Dawn in Eclipse Bay (24 page)

Gabe gave up trying to work, closed the laptop, grabbed a jacket and went down to the beach. He walked for a long time, trying to make sense of the screwy dream that had awakened him in the middle of the night. It had featured broken locks and the grinning faces of the Willis brothers. Not quite a nightmare but close enough.

He stopped at the edge of the water and watched a gull angle into the offshore breeze. Normally he didn't pay much attention to dreams. He didn't believe in intuition, premonitions, or the like.

But he had a healthy respect for his own hunches. They had served him well in business.

Something J. Anderson Flint had said the other night at the restaurant was running through his brain again and again this morning.

“Disgruntled employees can be dangerous.”

When he added it to the dream he got a very uneasy feeling.

What if Lillian's first intuitive suspicion had been correct? What if the break-in at her cottage had nothing to do with what had happened to Arizona but was, instead, linked to her fear that someone had intruded into her Portland apartment?

The knock on her front door interrupted her just as she was about to mix some paint. She put down the palette knife with a sense of deep resignation. What had ever made her think she would get some work done today?

She opened the door warily.

Gabe stood there, one hand braced on the door frame. There was no sign of his car. He was dressed in a black-and-tan windbreaker, jeans, and running shoes. His dark hair was tousled from the wind and a little damp from the mist-heavy air.

“We need to talk.” He walked into the hall and shrugged out of his jacket.

His cold, grim expression silenced whatever comment she had been about to make on the subject of interruptions.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“I've been thinking about something Flint said about Claire.”

She took the jacket from him. “What was that?”

“He mentioned that disgruntled employees could be dangerous. It occurred to me that maybe disgruntled boyfriends of former clients might fall into the same category.”

She stared at him, the jacket clutched in her hand. “Are you talking about Campbell Witley?”

“Yeah.” He disappeared into the kitchen. “Got any coffee?”

She draped the jacket over the hanger, jammed it into the closet and hurried to the doorway of the kitchen.

“What are you thinking?” She watched him fill the coffeemaker with fresh water. “That Witley might be responsible for the break-in here?”

He removed the lid of the coffee canister. “It would explain the incident at your apartment.”

“Assuming there was an incident.”

He nodded. “Assuming that.”

A shiver went through her. “But that would make Witley a stalker.”

“I know.” He finished spooning ground coffee into the filter and switched on the machine. “I don't want to scare you. Sean Valentine probably got it right when he concluded that whoever conked A.Z. on the head was a transient who had tried to break in here, first. But there is a remote possibility that the two incidents are related. Which, in turn, means that the break-in here could be connected to what happened in Portland.”

“It would explain why nothing was taken. A stalker probably wouldn't be interested in stealing stuff.”

He crossed the kitchen and cradled her face in his hands.

“Look, this should be easy enough to check out,” he said. “All we have to do is find out where Witley was when someone here in Eclipse Bay was breaking into your mudroom. Shouldn't be too hard to see if he's got an alibi. If he can account for his whereabouts during that time period, we can go back to Valentine's theory of a transient burglar.”

She swallowed. “I never considered the possibility of a stalker.”

“Neither did I until I got to thinking about Flint's comments.”

“I can call Nella Townsend, the investigator I used to check out my clients. She might be able to verify Witley's alibi.”

“Fine. Call her. I'll speak to Valentine, too. Let him know what's going on. But from what I've read, stalkers can be very slick. Very devious. It's hard to prove that they're doing anything illegal.”

She bit her lip. “I know.”

“I want to see this guy myself.”

“What?”

“I want to meet Witley face-to-face. Ask him some questions,” Gabe said.

“No.” Alarm washed through her. “You can't do that.”

“Take it easy, honey. I've done a lot of deals with a lot of people who have things to hide. I'm good at knowing when I'm being lied to.”

“Are you nuts?” she yelped. “You can't confront Witley on your own. What if he really is a stalker? He could be very dangerous.”

Gabe looked first surprised and then pleased. “Worried about me?”

“Of course I'm worried. No offense, Gabe, but this is not one of your more brilliant ideas.”

“I'm just going to drive into Portland and meet the guy. Don't worry, if he is a stalker, I doubt that he's a danger to me. Stalkers are obsessed with their victims, not other people.”

“Listen, I don't want you handling this on your own. If you insist on going to Portland to see him, I'll go with you.”

“No.” There was no give in the single word. “I don't want you anywhere near him.”

“Witley is a big man. He's had military training. He works in construction. Get the picture?”

“You think he might beat me to a pulp. Gee. You really don't have much faith in my manly skills, do you?”

“Your manly skills are not the issue here,” she said. “I don't want you to take that kind of risk on my account. I mean it. You can't do this by yourself and that's final.”

He hesitated. “I guess I could take along some backup.”

That stopped her for a heartbeat or two.

“Backup?” she repeated cautiously.

“A guy I know. He's big. Had some military training. Worked construction for a while.”

“Do I know this man?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me again why we're going to drive all the way into Portland to see this guy, Witley,” Mitchell said, buckling his seat belt.

“Long story.” Gabe put on his dark glasses and turned the key in the ignition. “It's just barely possible that Witley is stalking Lillian. She's going to have an investigator check out his movements in the past few days, but I want to talk to him myself. Lillian made it clear that she didn't want me meeting him alone. I refused to take her along. You're the compromise.”

“Well, shoot and damn,” Mitchell said cheerfully. “This sounds like fun. Any chance of a fight?”

“Probably not. But there's always hope.”

She stared at the blank canvas, knowing that she was even less likely to get into the zone now than she had been earlier in the day when Gabe had interrupted her.

All she could think about was that he and Mitchell were on their way to Portland together to confront Witley.

The phone rang in the living room. She turned away from the canvas and went to answer it.

“Lillian? This is Nella. I got your message. What's up?”

“Thanks for calling me back.” She sank down onto the arm of the sofa. “I've got a little problem here. Remember that guy Witley I asked you to check out?”

“Sure.” Nella paused. “Something happen?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Can you find out if he left town sometime during the past few days?”

“Shouldn't be too difficult. What's going on, Lil?”

“I'm not sure.” She gave Nella a quick rundown of events.

“I'll get right on it,” Nella said. “Meanwhile, watch yourself, okay? These guys tend to escalate.”

“What do you mean?”

“The incidents get more serious. It's a progressive thing. Do me a huge favor. Lock all your doors and windows and keep them locked until your friend Madison gets there or until I give you the all-clear. I'll get back to you as soon as I have something solid.”

“Thanks.”

Lillian ended the call, put down the phone and went back into the studio.

The blank canvas might as well have been sitting in another universe, a place where she could not go today.

A red compact pulled into the drive just as she was about to pour herself another cup of tea. Her fourth that afternoon. She went to the window and saw Claire Jensen, dressed in a navy blue shirt and a pair of jeans, get out from behind the wheel and walk up the front steps.

Just what she needed. Another interruption. She put down the cup and went to open the front door.

“Hi.” Claire looked and sounded as if she had not slept much in recent days. “I need to talk to someone. Mind if I come in for a few minutes?”

More sisterhood stuff. How much of this kind of thing was a woman supposed to do to retain her politically correct status?

“No, of course not.” Lillian held the door open. “I made tea. Want some?”

“That would be nice. Thanks.”

Claire walked into the front hall, took off her coat and gave it to Lillian to hang in the closet.

“Come on into the kitchen,” Lillian said.

“I assume you know that Marilyn fired me.”

“I heard.”

“It's not exactly the end of the world.” Claire folded her hands on the table and looked out the window. “Campaign managers get canned a lot. Goes with the territory.”

“I'm sure you'll find another position.”

“Sure. Something will turn up. That's not what's bothering me. It was the scene in the Crab Trap. It's all over town. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. The worst part is that I have no one to blame but myself.”

Lillian took another cup down out of the cupboard. “It'll all blow over in a few days.”

“I still don't know what made me track her down at the restaurant and confront her like that. I guess I was just so angry that I wasn't thinking straight. She actually accused me of sleeping with Trevor, can you imagine?”

Lillian poured tea. “I take it you didn't have an affair with him?”

“Are you kidding? I admired Trevor's political agenda, but that was as far as it went. I'm a pro. I don't sleep with my clients.”

Lillian set the cup down in front of her. “Probably a good policy in your line of work.”

“You bet.” Claire blew on her tea. “Besides, according to the rumors, Thornley likes to dress up in women's lingerie and prance around in high heels. Don't know about you, but personally I don't find that type of thing a real turn-on.”

“I can see where the lingerie and heels might be a little off-putting. What happens now?”

“I'll be leaving town in a couple of days. I plan to go to Seattle and regroup. I've got contacts there. But I didn't come here to whine today. Well, maybe just a little.”

“Why did you come here?”

Claire put down her cup. “Marilyn has always been a little overcontrolling and a bit paranoid. I never worried about it too much. You expect that in a strong candidate. But I have to tell you that after those crazy accusations about Trevor and me, I'm starting to wonder if maybe she's gone off the deep end. If that's the case, I think you should be careful.”

“Me? Why should I worry?”

“Because I've noticed that she's become a little fixated on your relationship with Gabe Madison. Maybe it's because she's divorced now. But I think there's more to it than that.”

The phone rang. On the off chance that it might be Nella reporting back with the all-clear, Lillian lunged for it.

She heard the muffled noise of a car in motion.

“Hello?”

“Witley is gone.” Gabe's voice was very even. Too even. “He told some friends that he was taking a vacation. He's not at his house. No one has seen him for a few days. Heard from your investigator yet?”

“No.” Lillian clutched the phone very tightly. “Where are you?”

“We're on our way back to Eclipse Bay. It's almost four o'clock. We should get there around seven.”

“I'll hold dinner for you both.”

“Now that we know for sure that Witley has disappeared, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there alone. We don't know where he is or what he's doing.”

“I'll be fine until seven tonight, for heaven's sake. Claire Jensen is here with me now, as a matter of fact, so I'm not alone.”

There was a murmur of conversation in the background. Lillian realized that Mitchell was speaking to Gabe.

Gabe spoke into the phone again. “Mitchell wants to send Bryce over to baby-sit until we get back.”

“That's not necessary.” Lillian checked her watch. “Look, I'm going stir-crazy here. I need to run into town and pick up some groceries for dinner. I'll leave the house right after Claire. I'll do the shopping and then I'll stop and see A.Z. at the hospital. That will keep me busy and I won't be alone. Call me at the hospital when you get into town and I'll meet you back here at the cottage. That way I won't be alone for any extended period of time.”

Gabe hesitated. “All right. But don't take any long walks on the beach by yourself, okay?”

“I thought you didn't want to scare me.”

“I've changed my mind. I figure if you're scared, you'll be careful.”

“Don't worry, I won't wander off by myself.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Lillian ended the call and put down the phone.

Claire gave her a quizzical look. “Something wrong?”

“To tell you the truth, I don't really know. There have been a couple of small incidents lately. Someone broke in here the other day while I was at the old Buckley place with Gabe.”

Claire frowned and slowly lowered her cup. “Anything taken?”

“No. Sean Valentine thinks it's the same guy who tried to burglarize A.Z.'s place.”

“I heard about that. It's all over town. They're saying it was a transient.”

“I know. But the thing that's worrisome is that there was another possible break-in at my apartment in Portland. Nothing taken there, either. Gabe leaped to the conclusion that the culprit might be a guy named Witley.”

“Who's he?”

“A former boyfriend of one of my clients.”

“But why on earth would he break into your apartment and this place?”

“The theory is that he blames me for ruining his relationship with his girlfriend.”

“You mean because you matched her with someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-oh. Are we talking stalker here?”

“It looks like a possibility. A remote one, I hope. You know, a friend told me I was courting a lawsuit in the matchmaking business. But I never considered this kind of thing.”

“We worry about stalkers when we plan security for candidates. There are always a few nutcases running around. But I must admit, I never thought about it in your line of work.”

“My
former
line.”

Claire blew out a deep breath. “And I thought I had problems.”

“A matchmaker's life is never dull.”

“I can see that.” Claire got to her feet. “Well, at least you've got Gabe Madison looking out for you. Things could be worse.”

“There is that.”

“I'd better be on my way. I can see you've got other things to worry about than my little scene in the Crab Trap. Promise me you'll be careful.”

“Don't worry, I will.” Lillian rose and followed her out into the hall. She got Claire's coat out of the closet and handed it to her. “You said you had something you wanted to tell me.”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Claire shrugged into her coat. “But it seems a little petty compared to this stalker business.”

“What was it?”

“It's about Marilyn. I'm no shrink, but like I started to tell you before Gabe phoned, I really do think she may be a bit paranoid. When you add that to the fact that she's a very determined woman who always gets what she wants, well, I just think you might want to watch your step around her, that's all.”

“Why?”

“Because you've got something she wants,” Claire said.

“What's that?”

“Gabe Madison.”

“Well, shoot and damn.” Mitchell watched Gabe disconnect the phone. “We've got ourselves a problem here, don't we?”

“Maybe. I sure don't like the fact that Witley has disappeared.”

Mitchell watched him for a moment. He'd seen that same look of focused determination back when Gabe had been a twelve-year-old kid doing his homework at the kitchen table. Nothing had changed, Mitchell thought. Gabe was a different kind of Madison. But not that different.

“Wasn't talking about Witley,” Mitchell said. “We'll get that sorted out. Meant this situation between you and Lillian.”

“Situation?”

“Way it looks to me, you're in up to your neck and sinking deeper by the minute.”

Gabe navigated a turn, accelerating smoothly on the far side. “What are you talking about?”

Mitchell absently massaged his arthritic knee. He tried to remember if he had taken his anti-inflammatory medication. Things had been a little busy today.

“Had what you might call a chat with Lillian,” he said.

“I heard about that. Stay out of this, Mitch. My relationship with Lillian is none of your business. You don't have the right to interfere.”

“I'm your grandfather. Course I've got the right.”

Mitchell watched the road. There was very little traffic now that they had left the city behind. The last of the daylight was evaporating. The white lines on the pavement marked the path into the darkness.

He braced himself for the old memories. No matter where he was or what he was doing, they always came back to haunt him for a while at this time of day; the point when the oncoming night could no longer be ignored. He knew from long experience that once the transition to full dark was made, the specters would fade. They would not return for another twenty-four hours.

When he was home it was his custom to handle the ghosts with a shot of whiskey. But tonight he had nothing to take the edge off. He would just have to deal with it. Wouldn't be the first time.

From out of the depths the phantoms arose, right on schedule. The scene was a twilight-shrouded jungle drenched with the smell of death and gut-wrenching fear. The worst part had been knowing that the night was inevitable and that there was no hope of rescue until dawn.

He and Sullivan had made it through that hellish night together because they had both understood that their survival depended on staying in control of the panic. They had both understood the need for absolute silence and absolute stillness. Side by side in the unrelenting darkness, they had somehow managed to reinforce that grim knowledge in each other without words or movement of any kind. And without words or movement they had managed to keep each other from slipping over the edge into that place where the fear took over and got you killed.

At dawn, he and Sullivan had still been alive. A lot of the others had not been so lucky.

He wondered if Sullivan went through the same ritual every evening. Waiting. Knowing the night was inevitable.

“What, exactly, did you say to Lillian?” Gabe asked.

Mitchell watched the light disappear, unable to look away. “Just told her flat-out that it looked to me like you were fallin' for her in a big way and that I didn't want her to stomp all over your heart.”