Authors: Cheryl Gorman
“Good.”
Devlin laid his mouth over hers and kissed her until her brain began to fog and
her toes curled into the carpet. When he lifted his head, he grasped her hands,
kissed first one palm, then the other. She looked up into his eyes and let the love
she saw there pour through her.
“I
love you, Abby.” She knew without a doubt that she would never tire of hearing
him say those words. “I’m going to take care of you tonight and always. I’ll
meet you on the dance floor, okay? The sun should just be setting by the time
you arrive with the sheriff.”
“I’ll
look forward to it.”
·
* * * *
After
Devlin left for the festival, Abby took a quick shower, then laid out her
costume. She wrapped her hair around her head as best she could, then put on
the tight-fitting harlequin cap. A tassel swung jauntily from the top.
Abby
walked back into the bedroom and over to the bed where she’d laid out her
costume.
Something
cold and metallic dug into her toes when she stepped up to the side of the bed.
She lifted her foot and looked down at the floor.
The
overhead light glinted on a delicate chain of gold sticking out from under the
bed. Abby leaned over and picked it up. She blinked at the object she held in
her hand.
Miranda’s
bracelet.
Was
this Miranda’s blood? Mr. Carstairs had told her that a chopper had picked her
up and whisked her away. Had she been hurt along with J.D.? Had Devlin kept it
from her because he didn’t want her to worry?
He
had protected her since she’d arrived on the island, and he’d taken gentle care
of her when she’d been pushed that night into the street. Was he trying to
protect her yet again? There was only one way to find out.
She
picked up her costume from the bed, put it on along with a pair of black
slippers and her fanny pack with the Taser inside, and headed downstairs to
meet the sheriff.
·
* * * *
Lights
had been strung through the beech trees on the village green. A bandstand had been
set up, and several musicians were connecting speakers and testing the sound.
The
scent of food wafted past Abby’s nose. There was a hum of excitement in the air
as the villagers finished up the final preparations for the festival. Otis had
gone to his booth to check on the jambalaya he’d started cooking early that
morning. A couple of boys made a beeline for the sponge-throw booth.
Abby
saw Devlin dancing with a tall woman with long gray hair hanging down her back.
The woman said something, and Devlin threw his head back and laughed.
She
smiled and started toward him.
·
* * * *
Devlin
saw Abby out of the corner of his eye when she walked onto the dance floor. He
held out his hand and smiled at her. She was dressed as a harlequin in a
bodysuit with diamond shapes all over it in red, white, and black. The suit
molded to every curve of her body -- a body he knew intimately now.
Abby
took his hand, but there was an expression of concern in her eyes. Something
was wrong, and it was more than just the danger that possibly lay ahead this
evening.
He
turned to his dance partner. “Lois, this is Abigail Chapel. Abby, this is Lois
Greene.”
Lois
was at least five-foot-ten, mid-sixties, and thin as a rail. She wore a
flesh-colored costume, à la Lady Godiva, and had fit her body into a stuffed
horse. Her legs stuck out of the bottom of the horse so she could walk around,
while a pair of fake legs straddled the horse’s back. Her gray eyes sparkled as
she held out her hand for a handshake.
Abby
took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lois.”
“I’m
happy to meet you.” She touched Abby on the arm and leaned closer to her.
“We’re having a little barbecue next weekend. If you’ll still be on the island,
we’d both love it if you and Devlin would come.” Lois laughed. “I’d better go
find my husband. I promised him the next dance.” She wandered off, the horse’s
tail swishing this way and that behind her.
Dev
turned back to Abby. “Dance with me.”
Twinkle
lights and Japanese lanterns had been strung from poles around the dance floor.
The quartet played “Pennies in a Stream.”
The
sun, a ball of orange, dipped below the horizon, and the stars were winking
into view in a clear sky. A breeze ruffled a few strands of Abby’s hair that
had escaped her cap.
Around
them danced George and Martha Washington, the Riddler, two kings, and couple of
butterflies.
“We’ll
dance later. I need to talk to you about something.”
She’d
been fine earlier when he’d left her to come down to help finish setting up for
the festival. Now, she looked upset. “Abby, what’s wrong?”
A
little frown creased her brow. “Was Miranda hurt, Dev?”
“Let’s
find someplace quiet where we can talk.”
They
were halfway across the village green when two boys scampered up. They were
dressed as soldiers, their faces painted up with camouflage. “Hey, surrender
your weapon and hit the deck.” They each pointed a fake gun at Devlin.
Abby
laughed as she walked away. “I’ll meet you over by Otis.” In a moment, the
crowd swallowed her up. His gaze darted over the sea of people until he spotted
Otis. In a few seconds, he saw Abby standing in front of Otis’s stall and he
relaxed.
He
returned his gaze to the kids. “You dare threaten a Musketeer?”
One
of the boys squared his shoulders. “We’re Navy SEALS, mister. Hand over your
sword.”
He
supposed a Musketeer was no match for a SEAL. Dev unhooked his sword and held
it out.
The
boy took the sword and tried to stick the point end into the earth, but the
rubber bent against the pressure. He tossed it on the ground instead and placed
his booted foot over the handle. “You are charged with treason. How do you
plead?”
“Not
guilty.”
“Too
bad. Off to the firing squad with you.” The other boy pronounced his sentence.
Devlin
cut his gaze over to Otis’s booth. “Don’t I get a last meal?”
The
boys looked at each other. “Sure, why not. But report back to us at 0700.”
Devlin
tipped his hat and bowed. “You have my word as a gentleman.”
Spiderman
ran up to the boys and sprayed them with a water pistol. The boys whirled
around and gave chase. Dev strode toward Abby, wondering what was on her mind.
When
he got to the booth, Abby sat in a chair in front, with a plastic bowl of rice
covered in jambalaya. The scent of shrimp, tomatoes, and spices filled the air.
When he walked up, Abby looked at him, then spooned in another mouthful of the
jambalaya; she didn’t seem to be making much headway.
“Smells
great.” Devlin sat in one of the chairs next to her.
“Nice
festival this year.” Otis handed him a bowl filled to the brim. “The two of you
been dancing yet? Sounds like the guys are playing real good. Got them a new
fiddle player, I see.” Otis cut his eyes to Abby and back to Dev. “You two been
scrapping?”
Abby
looked up at Otis, then back to Devlin. “No. I was starving and wanted to get
something to eat first.”
“You
sure that’s all?”
Devlin
ate another spoonful of food. “This is your best batch yet, Otis.”
Otis
stirred the huge pot. “You say that every year.”
A
group of tourists strolled up dressed like the Brady Bunch. Otis turned on the
charm and thickened his Cajun accent.
Devlin
rose from his chair, tossed his bowl in the nearest trashcan, and looked at
Abby. “Come on.” He held out his hand to her. “Let’s go talk.”
Abby
rose from her chair, dumped her bowl in the trash, and took his hand. They headed
toward the cool shadows under a large elm tree. The sounds of the festival
faded into the background.
Devlin
felt the worry radiating off Abby’s body. She reached up and fingered the
tassel hanging from her cap. He recognized that nervous gesture immediately.
When nervous or worried, Abby played with a button on her blouse, the belt on
her robe, a strand of hair. But the costume gave her no other item to worry
with. “What’s wrong, honey?”
She
glanced toward the village green, then back at him. “Since I arrived on the
island, you know I’ve been worried sick about Miranda. You told me she was okay
because she was with J.D. and he would protect her. I believed you.” She paused
and looked away.
“Yes,
that’s true. So what’s the problem?”
She
gazed down at her hands, then back up at him. She held an object up for his
inspection.
Miranda’s
bracelet dangled from her fingers.
“I
found it in your room. It has blood on it. Was Miranda hurt along with J.D.?
Did you keep it from me because you were trying to protect me?”
Devlin
shook his head. “No, Miranda wasn’t hurt. She helped me tend J.D.’s wound while
we waited for the helicopter to arrive. Her bracelet must have fallen off at
that time.
Abby
frowned and stared at him for a moment. “If Miranda was hurt, Dev, just tell
me.”
Dev
raked a hand through his hair. “Miranda wasn’t hurt. She didn’t find one scrap
of evidence that the castle was haunted, but she insisted on reporting her
findings.” He could tell by the look on Abby’s face that she still had her
doubts. “I didn’t want the information to be made public because I was afraid
it might affect the flow of tourists to the island. So I offered Miranda some
cash and access to an estate.”
“You
offered her a bribe?
“Well,
yes.”
“Where
is the estate?”
“On
the mainland. My family owns it, and we’ve denied access to ghost hunters until
now. I thought it would keep her quiet.” He paused. “But you have a very
stubborn sister, almost as stubborn as you. She refused my offer of cash, but
accepted the estate.”
The
frown smoothed away from her brow. Devlin felt a wave of relief. “That sounds
like Miranda. Honest to a fault. Is she at this estate now?”
“Yes,
J.D. was released from the hospital this morning.”
“What’s
the number? I want to call and talk to her.”
“No
one has stayed there in quite some time. The lines were disconnected, the power
turned off.”
He
stepped close to her and drew her into his arms. Her scent infused him. Devlin
buried his nose in her hair. “She’s okay, Abby, I promise. J.D. should have the
power restored by this evening. As soon as the festival is over, we’ll go
straight home and call her.” Home. The castle and Wolf Island were truly his
home now that Abby had come into his life and made him complete.
“Welcome
to Wolf Island’s Twentieth Annual Midsummer Festival!” a voice called over the
village green’s speaker system. “It’s time for our island’s most prominent
citizen, Devlin Morgan, to say a few words. Devlin, come on up!”
Devlin
turned to Abby and laid his hands on her shoulders. He looked directly into her
eyes. “That’s my cue. The head of the island’s village council insists I speak
every year, so ... I just spoke to the sheriff. He thinks Victor is here.”
He smoothed a hand over Abby’s cheek. “Dutton’s cops are in position, but sweetheart,
be careful. If that bastard tries to grab you, zap him with that damn Taser
thing.” He looked down into her beautiful, innocent face and prayed she would
stay safe. “I still don’t like the idea of leaving you here on the fringes of
the crowd while I go make a speech.”
“Don’t
worry, Dev. You’ll only be gone for a few minutes. I’ll be in the face-painting
booth.” She nodded in that direction. “I promised I’d fill in for a while and
give Mrs. Watts a break. You’ll be able to see me clearly from the stage, and
the authorities will be waiting if Victor makes a move.” She gave him a smile
and squeezed his hand. “Now, go.”
Devlin
gave Abby a quick kiss and reluctantly headed toward the stage.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby
scanned the crush of clapping, cheering people and tried to locate Devlin in
the middle of the swarm, but he was nowhere in sight.
A
man walked past her dressed as the Grim Reaper. The hooded black cloak he wore
hid his face. In his hand he held a sickle. He turned his head, and she thought
for a moment he looked straight at her. A chill crawled over her skin. The man
continued walking and disappeared into the crowd.
She
hurried over to the face-painting booth and stood to the side. One of the
sheriff’s men, dressed as Batman, stood a few feet to her right. Daylight had
faded, but even with the deputy close by to protect her, she felt alone and
vulnerable without Devlin by her side. Everyone crowded together in front of
the stage, waiting for Dev to make his speech. Out of the corner of her eye, a
movement caught Abby’s attention. She jerked her head around and saw the deputy
lying on the ground. Black fear swept through her.