Chapter 11
ELEVEN
We had to take my golf cart to the house.
Marjory was rich, but like most islanders, she didn’t have a car.
She had her own cart but wasn’t keen on driving.
I climbed behind the wheel as she navigated me through the remote streets near the water.
All the while, she sat in the passenger seat flipping through Declan’s file.
“You know,” she said after a silent five minutes as I absorbed the breathtaking views while also silently admonishing the mega mansion owners on this part of the island for being such land hogs.
The overblown show of wealth was garish.
“You’re right about them not having much evidence against Declan. ”
“I don’t think the murders stopping the same time he disappeared is enough to definitively say that he’s guilty,” I said. “But that was obviously good enough for the sheriff at the time.”
“Yes, well, before Galen, I never got the feeling that our law enforcement was all that committed to law and order,” Marjory said. “That’s why, when Galen announced on his eighteenth birthday that he was going to become a police officer, I didn’t take the news all that well.”
Marjory was too full of herself to accept the inherent nobility associated with representing the law.
Galen was dedicated to his job and really did want to make Moonstone Bay a better place.
Marjory would never understand that. She was all about the haves and the have nots.
She didn’t care about the latter and only cared about the former if it directly affected her.
“Tell me about Declan’s family,” I asked. “If he was a property owner, that means he inherited, correct?”
“Oh, you are learning.” Marjory mock clutched at her heart, reminding me of her son. They didn’t share many of the same facial features but they did boast the same sarcasm.
“Don’t be annoying,” I warned her. “I have ways of making people regret that.”
Marjory snorted. “I’m not my son. Withholding affection doesn’t work on me.”
“I don’t withhold affection,” I countered.
“I prefer to think of you withholding affection to the alternative.”
“The alternative?”
“Whatever sex games the two of you play every night.” Marjory’s lips turned down.
She fell silent, then sighed. “You and my son are a good match. He smiles with you even when he’s unhappy. I know I’m lagging behind in this relationship. I am doing my best. I am trying.”
Because I knew that was true, I opted to give her a break. “How far away are we?”
“There.” She pointed to a road I almost hadn’t noticed. “That’s the driveway.”
“It looks freshly paved,” I noted.
“As I said, the house has been kept up.”
That was weird in my book. I turned onto the driveway. The foliage was dense. I didn’t see the house until we were almost on top of it. When we pulled to a stop, the house wasn’t the only thing to focus on.
Julian, flanked by Flip, Taylor, and Lucinda, looked up from the folder in his hand and gave us an odd look. “What are you doing here?” he blurted, confused.
“I was just going to ask you the same.” I shot Marjory a warning look. I hadn’t expected to run into Julian, so it hadn’t been a problem when she demanded to come along. Now, though, the last thing I wanted was her saying something nasty to her dead husband’s love child.
Marjory looked shellshocked. To my knowledge, she hadn’t interacted with Julian at all since the DNA results had come in. She’d made her opinion on Galen taking the test in the first place known. Her stance on Julian as an alpha and leader remained a mystery to me.
To my surprise, Marjory was respectful when she climbed out of the cart and extended her hand to Julian.
“I haven’t seen you since you were a child,” she said stiffly. “You grew up to be a handsome man.”
Julian eyed her for only a split-second before taking her hand. He obviously knew who she was, which meant he understood she’d been against the DNA test. He knew that if Marjory was going to play nice, it benefitted him to do the same.
“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said as he shook her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Of course.” Marjory’s smile wasn’t exactly friendly but given the circumstances it was the best I could hope for.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, nodding at Taylor, Flip, and Lucinda in turn. Only Taylor smiled in response. Flip was busy deciding if we were dangerous and Lucinda was … well, I wasn’t certain what she was doing other than studying us.
“We’re here to see the house,” Julian replied. “I can’t live in the hotel forever.”
“I kind of like the idea of living in a hotel forever,” Taylor said on a giggle. She seemed nervous. “Can you imagine having room service the rest of your life?”
Since the question appeared directed to me, I nodded. “I don’t cook regardless, but that does sound divine,” I said before focusing on Julian. “I thought this house was stuck in limbo for another ten years.”
“I spoke with the house manager,” he said.
“Edward Mosley?”
“That’s his name,” Julian confirmed. “He suggested there was a land use deed we could sign that would allow us to live in the house, do whatever we want, and if the former owner — who is very obviously dead — comes back we would vacate the property.”
“And pay to restore it to how it looked before we took ownership,” Lucinda added darkly. “I’ve told you how I feel about this deal, Julian.”
The look Julian shot her was icy. “I know you don’t like it, but property on the island comes at a premium, and I want to live close to the water. We don’t have a lot of options.”
“Besides,” Taylor added, throwing in another nervous giggle, “this guy has been missing twenty years. He won’t be back.” She looked to me for confirmation.
Now I was in an awkward position. “Oh, well … .”
“Why are you here?” Julian asked.
“Well … it’s a long story.” How much was I supposed to tell him?
“Is this about your grandfather going missing?” Julian’s face filled with sympathy. “I loaned Galen members of my security unit for the search yesterday. I have some solid trackers on my team.”
I bobbed my head. “I knew that.”
“They said you went missing for most of the day,” Julian added. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “It’s a long story.” I ran them through the rest of it. When I finished, I held my palms out. “So, that’s basically it.”
“The guy who owned this house was a serial killer?” Taylor’s voice was chirpy as she looked back at the structure.
It didn’t look creepy. It looked like a typical beach mansion, two stories with huge windows facing the water, white brick, rich red patio paving stones. It was much nicer than I expected.
“We believe so,” I replied, “though we don’t actually know.”
“You’re wondering if someone else was the killer and Declan was killed as a scapegoat,” Flip guessed in his deep voice.
“It’s a possibility,” I said. “It’s also a possibility that Declan is on the other plane honing his skills.”
“Why would he go there?” Julian asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Yes, but he might not have wanted to risk spending the rest of his life in prison.”
“He wouldn’t have gone to prison if he’d been convicted,” Marjory interjected. “He would have been killed. We don’t mess around with paranormal criminals on this island.”
“What was Declan?” I asked.
“I believe there was some witch or warlock in their family,” Marjory said. “He inherited the property through an aunt and uncle. There might have been some siren, too. It’s all a little fuzzy.”
This was where Marjory fell down on the job. If something didn’t directly affect her, she wasn’t interested in learning more.
“You have a key to the house?” I prodded Julian.
He nodded. “We were going to look around to decide if we wanted to agree to the lease.”
“Do you mind if we look with you?”
He smirked. “No. Now you’ve piqued my interest.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want to live in the home of a potential serial killer,” I said as we started up the path to the front door.
“Oh, that wouldn’t bother me.” He shook his head. “In fact, that wouldn’t bother me at all. I’m more worried that he’s going to come back from the other plane and try to reclaim his house.”
“I’m fairly certain that if he makes it to this side he’s going to run,” I replied. “Or get himself killed.”
Julian didn’t look convinced.
“I’M GUESSING THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING for,” Julian deadpanned as we stood in what had once been Declan’s office, staring at the huge mural that dominated the wall.
I nodded, my eyes roaming the scene. It looked like a hellscape — a very familiar hellscape — with little minions kneeling at the feet of a terrible shadow.
“Huh,” was all I could manage.
“Huh?” Marjory challenged. For once, she didn’t appear unflappable. “Isn’t this exactly what happened?”
“Not exactly,” I countered. “I only caught a glimpse of the shadow. And there were no minions.” I moved closer to the mural to study the individuals kneeling at the shadow’s feet. “Do you see anyone you recognize?” I asked.
“Why would I see anyone I recognize?” Marjory scoffed.
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
“I don’t … .” Marjory trailed off as she studied the minions.
“Do you recognize any of them?” Julian asked.
There were no traces of mirth on Marjory’s face as her eyes bounced left and right. “This kind of looks like Helen Steele.”
The name meant nothing to me so I waited for Marjory to continue.
“Who is Helen Steele?” Julian prodded when Marjory clenched her jaw shut.
“She was a young woman on the island,” Marjory replied. “When she was eighteen, she was killed near the cemetery. Her body was draped over one of the stones in a very vulgar display.”
I could read between the lines of what she wasn’t saying well enough. “Was that one of the murders Declan was accused of?”
“He was technically never accused of anything when he was alive,” Marjory hedged. “At least to my knowledge. He disappeared and then the news came out.”
“Which is all very convenient,” Julian mused. He focused on the shadow. “Do you know what that thing is?”
The question was addressed to me, so I shook my head. “I’ve done some research. You wouldn’t believe how many malevolent shadows there are in the paranormal world. Almost anyone can take that form if they’re dedicated enough.”
“It looks like a religious scene,” Taylor said. “Like the shadow is God and the minions are slaves.”
“Potentially dead minions,” I interjected, my eyes going back to Marjory. “Do you recognize any others?”
This time, she didn’t mock the question. “That’s Daria Michaelson,” she said, pointing to a brunette. “She disappeared about twenty-two years ago.”
“And is assumed to be one of Declan’s victims,” I guessed.
She nodded. “This one is different.” She pointed to a young auburn-haired woman. “This is Lanie MacMillan. She died thirty years ago.”
“How did she die?” Lucinda asked. If her boss wanted to live in this house, it had to be safe.
“That’s just it. She wasn’t murdered.” Marjory’s eyes were turbulent when they locked with mine. “She died of an autoimmune disease. I’m pretty sure it was lupus, but I can’t remember.”
“We should be able to find out easily enough,” I said.
“She was my age,” Marjory continued. “Declan would have been a teenager when she died … and not on the island.”
“And there was nothing to suggest she was murdered,” Julian added.
“Nothing,” Marjory agreed. She looked so tense I thought she might pass out. I was just about to tell her to take a breath when she pushed forward. “There’s one other familiar image here, Hadley.” She almost sounded sad when she said my name.
Confused, I followed her finger on the mural—and almost fell over when I recognized the face staring up at the shadow. It belonged to my mother.
I reached out for a chair to steady myself but there was nothing close. I plopped down on the floor rather than fall.
“Who is that?” Julian demanded as he hunkered down next to me, his eyes filled with concern.
“That is Hadley’s mother,” Marjory replied.
“Was your mother murdered?” Taylor asked.
I shook my head. “My mother died in childbirth with me more than thirty years ago.”
Taylor looked horrified. I had already mentioned that at the barbecue.
“Why would she be on the mural of a killer who disappeared twenty years ago?” Flip asked.
That was a very good question. “I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands over my knees. I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at the image of my mother. “We need to search the rest of the house.”
“I think we should get you out of here,” Julian countered. “You seem … shaken.”
I gave him a dirty look. “That’s something your brother would say.”
Julian shook his head. “Galen would want me to take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of. I was just thrown for a moment.”
“Okay. Let’s go outside anyway.” He reached for me.
I slapped his hand away. “I’m searching this house. I want to see it all. I’m not leaving until I do, and there’s nothing you can do to make me.”
Julian looked as if he were going to argue, but Marjory stopped him with a shake of her head.
“She’s stubborn,” Marjory volunteered. “That’s why she and Galen are the way they are. They butt heads and then make up like horny animals.”
My lips twitched. “I never thought I’d hear you use the word ‘horny,’” I admitted.
“And you’ll never hear me use it again,” Marjory assured me. “You’re right. We need to look around this house.”
“Someone should have searched it after Declan disappeared.” I was grim as Julian helped me to my feet.
“What makes you think they didn’t?” Julian asked.
I nodded to the mural.
“They might not have realized they should look at the faces,” Julian argued. “I wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion.”
“Maybe.” I cracked my neck. “Let’s see what else this house of horrors has to offer and go from there.”
Julian nodded. “Sounds like a plan, but I’m going with you.”
I was instantly suspicious. “Why?”
“I’m not convinced there isn’t a plane door in this house and you are not going through another one on my watch.”
I blew out a sigh. “Fine, but you’re not the boss of me.”
Julian didn’t capitulate. His brother wouldn’t have either. “We’ll see how it goes.”