﻿She was afraid of the growing feelings she had for Andrei. Did he feel it too?

“Feel what?”

Her face heated, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Obviously she’d spoken her fears aloud.

She let down her hand and said, “This thing between us.”

“Yes, I feel it.” The low rumble of his voice warmed the cool night air, filling the space between them with promise.

The baby kicked, inserting the silent reminder why Jocelyne couldn’t have a relationship with any man. “Don’t, Andrei.”

Her voice came out as the barest of whispers she hoped he wouldn’t hear. “Don’t fall in love with me.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

2004 Golden Heart Winner for Best Paranormal Romance, Elle James started writing when her sister issued the Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas hill country. Ask her and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three hundred and fifty pound bird! After leaving her successful career in Information Technology Management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink. net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Andrei Lagios – Police officer on the Raven’s Cliff force whose younger sister was a victim of the Seaside Strangler.

Jocelyne Baker – Holistic healer and pregnant daughter of the town kook, enlisted as a cover story by Raven’s Cliff police officer Lagios to assist in the search for the Seaside Strangler.

Hazel Baker – Warm-hearted, peace-loving town kook and owner of the Cliffside Inn, working through her Wicca beliefs to create a cure for the curse plaguing Raven’s Cliff.

Mayor Perry Wells – Corrupt mayor of Raven’s Cliff and a regular at the Cliffside Inn, suspected of taking kickbacks from an illegal source, also a bereaved father whose daughter disappeared on the day of her wedding.

Grant Bridges – Resident of the Cliffside Inn whose fiancée, the mayor’s daughter, disappeared on the day of their wedding.

Rick Simpson – Mayor Wells’s assistant and a regular at the Cliffside Inn, he’s also a man with a hidden agenda.

Alex Gibson – Mild-mannered fisherman and resident of the Cliffside Inn who believes in Hazel Baker’s search for the cure to the curse of Raven’s Cliff.

Ingram Jackson – Solitary, wealthy recluse with severe burn scars who keeps to himself but frequents the Cliffside Inn for Hazel Baker’s remedies.

Under Suspicion, With Child

ELLE JAMES

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Intrigue editors

Allison Lyons and Sean Mackiewicz, whose

vivid imaginations created the idea of

Raven’s Cliff, the curse and the intrigue.

And thanks to the wonderful authors who

worked together to make this continuity

come to life.

Chapter One

The cool ocean breeze of summer feathered through the loose tendrils of Jocelyne Baker’s hair, caressing her skin and body, soothing the tension away. Sitting with her legs crossed on the mat, her hands flat on the ground beside her, eyes closed, she inhaled, and let it out slowly.

All the tension of being cooped up for the past two rainy days in the inn with her mother melted away.

Maybe coming home hadn’t been such a good idea. She could have made it work had she stayed in New Jersey. Somehow.

The flutter of tiny feet in her belly reminded her why she’d returned. Pregnant and alone, she’d needed a better place than the city to raise her child, even if it meant going home.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Nothing had changed. The town was as it had been when she’d left. Her mother was still considered the town kook and everyone stared at her, waiting for her to be just as flaky. Like mother, like daughter.

The only difference was that this time she was more mature, more confident in her own place in life. She refused to let whispering gossips hurt her or her child. Her muscles clenched in her neck and shoulders.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Moving back to Raven’s Cliff wasn’t a mistake. She repeated this mantra with each breath in and each one out.

Despite the cleansing breeze, other thoughts edged into her meditation. What of the Seaside Strangler? The man hadn’t been caught. Would they catch him before Jocelyne brought her child into this world?

Unable to establish the inner peace she so intensely needed, Jocelyne pushed to her feet and stood straight, staring over the edge of the cliff out to the churning sea. Then she squatted, lowering her buttocks while her hands reached toward the sky, and closed together as if in prayer. Her hamstrings and the muscles in her back stretched, the tops of her thighs tingling with the effort to maintain the pose and tap in on the elusive inner peace she desperately sought.

HIS FEET POUNDING AGAINST the gravel, Andrei Lagios shut out everything but his breathing and the burning sensation in his muscles as he pushed himself harder and faster. He wanted the pain, even welcomed it. Pain reminded him he was alive. Unfortunately, so was the fiend who’d killed his beautiful little sister.

Despite the cool temperatures and the bite of the wind off the ocean, sweat leaked from every pore. Still he ran on, his lungs near bursting, but his attempts to turn off his memories failed. His thoughts mirrored the frothy, wind-tossed seas and the skies laden with heavy storm clouds.

He’d chosen the path along the cliff because no one would bother him here, and he felt closer to Sofia, who’d washed ashore near here two months ago. Her pale, bloated face and the seashell necklace around her throat still churned in Andrei’s mind. He’d been the one on duty when the report came across the radio that the two girls who’d been missing since the night of their high-school prom had been found, washed against the rocky shoreline.

He’d been the one to break it to his parents that their only little girl, his younger sister, had died at the hands of the Seaside Strangler. The bitter truth burned in his chest that he had done nothing to stop the killer or keep him from doing it again.

Andrei couldn’t run hard or fast enough to escape his failure. Someone in this small community had committed the crime and he hadn’t found him yet.

In the distance, he spotted movement near the edge of the cliff overlooking the area where a tourist had discovered the girls’ bodies.

Squinting against the wind, he tried to make out what it was. Then it moved again, rising from the ground, straightening. A woman wearing a white flowing skirt sat cross-legged, lifting her face to the sky. The wind whipped bright red strands of hair in Medusa-like fashion around her head.

His heart skipped several beats before shooting the blood through his body too fast for his veins to handle. Adrenaline sped his feet, kicking up chunks of gravel in his wake.

What was a woman doing out on the cliff alone? Hadn’t she heard of the Seaside Strangler? And what was with the white dress?

If Andrei never saw another white dress, he’d be happy. To him, white meant death.

She rose to her feet, her posture straight as a pole, the sometimes gale-force winds twisting the ghostly pale skirt around her body, plastering it against her. Her blouse flapped, exposing the creamy fair skin of her hips and back. As though caught in a trance, she stared out toward the waves. Then she bent at the knees, her arms rising above her in the position of someone about to dive over the edge of a cliff.

Andrei’s breath lodged in his throat for a brief second, then all the air in his lungs burst out on one word. “No!”

With the length of a football field between them, he knew he couldn’t stop her if she chose to dive onto the rocks below, but he had to try. Another woman couldn’t die on his watch. He owed that much to Sofia and the people of Raven’s Cliff.

The wind caught his words and whipped them away. Lifting his elbows and knees, he pumped harder, working his muscles to a screaming point. He’d never run so fast, nor felt so frustrated that he couldn’t run faster.

The woman bent lower, tucking her head between her arms.

“Stop! Don’t do it!” Andrei yelled again.

This time, she heard him and turned in his direction, her eyes wide, her mouth opened in an O. Her feet shifted and she stumbled on the gravel, tilting toward the edge of the cliff. The one-hundred-foot drop to the rocky shore below would be the death of her.

Desperation spurred Andrei on. “Don’t jump! Please.”

She righted herself, her brows knitting over her eyes. “Jump?”

Andrei ground to a stop in front of her, grasping her arms in a viselike grip. “Don’t.” He gasped, dragging air into his lungs before he could go on.

“Don’t jump?” She stared at him, her smoky-green eyes troubled.

All Andrei could do was glance at the edge of the cliff as he hauled more air into his starving lungs.

Her brows lifted and the hint of a smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Oh, I get it. You think I was about to jump.” She brought her hands up between his wrists, attempting to knock his fingers loose from her arms. When he didn’t let go, her frown reappeared. “I assure you, I have no intention of jumping from this cliff or any other. You can let go of me, now.”

He stared at her long and hard before he reluctantly released her. “Then why the hell did you look like you were about to dive?”

“Ah, the Utkatasana.” She laughed, the sound like the tinkling bells of a wind chime.

“Utka-what?”

Her laughter disappeared, whipped away by the wind, but her sparkling green eyes continued to reflect her amusement. “Relax, cowboy. I wasn’t about to dive, I was relaxing with one of my yoga positions. Utkatasana.” Her knees bent and she raised her arms, her hands pressed together as if in prayer. “It’s called the chair position. It’s good for the arms, legs, diaphragm and heart.”

Anger washed away any last trace of fear he might have felt and exploded in words. “Are you crazy?”

She winced, her full, luscious lips tightening into a thin line. “Excuse me?”

“For all I knew, you were about to throw yourself over the edge. And if you weren’t out to kill yourself, you are definitely an easy target for the Seaside Strangler.” He stepped closer, standing toe-to-toe with the fiery-haired woman. “Lady, go home. Go home and lock your doors.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “First of all, I don’t take orders from you or anyone else. Second, I’m not crazy and I’ll go wherever I want. Who do you think you are, telling me or anyone else what they can or can’t do?”

“I’m a cop with the Raven’s Cliff Police Department.” Even to his own ears, his response was a lame excuse to be bossing the woman around.

“So?” She crossed her arms over her chest, a coppery brow rising high on her pale forehead. The stiff breeze lifted the ends of the filmy white skirt she wore, plastering it to her long, slender legs.

The dress reminded him of the dress his sister wore when she’d been found. A white wedding dress, not unlike what this woman wore. All the starch and anger drained from him. “Look, it’s not safe for a lone woman to be out here.”

“I can take care of myself.” Her hand smoothed the dress down over her belly. “I’m not suicidal, and I know what to look out for. I just wanted a little peace and quiet away from the inn.”

So she was a tourist. A twinge of disappointment nudged at him. She wouldn’t stay long at Raven’s Cliff. But with a killer loose, leaving seemed the best idea.

Her determined stance and ability to stand up for herself had intrigued him more than he cared to admit. The way the filmy dress wrapped around her trim calves probably had something to do with the attraction as well.

He straightened, hardening his jaw. “Take a friend with you next time. We don’t know who the strangler is and I’d hate to see you washed up on the rocks.” Like my sister. He didn’t say it, but he felt it with the pain in his chest.

“I’ve walked this path since I was a tiny girl. I know where all the hiding places are and believe me, there aren’t many out here. And if I wanted to jump over the edge, I’d have done it already, and you couldn’t have stopped me.” She eased toward the edge.

His hand shot out automatically, grasping her arm.

“All right, already. I’m not going to jump. I was just going to show you that there is a path down the side of the cliff. If I wanted to go down, I’d walk.”

Together they leaned over the edge and stared at the thin path that surely only a goat could traverse.

“I used to take it down to the water to find shells and starfish among the—” Her face paled to gray and she stumbled back against him. “Holy mother.”

Andrei clasped her shoulders and set her behind him before peering over the edge to the rocks below.

Lifted by the waves and pushed into the rocks was the body of a woman dressed in white, facedown in the surf.

Chapter Two

Of all the stupid times to pass out, Jocelyne couldn’t have picked a worse. But to wake up in the arms of this stranger… Shivers rippled over her entire body. And darn it all, they weren’t shivers of fear.

A woman was dead at the bottom of the cliffs, for heaven’s sake. Why should she be so concerned about being crushed against a man’s brawny chest and carried away? They were headed toward town. How dangerous could that be?

She could smell the man’s sweat and it was having an entirely unwarranted effect on her, driving her blood to pump faster, her heart to race and her skin to flush.

“Put me down.” Jocelyne kicked her feet and pushed with her free hand against the man’s well-muscled chest. The other hand wrapped around his neck to keep him from dropping her on the rocks. “We have to notify the police about that girl.”

“That’s where I’m headed.” His feet ate the distance between the cliff and town in long easy strides.

“Look, for all I know you could be the Seaside Strangler.” Her breath caught in her throat as his hand shifted, brushing against the underside of her breast. “Why else would you be out there?”

“I was jogging.”

Okay, calm down. No need in upsetting the baby. On the other hand, what did she really know about the muscle-bound man with the soulful dark eyes? So he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. The strangler could dress the same.

She renewed her struggles. “Put me down before I scream.” With the wind blowing and still on the outskirts of town, she doubted anyone would hear her. But she’d give it her best effort. She dragged in a breath.

“If I were the Seaside Strangler, would I be carrying you toward town? To the Raven’s Cliff Police Department?”

Her breath released in a huff. “If you wanted to throw people off your trail, maybe.” As they entered town, the few cars driving along the road slowed.

Jocelyne groaned. “Put me down. People are pointing at us.” She cupped his cheek and made him look at her. “Please?”

Something in her voice must have gotten to the Neanderthal and made him pause. “Are you sure you won’t pass out again?”

She raised a hand scout-style. “I promise.”

If his frown was any indication, he didn’t quite believe her, but he let her feet drop to the ground, while retaining the arm around her waist.

“Look, I’m pregnant, not sick. The reason I passed out was that I haven’t eaten breakfast.” She patted his chest. “See? Easy fix. Now let me go.”

A gaggle of women exiting the coffee shop a block away stopped and stared at Jocelyne and the man in the running shorts.

“I can manage it from here, Officer.” Jocelyne’s cheeks burned like they had when her classmates pointed and whispered about her mother being a witch, when they made taunts that she was the spawn of the devil. She turned toward the police department, but try as she might, she couldn’t shake the cop’s hand from her waist. “Really, I can walk on my own.”

“Until we get you to the station, you’ll have to deal with a little help.”

One of the women leaned toward the ear of another, her gaze following Jocelyne’s progression down the street, her lips moving fast.

“I don’t like it when people stare,” she whispered through her teeth.

“I don’t care what they think. There’s a dead woman back there, you passed out, and I’m not letting go of you until we get to the police station.” His jaw could have been carved in granite, ebony eyes staring straight ahead unwavering from his course. That arm was like a steel band, locking her against his rock-solid side.

Jocelyne’s heart hammered against her ribs. This man was hard, strong and determined. If he were the Seaside Strangler, she didn’t stand a chance. Nor did any other woman. The fact he was a cop, didn’t mean anything. There were such animals as renegade cops gone bad. Her instincts told her he wasn’t bad and he wasn’t the Seaside Strangler, but he also wasn’t letting go of her. The fact that he’d carried her for almost half a mile impressed her. Not that she’d admit it to him.

A pretty young blonde stepped out of the beauty shop and waved at the man whose hand gripped dangerously close to Jocelyne’s breast. “Hi, Andrei.” Her face crinkled into a pout, her gaze narrowing at the hand around Jocelyne’s waist. “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Sorry. Something’s come up. I have to work.” He passed her with little more than a glance, hurrying on to the stately brick building that housed not only the police station, but the jail and courthouse.

All along Main Street, Jocelyne reminded herself that the victim of the Seaside Strangler took precedence over her own embarrassed sensibilities. She could suffer through the inconvenience. Humiliation was a better alternative to what happened to that girl in the waves.

Once inside the building, Andrei settled her into a chair, with surprising gentleness. “Are you going to be okay?”

She inhaled the musky scent of male sweat, mingled with a hint of aftershave, and gulped. When he was being nice, he was almost handsome and sexy in his damp clothes, his thighs bulging from beneath his running shorts. “I’m fine,” she lied. “It was just the shock.” Seeing a body on the rocks, on top of being hungry and pregnant had caused her to black out. Having him stand so close, leaning all his bronzed muscles into her vision, just made her dizzier.

He stared hard at her, his brows drawing together. Had he read her mind? Could he see her reluctant attraction to him? Did he think less of her because she was pregnant and unmarried? She leaned back in her chair, determined to distance herself from him. Why should she care what he thought?

Her hand moved to the swell beneath her shirt. Because she kept in shape and had gained so little weight, she didn’t look very pregnant…yet. As the next few weeks passed, her condition would only become more apparent.

“What’s going on?” A bald man perhaps in his midfifties stepped through an open doorway, a coffee mug in one hand.

The man named Andrei straightened, his face drawn and tight. “Captain, I think we found Angela Wheeler.”

The captain’s gaze locked with Andrei’s for a moment, then he sighed. “Where?”

“Washed up on the rocks below the cliffs north of town.”

“Sure it wasn’t the mayor’s daughter?”

Andrei shook his head. “From where I stood, she looked tall, maybe five foot nine or ten. Camille was only five-four, right?”

“That’s right.” The captain nodded. “When did you find her?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t have a chance to get a positive ID, but she had the long blond hair and looked to be tall and thin like the girl in the picture Angela’s parents circulated.”

“Damn.” The older man turned toward the desk. “Joe, get the county coroner on the phone and send a squad car out to the cliffs north of town, we have another homicide.” When he faced Andrei again, he asked, “Same MO?”

Andrei nodded. “White dress, washed up on shore.”

“We’ll get the state crime lab right out there.” He shook his head. “This has got to stop. People can’t feel safe in their homes or let their daughters out without being afraid of that maniac.”

Andrei’s hands tightened into fists. “We have to find him.”

The captain laid a hand on Andrei’s arm. “Sorry. I know what this means to you and I know how hard you’ve worked this case.”

As the outsider looking in, Jocelyne didn’t know what a stranger’s death meant to the man who’d held her captive all the way back to town. By the whiteness of his fisted hands, she’d have to guess that it meant a lot.

Holding the coffee mug in one hand, the captain clutched the other hand to his gut. “This case is giving me an ulcer.” He dug in his pocket and unearthed a roll of antacids, popping one into his mouth. He chewed and then washed it down with the last of the coffee.

Jocelyne cringed. “You know, if you cut back on the coffee and high-fat foods and go on a regimen of mastic gum, that ulcer might go away.”

The man turned to Jocelyne, as if seeing her for the first time. “You think so? I’d give up my right arm to make my stomach feel better.” He stared down into his mug, then up at her. “Who are you?”

She stuck out her hand. “Jocelyne Baker. I’m a holistic healer. You know…natural cures versus surgery and drug company medications.”

“Captain Patrick Swanson.” The older man’s brows rose. “Mastic gum? Where do I find that?”

“At any health food store or you can get it from me. I keep a stock of natural products and herbs. It’s my business.” She waited for the usual frown to appear on the man’s face, but was surprised when he smiled.

“If you could fix me up with something to cure this pain in my gut, I’d be forever grateful.” He rubbed his belly and groaned. “This case isn’t helping.”

“I’ll have some mastic gum capsules to you before the end of the day. Just as soon as I dig some out of my packing boxes.”

“Great.” Captain Swanson glanced at Andrei, his face drawn and showing his age. “For now, we have a murder to solve, don’t we?”

Jocelyne took the opportunity to escape while Andrei wasn’t physically stopping her. “If you don’t need me anymore, I’ll be on my way.”

The captain redirected his attention to her. “I’ll have questions for you later, after we recover the body. You don’t have plans to leave town, do you?”

“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.

Leah poked her head through the swinging door. “Better hurry with the food. The natives are restless.”

“You’re busy, let me help you get this food out before your customers start shouting.” He lifted a tray of scrambled eggs and the basket of biscuits and left the room through the swinging doors.

More intrigued than she cared to admit, Jocelyne grabbed the pancakes out of the warmer and the tray of condiments and followed. What had he found and why come to her?

ANDREI STOOD BACK WHILE Jocelyne arranged the food on the buffet, placing serving spoons and spatulas within easy reach. He admired her smooth efficiency and easy smile for the guests, finding himself envious of her attention.

The customers waited patiently in line until she’d finished. Andrei, with less patience than the hungry patrons, stood by the kitchen door, arms crossed over his chest, his toe tapping the wood flooring of the elegant old house. He’d been here for breakfast on one or two occasions, but he wasn’t here about food. He was here on business. Although the scent of bacon and pancakes were making his mouth water.

Finally, Jocelyne stood back and announced, “Help yourselves.” With that she grabbed her hot pads and hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the pretty blond worker to fill glasses.

Andrei held the door for her and as soon as it closed behind them, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Are you familiar with a plant called henbane?”

Jocelyne reached for the color picture of an ordinary-looking plant. “A little. I know that it’s dangerous. A person can die if given a lethal quantity. The pagans used it in Medieval Europe as a painkiller and sometimes as a poison….” She glanced up at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you know of anyone who might have access to it?”

Her brows drew together and her teeth chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s not something you can find easily in the States—” Jocelyne froze, her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No way. She wouldn’t.”

“Who wouldn’t what?”

She spun on her heels and flew toward a door at the opposite end of the kitchen, flinging it wide to reveal the entrance to a lower level beneath the house. Before he could stop her, she was racing down the steps into the darkness.

For a split second, panic seized Andrei’s chest and he rushed for the doorway, staring down into pitch black. A light flickered below and Jocelyne’s silhouette appeared.

“Wait.” He took the steps two at a time, catching the bottom step with the edge of his heel, stumbling before he could right himself.

The innkeeper’s red-haired daughter was nowhere in sight, but her footsteps echoed against the damp walls.

In the back corner of the sprawling subterranean room were long tables stretched out beneath fluorescent lights. Jocelyne hurried along the rows of greenery flourishing in the underground greenhouse.

Was she on to something? Had she found his source of the drug used on the four victims of the Seaside Strangler? Andrei hurried to catch up to her.

When she stopped before one plant, her face turned an alarming shade of white. “This is it…” Her voice came out in a whisper and she handed him the sheet of paper, pointing to the plant that was the exact replica of the picture he’d pulled from the Internet. “This is henbane.”

“Well, Ms. Baker. Seems we have a problem.”

“Oh, Mom, why do you have such a dangerous plant?” The self-assured and self-proclaimed independent woman, who’d had Andrei scratching his head since he’d met her, turned a sickly pale green and sank toward the floor in a dead faint.

Chapter Four

Strong, warm arms held her against a solid wall of muscles. Seems she’d been here before. Jocelyne opened her eyes and stared up into dark brown eyes, hooded in the shadows of the overhead lights. “Did I do it again?”

“Uh-huh.” He pushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “You’re not such a good advertisement for a holistic healer.”

“Shut up.” She pushed away from him and attempted to stand. Her knees refused to hold her weight and she fell back into Andrei’s lap. Despite the coolness of the basement’s musty interior, her cheeks heated. “My blood sugar must be low.” Only a healthy breakfast and maybe some dry toast would make her better.

He set her to the side on the cool stone flooring and rose to his feet, extending a hand to her. “How many months along are you?”

In one swift tug, he had her up on her feet.

The rush of air in her face and blood to her legs made her stagger and fall against his chest. “What business is it of yours?”

“A man kinda likes to know a few details when the woman with him faints into his arms. Twice.”

Jocelyne pushed away from him and smoothed a hand over the baby growing inside. “Six months. I’m six months along.”

“And the father?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” And the bad thing was that he really did look sorry. The grow lights cast a reflection in his dark eyes, turning them to glowing ink.

“Me, too.” She’d just discovered she was pregnant the day before he’d been killed in a subway accident. They’d only been engaged for one night. Before she found out she was pregnant, she’d been considering moving out because the spark wasn’t there anymore for her. Had there ever really been a spark, or had she settled for companionship over coming home to an empty room?

“Jocelyne?” Andrei bent and peered into her face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She pushed a stray hair out of her face, sweeping aside six-month-old memories with the wave of her hand. “Yes, yes. I’m all right.”

His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her, but he straightened and stared back toward the corner lit by the grow lamps. “Unless you know of another local source of that plant, I’d venture to guess that someone has been harvesting from this garden to drug the victims.”

Jocelyne stared at the lighted corner, uncontrollable cold overwhelming her body, almost as if a hideous creature lurked in the dark corners poised to crawl out after unsuspecting young women. She used to play hide-and-seek down here. Now all she could think of was the monster who could have been sneaking in to steal her mother’s herbs. A shiver shook her so hard, her teeth rattled. “You don’t think my mother’s capable of murder, do you?”

Andrei shook his head. “The victims were all strangled. It takes a lot of strength to strangle someone and then load them into a boat.”

“My mother is strong.” She didn’t know why she was giving him reasons to suspect her mother. The townsfolk already thought Hazel was a nutcase. Had she crossed the line of mild mannered to murderer?

“But she probably doesn’t have the strength it takes to lift a body. No, she’s not the killer, although it doesn’t take a lot of strength to be an accomplice.”

“As much as my mother loves this town, I can’t see her hurting anyone in it. If she is an accomplice to murder, she probably doesn’t know it.”

“Based on our brief acquaintance, I don’t think your mother has it in her to hurt others.”

He strode the full length of the basement level, studying the steps and the small windows positioned high on the walls that were on ground level from the outside. Very little light leached in through the dirty panes, casting a hazy glow two to three feet out from the glass. “Is there any other way in or out of here, besides the steps coming down from the kitchen?”

“No.” Jocelyne followed Andrei, her head reeling with the possibilities. “As big as the basement is, it only has the one set of steps down into it.”

“I don’t think a grown man could crawl in and out of the windows, but I’ll have a look at them from the outside.”

“So, you think someone has been sneaking down here stealing my mother’s herbs?” She leaned on a sturdy wood floor joist attempting a casual pose, when all she really needed was something to hold her up from the bombardment of frightening thoughts bearing down on her. “Who?”

“Good question. Does your mother lock the basement door?” Andrei stood with his back to the steps leading up to the kitchen.

“Only at night. It’s left open during the day. We keep extra supplies and spices down here.” She pointed to a shelf near the staircase stacked neatly with linens, pantry staples and bins of potatoes, carrots and onions. “Anyone could come down here.”

Andrei scanned the contents briefly before his glance shifted back to the staircase. “We’ll need to make a list of people who frequent the inn.”

“Besides the tourists, there are quite a few Raven’s Cliff residents who come here on a regular basis, not to mention the boarders who live here at the inn.” She reached around him for a pad of paper kept on the shelf. Caught up in trying to remember every person who could have come down these steps, she didn’t realize how close she’d come to the cop. As her hand closed around the pad, her breast bumped into the man’s rock-solid chest, sending what could only be described as an electric jolt through her system.

Startled by her reaction, Jocelyne jumped back, the pad clattering to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll just—” She bent to retrieve the pad, her cheeks burning, but Andrei’s hand was there first and she touched the back of his long, sturdy fingers. Another shock raced through her hand up into her arm and she lurched backward into a stack of baskets, sending them toppling over onto the stone floor. When her foot hooked a basket handle she pitched forward, landing hard against the person she’d been struggling to get away from.

Andrei caught her, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Are you always this nervous around men?”

“No.” Not men. Just you. What was it about Andrei Lagios that had her flustered so badly she was either fighting mad, passing out or panting? Whatever it was, it had to stop. She wasn’t interested in this or any man for that matter. Heck, she was six months pregnant and probably looked like she’d swallowed a basketball. What man would be attracted to that?

Jocelyne squared her shoulders and stepped free of Andrei’s hands. “I’ll make that list for you. Upstairs.”

When she emerged from the darkened staircase into the well-lit kitchen, she inhaled the fresh, reassuring scent of biscuits, cleansing her senses of the cobwebs of the basement and the confusion of stumbling into the cop. For several long moments she stood breathing in and out until she had her body and mind calm and in control.

A strong hand on her arm sent all her control flying out the window. “You need to eat something before you pass out again.”

“I will, just as soon as I jot down the names of the people I can remember.”

“Tell you what.” He led her to the table and urged her into a chair. “You sit. I’ll get you a plate of food while you write that list. Then you can tell me all about it while you eat.”

Before she could protest, the door swung closed behind the infuriating man.

Jocelyne could take care of herself. She didn’t need a man waiting on her or treating her like she was fragile or unable to fend for herself. She was an expectant mother and soon would have a baby to look after. She’d darn well better get tough to take care of her child. Pulling her thoughts out of the dining room, where Andrei gathered food, she set a pen to the paper and wrote.

In a few minutes, she had half a page of names. All people she knew or had grown up with. The acids roiled in her empty belly, a sinking feeling killing her appetite. Was the Seaside Strangler one of them?

Her hand hovered over the names of people she knew who frequented the inn. By the time Andrei returned with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast and set it down beside her, she’d finished, the effort exhausting her more than she wanted to admit.

Andrei leaned over her shoulder and peered down at the list.

His proximity made her nerves jangle. The thought of a killer amongst them, coupled with a hunky cop hanging over her shoulder, gave her a panic attack that threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed back, bumping into Andrei as she rose. “I need to finish with the breakfast crowd.”

Andrei handed her the plate. “Take the food with you. You need to eat.” When she took the plate, his hand fell to her arm. “Let’s keep this between the two of us. The less people who know about the henbane the better chance we have of finding our killer.”

“What about my mother?”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone, including her.”

She nodded, her stomach knotting into a tight clench. If she didn’t get some food in her empty stomach, she’d embarrass herself in front of him.

“Eat. We’ll talk later.” He dropped his hand from her arm and left the kitchen through the back door.

ANDREI STRODE INTO THE RCPD half an hour later, a scowl marring his brow. “Captain!”

“In here!” Captain Swanson shouted from inside his office.

Without acknowledging the other policemen scattered around the building, Andrei made a beeline for the captain, entering his office without waiting to be invited. After he closed the door behind him, he paced in front of his supervisor’s desk. “I found the source.”

The captain leaned forward. “So soon?”

“Hazel Baker has an herb garden in the basement of Cliffside Inn.” Andrei stopped pacing and faced him. “Henbane is one of the herbs she grows in that garden.”

“Hazel Baker.” Captain Swanson leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Half the town thinks she’s crazy, but she can’t be the killer. Our only surviving victim identified the Seaside Strangler as definitely male.”

She had been the intended second victim of the Seaside Strangler but, fortunate for her, she escaped.

“That’s right. However the basement isn’t locked during the day. Anyone with knowledge of the hallucinogenic qualities of the henbane could have stolen leaves from that plant.”

“Question is who?” The captain pinched the bridge of his nose.

Andrei pulled a folded piece of paper from his front breast pocket and tossed it on the desk. “That’s a list of people who frequent the inn and the reasons they do, along with the current residents. We need to interview every one of them and get their whereabouts on the nights of Angela’s, Cora’s and my sister’s disappearances. And we need to canvass the staff.”

Just the thought of his sister, Sofia, caused a surge of anger and pain to well up inAndrei’s throat. He swallowed hard past the knot of emotion, the backs of his eyelids burning. Even if he’d wanted to continue, he couldn’t. Instead he grappled with the grief and impotent fury, his fists clenched with the need to kill the man who’d taken the life of his sweet little sister.

Swanson stared down at the list and whistled. “This is a pretty comprehensive list. We’ll get started on the interviews right away. I’ll have Mitch Chapman go after the two boarders, the fisherman Alex Gibson and Assistant DA Grant Bridges. Grant won’t be happy, but too bad. I’ll take Mayor Wells and his assistant, Rick Simpson, myself. They’re touchy about everything since Perry admitted to taking illegal bribes. Not to mention his acquittal in Theodore Fisher’s murder.” Captain Swanson snorted. “Hard to believe a public servant in his position would be so low.”

“Unfortunately, it happens all too often. But I know what you mean. It’s disappointing when an elected official, responsible for upholding the laws, not only bends but breaks them.”

“It gives people the impression that politicians think they’re above the law.” For a long moment the captain stared at the list. When he looked up at Andrei, a steely glint shone in his eyes. “This is the first real lead we’ve had in this case. This could be the break we need.” He smacked his palm to the desk.

Andrei nodded.

“I want you to become a permanent fixture inside Cliffside Inn. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to find out who’s been stealing the plant and nail him.”

The potential for action cleared the blockage in Andrei’s throat, his blood humming in anticipation of capturing the bastard who’d killed Sofia. “Any suggestions on how I’ll hang out at the inn without alerting whoever it is to the fact I’m on to him? Send a cop in there and he’ll back off.”

The captain planted his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers, his brows dipping low. For two long minutes he sat without speaking.

Ready to rush out and shake the truth out of people, Andrei had to put a cap on his aggression. Instead of marching down to the inn and blowing any chance of making this work, he turned and resumed pacing the length of the office. How could he get inside without tipping off the murderer? For that matter, how could he stay away? There were other women at risk at the inn should the killer strike again.

An image of the beautiful Jocelyne appeared in his head. He could still feel the warmth of her breast pressed against his chest. He was surprised a line hadn’t formed outside the inn. A line of men ready to date the pretty redhead. Her pregnancy was only just beginning to show and, on her trim, lithe body, it made her all the sexier.

Captain Swanson pushed his chair back and stood so fast, the chair rolled away and crashed into the wall. “I’ve got it!”

Andrei stared at the police captain. “Got what?”

“The answer to how you’ll get inside the inn without arousing suspicion.” The captain’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You already know Hazel’s daughter, Jocelyne, don’t you?”

“I only met her yesterday when we discovered Angela’s body.” Andrei shook his head. “Why?”

The older man waved his hand as if encouraging Andrei to find the answer. “She’s single, isn’t she?”

“So?”

The police captain snorted. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Please do.”

A grin stretched across Swanson’s face. “In order to get inside the inn without arousing suspicion, you can pretend to be Miss Baker’s new boyfriend.”

“Do what?”

The captain’s grin slipped into a frown. “You heard me. You’ll pretend to be Jocelyne Baker’s boyfriend. That way you have every reason in the world to be at the inn…at all hours.” A single brow rose over his eye. “Get my drift?”

Oh, he got it all too well. Andrei could already tell how the charade would go over with the independent Miss Baker. “Assuming she goes for this charade, it doesn’t solve the fact that I’m a cop. With a police officer hanging around, the murderer will play it safe and avoid anything that draws attention to himself.”

The captain’s grin slipped and he scratched his chin for another minute, then his smile returned. “I have the solution to that problem as well.”

“You do?” Even before his superior clued him in, Andrei’s stomach twisted. “I get the feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“Sure you will.” Swanson rounded the desk and slapped his hand against Andrei’s shoulder. “Seeing as you’ve been somewhat of a renegade, what with bringing all that Bronx attitude with you to our small town…you and I had a falling-out.”

“I am? We did?” He knew he’d been a bear to get along with since his sister’s death, but going against his captain? Okay, so maybe he had been in his face once or twice.

“That being the case, Officer Lagios…” Swanson rocked back on his heels, the corners of his mouth tipping upward. “You’re fired.”

“I’m what?” Andrei staggered backward and stared at his boss as though the older man had lost his mind. Even the thought of being fired made him burn all over.

“If you’re going to spend time at the inn, it has to be solely on the basis of your relationship with the Baker woman, not as a cop.” The captain spread his hands wide. “You’re fired. Problem solved.”

Andrei could see the idea had merit. Still, he’d never been fired from a job. “Unfortunately, you’re making sense, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not really going to fire you. But we have to make it look real enough the entire town buys it. You can’t tell a soul, other than Jocelyne.”

Andrei shook his head. “What about my family?” They wouldn’t be happy.

“Especially not your family. It has to be convincing. We have to make it look like you and I had a major difference of opinion. We can’t have the murderer thinking you’re still on the payroll.”

“I don’t know.” The thought of lying to his family didn’t sit well with Andrei. They’d already been through so much because of him. Moving from the Bronx to Raven’s Cliff had been his idea. Had they stayed in the Bronx, his sister would still be alive, not just another name on the growing list of the Seaside Strangler’s victims.

“If you can think of another way to keep an eye on that inn and that plant, you let me know. In the meantime, you’re fired. Turn in your weapon.” The captain held out his hand.

“You’re taking my gun?” The sinking feeling only got deeper as he handed over the gun to Swanson. His family would be devastated. They were counting on him to bring the Seaside Strangler to justice. Getting fired from the police force would seem like he’d failed yet again.

“I know you have guns of your own. Now, make it look like you’re upset. Yell a little, do something rash. I know you’ve wanted to throw something at me on more than one occasion.” The captain placed a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, Andrei, this is the only way.”

“You’re assuming a lot if you think Jocelyne Baker is going to just go along with this.”

“You’re good with the ladies. I’m sure you’ll manage. Now, yell.”

Andrei inhaled and let out a long breath. So be it. He drew in a deep breath and summoned all the anger he’d bottled inside over the senseless deaths of the young women thus far claimed by the Seaside Strangler and let it loose on a man he had nothing but respect for.

Captain Swanson handed him a wooden chair. “Go for it.”

His breaths rasping in and out of his lungs, Andrei raised the chair and slammed it against the wall. Let the games begin. “You can’t fire me! I quit!”

Chapter Five

At first she thought the odor might be something rotting on the shore nearby, but as the nasty smell grew stronger, permeating the air of Cliffside Inn, Jocelyne’s sensitive nose wrinkled. With her stomach burbling and threatening to upend, she pushed away from her computer and descended the curved staircase to the first floor of the inn.

Having missed lunch, every one of her senses seemed on heightened alert, her olfactory nerves especially. When she rounded the corner to the expansive living area, a man dressed in rubber boots and wreaking of fish, bumped into her.

“Pardon me,” he said, keeping his head down, barely meeting her gaze. An intense pair of bright blue eyes flashed up at her and back down again. He had to be around thirty, but the harsh weather and sun had leathered his skin and emphasized the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Alex Gibson was one of her mother’s boarders, a quiet solitary man who’d moved to Raven’s Cliff during Jocelyne’s long absence.

“Morning, Mr. Gibson. I’m looking for my mother. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

“No, no. I haven’t.” He moved around her as though he was in a hurry and didn’t have time for casual conversation. As he rushed past, he darted a look back at her, his face reddening when he caught her staring.

Strange man. Somewhat attractive, but too reclusive. Dismissing Alex with a shake of her head, Jocelyne continued her search for her mother and the source of the stench.

“Mom?” Jocelyne wound her way through the elegant mansion, filled with antiques from a bygone era of opulence. Finding no sign of her mother in the meticulously clean modernized kitchen, she noted that the door to the cellar stood open, the stench wafting upward from the stairwell.

Jocelyne grabbed a paper towel and pressed it to her nose, fighting the rise of nausea, a band of annoyance tightening her gut. A tiny foot kicked the inside of her uterus in protest. With a hand pressed to the gentle swell of her belly, she moved down the steps into the basement. What was her mother up to now? “Mom?”

“Down here, dear,” Hazel Baker called out.

As she descended into the basement, the thought that someone creepy had slipped down here to steal leaves from the henbane plant sent shivers of fear over her. What had once been an exciting place to play hide-and-seek now gave her the heebie-jeebies with images of spiderwebs, monsters and shadowy creatures taunting her healthy imagination. Not until she reached the bottom of the stairs did she remember to breathe.

In the far corner, the fluorescent lighting glowed over long tables lined with every kind of herb and plant imaginable. Her mother carefully cultivated the herbs for her homeopathic remedies to common ailments. Jocelyne was familiar with most of them, but she preferred to do her herb gardening in the outside greenhouse, not the basement. She’d inventoried her own plants, but she wasn’t sure what her mother kept below the inn, besides the henbane.

The enormous old mansion had been converted to a boarding-house and inn over a half century ago, with a low-ceiling basement running the full length. Floor joists and massive timbers held the rest of the three-story structure aloft, with the structural beams breaking up the space every sixteen feet.

Dried herbs hung from nails on beams, baskets littered the floor and shelves lined the walls. Everywhere she looked were plastic containers, leather pouches and ceramic pots filled with things even Jocelyne didn’t dare to inquire about.

Her mother knew what was in each pot, pan, tub and sack. With the utmost care, she stored the herbs and ingredients she used in her decoctions for spells, potions and remedies.

“Back here. I’m in the middle of something.” Across the floor, Hazel Baker’s shimmering green-and-purple blouse and matching skirt reflected the light shining over an open book. Gold bangles dangled from her wrists, clinking with each movement of her arms and hands.

Her mother was most likely working on a potion or brew she planned to use on a member of the community, or worse, as a basis for a spell. Many of her vile-smelling concoctions managed to turn Jocelyne’s stomach. Not a good thing for a pregnant woman.

As she fought the bile rising in her she wondered why she’d thought her mother might have changed. For over four decades, Hazel Baker had been a firm believer in all things Wicca, practicing the ancient pagan religion for the good of her body and her community, even if it cost her daughter dearly. Jocelyne sighed. “Remedy or potion?”

“Potion.”

“Mom, I thought you said you’d quit making potions.”

“I can’t, honey.” She glanced at the page in the book and then added ingredients to a cauldron of murky liquid, bubbling over a small gas stove, set against the wall. “Raven’s Cliff needs me.”

“Why?”

Hazel turned back to the ancient book, passed down to her by her mother, and lifted a yellowed page, laying it over gently. The Book of Shadows had been lovingly cared for by generations of women from her mother’s family. “I know you don’t like it when I practice my faith, but you have to understand.” She gripped the corners of the book, her fingers turning white with the force, her normally happy face paling as she spoke. “There’s evil here. I can feel it in my bones, in my skin, in the air I breathe.” She faced her daughter, her dark-green eyes glowing with the intensity of her conviction.

A chill snaked across Jocelyne’s skin and the muscles in the back of her neck tightened. She understood evil and bad omens. She’d been cursed with them for as long as she could remember. That didn’t make it right to publicly acknowledge evil’s existence. Nor to get everyone in town up in arms over something that might be nonexistent.

She shook her head from side to side. “Mom, there’s evil everywhere, but there’s also good. You shouldn’t dwell on the bad.” How many times had she told herself the same thing? Did she really adhere to her own words, or was it just lip service?

“I know, I know. But I can’t let the evil continue to eat at the very foundation of Raven’s Cliff. Too many horrible things have happened already.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to whip up something incredibly nauseating to cure what ails this community.” Jocelyne pressed the paper towel to her nose and breathed, the stench finding its way through the layers of absorbent paper.

“I have to cure the curse.”

“Mom, you’re blowing this whole curse thing way out of proportion.”

“Then how do you explain the Seaside Strangler? After the lighthouse burned, he struck that very next day, taking poor Rebecca Johnson. He tried to kill his second victim, but she got away before he could. Then he killed Cora McDonald and Sofia Lagios. All of them strangled with a seashell necklace.”

The name hit Jocelyne full in the gut. “Did you say Lagios?” She laid a hand on her mother’s arm. “Was she any relation to Andrei Lagios?”

Her mother nodded, her eyes filling. “His little sister. She and her friend were murdered not too long ago on the night of their prom. Horrible tragedy.”

So that explained Andrei’s burning desire to catch the killer at all costs. Sorrow washed over Jocelyne, filling her chest with a deep ache. Andrei was still in mourning for his sister.

Being gone for ten years, she’d apparently missed more than the usual small town gossip.

“You see, I have to break this curse so that the town can finally live in peace.”

“Mom, one potion won’t cure a town of evil.”

“I’m pulling out the strongest potions and spells in my Book of Shadows. I’ll find the cure, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Aren’t you worried the townspeople will just make fun of you? You know what they think about your beliefs.”

Her mother’s brows dipped deeper. “And what do you think?”

Jocelyne held her tongue. She’d only been back a few days, back to mend fences and find resolution with her past. Her purpose was not to accuse her mother of being a nutcase ready for a one-way ticket to the loony bin with her very own monogrammed straitjacket. No matter what her mother believed or what she did, at her core, she meant well and strove to help others find peace and contentment.

Contentment. An elusive state Jocelyne had yet to achieve. She’d run away from Raven’s Cliff in search of herself and peace of mind. That she was back spoke of her failure.

If Jocelyne had learned one thing in her hiatus from her hometown, she’d learned that when life took away everything, and you felt you had nothing left, you still had family. As if reminding her of the fact, a sharp pain jabbed her ribs. “I’ll tell you what I think, Mom. I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

She rounded the worktable and picked her way over a hefty bag of potting soil, tamping down all her frustrations long enough to wrap her arms around her mother. She seemed smaller and more fragile than Jocelyne remembered from ten years ago. The vibrant red hair she’d once worn loose and wild was streaked with gray and pulled into a neat chignon at the back of her head. Her once lovely face bore smudged brown age spots. When had her mother grown old? “Please, Mom, don’t stir up trouble. I couldn’t bear to see you laughed at.”

Her mother pushed her to arm’s length, her hands gripping her upper arms hard enough to bruise. “Honey, I don’t give a rat’s you-know-what who laughs at me. However, I do care about this town and the people who live here. I can’t stand by and let the evil consume my home.”

Jocelyne’s belly tightened painfully. Drawing on her yoga training, she pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I know you have to do what you think is best.” Extricating herself from her mother’s grasp, Jocelyne stepped back, bumping into the bag of potting soil. “You’re going to trip over that, if you’re not careful.”

Her mother smoothed her hands down her dress, her shaky chuckle warming the damp air. “I’ll trip over it or you will?”

A smile twitched Jocelyne’s lips. “Okay. I’ll trip over it, if I’m not careful.” She stared down at the bag. “Are you using potting soil in your potion?”

“Oh, no, sweetie.” She shook her head. “Mr. Gibson brought it down the stairs for me just before you came down. I meant to tell him to stack it over by the grow lights, but my pot started to boil over about that time.” She stirred the contents of the cauldron and sniffed the brew. “Helpful man. I hate to ask, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it.” Jocelyne bent to lift the bag, but when she tried, the muscles in her sides and back protested. Just another reminder that she was pregnant and unable to do things she normally had no problems with. “Sorry, Mom, no can do. It must weigh fifty or sixty pounds.”

“That’s why I asked Mr. Gibson to carry it down, dear. It was too bulky for me to maneuver down those narrow old steps.”

“I’ll see about getting someone to move it for you.” In a minute or two. First she wanted to find out more about the comings and goings of the guests and employees of the inn. “Mom, who, besides you and Alex Gibson, comes down in this basement?”

“I’m the only one who comes down on a regular basis.” She set the spoon on the stove top and switched the burner off.

“I know you do. But does anyone else ever come down?”

“Well, let’s see.” Her mother tipped her head to the side and tapped a finger to her chin. “Leah comes to the basement for the linens that go on the dining table. She also helps me with the cooking and occasionally comes down for pantry staples and spices.” Her mother stared across the room at her. “Why do you ask?”

Jocelyne wasn’t sure what she should tell her mother. What did she say? The henbane plant in your basement might be the source of the drug used on the Seaside Strangler victims? Jocelyne decided less was better. “Just curious. Do your guests ever come down?”

“Some do. Mr. Gibson delivered the potting soil today and has come down a time or two while I’ve been mixing remedies. He’s quite interested in natural healing arts and learning more about Wicca. A veritable sponge of knowledge, that man. Other than him…I don’t recall. My boarders have additional storage in the old stables out back. Don’t worry. I keep my Book of Shadows locked in a chest when I’m not down here.” She propped her fists on her hips. “Now, my turn. Tell me about the man Leah told me helped you with breakfast this morning.”

“What do you know about Andrei?”

“Only that he’s a nice young man. Are you two seeing each other?”

Jocelyne’s face heated and she scrambled for a reason to escape. “I really should get back to my work. I have several orders to fill and mail out today.”

“So it’s okay for you to question me, but I can’t question you?” Her mother’s brows rose. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s bossy and entirely too…much of a man.” Her face burned hotter. Now was the time to turn and run.

Her mother’s quizzing look softened. “I’m glad he was there for you when you found Angela Wheeler.” Her mother crossed to her and engulfed her in a hug. “I love you, Josie. Don’t ever forget that. Now, go get something to eat. I won’t have you starving my granddaughter.”

Jocelyne blinked back tears, amazed at how emotional she’d been throughout her pregnancy. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

Her mother turned back to her potion, casting a mysterious look over her shoulder. “I have my ways.”

When Jocelyne reached the top of the basement stairs, Leah met her with a note in her hand. “There you are.” She handed her the paper. “Andrei Lagios called while you were down there. He wants to meet you at The Cove Café at six.”

A flood of heat thrilled through her system as she clasped the note in her hand. “Thanks, Leah.”

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