, overgrown beard and disheveled clothing didn’t fit the profile of Amanda’s killer. And he definitely wasn’t responsible for the murders in Vegas and San Francisco.
Colin repeated his previous question. “What are you doing in this house?”
Waving his arms at his sides, the man said, “It’s empty, isn’t it? I needed a place to crash.”
Several pairs of footsteps charged up the stairs. “Michelle? Roarke? You up here?”
Colin backed up to the door, keeping in front of her and keeping his gun trained on the homeless man. “In here.”
His own gun drawn, Chief Evans barreled through the door almost knocking Michelle’s shoulder. “Face down. Prone position.”
Colin lowered his weapon and shook his head. “I think he’s just a homeless guy camping out.”
Another officer had joined the chief and shoved the stranger onto the hardwood floor. The cop dragged the man’s arms behind his body and snapped a pair of cuffs on him.
The homeless man started whistling again.
“We’ll take it from here, Roarke. Looks like we just might have our man.”
Colin cleared his throat. “I think…”
The chief hustled the stranger past Michelle and Colin. “We’ll handle it.”
The man winked at Michelle as Chief Evans shoved him out the bedroom door. Another officer squeezed past Colin into the bedroom.
“Did he have a weapon? Did he hide anything in here?”
“We didn’t get that far. I think the dude’s just a homeless guy looking for some temporary shelter.”
“Chief thinks we just nailed Amanda’s killer.” The officer pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket. “I’m going to do a thorough search of the room. Thanks for your assistance. You can leave now. The chief knows you’re not officially on the Gunderson case, Roarke.”
Colin glanced at Michelle and rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
He steered her through the front door, which was now standing open. The curious folks from down the street gawking over Amanda’s murder site had shifted their attentions to Columbella House and the scruffy man now being stuffed into the backseat of a Coral Cove P.D. squad car.
Michelle gulped in a few breaths of salty air. “He’s not Amanda’s killer, is he?”
Colin wandered to the side gate, grabbed the top and leaned forward, peering at the path that rambled to the beach. “No.”
“Maybe—” Michelle twisted the arms of the sweatshirt that she’d wrapped around her waist “—he’s mentally ill. He could’ve been on his way to Columbella, stumbled across Amanda getting in her car and just gone off.”
He turned his head and raised one brow. “Did that guy look capable of attacking someone the way Amanda was attacked?”
“You mean sneaking up on her and slitting her throat.” Michelle kicked at the weeds clinging to the gate, sending puffs of dandelion floating through the air.
He brushed the back of his hand along her fingers where she’d hooked them, like claws, onto the chain-link fence. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled and blinked. “No. He didn’t look capable of kicking a cat. He’d fall over. But that’s not going to stop Chief Evans or Mayor Davis from railroading this guy. He’ll be languishing in some jail cell just in time for the summer tourists to start flooding Coral Cove.”
“That’s stupid.” His fingers curled around hers. “If they’re that shortsighted, they just might allow the real killer to walk. And maybe strike again.”
Michelle shivered. “You think I’m on his list?”
“I know you graduated the same year as the other women.”
“The three murders could be completely unrelated—a coincidence.”
“And the petals?”
“The petals.” The terror from this morning when she’d seen the rose petals on her porch punched her in the gut. She sagged.
“Let’s get out of here.” Colin peeled her fingers from the gate and laced his own with hers.
They skirted the lingering knots of people in the street and Michelle tugged on his hand. “So which is it, Colin? Do you believe the killer scattered those petals on my porch or do you believe some innocent bystander carried them there on the bottom of his shoes?”
Colin wanted to reassure her, drive the fear from her big, brown eyes, but he couldn’t lie to this woman. He couldn’t pretend that she didn’t face some danger from this wily killer.
“If it’s the former, I’ll make sure he never gets that close to you again.” He tightened his grip on her hand.
A bicycle wobbled down the street between pedestrians, and the bespectacled rider raised his hand in salute. Michelle waved back, and Colin blew out a breath. What now? Couldn’t he ever get this woman alone? He had some more reassuring to do.
The cyclist pulled up beside them and shoved the glasses up his nose. “Michelle, are you okay? I heard what happened this morning and that it happened right outside your front door.”
The man lurched off the seat of his bike, straddling it with his feet planted firmly on either side. His gaze dipped to their clasped hands, and Michelle disentangled her fingers from Colin’s.
“It was horrible, Alec. I can’t believe it happened. I can’t believe Amanda’s gone.”
Alec extended his hand to Colin. “I’m Alec Wright.”
“I’m sorry.” Michelle tilted her head toward Colin. “This is Colin Roarke. Colin, this is Alec Wright. We teach at the high school together.”
For a skinny guy Alec had a strong grip. Then Colin noticed Alec’s legs encased in Lycra bicycle shorts and realized the guy was wiry, not skinny. But he still wore Lycra bicycle shorts. “Good to meet you.”
“I’ve seen your name all over the school. Yours and your brother’s. Kieran, right?”
“Right.” At the mention of his brother’s name, Colin’s face tightened. Would it always be this way? Would he ever be able to think about his brother without this pain shooting into his gut?
Alec’s eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I—I’ve seen your names on a lot of trophies in the trophy case.”
Colin shrugged. “Don’t know why they don’t replace those old things with new trophies.”
“Because they’re school records.” Alec cocked his head at Colin as if studying some strange specimen.