Shafts of sun pierced the murky darkness ahead so she knew she was close. There was no sound of angry pursuit. A few more purposeful strides and she would be into the daylight, free from his spell forever. Instead of revelling in euphoria however, there was only guilt. She had loved him as a man, and continued to love him despite the creature he had become. But the only way their love could survive was to become one of them and she didn’t want that; to be forever imprisoned by darkness and confined to the shadows, drinking human blood from its source.
A powerful hand wrapped itself around her ankle, tugging her naked body forcefully backwards. No, her mind screamed, I don’t want to go back. She kicked out with her other foot in a desperate attempt to break free, steadily at first then ever more furiously but the hand would not release its hold. She thought to cry out when he was suddenly upon her, his breath fierce and demanding. Powerful arms circled her trembling frame as the edges of his sharp teeth sank into the flesh of her breast, and she knew. Her surrender was unconditional, complete, and she finally came to realise he was the one. It had always been him …
“Jesus Christ,” he said, slapping the paperback shut and dropping it to the ground.
“What is wrong?”
“Are you sure this is a best seller?”
“Of course; the counter assistant said it is the top selling book in North America and personally recommended it.”
“Christ, the guy must have some serious issues.”
“It was a she, a young girl, helpful and friendly.”
“That explains it then, repressed craving for monstrous romance and bestial lust. It’s unnatural.”
“That is disappointing news.”
He chuckled aloud.
“What’s yours like?”
“A tearjerker,” said her concentrated face. “You wouldn’t enjoy it.”
“I’m not completely without heart.”
“Says the man who, by his own admission, has never cried in his life,” she retorted.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“A leopard does not change its spots.”
Maybe she was right. He never could connect with the likes of Romeo and Juliet, Gone with the Wind, Wuthering whatever it was called. Deprived of interest he started to run his fingers down the light brown skin of the inside of her arm, loitering over the creased mid-arm bend, a specific zone of her body he had recently discovered to be particularly sensitive. One blink became two then turned into a serious flutter as his fingers deftly probed the area.
“I’m reading.”
“You mean you were reading.”
“No, I am reading.”
The stern tone didn’t so much dampen as pour cold water on his intentions. He considered returning to the dreadful text but decided reading erotic literature was a poor substitute.
“How much have you got to read?”
“I’m only halfway through.”
He peered at the voluminous novel in her hand and sighed in disappointment. Sensing his restlessness she dropped the tome to the ground and twisted to wrap an arm across his body and prevent him from leaving.
“I thought you were reading.”
“I don’t want you to get up. You’ll let the cold in.”
He adjusted the blanket to ensure she was fully covered and she rested her head on his chest.
“Is that better?”
“Yes, much better.”
They lay quietly as he gazed up at the plethora of bright stars peppering the night sky, drawing in the scent of her hair every time he breathed in. Her fingers started to meander around his chest in a chaotic, unscientific pattern.
“Why are the people here mostly indifferent towards you?”
“You mean why do they dislike me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Jack Carter,” he said after a pause.
“Wasn’t he the guy who helped you when you first arrived on the island?”
“Yeah, and died for the privilege. They people think I had something to do with his murder, particularly as Jack decided to leave his estate to me.”
“You weren’t to know.”
“Yeah, well it’s not what they think. Why ask me this all of a sudden?”
“Curious.”
“Now I come to think of it you’ve been a little thoughtful recently. Is everything okay?”
“I’m happy,” she said, reaching up to kiss him lightly before resuming her position.
“Good. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind about the house.”
“No,” she laughed. “It is beautiful, a dream home. How many people boast having the sea at the end of their garden?”
“There’s probably a few along this coast,” he quipped.
The muscles of her cheek shaped into what he believed to be a contented smile against his chest.
“The house is perfect,” she whispered.
This was one of life’s truest pleasures; snuggling up to her on the porch in the late evening, wrapped in a warm blanket with the patio heater on under a starry night.
“You and Will were mad to continue the search. Everyone else had given up long before.”
“That’s why you’re crazy about me.”
“Why, because you are mad?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he said.
“I think you overestimate your attraction.”
He smiled. The smooth surface of her bare shoulder felt soft to the strokes of his hand. He liked touching her naked skin. Comforting, that word again.
“What would you have done if you didn’t have any rope readily to hand?”
“Always carry rope,” he said.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Always, never know when you’re going to need some.”
“Why was Will upset earlier?”
The subject had been successfully avoided all night. Or so he thought. Trust her to wait for the right moment, time it so he would have to answer.
“He knew the woman.”
Grace sat up and speared one of her inquisitive looks into his eyes, the one she must have used when interrogating a junior in the boardroom.
“The woman you pulled from the sea?”
“Yes.”
“Does Jenna know this?”
“I doubt it. He asked me not to say anything so you can’t talk about it either.”
Her searching eyes were building to the next question.
“Her name was Helen Nash. Will knew her from the time he worked for Her Majesty’s Government. Whether it was in the armed services or his time with intelligence I don’t know, he didn’t talk about it.”
Matt countered the next question in line by placing a finger to her lips.
“He didn’t say.”
“Say what?” she mumbled.
“Whether he was expecting her or not,” he said. “There’s something else though.”
Lips still pinned by his finger her brow furrowed.
“Nash was stabbed before being thrown overboard. I’m guessing it was the knife wound that killed her.”
Her lips started to move so he pressed a little firmer.
“That’s all I know.”
Grace removed his finger.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because it’s none of our business,” he said.
“Will is an employee. Of course it’s our business.”
“He’s also my friend.”
“Probably your only one,” she said.
“I thought you were my friend.”
“Not if you’re going to keep secrets from me.”
“Well I haven’t, have I? Anyway, it’s time you settled back under the blanket, you’re letting the cold in.”
She aped his example and lay back to gaze up at the stars.
“Do you think Sam and Genevieve ever got it together?”
He started to laugh.
“You still remember that?”
“How c
ould I ever forget? It was the night we met. And I almost believed you. Only a man could concoct a ridiculous story of two night stars being given human names and make it sound as though it were true.”
He remembered the occasion well. One of those moments in life where a certain situation felt right, seemed natural. He wondered why this memory had surfaced now. Something was on her mind, he could sense it. He at first decided to wait but impatience soon got the better of him.
“Do you miss your old life? The stature and influence of the corporate job, the obscenely limitless expenses account?”
“My old life?” she replied. “No. But I would like to be able to see papa again. I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently, not that there is anything we can do about it.”
It had to be tough on her, not being able to visit her father, and he wished there was some kind of magic wand he could wave to make everything right. Grace had said she was happy but he had the distinct feeling something troubled her. He decided he had to know.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s nothing.”
When a woman says there is nothing on her mind then a man knows it to be untrue. Grace went quiet for a while, as though trapped in deep thought.
“Where do you think we’ll be, in five years or so?”
An odd and unexpected question, he considered, somewhat out of the blue.
“Lying together on the porch of our dream home with nothing other than the stars for company I suspect. Where else?” he asked.
She returned to her deep thoughts, and this started to worry him.
“Are you … unhappy? Because I thought you just said …”
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m not unhappy.”
His mild confusion was evidenced in the way his stroking of her shoulder increased in tempo.
“You haven’t fallen for the bookshop owner have you?” he said dryly.
“No,” she laughed aloud, reaching to touch her lips against his. “It would never be the bookstore owner.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me it’s the obnoxious builder who sold us this place.”
“The builder!” she exclaimed. “The man is at least fifty!”
He shrugged.
“Well I don’t know; father figure and all that stuff.”
“You must have such little trust in me,” she said, playfully tapping at his chest with a half-clenched fist.
He looked into the dark texture of her eyes. They never ceased to imprison his gaze. His smile evaporated into a more serious expression.
“I will always trust you,” he said quietly.
What else could he say? She had surrendered everything in life for him. Grace offered another captivating smile before returning her head to his chest, her slender fingers resuming their fidgety toying.
“So what is bothering you?”
“I told you, nothing.”
“We’ve been together for a few months now and while I don’t pretend to know everything that goes on in that head of yours I can still tell when there’s something on your mind. So come on, spit it out.”
After a few more seconds of thought she chose to answer.
“Have you given any thought to the future, whether the time is right to sit down and talk about and plan the rest of our lives together?”
He felt sure there was meant to be an obvious context to the line of her enquiry but it escaped him, went completely over his head.
“What is there to plan? We have a profitable business, a nice home, and a huge mortgage. I don’t see things changing much for quite some time. Just live each day as it comes, so to speak.”
“Okay,” she said after a brief pause. “I suppose it can wait for another time. It’s not like planning is one of the stronger aspects of your character.”
He wondered what ‘it’ was exactly, and what she meant by planning. All successful businesses relied on careful planning, particularly in relation to monitoring finance. That’s how they could afford to move to the bigger house, five bedrooms and all. The sound of the door bell broke the uneasy peace. She jumped up from underneath the blanket and started for the front door.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
“Gratia …” he called.
She stopped, turned sharply, and he saw the unforgiving glare in her eyes.
“You are not supposed to call me by my real name.”
“Put some clothes on before you answer the door.”
Her departure was instant.
“Gratia, Grace,” he mumbled. “It’s the same name, just in a different language.”
Troubled by the planning debate he gave no thought as to who would call at this time of night until she reappeared.
“The police are here to talk to you. Be nice.”
“Crap,” he said, casting aside the blanket to dress as his body temperature tumbled alarmingly. He recognised the faces the moment he stepped into the wood floored space through the patio doors. Mutt and Jeff were back on his case.
“Hi, Matt,” said detective Early with a broad smile.
He shook the blonde-haired man’s hand and glanced at his partner. Any thoughts of Danbridge’s demeanour improving since the harbour clash were promptly dashed.
“Durham,” she acknowledged, making no attempt to conceal her distaste. An impromptu silence fell over the room, hostile and discomfiting.
“Would you like a coffee?” asked Matt, ushering them to the black leather sofa.
“No thanks, we’ll stand,” said Danbridge. “This is still an official enquiry.”
“What can I do for you?”
“It’s about the woman’s body recovered earlier,” said the male detective.
“What about her?”
“A preliminary examination has revealed the woman had been stabbed, probably before entering the water. This is now a murder enquiry and we wondered if there was anything you could tell us.”
After an initial hesitation Matt shook his head.
“Why aren’t you surprised?” snapped Danbridge.
“Stunned into silence is the phrase I think you’re looking for, detective.”
Matt considered the phrase disarming. Danbridge clearly didn’t share the same view.
“You already knew.”
“Bit of a leap, even for you Marcie.”
“The buttons of the woman’s blouse had been fastened out of sequence, as though someone had undone them to examine the body for injuries and then hastily tied them back together again,” said the male detective.
Matt hoped he’d managed to maintain enough of a passive expression to conceal his unease.
“He’s lying, Dan.”
“Contrary to what you might believe not everyone will lie to the police under questioning.”
“They do when they’ve got something to hide. And you’ve got secrets, Durham, lots of them.”
His light air of congeniality had been an effort to try and make peace with the female official. Its spectacular failure left him rueing the decision to heed Grace’s advice. Danbridge hadn’t taken to him from the start, and nothing was going to change her mind. His only hope of preventing any further probing was to build on the rapport he’d established with her partner. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Early spoke.
“Did you know her, Matt?”
“No. Before today I’d never seen the woman.”
“That’s what your friend said,” replied the disappointed police officer. “Will …”
“Salmon,” said Matt, trying to hide his surprise.
“He’s lying to us, Dan,” spat Danbridge. “I can see it in his eyes. You do know who she is, don’t you?”
Matt held her withering stare head on.
“She’s a complete stranger to me.”
“I’m telling you, he’s lying.”
“Matt?” said Early.
“I’ve never seen or met her before.”
“Who is she, Durham?” demanded Danbridg
e.
“Let it go, Marcie. The guy doesn’t know.”
“He knows. He’s just not saying.”
After an uncomfortable few seconds Matt decided enough was enough.
“Much as I’d like I can’t help you any further with your enquiries.”
The male detective touched at his partner’s arm to signal the interview should be closed. Danbridge wasn’t intent on being so accommodating, stepping forward to narrow the gap to Matt to a matter of inches.
“I don’t like you,” said Danbridge. “People without an official history have a dark and murky past. One day I’ll find out who you really are, what your secret is.”
The temptation to tug the ponytail resurfaced, an urge swiftly quelled by Grace’s timely intervention.
“I think Matt may well be right,” she said, approaching to stand supportively by his side. “For a pretty woman you are ugly on the inside.”
The pointed comment worked, forcing the female detective into retreat. Grace moved in front of him and glared at the two police officials.
“Matt and Will risked their lives to rescue this woman and this is how their efforts are to be rewarded.”
The blonde haired man nodded and tugged at the sleeve of his partner. She shook her arm impatiently free and returned an indignant glare of her own.
“You’ll make a mistake one day, Durham. And when you do I’ll be there, waiting.”
“Marcie!”
Shepherding his partner away from the confrontation he took her by the arm and ushered her towards the exit. The moment she’d stormed out the door the remaining detective turned and offered an apologetic smile.
“It’s okay,” said Matt. “Good luck with your enquiries.”
The blonde-haired man started to move, stopping suddenly to ask one more question.
“What did your friend mean, about us not knowing …?”
“He was upset,” said Matt. “Will was convinced we’d get to the woman in time. I wouldn’t pay any attention to what he said while in that frame of mind.”
Looking far from convinced the detective nevertheless chose to leave and Matt escorted him to the door. Another dilemma awaited; did he resume the conversation with Grace on the subject he didn’t understand or gloss over the matter? Matt wasn’t sure what he most preferred, the barbed sniping of a law enforcement officer or trying to fathom out what was on Grace’s mind. Compared to the vagaries of the female psyche public officials represented no challenge at all.
Chapter Four
The Woman with the Green Eyes