LITMIR.BIZ

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becoming a private investigator, he’d been exposed to all manner of grisly crimes as a homicide detective. He’d seen the worst of humanity, forced to develop an exterior callousness. But there was one offense that still had the power to terrify him.

      A hesitant shuffling drew his attention to the hallway. Derrick stood just inside the room, his expression hopeful. Realizing he’d overheard a portion of the conversation, Caith frowned. “Derrick, what are you doing here?”

      The moment for retreat past, Derrick fiddled with the belt on his robe. As young as he was, he’d already picked up a number of Caith’s childhood traits—ever-inquisitive, always exploring, dissecting some story or fact. It led him to frequently poke his nose where it didn’t belong.

      “Are we gonna stay with Uncle Aren?” Derrick blurted.

      Caith’s scowl deepened. “I thought I told you to finish lunch and then watch TV in the family room?”

      “There’s nothing on. It’s all soap operas and stuff.”

      “Derry.”

      “I finished my soup.” Derrick traipsed into the room and plopped on the couch beside Caith. Still fighting his cold, he sniffled. “How come we never go to Coldcreek, Dad? Even when Grandma visits, it’s always here.”

      Caith stilled, not wanting to broach the subject. How could an eight-year-old understand the bitter rift that led him to cut ties with his father? Exhaling, he rubbed the boy’s shoulder. “You’d have to leave school for a few weeks and your friends. What about Halloween? I thought you wanted to go trick-or-treating?”

      “I can go in Coldcreek, and I heard Uncle Aren say I can go to school with Noah and Matt.” Bowing his head, Derrick plucked at the seam on Caith’s jeans.

      “You were listening when you shouldn’t have been.”

      “Uh-huh.” Derrick exhibited just enough contriteness to pacify Caith. He’d obviously heard only the tail end of the conversation. Rolling his head against the sofa, he glanced up at his father. “Dad, can’t we go to Coldcreek? I don’t understand why you never wanna go home, and how come you won’t talk to Grandpa or I can’t see him?”

      Caith sighed. Between Aren, Galen, and Derrick, he fought a losing battle. “All right, we’ll go.”

      “Yes!” With a wide grin, Derrick clambered to his feet.

      “Not so fast.” Caith snagged his waist as he moved to dash away. “You’re not going anywhere if you still have a cold this weekend.” Cupping Derrick’s cheek in his hand, Caith tilted his head, searching his eyes for signs of a fever. He pressed his palm to the boy’s forehead. “Not too bad, partner.”

      “So we’ll go for real?”

      “We’ll go for real.” Caith grinned at his son’s wide-eyed earnestness. “Now go watch some TV or find a book to read while I work out the details with your uncles.”

      “’Kay.” Smiling happily, Derrick bounded out of the room.

      Caith looked to his brothers. “Mission accomplished. It looks like I’m going home after all.”

      Chapter 3

      Veronica took the afternoon off. With the all the strange occurrences taking place, the vacancy rate was climbing. She’d managed to keep the incident with the hand in the fireplace low-key, but rumors were spreading. It helped the police had come up empty, smoothing over her guests’ jumpy nerves. Four remained at the lodge with five more expected by the weekend.

      Leaving matters under the watchful eye of her caretaker, she agreed to meet Merlin for lunch at Coldcreek’s Bristlecone Tavern. Set on the fringe of town, the converted stone farmhouse was normally too rustic for her GQ boyfriend who preferred sushi and bottled water over sourdough sandwiches and homemade pies. He probably wanted their relationship back on track, and was obviously willing to make concessions. They hadn’t been exclusive for some time, but that wouldn’t stop Merlin from wanting to cozy up if he was in the mood. She’d given up trying to figure out his motivations long ago.

      As she pulled into the parking lot, Veronica spied his sporty black Mercedes near the entrance. Flipping down the window visor, she checked her reflection. Her skin still carried a lingering hint of tan from the late summer sun and the amount of time she had spent outdoors.

      As a child she’d enjoyed hiking Pennsylvania’s Blue Mountains, canoeing on lakes, and catching fish along the muddy banks of rivers and streams. It was why she’d bonded so well with Merlin, Caith, and Trask. They’d never really looked at her as a girl. At least Caith hadn’t. Not until the night before he’d left for college, and their friendship had taken an unexpected turn after a shared kiss.

      Snapping the visor in place, she slid from the car and headed across the lot, pushed by a brisk October breeze.

      “You look great.” Merlin smiled as she joined him at a table near the door. He bowed his head like a performer, offering a single red rose with exaggerated flourish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

      “You’re sweet, Merlin.” She accepted the flower, twirling it beneath her nose to inhale the delicate scent. He often brought her flowers. Carnations, lilies, and red roses. Red because he thought it was her favorite. She knew his secretary was responsible for most of the flowers that came by courier, but never made a point to call him on it. The same way she never bothered to remind him yellow roses had been her favorite since childhood. Somewhere, years ago, she and Merlin had simply become convenient for each other.

      “I already ordered you a soda.” He slid a menu across the table toward her.

      She set the flower aside. “I hope you weren’t waiting long. I hit construction at the bottom of Fenbridge Road and had to detour.”

      “Yeah, I saw they’re trying to widen that turn.”

      He seemed on edge, almost jittery. Physically not a hair was out of place, his wavy gold locks were brushed into gleaming strands behind his ears. He wore a white Ralph Lauren shirt with black pants and a sweeping coat of Italian leather. Shrugging out of the coat, he draped it on the chair beside him. Veronica knew he’d bought it during a March trip to New York, yet another month when their relationship had been in a nosedive. She’d long grown accustomed to his cavalier personality and flighty emotions, surface-ripples that never penetrated with depth. When had he become so superficial?

      She flipped open the menu. “Merlin, is something wrong?”

      “No. I was just thinking.” He smiled secretively. “I bet Galen and Aren haven’t told you about their latest scheme to stop problems at the lodge.”

      Veronica scanned the menu. She had a feeling where the conversation was heading. It had been her suggestion that prompted Aren to consider hiring a private investigator in the first place, though she had no idea if he’d followed through on the recommendation.

      “Aren tells me what I need to know as Stone Willow’s manager. He doesn’t discuss everything BI-related with me.”

      “BI.” He snorted softly, stretching his arm over the backrest of his chair. “My great grandfather started this business building carousels for amusement parks. My father expanded until it became a leading manufacturer of multi-faceted recreational rides. You’d think someone would wake up and realize Coldcreek is no place to headquarter a multi-million dollar company.”

      Veronica frowned. Privately, she supported Stuart Breckwood in his effort to keep BI where it was. “Your father never lost his small-town roots. Keeping BI headquartered here keeps Coldcreek afloat financially. Besides, there are BI offices in Boston and Baltimore for anyone who doesn’t like hayrides in October or May Fairs in the spring. I thought you were considering taking Aren’s position in Boston?”

      “I’d rather have Baltimore.” Merlin sipped at his imported spring water, and then bobbed a straw in the glass, upsetting a floating lemon wedge.

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