Not what she’d been expecting to hear.
“I’m personally spending my shifts and my off-time watching the inn. Have you seen anyone or anything to make you nervous?”
“No.”
“What about that guy, Noah First? Why’d you ask me to look him up?”
Crap. How much to say without giving away information Noah would want kept quiet?
“Something going on with him? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Heard about Bill pawing at you too.” Mike sneered. “Fucking playboy. He’s no good for you.”
“Oh?”
“I know what I’m talking about. You know he and I are related?”
“I’d heard. But why is he no good for me?” Because you’re related? She wanted to ask but didn’t think Mike would appreciate her lame stab at humor.
“He has a different flavor every week. Last I heard, he was fu—ah, dating some girl from Superior while seeing Shelly on the side.”
“Shelly? But I thought you and she were a couple.”
His snorted. “Shelly? Hell, no. Girl is too young for me. Sure, we had fun, but we were just passing the time. She’s trying to make Bill jealous. Me…” His gaze trailed from her face to her breasts and back up.
“What? What does that look mean?”
“What do you think?” He glanced at the kitchen door, hearing the same garbled whispers she did—subtlety was not in Frank’s vocabulary. “Now I could be like Bill and just grab you, but I’ve got too much class to do that.”
He had to be kidding.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m out here looking after you, Lara.” His voice lowered, and a creeping wariness made her shiver. “You might not see me, but I’ll be watching.”
He left, pushing past Frank and giving Chloe a good once-over.
“What did he say?” Frank was at her side in seconds.
“Just letting me know he’s watching me.” She made a face. “Just what I needed to help me sleep through the night.”
“We heard it all through the door.” Chloe frowned at Frank.
He frowned back. “Hey, I wanted her to have the illusion of privacy.”
Chloe brushed her hair out of her face. “I think it’s interesting he owned up about his connection to Bill. Noah filled me in about the pair yesterday.”
“It’s got to be Mike.” Frank shot a dark look at the swinging kitchen door where Mike had exited.
“Not necessarily.”
Lara still couldn’t see Mike or Bill as the culprit. “What if Noah’s wrong? He said he couldn’t be sure. What if it’s someone else?”
Chloe grimaced. “Then we’re in serious trouble, because I can feel the danger crawling up my spine. My voices don’t lie. Before this thing ends, someone else is going to die.”
Chapter Nine
On the computer, Noah scrolled through another edition of the Brownville Voice from twenty years ago. To his relief, the library seemed deserted. This early in the day, none but the most avid readers were looking for material. He had the computer section all to himself.
For the next few hours, he read through the histories of Brownville that related to Cecilia Fine or Finn Fury. Nothing stood out from his research, so he moved on to more current history. No time like delving into the seedy underbelly of Brownville’s fire chief and deputy extraordinaire.
Something about Mike’s and Bill’s connection nagged at him. History repeating itself… He glanced at the table, where he’d piled the books detailing the relationship between Cecilia Fine and Finn Fury. What was it that connected Cecilia and Finn to Mike Buckman and Bill Knowles? What had he missed?
A whisper of sound drifted over him in a cold breath. The cloying pressure of psychic phenomena settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Shit. He’d never liked these rare occasions when the past reached out and smothered him. Knowing what he did about the violence and negative energy in town made his unease worse.
Then a woman’s hand stroked his shoulder. “Beware the jealous lover.”
He tensed and turned, expecting to see Cecilia Fine. To his astonishment, a giant of a man wearing a gun belt, two pistols, and the look of a killer stared at him from a few feet away. He looked familiar. “I ain’t gonna let you hurt her again.”
Noah wondered if he’d fallen into the past or was seeing what he and Lara had witnessed earlier at the inn. A ghost.
“She’s mine.” The bandanna around the man’s neck shifted, revealing a scar, and detail poured into him. It was as if watching an artist fill out his creation. Finnegan Fury.
Noah studied the outlaw. Like Noah, he possessed a large frame. His arms were corded with muscle, his legs firm on the ground, his stance ready, eager. Finn looked poised to take on any comers. His ghostly face might have been called handsome, but to Noah the scar on his chin and the one that slashed through his left brow gave him a demonic appearance. He had short black hair, a square jaw, and ice blue eyes that didn’t blink. A stone-cold killer.
“I’m talking to you, asshole.”
Noah blinked. “Hell, you’re here with me, aren’t you? You’re not the past.”
Finn drew his gun and shot through Noah’s chest. Then Noah heard a body thud to the ground behind him.
His heart beat so hard, he was surprised it hadn’t leaped from his flesh. Christ, the man was fast. If he’d shot real bullets, Noah would be dead.
“The next one will be in your gut. Blood or not, I’m done with you. And so is she. That’s the last warning you’ll ever get.” Finn kept his weapon trained on the body behind Noah and backed from the room before he vanished.
Eager to see who’d been shot, Noah turned. On the ground lay the body of a man, and blood stained his light-colored trousers. To his immense frustration, Noah couldn’t see any more than that bloodied leg through the fog of the past. He could almost feel Cecilia pushing at him to look closer, to use his abilities and see the truth in front of his face. But something blocked him from doing so.
“Fucker. I’ll get you. Cecilia is mine. That whore is mine,” the downed man screamed. He stumbled to his feet, and Noah took a hard look at the man he suspected had shot and killed Finn and Cecilia. He concentrated until his head hurt and wiped at a bloody nose. Damn if he hadn’t pushed himself to the extreme to penetrate the curious vision before him.
Tan trousers, a dark vest over a black work shirt, and scuffed brown boots appeared like magic. Standard western apparel, with the exception of the gun belt slung over slim hips. Noah concentrated and noted the man’s dark hair reached his shoulders. His face remained a blank canvas, which was odd. Noah had never before witnessed a partial scene of the past.
Cecilia appeared and prodded him. She wore the same scarlet dress, the same earrings and bound hair, but her eyes held a worry that reminded him so much of Lara. “Hurry, before it’s too late. Catch him.” Not a vision of the past, her ghost.
She reached out and grazed his cheek. He shivered at the touch and studied the cursing man as he limped from the room and dragged himself down the stairs.
The stairs?
Noah looked around him, stunned to suddenly see the Lady Fine Saloon in all its antiquated glory. Light spilled in from the outside, brightening the scarred and stained tables, over which a few drunken patrons still gathered. Dust floated in the sunbeams, landing on the gnarled hands of miners and men who’d been alone for too long. Men who’d rather drink than find a warm woman to curl up next to.
A woman like Lara. Conscious of the thought that didn’t belong in the past, Noah trailed the bleeding man out the door. He couldn’t manage a glimpse of his face, for all that he tried. But he swore he knew the man, the way he moved, the way he spoke. He’d seen this guy before. Going on the premise that the murders were cyclic, if this was the same man who’d killed Finn and Cecilia, his present incarnation had to be Mike or Bill. Or was it someone else?