HE EXPECTED SMALL-TOWN POLICE WORK TO BE DULL…AND THEN SHE CAME BACK TO TOWN

Columbella House, a crumbling Victorian mansion on the coast, is packed with secrets and danger. Now it all belongs to Mia St. Regis. For police chief Dylan Reese, the return of the beautiful heiress rekindles an old attraction, one he thought ended long ago. Before he can focus on their past, though, Mia’s reappearance rouses a killer, someone who’s made her the ultimate—and most prized—target. Dylan knows keeping Mia safe is part of the job. Yet the image of an elusive enemy getting anywhere near her challenges his sworn vow to uphold the law—and stirs something all too personal inside by-the-book Dylan.…

Dylan cocked his head. “Listen.”

Amid the waves crashing on the rocks came the tinny sound of a ringing phone. He took two steps closer to the low metal barrier around the edge of the overlook. “Dial again.”

With a shaky finger Mia punched the button to redial. The phone rang again, the ocean breeze snatching the sound so that it seemed to surround her.

Dylan dropped to his knees, skimming the light from his flashlight along the ledge of rock. “It’s there, just below the ledge.”

He flattened to his belly and army-crawled toward the edge.

The knots that had been forming in Mia’s stomach the minute she heard the disembodied phone ringing cinched tighter. “Be careful.”

Dylan scooted forward another few inches and then swore.

Clutching her sweater around her trembling body, Mia shuffled to the edge of the precipice. “What is it, Dylan?”

Her gaze followed the beam of his light as it tripped down the vicious rocks. White foam rushed in and swirled around the rocks and something else…a body.

Deception

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dylan Reese—Coral Cove’s new police chief, he swore he’d never walk in his father’s shoes. But a botched undercover assignment has driven him back to his hometown and into the orbit of the one woman he could never forget…who now needs his protection more than ever.

Mia St. Regis—The owner of Columbella House, she played a practical joke on her twin sister, Marissa, that she’s regretted ever since. Now, with the help of Dylan Reese, the man who’d always had her back, she wants to set things right with both her sister and Columbella House. But someone is determined to see her fail at both.

Marissa St. Regis—Mia’s twin sister, she took off for parts unknown when Mia tricked her out of Columbella House. Is she still holding a grudge or is her continued absence a sign of something more sinister?

Peter Casellas—Mia’s soon-to-be ex-husband was fine with the terms of their sham marriage, but now he’s in financial trouble and he wants Mia to pay…and pay big.

Kayla Rutherford—The result of Marissa St. Regis’s secret teen pregnancy, Kayla wants what’s rightfully hers, even if she has to take it.

Tyler Davis—The mayor of Coral Cove always wants what’s best for his small town, and he’ll do anything to protect its image.

Linda Davis—The mayor’s wife has a vested interest in Mia’s decision about Columbella House, but is her interest purely civic-minded or does it hint at some deeper secret?

Charlie Vega—This local contractor with money problems hits the jackpot when he discovers he’s the father of a St. Regis, and he wants his slice of the action.

Tina Vega—Charlie’s wife is not happy to discover her husband has an illegitimate daughter with Marissa St. Regis. Will she take out her anger on her husband or his daughter?

For LAPD Detective Pete Wilson, who always gets the bad guys.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

Your sister is dead. The words on the screen blurred together, and Mia St. Regis slammed down the cover of the laptop to dismiss them. Why should she take the word of a ditzy psychic like Kylie Grant?

Mia stretched her arms over her head, and then slumped against the soft cushions on the love seat in the corner of the coffeehouse. Of course, here she sat in Coral Cove, but it hadn’t been Kylie’s email that had prompted her return.

She had to do something with the old ancestral home, Columbella House, before it fell into the sea. Maybe she should just let it.

She swept her computer from the low table in front of her and shoved it into her bag. Shaking back her sleeve, she glanced at her watch. She still had time to check out the family manse before it got completely dark. She’d have to make arrangements to turn on the electricity and whatever else needed connecting out there.

“Bye, thanks.” As she pushed off the love seat, she waved to the barista clearing stale breakfast goodies from the glass-enclosed shelves.

The young woman peered over the top of the glass case. “Are you really going to turn Columbella House into some kind of resort?”

Mia banged her shin against the table. “Huh?”

“You’re Mia St. Regis, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” This girl had probably been in grade school the last time Mia graced the shores of Coral Cove. How the hell did she know her identity?

“The article in the Coral Cove Herald said you were coming home to turn Columbella into a beach resort. Cool.”

Mia hitched her bag over her shoulder and strode toward the counter. She must’ve looked as ornery as she felt because the young woman dropped to her heels and took a step back.

“There was an article about me in that little paper?”

The barista bit her lip and pointed an unsteady finger with black polish on the nail toward the front door of the coffeehouse. “The papers are still in the rack if you want to read the article.”

Mia spun around and zeroed in on a wire rack near the door sporting a few throwaway papers and the Coral Cove Herald. “Definitely want to read that.”

“Okay, well, have a nice night.” The young woman had backed up a few more steps and crossed her arms.

Mia’s heels clipped across the wood floor, and then she paused by the rack and slid a paper off the top of the stack. Her jaw tightened as she took in the picture of her smiling face next to an article with the headline Columbella Heiress Has Remodeling Plans.

With narrowed eyes, she squinted at the byline—Jimmy Holt. She knew that name: some journalism dweeb from high school. So much for flying in here under the radar.

Another face on the front page caught her attention—windswept hair, high, broad cheekbones, strong chin, intense stare—Dylan Reese. She scanned that headline, too—Another Chief Reese.

So Dylan had filled his father’s shoes as police chief of Coral Cove. The single ladies in town must be licking their chops over that news. In fact, she had to wipe a little drool from the corner of her own mouth. Even though Dylan had always treated her as an annoying sister, his general gorgeousness hadn’t escaped her.

She stuffed the paper in the side pocket of her laptop case and swung out the door. She’d had a long flight from New York to San Francisco that morning, and a long drive from the city down the coast to Coral Cove. But the coffee had fortified her and she wanted a look at the old place before the darkness descended. She even had a flashlight for the occasion.

Standing by the alley entrance where she’d parked her rental, she closed her eyes and let the cool air brush her skin. Summer nights in Coral Cove never got too warm. The humidity never got too high. She filled her lungs with the salty air and exhaled slowly.

Okay, maybe she did miss a few things about her hometown.

“Chief, Chief. Someone’s in my parking space.”

Mia’s eyes flew open and she spun around. One of the merchants on Main Street had snagged the new chief and was dragging him to his private parking space…where she’d stashed her rental car.

She strode into the alley and beeped the remote. “That’s my car.”

The chief, Dylan Reese, turned a pair of dark blue eyes on her and the temperature in Coral Cove, along with the humidity, shot up a few degrees.

“That’s my private space. You can’t park there.” The merchant waved his arms around while hopping up and down next to the chief, like a bird on hot cement.

Or maybe he just seemed so agitated because Chief Reese had a silent, still presence, like he was sizing up the situation and deciding which one of them to shoot first.

Mia slid between the two men, yanked open the back door and dropped her laptop case on the seat. “Sorry. I didn’t realize Main Street had reserved parking spots.”

The little man jabbed at a metal sign over the space that read Reserved for Owner.

“Oops, my bad.”

“Give her a ticket, Chief. She’s in violation.”

“She might be in violation…of a lot of things, but she’s moving the car now, Leon.”

Leon shook a stubby finger at her. “You may own the biggest house in town, that eyesore on the coast, but you don’t own Main Street.”

Who didn’t know her identity?

Mia raised one brow. “Not yet.”

That sent Leon sputtering and muttering back to the side entrance of his antiques store.

“Making friends and influencing people already, Mia?”

She laughed and stuck out her hand. “As usual. How are you, Dylan, or should I call you Chief?”

“Dylan or Chief is a lot better than some of the names you used to call me.” He took her hand, engulfing it in a warm, rough clasp, and pulled her in for a peck on the cheek.

A brotherly peck on the cheek.

Her gaze dropped from his handsome face, a little thinner, a little craggier than she’d remembered, and then flitted across his broad chest as it stretched the khaki material of his uniform. He looked about as good in that uniform as he’d look out of it.

He squeezed her hand harder, as if he knew her mind had wandered into dangerous territory. As she slipped her hand from his, she noticed the tail end of a tattoo peeking out of his long sleeve. Had the chief taken a trip on the wild side before settling into law enforcement like his father?

She laughed again, this time to cover the confusion she felt at his touch. Dylan always had the looks, but Mia had been friends with his twin sister, Devon, and had always valued him as a brother. She’d always wished her twin had been a brother.

Your sister is dead.

A sliver of anxiety needled her flesh, and the laugh died on her lips.

“Are you okay? I’m not going to give you a ticket for parking in Leon’s special space.”

And just like the Dylan of old, he could tune in to her feelings. “I’m fine. Lot of ghosts in this town.”

“If a ghost…or anyone else…starts getting to you, give me a holler.”

“Thanks, Chief. See you around.” She scanned the sky, streaked with orange and red. She’d need that flashlight for Columbella after all.

Dylan stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, one shoulder leaning against the brick façade of Leon’s store, watching her as she slipped into the car.

She cranked on the engine and waved. Why would anyone else in town get to her? Dylan’s words had carried an edge of warning, or the town was already casting its spell on her.

Cruising down Main Street, she glanced right and left at the new shops and restaurants. She’d picked late August to take care of business to avoid the height of the summer tourist season.

She’d also avoided quite a bit of drama over the summer, most of it occurring at Columbella House, which had given her further incentive to take some action. She hadn’t needed Kylie-the-fortune-teller’s email about her sister to make a journey to Coral Cove.

She pointed her car toward the Coast Highway, but turned right toward Columbella instead of left toward her motel. She’d lingered in the coffeehouse and on the sidewalk chatting to Dylan a little too long, and now the sun had dipped halfway into the ocean. But meeting up with Dylan had been worth it.

Chewing her lip, she squinted into the headlights of an oncoming car. She should’ve called the electric company from New York so she wouldn’t have to stumble around with a flashlight in the house. Maybe it would be better to view the house and assess the damages in the light of day…when the ghosts were sleeping.

She pinned her shoulders against the car seat. No time like the present. She’d take a quick peek and then return tomorrow.

She’d put off dealing with the eyesore, as that shopkeeper had called it, for several years. Might as well dive right in.

She took the turnoff to Coral Cove Drive and rolled down the darkened street. Since Columbella took up a huge portion of the street and no light came from the house, it cast most of the block in darkness, giving it an eerie vibe.

The Roarkes lived in Hawaii now, visiting only sporadically. A light glowed on the porch of the Girard house. Michelle had stayed on in the house after her father died. Michelle was a teacher, so maybe she was still enjoying the last few weeks of summer before school started. Lights also dotted the Vincents’ place—looked like they might be home.

Mia blew out a breath—not as deserted as she’d feared, not that she feared Columbella House. After all, most of the wacky people who had done wacky things in this house were her wacky people.

She pulled into the long driveway and cut the engine. The house had been built into the rock and a portion of it hung over the ocean. Her great-grandfather had harbored some strange notions of what an appropriate beach house should entail. Stepping out of the car, she soaked in the sound of the waves crashing below, and she could almost feel the salty sea spray on her face.

She’d put the key to the house on her key chain, which she swung around her finger as she walked up the steps. She stumbled on a portion of the crumbled porch and flicked on her flashlight, sweeping the beam of light across the entrance. Mia hunched her shoulders. Old Leon had hit the nail on the head—eyesore.

The key scraped as she shoved it into the rusty lock, the sound sending a chill zigzagging down her spine. Don’t be ridiculous. She pushed open the door and straightened that same spine, banishing the chill.

She was a St. Regis. This house belonged to her. Even the ghosts belonged to her, and she was ready to take names and kick some spirit heinie.

Stepping into the entrance hall, she bathed the walls and ceiling with the beam of her flashlight. A chandelier tinkled above her—dusty, but still a beautiful antique. The staircase twisted in front of her, and she scanned the two landings for signs of any more hanging bodies. Apparently, Columbella House had become the de rigueur place to commit suicide.

She trailed her hand along the wall and turned the corner into the sitting room. A couple of men had been killed in here a few months ago. Kieran Roarke had saved Dylan’s sister’s little boy. Where had Dylan been on that one?

Sheets covered most of the furniture. Some had slipped off here and there, and dust blanketed the exposed pieces. Wouldn’t Leon love to get his pudgy hands on this stuff?

Mia wandered into the library, and her light played over the scorched wall, a grim reminder of another death in the house. She’d known about the secret room off the library, but the house hadn’t given up all its secrets to her…or anyone.

Creeping into the hidden room, she clutched her purse to her chest. A serial killer had died in this room, one of her second cousins once or twice removed. Not removed enough. Why did this house attract all the kooks and weirdos?

A board creaked on the stairs and she spun around, dropping her flashlight. The flashlight rolled, throwing distorted shadows on the walls. Mia gulped in a few breaths and lunged for the flashlight. She scooped it up and charged into the library.

Hadn’t that sheet been covering the chair in the corner when she’d walked in here? Had that mirror been cracked?

She sped out of the library, keeping the line of light in front of her, looking neither left nor right. She glanced over her shoulder once at the spiral staircase. Something was hanging from the third-floor landing, but she had no intention of investigating.

She blew out the front door and slammed it behind her. Then she raced to her rental car and locked all the doors. Breathing heavily, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Then she laughed. She’d allowed the old place to get to her, even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t. She started the car and backed out of the driveway. What kind of lunatic visited a haunted house at night on her own, anyway? The seeds of madness in the St. Regis family must’ve sprouted in her head, too.

She careened back onto the highway and accelerated, buzzing down the window so she could breathe and think. She’d head back tomorrow and assess the condition of the house. Maybe she’d clean up a bit, and then talk to a couple of Realtors in town, starting with the mayor’s wife, Linda Davis. Mia might restore the old place to its former grandeur, or she’d demo the whole thing and start over with a modern hotel.

The car picked up speed downhill, and she pumped the brakes a few times as she hugged the curve in the road. This little rental jobby sure didn’t perform like her Lexus. She squeezed the brake pedal again, and the car barely responded. Her tires squealed as they gripped for purchase on the road, churning up gravel from the shoulder on her right, which descended to the rocky cliffs above the ocean.

As she came out of the turn, the car zoomed forward, and she jammed her foot on the brake. The car lurched and shuddered, and she gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands. It didn’t want to stop.

A turnout for a viewpoint loomed ahead, its steel guardrail acting as a barrier to the cliffs. Mia eased the wheel to the right, glancing in her rearview mirror. A car coming the other direction honked. She aimed the car toward the turnout, and it jostled as it left the smooth asphalt. Mia stomped on the parking brake and the car skidded into the wide turnout.

Her back wheels fishtailed, sending the car into a spin. The right side of the car slammed into the guardrail. The air bag exploded, pinning her against the seat and knocking the wind out of her. Mia gritted her teeth against the scraping, tearing noise of metal on metal. A shower of sparks flashed outside the passenger window.

The car heaved to a stop, but she could still hear something spinning. Her nostrils flared at the smell of burning rubber.

She pushed against the air bag, and the car tilted to the side. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the air bag and peered out the passenger window. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and she managed a small whimper.

The right side of her car was hanging over the edge, and she was looking at a sheer drop onto some vicious rocks before they tumbled into the ocean.

One more inch and she’d be getting the view of her life…the last view of her life.

Chapter Two

As he strode toward the mangled car, Dylan swore, the adrenaline pumping the words to his lips. One side of the car that had just been parked illegally in Leon’s spot, Mia’s rental car, now hung precariously over a cliff. His gaze scanned the ground—no body. So that meant Mia was still in the car…over the edge.

The radio in his car crackled—a 911 emergency call to this very spot. Someone else must’ve seen the crash.

“Mia?” He edged closer to the car and the open window, not wanting to upset its precarious balancing act.

“Dylan?” Her word came out on a sob.

“It’s going to be fine. Don’t move.”

“It’s going to go over, isn’t it? The car’s going over.”

Not if I can help it. “No. I’ll get you out of there before that happens.”

“I’m afraid to move. The air bag has me pinned down, and I don’t want to struggle against it.”

“Good idea.” He hovered over the car and lifted the door handle. “Can you unlock the door?”

“I—I think so.”

He heard a click and let out a pent-up breath.

“Someone must’ve seen you go over. Emergency vehicles are on the way.” The car rocked and a tumble of rocks slid down the side of the cliff.

But would they get here in time?

Dylan eased open the car door. The car tilted back toward him. That was a good sign.

“Unlatch your seat belt, very carefully.”

She shifted against the air bag, and the click from the seat belt sounded like a shot.

“You’re halfway there, Mia.” He shuffled closer to the car, holding his breath as if a puff could send the car hurtling over the cliff.

He tensed his muscles and slid an arm between Mia’s back and the car seat. He curled it around her waist. “Okay, I’m going to pull you out all at once. Don’t hesitate to come to me.”

Dylan braced his foot against the car and pulled Mia toward him, dislodging her from her position wedged behind the air bag.

He staggered backward, dragging her along, until he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Her soft body landed on top of him.

Then a creak ripped through the air and they both looked up in time to see the rental car slide down the cliff. Several seconds later, a crash shook the ground.

A ripple rolled through Mia’s body and Dylan clutched her closer. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Sirens wailed in the distance while black smoke rose from the explosion on the rocks. The smell of gasoline overpowered the salty air.

Mia drew in short puffs of air against his chest, sucking in his khaki shirt with each breath. His hands lingered over her hair and he wanted to smooth his palms over the silky strands, but it felt like taking advantage of her vulnerable condition.

A fire truck wheeled into the turnout, and Mia jerked up her head. Her glassy eyes reflected the revolving red lights. The wail that assaulted their ears seemed to jolt her out of her shock.

She sat upright, straddling Dylan’s hips. He didn’t mind, but she quickly took stock of her position and rolled from his body, staggering to her bare feet. Her shoes must’ve fallen off in the car.

He jumped up next to her. “Are you okay? Did you lose control of the car?”

Shaking her head, she bent over and brushed the dirt and gravel from her flowery skirt. The toes of her bare feet curled into the gritty ground. “The brakes went out on me.”

The firefighters scrambled from the truck and rushed to the edge of the overlook. Then the fire captain, Dave Melendez, peeled away and approached them. He nodded at Dylan. “Hey, Chief. Miss, is that your car?”

“That was my car, or rather the rental company’s car.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. Shaken up.” She waved a hand in Dylan’s direction. “Dyl…Chief Reese came to my rescue.”

The ambulance roared into the overlook and squealed to a stop. Dylan held up both hands to slow them down. Thank God the EMTs wouldn’t be scraping anyone off those rocks down there.

Melendez asked, “Did you see what happened, Chief?”

“No, just the aftereffects. Ms. St. Regis’s car had plowed through the guardrail and was hanging halfway over the cliff with her in it.”

The captain whistled. “You’re lucky you got out of there before it went over.”

“Thanks to the chief.” Mia rubbed her arms. “He pulled me out before it went kaplooey.”

Dylan shrugged out of his windbreaker and draped it over Mia’s shoulders. His arm followed, as she swayed forward and he clamped her body to his.

An EMT, Patrick O’Shea, charged into the group. Dylan knew him, too—one of the more interesting aspects of working in a small town.

“Sit down, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll check you out.”

Mia wrinkled her nose, probably wondering how everyone in town knew her name. “I’m fine. Just a little unsteady.”

“You have an abrasion on your chin. Did the air bag deploy?”

Mia touched her fingertips to her reddened chin. “Yes.”

“You’ll probably have some bruising on your arms, too.” O’Shea jerked his thumb toward the back of the ambulance. “Have a seat and we’ll check out your vitals.”

She took a few shuffling steps away from Dylan, and he placed his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the ambulance. He exerted a little pressure to get her to sit in the back of the ambulance since she still seemed incapable of voluntary movement.

Melendez had returned from his investigation at the edge of the lookout. “They put out the fire. Not much damage from that, but the car’s pretty smashed up.”

Mia struggled against the blood pressure cuff secured around her arm. “My purse! My laptop! My…shoes.”

“Don’t worry about that now, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll salvage what we can, right, Chief?”

“But my laptop. I have…stuff on there.”

Dylan squeezed her knee. “Once they bring up the wreckage, I’ll have a few of my guys sort through it. Not sure your laptop would survive that drop and then the explosion that followed. I hope you have a backup for all those fancy designs you create.”

“Fancy…?” She settled back on the ambulance and let the EMT finish his inventory of her vitals. “Oh, you mean my work.”

What did she mean? Did she have photos of her family on there—husband, children? He’d never bothered to ask…too busy drinking in the sight of her with her gleaming chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She had the looks to be a model herself, but not the height. She barely reached his shoulder.

“Are you about finished with the patient?” Dylan wedged his boot against the tire of the ambulance. “She needs a ride home and a good, hot meal.”

O’Shea looked up from shining a light in Mia’s eyes. “Taking this chief stuff seriously, huh, Reese?”

“I run a full-service department. You ready, Mia?”

Her eyes widened, the dilated pupils making them look even darker. “You’re going to take me back to my motel?”

“Sure. I guess your exploration of the old homestead is going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I…I guess so.”

Dylan scratched his chin. “We’ll haul the car to Ted’s Garage. Maybe he can figure out what went wrong. The rental car company’s going to demand that anyway. They’ll probably try to put the blame on you.”

She pushed off the back of the ambulance, steadier on her feet this time. “Let ’em try. I wasn’t even speeding. I started going downhill, pumped the brakes a bit and…nada…they wouldn’t work.”

“You were going downhill?” Coming from town, he thought, she should’ve been going uphill. “I’m glad I was on the road tonight.”

“Me, too.” She dipped her head and scooted off the edge of the ambulance. “Did you call 911, too?”

“No. That call had already gone in by the time I saw your car.” He waved to the fire captain. “Hey, Dave. Do you know who made the 911 call?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to check with dispatch.” He tilted his head toward the clutch of firemen peering over the edge of the cliff, now joined by four cops in uniform—Dylan’s entire on-duty squad. “Your boys are calling in for a truck and a crane. My guys will make their way down there and try to get that hunk of junk up top.”

Mia hugged herself and hunched her shoulders. “I could’ve been part of that junk.”

“But you’re not.” Dylan snaked an arm around her again, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Her lips twitched into a smile, but her brow furrowed. “Don’t worry about dinner. All my money and credit cards are probably floating in the ocean about now.”

“No problem. You can pay me back.”

“Just like the brother I never had—but really, I’m not hungry.” She slugged him in the shoulder, and he winced—not because she packed a powerful punch, but the reference to being a brother had just cut him off at the knees.

He gave her a little shove from behind toward his squad car. “Wait for me in the car…and watch where you’re walking with those bare feet.”

After consulting with the accident scene investigators and his officers, Dylan slid into the car and eyed Mia slumped in his backseat. “You could’ve sat up front, you know, so you don’t look like a suspect.”

Sitting up, she curled her fingertips into the wire mesh that separated the front seat from the back. “Wasn’t sure I was allowed next to all those gadgets.”

“I trust you.” He wheeled his squad car to the edge of the turnout. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m at the Sea View Motel.”

As he pulled onto the highway, Dylan knitted his brows. “That’s in the other direction. What were you doing on this stretch of the highway?”

“I went to the house.”

“Columbella House?”

“Is there any other?”

“It’s dark.” He adjusted his mirror. “What did you hope to find there?”

She flopped back against the seat again. “I don’t know. Just had a burning desire to see it.”

“Are the lights on out there?”

“I had a flashlight. Of course, that’s with my purse, shoes and laptop now.”

“What did you get out of the visit? Did the ghosts of past St. Regis family members clue you in on what you should do with the house?”

“No, but whatever I do is going to be a monumental feat. The place is a mess.”

Dylan swung into the parking lot of the Sea View. He’d have expected Mia to stay at one of the more luxurious hotels in town or along the coast. The Sea View was decidedly low rent.

“Oh, crud.” Mia slapped the seat. “I don’t even have a key to get into my room.”

“Stop at the front desk. I’ll vouch for you.”

They crowded into the small office and tapped the bell on the counter. Gladys Hofstedter came out of the back, and shut the door on the TV blaring behind her. Her eyes popped when she took in the occupants at the counter. “Hello, Mia, Chief Reese.”

Looked like Mia didn’t need him to vouch for her. She and Gladys were already on a first-name basis. “Hello, Gladys.” She folded her arms on the counter. “You’re not going to believe this, but the brakes on my rental car went out, and my car went off a cliff near Coral Cove Drive.”

Gladys gasped and covered her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Chief Reese got there just in time.” Mia patted his arm. “But all my stuff was in that car—purse, money, credit cards, room key.”

“Well, that’s not a problem, dear.” Gladys pulled open a drawer and fished out a key with a white tag on it. “You can have this one.”

Mia jiggled the key in her palm. “Thanks, Gladys, and don’t worry about the money. I’m good for it.”

Gladys’s plump cheeks turned pink. “I know you are, dear, and isn’t it nice to have another Chief Reese at the helm? He’s not back one month and he’s performing rescues.”

The skin on the back of Dylan’s neck prickled with heat. He knew taking Dad’s place in Coral Cove would come with its challenges, but he didn’t figure being treated like some kind of returning hero was one of them…especially since he was far from that.

Mia clenched the key in her fist and banged the counter. “Yep, I’m glad his tenure coincided with my visit.”

“Well, I’m going to get back to my show.” Gladys made a half turn toward the door that led to her living quarters. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Reaching for a small refrigerated case, Dylan said, “How about a couple of sodas?”

“You can have those on the house, Chief.” Gladys winked.

“Not allowed to take a bribe, Gladys.” Dylan shoved his hand in his pocket, drew out three crumpled bills and dropped them onto the counter. “That about do it?”

“That’s fine.” Gladys swept the money into her hand and shuffled back toward the closed door. “Have a nice evening.”

“Since you’re not hungry, how about a drink?” Dylan held out one of the bottles to Mia.

“That’ll do. Thanks.”

He gestured around the motel office. “I can’t believe every other hotel in town was booked up, what with the tourist season coming to an end.”

Mia shrugged and twisted the cap off her soda. “Almost every other hotel in town is a chain. Gladys worked for my grandparents once, and she’s trying to stay in business.”

He choked on his soda and it fizzed in his nose. Mia St. Regis had a few compassionate bones left in her body? She’d been that way as a girl, although her imperious attitude sometimes overruled her compassion. The last time he’d briefly seen her in Coral Cove, the summer her boyfriend ran off with her twin, she’d seemed…brittle. And that was even before Marissa absconded with the boyfriend.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t believe everything you read about me. I thought you knew me better than that.”

He held open the door for her and inhaled her expensive perfume as she brushed past him. “I used to know you.”

“I’m the same old Mia.”

He followed the sway of her hips and the swirl of her skirt around her thighs as she strolled outside. She perched on the seawall and crossed her legs, swinging one slim stem back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm.

He straddled the wall and took another swig of soda. The sea breeze tossed Mia’s dark hair and carried a hint of jasmine from the untidy bushes that scrambled along the base of the seawall. For the first time in a long time, knots unraveled in his shoulders and his jaw didn’t ache from tension.

She pointed the neck of her bottle at the ocean, a deep, inky-blue relieved by lines of whitecaps on the horizon. “This is another reason why I wanted to stay here. Can’t beat this view, and you don’t have to share it with a patio full of drunks like you do at the ritzy places down the coast.”

“Are you going to turn Columbella House into another hotel with patios for drunks?”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.”

“Holt shouldn’t have written that article in the Herald about you. It got some people riled up.”

She took a sip of soda, and he tried not to fixate on the way her lips wrapped around the bottle.

“So what is it the good residents of Coral Cove want me to do with Columbella House?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Depends on who you ask. Some of the younger people and new business owners would like to see you turn the property into a resort. A lot of the older folks want to see the house restored to its former glory and the land untouched.”

“I guess nobody’s in favor of me just pushing the whole damned thing into the sea, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He stretched his legs in front of him. “I could name a few people who’d like to see the place disappear.”

“And you?” She tapped his boot with her toe. “Do you have a preference?”

“It has been a magnet for crime lately, but whatever you decide is fine with me. It’s your place.”

“Not yet it isn’t.”

The loud, male voice cut through the night air. Mia scrambled to her feet, gasping.

Instinct had Dylan’s hand hovering over his holster.

The owner of the voice, an angular man of medium height, stepped into the splash of light Gladys had rigged above the path to the seawall, and Mia stiffened beside Dylan, every fiber of her body vibrating like an electric power line.

“What the hell are you doing here? Following me across the country isn’t going to change my mind.”

“Just want to make sure I get a piece of what’s rightfully mine.”

“You already got that.”

Everything in Mia’s stance and voice screamed anxiety…fear. Dylan faced the intruder, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who is this man, Mia?”

The man turned his sneering face toward Dylan. “Oh, is this the lawman you were always pining for?”

A muscle ticked in Dylan’s jaw, and he took a step forward. “Mia?”

“Th-this is my husband.”

Chapter Three

Her admission had Dylan expanding his muscles even more until she thought his shirt would rip off his back Incredible Hulk style.

“Ex-husband.”

Peter flashed his white teeth in a smile that looked more like a snarl. “Not yet, cupcake. I haven’t signed those papers.”

She squared off against him, digging her toes into the dirt, wishing she had on her high heels. “You’d better get to it then, Peter, or else you’ll wind up with nothing.”

“We’ll see about that. My attorney’s working on a big surprise for you.”

Dylan stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Peter. She’d rather stare at Dylan’s broad back than Peter’s weasel face, any day.

“Get moving.”

Mia had heard that tone from Dylan before, and it brooked no argument, but this time it carried an edge of…violence. She shivered at the distinct chill in the air.

“Wh-what are you going to arrest me for, Sheriff? I’m just enjoying the night air like you two.”

Peter had tried to keep the sneer in his voice, but he definitely must’ve felt the chill, too, his words almost ending in a plea.

“Trespassing. This is private property.”

“How do you know I didn’t just book a room here?”

“Because Mia booked all the vacant rooms for privacy.” Dylan took another step forward and placed his hand on the butt of his gun. “Get lost.”

“Ooh, what are you going to do, shoot me for trespassing?”

Something in Dylan’s face must’ve given Peter the idea he just might. He spun around on his expensive shoes and called over his shoulder, “This isn’t over, Mia.”

She poked her head around Dylan’s impressive frame and heaved a sigh when she saw the last of Peter round the corner. “Thank you.”

Then she sucked in another breath and held it as she stared at Dylan’s straight back. What would he think about her marriage, especially once he knew the reason behind it?

He turned toward her, his blue eyes dark and unreadable, his expression slightly amused. “How’d you wind up married to a tool like that?”

She coughed, her hand covering her mouth and hiding her smile. Leave it to Dylan to distill the situation to its purest form. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do, but tell me in your room. It’s getting chilly out here, and you don’t even have any shoes on.” He took her arm and his touch spread warmth throughout her body.

No wonder she could never fully commit to Peter, or any man. She’d always compared the men she’d dated to Dylan Reese, and they’d always come up short.

But Dylan had changed. Would the Dylan of her childhood have accepted the news of her marriage so calmly? She hadn’t noticed one drop of judgment in his face or his voice. Growing up as the Coral Cove police chief’s son, Dylan had held himself to a higher standard than everyone else.

Not that she could ever live up to it.

She picked her way over the rocky path to the rooms, and then Dylan curled an arm around her waist and swept her off her feet. “I hope you have several pairs of shoes in your room, or you’ll need to get tougher feet.”

With Dylan’s arms around her, gathered close to his body, Mia momentarily lost her capacity for speech…for rational thought. She dropped her head to his shoulder and breathed in his masculine scent, clean and outdoorsy.

Her eyelashes fluttered against his neck and he tightened his grip. Oh, Lord, she’d missed this man. But she’d returned to Coral Cove to take care of business, not to tempt a man she’d written off as too good for her.

Nothing had changed. Now in addition to her other faults, she’d added a divorce. That made her not only unworthy of the police chief but damaged goods.

She kicked her legs as they neared her room. “I thought you knew me better than that, Dylan Reese. Where would I be without at least ten pairs of shoes?”

“Do they all have sky-high heels like that last pair? Because you looked a little overdressed for Coral Cove.”

“Then it’s a good thing I lost them.” She twirled the key chain around her finger, but he still didn’t put her on her feet, even though they now stood on smooth cement.

He snatched the key from her hand and unlocked the door. Kicking it open, he carried her across the threshold.

“I don’t think Gladys is going to appreciate you kicking her doors.”

Releasing his hold on her, he grinned. “Gladys is a romantic. She’d appreciate the circumstances.”

Romance? He’d rescued her from a car about to tumble over the side of a cliff, stood up for her against Peter and literally swept her off her feet and carried her over a threshold. Yeah, that all added up to romance…or at least several selfless gestures.

“So spill.” He parked himself in an uncomfortable-looking chair, as if preparing for an interrogation. “How’d you end up married to Peter…?”

“Casellas.” She dropped to the bed, bouncing up and down for a few seconds, wondering how much she should tell him. “You know the story about how I showed up here in Coral Cove with a boyfriend, Raoul, whom my sister promptly stole from me.”

He crossed an ankle over his knee. “Yeah. I was here for about two minutes when you arrived. Marissa was engaged to Tyler Davis at the time—Mayor Tyler Davis now, who happens to be the biggest pain in my… Go on.”

“Well, after they ran off, I hightailed it out of here, and a lot of people figured I’d had my heart broken.”

“I didn’t figure that when I heard about it.”

“No?” A warm flush crept up her throat. Did Dylan realize nobody could break her heart because she’d kept it wrapped up in gauze for him?

“You’re not the running kind and you’re not the heartbroken kind. But keep going.”

She scooped in a breath and allowed her words to tumble out as she released it. “I left because I had to find someone else to marry.”

He raised one eyebrow. He didn’t even look shocked. “Because…?”

“Because marriage was one of the terms of my…our inheritance.”

He raised the other eyebrow. “Your grandparents stuck that in there?”

“Yes.”

“And this Raoul, he was your first victim?”

She reached back, grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him. “You make me sound like a black widow.”

“If you had to get married, why the hell didn’t you…find someone more appropriate?”

Her pulse quickened. Had he been about to say why hadn’t she asked him? She’d thought about it, but she hadn’t wanted to snare him that way. “That’s what I thought I did when I returned to New York and married my friend Peter.”

“Prenup?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is that what he’s trying to weasel out of right now?”

“Right again.”

He yawned and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Peter didn’t turn out to be much of a friend, did he?”

“He’s a photographer. He’d worked on a few of my fashion shows. I knew he wanted to set up his own shop and needed the capital, so I offered him a deal and he jumped at it. We’d dated a few times, but the marriage was in name only, and when I’d satisfied the terms of my grandparents’ will and it was time to call it quits, Peter got greedy.”

“Marissa had the same requirement?”

This time the flush spread from Mia’s neck and suffused her face. “I-it was kind of a competition.”

“Let me get this straight.” He hunched forward, gripping his knees. “You and Marissa were in a race to get married to get your hands on Columbella?”

“Sort of.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not like we were going to be cut off from our inheritance if we didn’t get married, it’s just that the first to marry got the house.”

He snorted and collapsed back in his chair. “Draconian. Is that why Marissa hooked up with that stick Tyler Davis?”

“Yep—the only reason. When I heard about their engagement, I rushed back here and, and…” She flopped back on the bed, allowing her hair to sweep across her hot face.

She heard a rustle and then the mattress dipped. Dylan’s low voice reverberated close to her ear. “Mia St. Regis, are you telling me you brought your boy toy Raoul to Coral Cove to tempt your sister away from marriage with Tyler Davis?”

“Umm, maybe.”

He hooked a finger around several strands of hair and pulled them aside like a curtain. “You’re unbelievable.”

She sat up, almost bumping her head against his chin. “I had to, Dylan. You knew Marissa. She had no feeling for the old place. If she’d have gotten her hands on it, she’d have auctioned off Columbella House to the highest bidder.”

“Instead of allowing it to fall into disrepair?”

Her face got even hotter and she dropped her chin to her chest. “I never meant for that to happen. It’s just that after everything—Marissa running off and disappearing and my hasty marriage to Peter—it turned out to be a hollow victory.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“But you weren’t around then.” And if he had been? Would she have taken a chance and suggested marriage to her old friend? No. Dylan had too much honor for that.

She puffed out her cheeks and expelled a long sigh. “I don’t expect you to understand. You’d never do anything to compromise your standards.”

Dylan tensed and shifted away from her. “I’m not judging you, Mia. I know that house meant a lot to you at one time, and yes, Marissa would’ve sold it faster than she would’ve cheated on Tyler.”

She spread her hands. “Anyway, that’s my sordid tale. After Marissa ran off with Raoul, ending her engagement to Tyler, I rushed back to New York and made my proposal to Peter. He agreed, and the rest is history.”

“Except Peter is no longer happy with the deal he inked.”

“Exactly.”

“And your twin took off to live the good life with Raoul.”

Mia clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and stared out the hotel window into the darkness.

“Mia?” Dylan touched her hand and she jumped. “What’s wrong? Did Marissa find out you’d tricked her, and decided to hold a grudge?”

“I don’t know.” Her nose stung and she rubbed it with the back of her hand. “I haven’t heard from Marissa since she left.”

His dark brows snapped together. “She cut you out of her life completely? I know you two were never close, especially for twins, but that seems harsh.”

“Oh, she sent several postcards, but no phone calls, no emails.”

“Were the postcards nasty?”

“Not really. She never mentioned my scheme. I’ve tried searching for her online, and I hired a private investigator a few years ago. He took my money and came up empty. I’ve even tried to find Raoul, but it seems he went back to Brazil. I assumed Marissa went with him.”

“That’s strange. Marissa had a lot of faults, but holding grudges didn’t seem to be among them.”

Your sister is dead.

Could she open up to Dylan? When couldn’t she? In the old days, she’d been open with Dylan with just about everything except her true feelings for him.

She raked her hair back with her fingers. “It is strange, isn’t it? And what’s stranger… Did your sister ever tell you she’d found a diary belonging to Marissa a few months ago when she was in Coral Cove with her son?”

Two red spots colored Dylan’s cheekbones. “No. I wasn’t in touch with Devon at that time. I’m just glad Kieran Roarke had come back from the dead in time to help her and Michael.”

Mia tilted her head. Dylan and Devon had always been the close twins in town. “Well, she did find Marissa’s diary, but before she had a chance to read it or send it to me, it disappeared. And before that, Michelle Girard contacted me about a bracelet she found at Columbella. Michelle’s mother used to make them, and Marissa had one she rarely removed.”

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her blood pumping now, she sat forward. “And finally, Kylie Grant, you know, Rosie the fortune-teller’s daughter, she sent me an email that said—”

She choked to a stop. This all sounded crazy. Only bad things had come out of her desire to own Columbella House, and now she was just projecting more guilt on to herself.

Dylan ran a strong, warm hand up her back. “What did the email say?”

“‘Your sister is dead.’”

“That’s a nice email to send someone, a crazy email.” He lightly clasped her neck and circled his thumb against her skin.

“That’s not all she wrote in the email. Kylie was here on a case. She works for the FBI and police departments sometimes to help find missing people. While she was—” she waved her hands in the air “—in some kind of trance or something, she felt that Marissa was dead.”

“And you believe that mumbo jumbo?”

“Not usually, but Kylie did find that girl who had gone missing from the Coral Cove Music Festival a few years ago.”

“That happened right before I got here, and Kylie didn’t exactly find the woman. The woman’s killer led Kylie to where he’d stashed the body with the intent of doing the same thing to her.”

“He’d stashed the body in the walls of Columbella House.” Mia shivered and clenched her teeth.

Dylan draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her snug against his body. “I can have my buddy locate Marissa. He’s a P.I. In fact, he worked the case with Kylie. Matt Conner, do you remember him?”

She nodded, trying not to press her body against his solid frame and soak up all his warmth. She turned her head, dangerously close to finding his shoulder again, and her gaze collided with a wavy blue line from a tattoo peeking from the long sleeve of his shirt.

She traced the swirl with the tip of her finger and he winced as if in pain. “When did you get this?”

“A few years ago.”

She shoved his sleeve up to get a better view, but the cuff stuck on his forearm. She could see that the blue tail-end of the tattoo curled around his wrist, ending in an arrow pointing to his palm. “What is it?”

Pinching his sleeve between two fingers, he yanked it down. “Another time. It’s getting late. You’re probably going to be sore from the accident. Do you have some ibuprofen?”

“Plenty.”

His arm slid from her shoulder. “Then take it and get some rest. That guy Peter…your ex…husband, he’s not going to try anything, is he?”

“He’s harmless, just annoying.”

Dylan pushed up from the bed, and she jumped up next to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Thanks for everything today, Dylan. Just like old times, when you used to come to rescue me and Devon.”

The arm beneath her fingers tensed, and a storm passed across his blue eyes. “Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

He bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Even that affectionate gesture left a scorching imprint of his lips on her skin.

At the door he turned. “You might want to book up all the vacant rooms in this motel so I don’t look like a liar.”

“Believe me, this isn’t Peter’s style. Just another empty threat on his part. He has plenty of those to spare.”

“Take care. I guess we’ll be seeing each other around town…as long as you’re here.”

“Maybe I can buy you dinner some night.”

“Looking forward to it.” He smacked the doorjamb and ambled away.

Mia snapped the door closed and leaned against it. Maybe she should’ve taken him up on his dinner offer tonight. That way she could’ve spent more time with him.

At least he hadn’t laughed about her suspicions about Marissa. That was Dylan—always willing to listen.

She pushed away from the door and strolled to the bathroom, her head in the clouds. She was not here to reconnect with Dylan Reese. She hadn’t even realized he’d be here. Devon hadn’t written much about her brother when she’d sent Mia that email about the diary.

Rolling her shoulders, she winced. She’d better get that ibuprofen. She’d be sore for sure tomorrow. A bath might ease her muscles, too. She cranked on the hot water in the tub, letting it run over her fingers.

A large thump at the door almost had her pitching face-first into the bathwater. Had Dylan forgotten something?

She rushed to the door and pulled it open, Dylan’s name on her lips. The word died away on a hitched breath.

There was nobody at the door, but whoever had knocked left her a present—a doll. She’d never liked dolls, even when she’d been doll-age appropriate.

She stooped down to snatch the toy from the cement and gasped. This was no ordinary doll. Someone had cut the photo of her out of the paper and glued it over the doll’s face, and added one more touch…a needle through the doll’s heart.

Chapter Four

Mia clutched her hand to her heart as if she felt the prick of the needle. Stepping back, she banged her elbow on the doorjamb, and pain radiated down her arm. Her gaze darted back and forth along the cement walkway through the bushes.

“Peter?” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “Peter, is that you?”

A rustling of bushes answered her, and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead despite the cool breeze from the ocean. She backed into her room and slammed the door. She scraped the battered chain into place, twitching the curtains at the window for a final peek outside.

Coward.

If Peter thought he’d be getting any more money out of her by playing childish games, he’d better put away whatever it was he’d been smoking.

Pinching the doll by the leg, she dangled it in front of her face. The other soft limbs flopped up and down, and the doll’s blue gingham skirt slipped over its head, the head with Mia’s face pinned to it. She’d seen these dolls before. An artist up the coast made them and sold them to shops in the neighboring towns.

Lots of people had them, but Peter would’ve had to buy the doll here in Coral Cove. It would be easy enough to track that down and nail him. She didn’t know if he’d broken any laws by dropping a voodoo doll on her doorstep…but Dylan would know.

Her gaze slid to the telephone by the bed. She knew he was off duty, but police chiefs in small towns like Coral Cove never went off duty. Someone at the station could rouse the chief.

She shook the doll again and then dropped it on the table by the window. She couldn’t go running to Dylan every time someone yelled boo in her face. She’d played that game enough when they were kids, just to see Dylan come running to her rescue.

But she didn’t play games anymore. She’d learned her lesson. The last game she’d played had been bringing Raoul to Coral Cove with her, knowing Marissa wouldn’t be able to resist his boy-model good looks and sexy accent. Look where that had gotten her.

Saddled with a house she no longer wanted and estrangement from her twin. Surely the only price she had to pay was Marissa’s estrangement…not her death.

She shivered as her gaze glanced off the discarded doll, limbs askew, needle through her heart.

Surely not death.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Mia followed up with the rental car company after Dylan’s report of the accident the night before. Their solicitousness made Mia’s teeth ache, but an agent personally delivered a fresh car to the Sea View Motel.

Driving into town, Mia stomped on the brakes a few times just to test them out. She didn’t have her driver’s license, but she figured Chief Reese would show some understanding.

She pulled into a public parking lot and fed some quarters into the meter. Emerging onto Main Street, she scanned the storefronts, looking for the little touristy knickknack places.

Mia stepped into the first one, the bell on the door dancing in a frantic jingle as she swept into the shop. A tidy woman with a long gray braid down her back looked up from her dusting.

Her ready smile faded and she pursed her lips. “Can I help you?”

Great. Seemed her reputation preceded her everywhere. She may as well have a bull’s-eye painted on her forehead.

She practiced her sweetest smile. “Hello, I was wondering if you could help me out.”

The woman grunted.

“Do you carry these dolls?” Mia marched forward and thrust the floppy doll, picture on its face and needle in its heart, under the clerk’s nose.

The woman jerked back and took a sharp breath. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Yeah, apparently on me.” Mia waved the doll. “You know what kind it is…Cassie’s Creations.”

Wiggling her fingers, the clerk reached out her hand. “Let me see that. I do carry some of Cassie’s Creations.”

Mia happily relinquished the squishy doll, wiping her hands on the seat of her white slacks after handing it over.

The woman flipped the doll over and pulled up her skirt. She pushed her glasses up her nose, bringing the doll close to her face. “Yep, it’s Cassie’s and we do carry these.”

“Do you have any?”

“You want another one?”

“I’m trying to find out who bought this one.”

“I sold out at the end of the tourist season a few weeks ago.” She straightened the doll’s skirt and handed it back to Mia. “You might try May’s Place across the street. She carries them, too.”

Mia tucked the doll under her arm, careful to avoid the end of the needle. “Okay, thanks for your help.”

“So what are you going to do with it?”

“Probably take it to the police.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Not the doll, I’m talking about Columbella House.”

Mia paused with her hand on the doorknob. “What would you like me to do with it?”

“I’m not sure, but you need to take care of that mess.” She puffed at a strand of gray hair that had come loose from her braid. “Maybe the whole thing should’ve burned down in that fire earlier this summer. There’s bad karma when a place is acquired through nefarious methods.”

Mia’s heart flipped. Did this woman know what Mia had done to obtain the house? “Nefarious methods?”

“I’ve heard stories about your great-grandfather, and I didn’t even grow up here.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Because sometimes it’s worse. “You have a great day.”

Mia snapped the door harder than she’d intended, anxious to escape any more accusations. She spun around on the sidewalk, head down, intent on reaching the next store, and collided with a solid shoulder.

She’d know that shoulder anywhere.

“Dylan!”

He caught her arm. “What’s your hurry? Did you just rob Sadie’s place?”

She shoved her arms behind her, the legs of the doll tapping the backs of her thighs. “Ah, no. Just looking around.”

He cocked his head, his eyes unreadable behind his dark sunglasses. “In a touristy knickknack shop?”

Shoving out a breath, she whipped the doll from behind her back and jiggled it in front of Dylan. “Someone left this on my hotel doorstep last night.”

“What?” He snatched the doll from her and poked at the needle with his fingertip. “Does your soon-to-be ex practice voodoo?”

“Not that I know of, but Peter showed only his good side before I married him.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the shop. “I was just checking in there to see if someone matching Peter’s description bought a doll recently.”

“And now you’re going across the street to check the other shop?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Mia was hoping he’d say that. She might get a better reception with the chief of police by her side.

As they crossed the street together, it seemed like half the pedestrians crisscrossing Main Street had a word or a smile for Dylan, their new chief of police. They barely gave her a glance. It was like the living embodiment of Beauty and the Beast…only she was the Beast.

The owner of the next shop had propped open her door, and Dylan gestured Mia through first. The woman behind the counter started gushing before they took two steps inside.

“Chief Reese—I can’t tell you how good that sounds—what can I do for you today?”

“Good morning, Ellen.” He tugged the doll out of Mia’s hand. “Have you sold any of these lately?”

“There’s a pin in that doll.” The woman pursed her lips and her right eye twitched.

Did she assume Mia had defaced the doll? Mia took a breath, but Dylan stilled her with a glance from his blue eyes.

“Exactly.” He placed the doll on the counter like it was an injured patient. “That’s why we need to know who bought it.”

Ellen nudged the doll with the back of her hand. “I had three of these in stock and I sold two this summer. The most recent one to a man, said he was buying it for his daughter.”

With her heart pounding, Mia scrambled through the big canvas bag she’d grabbed to substitute as a purse today. She dragged out a dog-eared photography magazine and flipped to the page with the creased corner with the article about Peter. Flattening it on the counter next to her voodoo-doll likeness, she jabbed at a picture of Peter. “Did this man buy the doll?”

Ellen smoothed the picture with her thumb. “I can’t tell. I don’t think so.”

“But it could’ve been?” Mia pushed the magazine closer to Ellen just in case.

“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “What’s this about, Chief Reese?”

“Someone making threats against Ms. St. Regis.”

“Why? You haven’t decided what you’re going to do with Columbella House yet, have you?” Ellen narrowed her eyes.

“Not yet.” Mia picked up the doll and shook it. “But stunts like this are not going to win me over.”

Dylan thanked Ellen and steered Mia out of the store. He faced her on the sidewalk. “Are you going to confront Peter about this?”

“Of course. I’m not going to allow him to play games like this. The prenup he signed is ironclad.”

“Why’s he fighting it now? Greed?”

“That and—” she smacked the rolled-up magazine against her palm “—the fact that his business is failing.”

Dylan pushed up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Mia, Mia. The things you get into—nothing’s changed.”

A lot had changed. Mia studied Dylan’s strong hands and his square, resolute chin. She’d never take him for granted again. She’d grown up in the shadow of this boy becoming a real man, and she hadn’t met a real man since she’d left Coral Cove.

She smiled at her reflection in his dark glasses. “I’m not as wild as I used to be—I promise.”

“You haven’t been in town two days and ex-husbands are leaving creepy dolls on your doorstep and your car is careening off a cliff.” He snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Your purse and laptop case were thrown clear of the car when it crashed. My guys recovered them and I have them at the station.”

She clapped her hands. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day…that and the rental car company’s willingness to deliver a new car to me.”

“Do you want to walk to the station with me?”

“Absolutely.” She took his arm, her fingertips pressing against the solid muscle beneath his khaki uniform shirt. “Walking with you is like being under this protective umbrella.”

“You feel like you need a protective umbrella?”

“Yeah, from all the slings and arrows being sent my way from the good folks of Coral Cove.”

He bumped her shoulder. “You’re being paranoid. Like Ellen said, you haven’t indicated which way you’re leaning on a decision for Columbella.”

“I’m going out there today. I already called the electric company to have the electricity turned on.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Can you?” She squeezed his arm. “You’re not busy?”

“This is Coral Cove.”

She snorted. “Tell that to Chief Evans, the guy who just left. Murders, suicides, kidnappings. I think there’s been more crime here this past summer than all the years your dad was chief.”

“Weird, huh? And all of it ending up at Columbella House. That’s what has people on edge about the house.”

“I don’t blame them. What did you call it earlier? A magnet for crime? Even before this summer, it was a magnet for a whole lot of other things.” A tremble rolled through her body and she jostled closer to Dylan.

He charged through the doors of the police station like he owned the place. Hunching over the front desk, he called out, “Hey, Clark, do you have Ms. St. Regis’s stuff from the car crash?”

An officer came out from the back, hugging a gray bin to his chest. “Got it right here. You’re one lucky lady.”

“Don’t I know it.”

He placed the bin on the counter and slid it toward her. The odors of gasoline and burning tires wafted from her purse and laptop case.

“Ugh. I hope the contents are salvageable because I’m going to have to throw these bags away.”

“Do you want me to take those to your car and then follow you over to Columbella?”

“I don’t want to take up your time, Dylan, if you have other work to do.”

“I’ve been meaning to go out there anyway—a couple of things I wanted to check out.”

Dylan shoved the bin into her trunk and closed it with a snap. “If you need help retrieving anything on that hard drive, let me know. There’s a guy in town, a teacher, who’s good with computers.”

She leaned against the car door with her hands grasping the door handle behind her. He must think I’m still a total ditz.

“I appreciate it, Dylan, but you don’t have to hold my hand every step of the way. Believe it or not, I actually live on my own and manage to eat and pay my bills and everything.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue. Two red spots stained his cheekbones, and his jaw tightened.

“Just trying to help out.”

Pushing off the car, she grabbed his forearm, her fingers slipping up his sleeve to caress the mysterious tattoo.

“I’m sorry. I sounded ungrateful. I just want to let you know I’m not that silly girl who used to run to you for help killing a spider…or to tell some overeager teenage boy to back off.”

His lips quirked up at one end as he stepped away from her touch. “Guess I’m still overprotective. Do you still want me to meet you at Columbella?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

“Tell you what. You go ahead and I’ll meet you over there in a bit.”

“Sounds good.” Mia pasted on a cheery smile and then slumped in the car when he walked away. Damn, girl. Why are you pushing away the one good thing left in this town?

Mia drove up the coast with the window down, allowing the wind to tangle the strands of her hair. She eyed the rearview mirror more than a few times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dylan’s squad car following her. He’d wanted to come along, but she’d implied she wanted him to back off.

Did she?

Not at all. She just wanted Dylan to take her seriously now. She’d gotten off to a bad start by being forced to confess how she’d set up Marissa and married Peter just to get her hands on a house. No wonder he felt she still needed saving from herself.

Coral Cove Drive looked a lot less spooky by daylight. The house didn’t look much better, though. In fact, it looked worse. It didn’t even have that haunted vibe going for it in the harsh light of day that exposed all its flaws and blemishes.

She rolled to a stop in front of the house and scrambled out, dragging her canvas bag with her. She pushed open the front door and poked her head inside before entering.

She expelled a sigh of relief when she saw the broken wood hanging from the balustrade. That was what she’d seen last night; that was what sent her scurrying for safety. Not that her rental car had proved to be safe.

She wrinkled her nose at the dust and decay in the house. Could anyone ever really restore the house? Would she want anyone to restore it?

She wandered around the downstairs, taking notes on a yellow legal pad. She jiggled the handle of the basement door, dreading the trip downstairs. Then decided to put it off for another time.

She climbed the stairs like she had lead weights on her feet. Reaching the second-story landing, she peered over the railing. Why exactly had she wanted this house?

Why had she wanted it enough to trick her sister and marry a man she didn’t love? Had she really expected Dylan to offer himself in Peter’s stead?

She threw open the doors to all the bedrooms and bathrooms. After taking inventory of the items in these rooms, she dragged herself up to the third floor.

Rosie Grant, the mother of Kylie Grant, the same psychic who had sent her the email about Marissa, had hung herself from the third-floor landing a few years ago.

Mia shivered and scooted past the spot where Rosie had jumped. But more terror awaited her at the end of the hallway. A gaping hole was all that remained of the cavity where some local man had walled up a body.

What was it about this place? It drove people to madness.

She took more notes on the third floor, and then sank into a chair, facing a set of double doors that opened on to a balcony facing the sea.

Crossing her arms behind her head, she stretched her legs in front of her. The only thing that made sense right now was Dylan Reese. If he wanted to play knight in shining armor, who was she to stop him?

But she didn’t want them to fall into their old, familiar pattern. She wanted him to see her in a new light, for the woman she’d become. Because now maybe she could meet him on equal footing.

She cocked her head. She could hear a rumbling of voices raised above the rush of the ocean beneath her.

Unless the Vincents were having one heck of a big party, there couldn’t be that many people gathered on this block.

She peeled herself from the chair and scuffed to the balcony. Here the voices came cascading along the sea breeze. Shouts. Yells. Jeers.

Mia jogged down the spiral stairs that led from the balcony to the rocks and then made her way to the front of the house.

She stumbled to a halt, her jaw dropping. Hordes of people were gathered around Columbella House, carrying signs and yelling at each other.

Then a few of them spotted her and started yelling at her. She set her jaw and marched to the front of the house.

She zeroed in on the closest person. “What is going on? What are you people doing here?”

“We just want to make sure you do the right thing.”

Before Mia had a chance to respond, another person pushed her way forward and wagged her finger. “Don’t try to force yourself in here and influence her.”

Sirens sliced through the air, but the noise didn’t faze the crowd. Two police cars pulled up to the curb, and Mia blew out a breath when she saw Dylan climb out of one of the cars. He cut a swath through the mob, and they parted for him.

“What’s going on here?”

Mia flung out her arms. “I was inside, and apparently, these people just spontaneously gathered here.”

He flicked a sign next to him. “Doesn’t look spontaneous to me.”

“This is a peaceful protest, Chief,” a voice yelled from the back of the crowd.

“It doesn’t look peaceful to me, and unless someone can produce a permit, you’re going to have to disperse.”

A low chant started slowly. “Restore, restore, restore, restore.”

Another thrumming began from the other side. “Rebuild, rebuild, rebuild, rebuild.”

The words merged in a hissing and bubbling cacophony. The faces swam before Mia so that they no longer resembled people but just working mouths and angry eyes.

Then out of nowhere, an object came hurtling from the belly of the crowd and Mia felt a sting on her chin.

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