Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(59)

Annie answered, and she sounded cheerful and strong.

Mara relaxed. “Annie, this is Mara. You sound good.”

“I’m wonderful! This morning, I got out of the hospital! I’m back in Bella Terra at my sister-in-law’s house and we’re celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah and every good thing.”

“That’s great. That’s…great. Listen, I feel funny making this phone call, but I’ve been working at this resort for too long to let something go wrong without saying something.”

“What is it, dear?” Annie’s voice became warm and concerned.

“Kellen is behaving oddly. I don’t know what she’s doing exactly, but I’ve twice spotted her leaving a guest’s cottage late at night.”

“Oh no!” Annie whispered. “Not that.”

Hastily, Mara said, “I’m not saying she’s doing anything wrong. Not a good policy with a guest, of course, but she’s handling the resort really well. Especially considering the, you know, body and the way it disappeared with Lloyd Magnuson and all.”

Silence from the other end.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said… You did know about the, um, body? Priscilla’s body?”

“Leo told me. Not everything, I’m sure, but enough.” Annie sounded sorrowful. “I feel awful that my first thought of Priscilla was that she abandoned us. To think the poor child was murdered!”

“Yes. The poor child.”

“I’m sorry this happened while I was gone.”

“Bad timing,” Mara agreed. “As to the Kellen thing, I thought you ought to know…”

More silence from the other end.

Mara added, “Maybe I should have kept quiet…”

Annie rallied. “No, dear, thank you for keeping me up-to-date. Of course, that’s disappointing to hear. While Kellen’s in sole charge of the resort, I’d prefer she concentrate on the job. But these things do happen.”

“They do.” Mara burst out, “But, Annie, they’re out in the middle of the night in the most awful weather, in the cold and dark. I don’t know whether it’s a romance or something illegal!”

“Luckily, we have already handled this. Leo and I have sent a security manager to relieve Kellen of that particular part of her duties, a member of our family, Maximilian Di Luca.”

Mara cheered up. “That will help! This Maximilian, he’ll watch her really closely, right?”

“I guarantee his focus will be on her and her alone.”

“That’s good, because I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I don’t like it.”





27

That night, when Kellen slept, she dreamed of running away in the dark from something terrible. When she woke and stared into the darkness, she remembered what Temo had said. She doesn’t have family. She doesn’t understand what they are worth. And From now on, I’ll work as much as I can, when I can. That’s what has to be done.

God, Temo. What have you gotten yourself into?

She slept again and dreamed about a man with brown eyes and long black lashes who pulled her close, kissed her, tasted her, lingered over her lips until she kissed him back. She slid her hands into his hair. He pushed her gown aside, cupped her breast, slid his thumb across her nipple, his skin rough from digging in the dirt…

He spoke her name in longing and need. Ceecee… She looked up at him—and his eyes were blue, and he killed her.

She woke on a gasp.

Madness? Memory? Meaningless nightmare?

Yes. The latter. Her subconscious was a sick son of a bitch, and what she’d seen last night didn’t exist. Gregory was dead and gone, over the edge of the cliff by his own hand. He wasn’t here in Yearning Sands. He would never bother her again.

She didn’t remember a year of her life. Why couldn’t she forget Gregory?

She rolled over and looked at the clock. Six a.m. Good enough. She got ready for a jog and stepped out her door.

No rain. No wind. Not yet.

No Mara.

She went to Mara’s cottage. It was dark and empty. She went to the gym to work out, figuring Mara was there.

Mara wasn’t answering the door.

Kellen lifted weights, punched bags, practiced the turning kick. And cursed. She was never going to get that damned maneuver right.

Still no Mara.

She showered, dressed in the resort’s calf-length black gown and blue scarf. The resort might be short on guests and the staff might be skittish, Kellen herself might be sleepless and afraid, mostly of herself, but right now, at least, Yearning Sands was her home. She would exude excessive amounts of serenity. She would do as Xander urged; she would breathe. To Mara, she wrote a snarky note on the dry-erase board—





DETERMINATION


She ate breakfast in the lobby bar with the resort guests, who straggled in and out. The Shivering Sherlocks came in en masse, not yet in costume but consumed by this year’s mystery and by Carson’s clever script. After a little chitchat, Kellen excused herself and started toward the stairs and Annie’s office.

Frances flagged her down and in a gleeful voice said, “Something got delivered for you. A gift. Gorgeous! Lavish. Come on. We’re all dying to see who it’s from.”