Murder, Madness & Love (Detective Quaid Mysteries #1) Read online

In spite of everything, she relaxed and they sat down on the couch together. Sarah tucked her legs up under her and sat facing him. They looked candidly at each other, and Sarah blushed. He watched her closely and smiled broadly; she could see the laughter behind his eyes.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Not funny—wonderful. I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been… god, almost eight years. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” He inhaled the rose scent she wore. He openly admired her, touching her face tenderly. “Your beauty has matured, softened. It’s sensual. Sarah, you’re the princess in every fairy tale ever told. Evil will never touch you, and no beast will ever have you. Please don’t be afraid. Whoever this stalker is, he’ll never reach you.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Wow, I haven’t heard words like that in a long time, but I have changed—just eight years, yes, but time brings many changes. Sometimes I wish I could forget, but then I realize how selfish I am. I had a wonderful marriage. I don’t want to disregard it. I just want to forget the pain of his death, and now this.”

  Scott moved closer and put his arm across the back of the couch, his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do something to ease your stress.”

  “You have,” she said. “You being here now means a lot. Friends are important—I never realized how important until all this started. Is that what you came all the way out here to tell me? I thought you had a business proposition.”

  “No, those were Karen’s words.”

  “Did you tell her Steven’s my bodyguard?”

  “No. If I shared that with her, I’d have to tell her I’m his number-one suspect. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her—or you, or me.”

  “Thank you. Karen loves to gossip, and I don’t need this getting to the board or the papers. But if it’s not business, what is it?”

  “I want to see you. I want to have dinner with you, when you return, maybe while you’re in Seattle. I’ve missed you, Sarah. I didn’t realize how much until I saw you again, until I held you in my arms.”

  He touched her cheek, and she tilted her head toward the touch, closing her eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched her gently, lovingly. Her reaction had been such that she wasn’t aware of it, only that she knew she’d been craving gentle physical contact.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  Eyes still closed, she rested her head against his hand, and allowed herself to soak up the comfort she found in his touch. Scott caressed her shoulders, and the tension left her body. Then he kissed her neck and quickly discovered her lips. Sarah felt as though she were on a roller-coaster ride of longing and need. One second, being in his arms seemed right, and then the next, she wanted to pull away. Such opposing emotions overwhelmed her, bringing tears to Sarah’s eyes. Her tears fell, and as soon as he felt them, Scott pulled back.

  “You’re crying. Damn it, I promised you, and then—honest, Sarah, I didn’t come here to seduce you.”

  “Forgive me, it’s just all too much.” Sarah could not stop the tears from flowing. Overwhelmed and uncomfortable with being so emotional in front of Scott, she hurried from the room. On her way out, she almost collided with Steven, who carried a tray of hot chocolate and brandy for the four of them now that the tour with Karen was over.

  “I’m sorry.” She quickly mumbled the apology, then ran to the safety of her bedroom.

  Scott had risen to follow Sarah but stopped short when he saw Steven and Karen. Steven stood back and watched Karen observe Scott. Scott’s eyes followed Sarah up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Karen glared at Sarah’s retreating figure, and then looked directly at Scott.

  “I assume she didn’t like your business proposition. I’ll be in the car,” Karen snarled. She picked up her coat, marched out the front door and slammed it with a force that made both men jump.

  Steven stood, with the tray still balanced in his hands, and watched the entire scene. He couldn’t help the amusement he derived from Scott’s utter failure with both women. Steven also couldn’t help the urge he felt to protect Sarah.

  “She’s vulnerable. For god’s sake, leave her alone.”

  “Who, Sarah or Karen?”

  “You know who I’m talking about.”

  “Yes, well, I think what Sarah does or does not do is none of your business. After all, you’re just her bodyguard.”

  “And exactly what are you?”

  “I’m an old friend.”

  “Yes, and yesterday she slapped you, and tonight she went out of her way to avoid you, and just now she ran crying from the room. Doesn’t sound to me like you’re making any points in the friend arena. Like I said, leave her alone. She has enough to worry about without your cruel intentions.”

  “Why, so you can step in and grab her up after you catch the maniac stalking her? No, detective, you won’t have her. She’s way out of your league. You could never merit a woman like Sarah.” Chase returned to the den to get his coat.

  Steven put the tray of hot chocolate on the stand and followed Chase into the den. “What happened yesterday?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “Would I be asking if she had?”

  “I’ll tell you, if you quit hounding her. What happened between us is history, and we both made mistakes we’d like to forget.”

  “No problem, just talk.”

  “I said something to hurt her.”

  “I know that much. I want to know what.”

  Chase took a deep breath. Steven sensed regret.

  “I called her a black widow. I wanted to provoke her, and she reacted the way anyone would.” His shoulders drooped, but he quickly recovered and moved to put his coat on. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. Maybe neither of us deserves her.”

  Chase glanced up the stairs and slowly put his coat on, delaying his exit, as though he hoped Sarah would make another appearance. “Take the look of satisfaction off your face, detective. I’ve no doubt you’ve done worse. Like I said, neither of us is truly worthy of her.”

  Steven sighed with relief when Chase finally walked out the door. He gazed upstairs, and wondered if he should check on Sarah. Instead, he carried the tray of cocoa back to the kitchen.

  Sarah stood in the shower and let the warm water mix with her tears. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. She never meant for things to get so out of hand. Yet, his arms, his touch brought solace. She needed comfort, she desired strength, and she coveted love, but not tonight. Scott could never just give her the solace she sought. With him, the rule was all or nothing.

  At first, Sarah struggled to keep the tears back, but, finding it too difficult, she gave in and let herself cry. She hated crying. Like her father, she believed crying was a waste of time, and a woman’s silly reaction to stress. Buck up, girl. You have the power. Take it.

  After a few minutes of an emotional release that had been long in the making, the tears subsided, she finished her shower and put a cold compress on her forehead to ward off another headache. She had been under extreme stress all weekend—hell, all month—and she had been struggling all that time to keep her emotions in line. Now she realized that the continued emotional bottling, and the limited release of the stress and emotions, was bringing on the headaches.

  She put on a warmer nightgown, one made of white cotton with long sleeves, an empire waist, and a floor-length skirt—an updated version of the granny gown. Taking her tray to the kitchen, Sarah made another cup of tea, and then went to the den where she knew the fire still burned. Thinking she was finally alone, Sarah settled down on the rug in front of the fire and brushed her wet hair, allowing the heat from the flames to dry it.

  Steven intruded on her solitude when he came into the room carrying a fresh tray of hot chocolate and brandy. Flinging her hair back over her shoulder, Sarah fixed him with a look that demanded he leave her be.

  He pretended not to notice. “Peace offering.” Steven held up a steaming mug. “Can I add some
brandy?”

  “Please.” She accepted, politely.

  He joined her in front of the fire. “Sorry it’s been such a rough night.”

  She shrugged, sipped the cocoa, and stared into the flames. While grateful for the peace offering, Sarah wasn’t interested in platitudes.

  “Sarah, what if I said I no longer believe you killed your husband? Would you talk to me? Would you trust me to help you?”

  Sarah tried to read him but found it difficult. Was he being honest or just trying to provoke her? Perhaps he was playing a part, all the while expecting she’d suddenly confess to a crime she’d never committed. In the end, it didn’t matter to Sarah. She was too tired to play games.

  “Please understand, detective—”

  “Steven.”

  “Steven.”

  He thought he saw a sparkle, the hint of a smile.

  “I’m glad we’ve stopped fighting. I truly respect what you do, but I’ve no reason to believe you, and your opinion doesn’t matter. I know I did not kill Michael.” She did not drop her gaze.

  “Why? How could it not matter?”

  “When you believed I killed my husband, on what grounds were you basing your assessment?” Sarah let him squirm for a moment, then continued. “Now, suddenly, I’m innocent. What made you change your mind? The fact that I dance well, or because I look good in a nightgown by the firelight?”

  She smiled, but it wasn’t a genuine expression.

  “I liked our relationship better when you thought me guilty. Prove I’m innocent, detective. If you believe my husband was murdered, find the person who killed him. Then I’ll believe you, but not before then.”

  Steven didn’t have a chance to respond, because with that final statement, Sarah rose and left the room.

  He sat for a long time, staring into the flames and thinking about her. He recalled their dancing and the feel of her body against his, and, when he’d held her earlier, he’d almost closed the door on Chase, just so he could carry her to the bedroom. Steven remembered how the firelight softened her already delicate features, giving her a radiant glow.

  “My snow angel,” he whispered, then caught himself. What the hell is wrong with me?

  His head and his heart were fighting—over Sarah. She had dared him to prove her innocent. She would not respect him until he did, and he wanted her respect above all else. A black widow or falsely accused, Steven couldn’t decide. The sorrow on her face was real, the warmth of her touch was soothing, and the smile she gave so willingly to everyone was sincere. But that song—You Are My Sunshine, he could not figure out why she sang such an unusual tune.

  Was there proof of her virtue? His head questioned everything, seeking evidentiary proof, continuing the argument with his heart. On the other hand, the way she looked tonight in front of the fire—was she trying to distract him from the truth? Pretty spider, diabolical spider, spellbinding spider, am I caught in your web?

  he ocean’s whitecaps thrust ever forward, thrashing the rocks on shore, and leaving a bubbling white foam of mist and debris behind. The water reflected the deep blue of the sky, and a soft breeze ruffled the grasses and leaves. The usual gray skies of winter gave way to sunshine, and Sarah felt vibrant because of it.

  Standing on the bluff, watching the ocean grapple for the shore, Sarah recalled all the sweet memories this place held for her. Being here with Michael—sometimes in silence, sometimes deep in conversation—Sarah recalled the plans they’d made, the warmth of his body when they snuggled close, and especially the feel of her hand in his.

  She missed his thundering laugh and his outrageous humor. She missed him. She felt the closest to Michael here, because she had said her final farewell on this spot before scattering his ashes to the wind. Then she’d prayed for Michael, but she had been unable to pray for herself. Today, she prayed for forgiveness, made peace with God, and felt a fresh beginning waited with the New Year.

  Sarah had originally planned to do business in Seattle while she vacationed. To appease John, and to keep Eddie in Anchorage with his soon to be fiancée, she canceled all her appointments and took care of the paperwork via internet and messengers. For an entire week, she allowed herself to forget the outside world. She walked the grounds and took pleasure in the memories; she slept soundly and ate Opal’s home cooked meals gratefully. Home, safe in the sanctuary Michael had created for her, Sarah flourished.

  The weather was cool but dry, and allowed Sarah to spend most of her time outdoors. The color returned to her cheeks, and her spirit felt recharged. Sarah walked the trails to town daily, not only for the exercise, but also because she enjoyed visiting the local merchants. Her Christmas shopping was yet undone, due to the unsettled business in Anchorage, so Sarah used the handmade wares of the local shops to finish her list. She sent her packages by overnight mail to make sure they arrived in time. The exceptions were the two gifts, wrapped and in her sitting room: an antique ship’s bell and a pipe for Scott, and for Steven a gold pan and a painting of a hawk proudly surveying its domain. The painting was one of her originals. She hesitated, waiting until the last minute to send them, fearing trouble she wasn’t ready to deal with.

  Either John or Eddie called her daily. John reluctantly allowed her to go out unguarded, only agreeing when she promised to call at the slightest hint of trouble. On the twenty-second, after finally finishing her Christmas shopping, she hurried home to get ready for the last party of the season. This would be her first trip to Seattle since her arrival, and Sarah looked forward to the change. The Palmer Corporation threw an annual Christmas ball for its employees and clients at the Hilton in Seattle. The grand affair brought employees from both Spokane and Portland, and Gerry insisted she make an appearance. The employees had planned a special presentation in honor of Michael.

  She strolled up the hill from town, and breathed deeply of the fresh, clean air. She opened the mailbox; exchanging cards with the employees was a holiday duty she enjoyed. She sorted the mail, and a red envelope caught her eye. She pulled the envelope from among the rest, and a heavy pressure settled in her chest. It was larger than the other cards, and she knew without further inspection, that a killer—her stalker—had sent it. No address, obviously, because the mail carrier had not delivered it. She hurried back to the house and glanced carefully over her shoulder, afraid her stalker still watched.

  Once inside, she went straight to her room and tore open the envelope. The red heart came from the same red construction paper, but the words “Merry Christmas, Valentine” did not seem to hold the malice of the previous cards.

  Sarah exhaled in relief, and the pressure eased. No new clues meant no new victims, she prayed. She put the card in the desk drawer, vowing no stalker would ruin her, or anyone else’s, holiday. She knew if she called John, he would send Eddie, and Eddie planned to propose to his girlfriend, Alexis, on Christmas day. Sarah would not interfere. Certain her stalker wanted her to know she could not escape him, she would keep the secret.

  The telephone rang, and she answered immediately. A familiar, dark terror began to creep in through the receiver. What the card had not accomplished, the telephone call achieved.

  Forgotten nightmares crept to the forefront of her mind. Sarah fought to keep hold of the happiness she’d found since coming home, but it was pushed violently aside by terror’s intrusion. Sarah searched for some form of comfort in the view, but a dark, grey storm was racing for shore. The sun vanished behind a cloud, and so did her peace of mind. Realizing her sanctuary was no longer secure, Sarah felt confused and anxious. Thoughts of the party, of responsibility, could not get by the question her mind needed answered, a simple question only her tormentor knew the answer to: why?

  Emma knocked, but Sarah did not respond. Emma tried again and then opened the door.

  “Sarah? Honey, is something wrong?” Emma touched Sarah’s elbow, startling her. “I’m sorry, dear, did I frighten you? Who called? Are you coming down with something? You look pale.”

&
nbsp; Emma placed her hand on Sarah’s forehead, and hung up the phone.

  “You know too, much air can be bad for you too,” Emma gently scolded her. “Listen, why don’t you get some rest? You still have time before your flight. I’ll tell the gentleman downstairs he’ll have to come back another time.”

  “I’m fine, Emma, just lost in thought.” It clicked, then, that Emma had mentioned a visitor. “Gentleman?”

  “Scott Chase, from—”

  Sarah was out the door, and on her way to the living room before Emma finished the sentence. She ran down the stairs to find Scott admiring the view.

  “Scott, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  He took her in his arms, but when Sarah resisted, he immediately released her.

  “I came to escort you to the party. The tux is in the car. So, what do you say? You don’t have an escort, do you? I thought we’d take the scenic drive back, stop for lunch on the way, and still arrive in time to get your hair done.”

  “Why not? I just have to call and cancel my flight, but give me ten minutes. I’ll be right back. I’m already packed.” With Scott at her side, Sarah hoped all the frightening thoughts would disappear.

  “You got it,” Scott said. “Hurry.”

  Sarah ran upstairs, the darkness lifting. In eight minutes, she was back and ready for the trip. They loaded the car, and were quickly on their way.

  “What made you drive all the way out here to escort me to a dance? And how in the world did you know where to find me?”

  “Jackson. Besides, I have to make amends for our last meeting. I seem to have a reason to apologize after all of our encounters. It’s becoming a bad habit.”

  “You don’t need to make amends for anything. Memories can be overpowering. You may not have noticed, but I participated, too. I’m the one who needs to apologize for acting like a fool. I just seem to be going in so many different directions lately; falling into the past is inviting. Not to mention—you always were a wonderful kisser.” She giggled.

  “I was? Thank you for the compliment. And, no, Karen wasn’t expecting to go to the dance with me. She’s in Oregon with her family.” Scott glanced at her, his expression serious. “Karen and I are just friends; she put on an act for Quaid, to make him jealous. She’s in our corner. Besides, I know for a fact she’s dating Joe Donner.”