Wake to Darkness (13 page)

“Hello, friends. I’m Catherine Cole, but you can all call me Cait. I’m the owner of Pine Haven, and I am so happy that you’ve all chosen to spend this special time of the year with us here.”

Applause broke out. I would have had to put my fork down to join in, so I opted not to, because the food was to die for.

“This luncheon,” she went on, “is my way of getting most of our guests together in one place to tell you about some of the activities we have going on this week. First, we have a Secret Santa gift exchange already underway and continuing right through to Christmas. Choose a gift, wrap it, and leave it outside any guest room or cabin door you like. There are a half-dozen lovely gift and souvenir shops in the nearby village of Blue Lake, and of course we have one here, as well.”

I leaned closer to Mason, who had chosen the seat right beside me, I’d noticed with pleasure. “Great way to drive up sales.”

“Cynic,” he whispered back.

“We have open caroling every night from now until New Year’s. Just meet up by the lobby fireplace at 7:00 p.m. to join in. There are professional photographers roaming at large, ready to take your family portraits under the tree, in front of the fireplace, on the slopes or anywhere else you like. Watch out for them, because they’ll shoot you on the slopes when you’re not looking, too.”

Someone in the crowd moaned, and everyone laughed.

“Don’t worry,” Cait said. “They’ll hunt you down to offer you a copy, and anything not ordered is deleted. Your privacy is safe with us. Now, beginning tonight, we’ll have horse-drawn sleigh rides several times a day, but you need to reserve your spot for those. And we have even more fun planned for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There are flyers being delivered to every room and cabin with the full holiday schedule of events, and I hope you’ll join us. Merry Christmas, folks.”

Several guests shouted “Merry Christmas” back at her, while others just clapped, and she headed back to her own table, where Finnegan Smart beamed at her in what looked like more than professional pride. Huh, was there something going on there?

“Wow, what a great place,” Misty said. “I’m so grateful you brought me. Thanks, Aunt Rache.”

“You’re welcome.” I didn’t exactly bask in her gratitude, since I’d brought her up here because a killer was after my eyes. But telling her that would pretty much ruin the mood, you know?

10

Wednesday, December 20

“W
hat do you think about Marie and this Scott Douglas character?” Mason asked.

We were sitting on a park bench in the middle of Blue Lake, the closest village to Pine Haven, where every possible sight belonged in a Jimmy Stewart holiday movie. It hadn’t been hard to find. We’d driven through it on the way north, because there was only one road from the lodge to anywhere, although there were several roads from Blue Lake to elsewhere. The lodge road was narrow, twisting, unpaved and meandered through pine forests. We’d seen a moose on the way over.

I was glad I’d given in when Misty had begged to come into the village to do some Christmas shopping for the rest of us, plus she’d thought it would be fun to play along with the lodge’s Secret Santa gift exchange. After all, what was more Christmassy than buying a present for a total stranger? she’d asked. Jeremy had come along because he seemed perfectly willing to go along with anything Misty wanted to do. Since we didn’t dare leave anyone connected to Eric, via his organs or his genes, unsupervised, Mason and I had chaperoned, and he’d insisted I wear big sunglasses and keep my hair under my hat. It was kind of nice that he was being so protective. I found it odd that I felt that way. That sort of thing would usually irritate me. The others were well-guarded by Rosie back at the lodge, and Josh had probably dragged them all back to the water park by now. Besides that, Mason had his new best friend, Finnegan Smart, keeping a close eye on them, as well. I’d caught the two of them talking shop three times already today, though I knew he hadn’t confided to the retired Irish cop—or anyone else—the real reason we were there.

I sipped my coffee before I answered his question about Marie’s admirer. “I guess I don’t have to ask what
you
think about him.”

“Why not?”

“Because you said ‘that Scott Douglas character’ the way you would say ‘that embezzler.’”

He met my eyes, then looked away.

“You don’t like him? Is he making your cop sense tingle or something?”

“No, he’s clean. I already called and had the chief run a background check on him.”

I was halfway to another sip but stopped. “You did?”

“Of course I did. He’s hanging around Marie after someone tried to beat the hell out of her. Naturally I’m going to check.”

I supposed that made sense. “So he’s clean, then?”

He nodded.

“And yet you’re still feeling hostile toward him.”

“I just think it’s a little soon, that’s all. I mean, don’t you? My brother hasn’t even been dead six months.”

“And widows of serial killers should be loyal for longer than that?”

He narrowed his eyes at me a little. I’d hit a nerve. Okay. “She doesn’t know what he was,” he said.

“She might not have known what he did, but I don’t think you live with someone for eighteen years and don’t know who they are, deep down, Mason. And besides, she knows he took his own life. He chose to leave her, alone with two boys and a baby on the way. How is that supposed to inspire her endless devotion?”

He clutched his coffee cup a little tighter. “It’s too soon. The boys aren’t ready.”

“The boys aren’t dating him.”

His head came up fast. “You think they’re
dating?
Did Marie tell you that?”

I set my cup down. “You know, the way you’re acting, I’m wondering if you kissed the wrong woman on the slopes today. Are you in love with your sister-in-law, Mason?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I watched his face, then closed my eyes and
felt
him. He’d withdrawn from me, leaned back a little, when I asked the question, and pulled back his energy, as well. The idea repelled him. Thank God.

I opened my eyes again. “Well, you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

His lips tightened. “She was married to my
brother.
”

“I know. But he’s beyond caring. And she’s the one in pain. She’s lost so much lately, Mason. How can you deny her a harmless flirtation with a nice, good-looking stranger if it makes her feel better?”

His gaze shifted past me, looked horrified, and I knew in that instant that the kids had come out of the shop and were standing behind me. “Oh, shit.” I turned.

Jeremy was standing there, his face expressionless. “I don’t think he’s a stranger,” was all he said.

“Jer, I’m sorry.” I turned around. “I...I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you. I didn’t mean—”

“What do you mean, he’s not a stranger?” Mason put a hand on my shoulder to make the interruption less irritating. It worked.

Jeremy shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s the same guy I saw her talking to outside the grocery store one day. I don’t think him being here is an accident at all. And I hate her for it.”

“Jer, don’t say that,” Misty said.

He lowered his head and headed for the car, then got in and slammed the door without another word.

“I guess the shopping trip’s over,” Misty said.

“I’m sorry, Misty. I didn’t mean to ruin the day for you two.”

“You didn’t. I’ve been telling him the same thing you just said. It’s just bugging him, that’s all. It was his dad, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

She lifted her bag. There were four more sitting on the sidewalk near our bench. We’d had a busy day. “I got some really cute things for Secret Santa, though. I can’t wait to scope out the guests and decide who gets what.”

“I think you’re just supposed to pick a random door.”

“It’s mostly kids’ stuff. I need to figure out who has kids.” She looked toward the car. “I’ll bring Jeremy around, don’t worry.”

“You’re good for him, Misty,” Mason said. “I’m glad you’re with us.”

Her smile almost reached her ears. “Thanks, Mason.” Then she turned and jogged to the car to join Jeremy.

Mason heaved a giant sigh that made his big chest expand bigger, which made me want to lay my hands on it. Sans shirt. “So is that what I’m acting like?”

“Not to the same degree.”

He nodded. “I’ll try to rein it in.”

“I know you will.”

“More importantly, I need to figure out if she did know him before they met here. That could mean we didn’t come up here as anonymously as we think we did.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I thought it when he was with the carolers. Should have told you then.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, looking at me with a curious crook of his brows.

“Doubted myself. Figured I must have had my antennae kinked or something.”

“Never do that, Rache. Your antennae are the best I’ve ever seen.”

* * *

Aside from Jeremy’s morose attitude and stony silence all the way back to the lodge—which was only fifteen miles away, though the dirt road made it feel like forty—the day had been a good one. I was starting to feel safe at Pine Haven. Yes, I was a little bit worried about Marie’s new...friend. Not overly worried that he might be a threat to
me
specifically, though. I hadn’t sensed anything hostile about him. I was more worried that he might have told someone where he was going or who he was going to meet there, which might put us all in danger.

I thought the chances of that were pretty slim, though. If they’d been seeing each other and trying to keep it to themselves, they would have as much reason to be discreet as anyone else.

I wondered if I was being overly optimistic. After all, I hadn’t sensed anything dangerous about the
last
serial killer I’d known, either, and he’d nearly killed Mason and me both. Still, I didn’t think Scott Douglas was out to hurt anyone. I supposed the atmosphere up here, snow and pine trees and twinkling lights and Christmas magic everywhere you looked, might be skewing my blind-chick sense a little. I was starting to buy into all the happy holiday energy around this joint.

You know, until we got back to the cabin.

We’d stopped at the lodge to pick up Marie and Josh. Josh threw a fit, because he’d discovered an entire arcade just off the water park area and didn’t want to leave.

I promised him twenty bucks’ worth of quarters the next day if he’d just shut the fuck up and get in the car, and yes, that was exactly the way I put it. He laughed but complied. Angela was mortified but happy, I think, for a break from her demanding, exhausting grandson.

So we arrived back at the cabin with my rented Ford crammed full of passengers, shopping bags on every lap just to make room, and as we unloaded and headed for the door, I stopped, because there was a gorgeous wreath hanging there that hadn’t been there before. It was just after dark, and the wreath was real pine, entwined with holly vines, berries and all, and accented with red and white poinsettia blossoms, also real. It had to have come from a florist.

Dangling from it by a red ribbon was a tiny package, wrapped in red foil paper with a minuscule green bow on top.

“What the hell?” I looked at Mason.

“Secret Santa!” Misty shouted. “Has to be!” She shouldered past me to tug the package free, then turned it over and gave an exaggerated pout. “It’s for you,” she said, and handed it to me.

Sure enough, the tiny package bore a tiny tag that had my name on it in microscopic letters.
Rachel de Luca.

“I thought the Secret Santa thing was supposed to be anonymous?” I said, looking at each of them. “Random, right? Did one of you...?”

Every one of my cabinmates denied being responsible. Then Misty and Jeremy headed inside with Joshua tagging along behind, talking a mile a minute. He’d purchased a cheese-filled bone-shaped delicacy for Myrtle to make up for us leaving her alone for a few hours. Kid had no idea she actually preferred sleeping all day.

Mason took my elbow and steered me in, too, even though I was already trying to unwrap the tiny box. Way too much tape. Clearly someone who knew me personally must have left this, and that meant someone in this cabin, whether they would admit it or not. I wasn’t even registered under my real name. No one else knew I was here. I heeled off my boots and shed my coat, shifting the gift from one hand to the other as I did, and then headed straight to the nearest chair, which was in front of the fireplace. The fire had gone out, and that was sad, but I didn’t let it distract me from my mission.

Finally I got the wrapping off, revealing a small white box like you’d get from a jeweler. I took off the lid and looked inside.

A folded scrap of paper lay on top, so I took that out first and opened it. It was a clipping from a magazine, and I recognized the line. “Rachel de Luca is the archangel of new-age spirituality.”

It made me smile. It had been part of a stellar review of one of my books,
Create Your Life,
which had been the one that launched my career into the stratosphere.

Feeling warm inside, I moved some cotton padding to reveal a tiny angel brooch. The little angel was gold-colored, heavy enough to be real though it clearly wasn’t, and she had sparkly bits of lead crystal in her halo. But there was something wrong. Something about her eyes, which were empty sockets, not even gold, just dark.

I picked her up for a closer look and saw two tiny blue stones in the box beneath her. I lifted my head, searching for Mason. He was right there, really close. My hands started to shake.

He read me in that uncanny way of his. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I held up the angel and whispered, “Her eyes have been gouged out.”

* * *

Mason felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he saw Rachel’s terror.

Misty leaned over from behind her. “Gouged out? Grim much? They must have
fallen
out. It’s okay, though. I grabbed some glue today so I could fix my favorite bracelet. You can fix her right up!” She ran to get the glue.

No one else seemed overly interested. But then, no one else was aware of the implications. Marie was in the kitchen, putting away the extra groceries they’d picked up in the village. The boys were on the sofa with their handheld gaming devices, earbuds in place.

“Do
you
think her eyes fell out, Mason?” Rachel whispered.

“I think that would be a hell of a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Put it back in the box. Let me take it.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “He’s here, Mason. The killer followed us here. Somehow he knows. He’s coming for my eyes.”

The angel fell from her hands back into the box, and Mason reached down to take it from her lap, along with the lid, the clipping and the wrapping paper. He was careful not to touch anything more than he had to.

“Lock the doors,” he said for her ears only. “Do it as casually as you can while I take care of this, all right?”

She nodded, got up to wander casually over to the front door and turn the dead bolt, then picked up her dropped coat and hat, and put them away in the closet. He knew she was checking to make sure it held only coats. No organ thieves. Mason looked around at the others. No one was paying her any mind, so he took the evidence up to his room before anyone could ask questions. He deposited it in the top drawer of his nightstand, which would do until he could grab a zipper bag from the kitchen without drawing undue attention.

And then he took the time to search the entire second floor, every bedroom—including under the beds. Every closet. Every bathroom. Everything.

He didn’t find a killer hiding anywhere, nor any evidence there had ever been one around. He did find a bottle of Jim Beam in Jeremy’s closet, tucked in the back behind a carefully placed gym bag.

He took the bottle, shaking his head slowly, then walked it to the bathroom, tossed the cap into the wastebasket and poured the whiskey down the sink. Then he jotted a note, rolled it up and tucked it into the bottle. He did not need another complication right now.

He was scared, and he had a lot to handle in very short order. He had to get hold of Scott Douglas and have a frank conversation with him about how long he’d been seeing Marie, and who he’d told that he would be coming up here to meet her. He had to get a stronger read on the guy, see whether he could possibly be a cold-blooded murderer, and whether he was in the medical field and had ready access to succinylcholine. He had to get the angel brooch to a forensics lab to check it for trace evidence—fingerprints, fibers, a stray piece of DNA—and get a handwriting analysis on the gift card. He had to figure out where one of those pins could be bought and who had bought this one. He had to fill Rosie in on everything. And now he had to deal with a seventeen-year-old sneaking booze.