CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RAN LEFT THE BED AT FIRST LIGHT. HE NEEDED TO ESCAPE, NEEDED time to deal with the unexpected emotions he was feeling. And the guilt.
It had nothing to do with the sex, which had been spectacular. It wasn’t the fact he had slept with a beautiful woman. He was a man and his wife had been dead five long years.
But as he’d told Eve, his women friends had simply filled a need. A night of uninhibited sex had satisfied that need for both of them. Desire, not emotion was involved.
Last night was different. He hadn’t felt that kind of closeness to a woman since Sabrina had died, didn’t deserve to after putting his wife and child in the grave.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Ran scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to take a step back, make sure Eve understood the limits of their relationship. They had enjoyed each other, but taking things further would be a mistake. He couldn’t let it happen again.
The thought made his stomach churn.
He wanted her still. He wanted her in a bone-deep way he didn’t understand. It had taken all his will to leave her bed this morning when he wanted so badly to make love to her again.
Ran had known a lot of women. What was so different about Eve St. Clair? Eve was smart and intriguing and in a subtle way, sexy as hell. But he had known other smart, sexy women.
But how many women had he known who could reach into the soul of the universe and speak to those on the Other Side?
Perhaps whatever light burned in Eve was the same light that drew him. He didn’t know. He just knew his conscience was riding him hard, reminding him that he had no right to feel the things Eve made him feel.
He would talk to her, make sure she understood how much he had enjoyed spending the night with her. At the same time, let her know they couldn’t continue. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. In a few days’ time, her house would be cleared, and he would be heading back home.
It occurred to him that perhaps Eve felt the same. Perhaps she’d be relieved to know he wouldn’t be pressing her for more nights like the one they had shared.
His hand tightened around the coffee mug. The notion did nothing to improve his dour mood.
In the end, he decided to postpone the inevitable a little while longer. There was too much going on. Too many things could easily spin out of control. First and foremost came Eve’s safety. The team needed to resolve the dangerous situation in the house. To do that, they needed more information.
Ran went up to shower and dress. By the time he’d returned downstairs, Eve was busy in the kitchen making a pot of tea. She turned as he walked into the room.
Silver teaspoon in hand, Eve just stood there, looking beautiful and uncertain, clearly dreading the usual “morning after” conversation. It was a conversation Ran had never had. He made sure his intentions were out in the open before he took a woman to bed, and he never spent the night. He always left when the party was over.
“I . . . umm . . . heard the shower running down the hall,” Eve finally said. “You must have a million things to do.”
There was only one thing he wanted to do. He wanted more of Eve St. Clair—a lot more.
“I always have plenty to do, but after what happened last night, I didn’t want to leave you alone in the house.”
Her uncertainty faded and her chin went up. “What happened last night? Are you referring to the ghosts? Or the night we spent in bed?”
Amusement touched his lips. “I was worried about your angry spirits. Regarding the night we spent together, if I had my way, we’d still be up there. But more of the same isn’t a good idea. I have a life back in Seattle. You’re building a life right here.”
A hint of sadness passed over her face. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve known that from the start. Last night was special for me. I don’t regret it. I doubt I ever will.”
His chest squeezed. The night had been special for him, too. That was the problem.
Ran moved before he could stop himself. He turned her to face him and pulled her into his arms. For an instant, Eve resisted. Then her body softened and when he kissed her, Eve kissed him back. He could feel her heart beating, matching the speeding rhythm of his own.
Reluctantly, Ran let her go. He ran a finger down her cheek. “What happened last night . . . I don’t regret it, either.”
Eve returned to the stove, her hand trembling as she poured tea from the gold-rimmed china pot into her cup. “Would you like to join me?”
“I had coffee. I’m fine.”
“You should eat something. I’ve got bagels, croissants, yogurt, and juice.”
He should go, but he really didn’t want to. “Whatever you’ve got would be great. In the meantime, I’ll call the coroner.”
Some of the color leached from her cheeks. “I hadn’t forgotten. I wish I could.”
Ran made the call. Eleven o’clock worked for everyone.
Eve set out breakfast, and they sat down across from each other at the kitchen table, both careful to keep the conversation light.
Then Zane called. “A guy named Milton Carlisle Stanhope III owns the building,” he said. “Apparently, he’s retired, lives in the south of France.”
“Give me his number.”
Zane rattled off the +33 area code and number. Ran considered having his executive assistant make the arrangements, but the time change in Seattle posed a problem and he wanted the matter settled.
“See what you can find out about the history of the place. Look for any connection to the St. Clairs.”
“Will do.”
Ran ended the call, then dialed Stanhope’s number and waited impatiently for the line to pick up. The call was answered by a woman named Marie Dupre, Stanhope’s personal secretary. She had a lovely French accent and the voice of an older woman.
“My name is Ransom King. I’m the owner of King Enterprises out of Seattle, Washington. I’d like to speak to Mr. Stanhope in regard to a property he owns in Sunderland, England.”
Her accent was pronounced. “I am afraid Mr. Stan’ope is unavailable at this time. Per’aps there is something I could do to ’elp you, Mr. King.”
“Perhaps there is. The building I’m interested in is empty and very old. I’d like to take a look inside while I’m in the area.”
“You are interested in the property as a real-estate investment?”
Not exactly, but he could hardly tell her he was there in search of ghosts. “I might be.” And as he thought about it, maybe he was. He hated to see a historical structure failing into ruin. “Currently, it’s in extreme disrepair. I was hoping Mr. Stanhope would have an estate agent in the area who could let me in and give me some time to investigate the possibilities.”
“I can speak to ’im, but Mr. Stanhope is in very ill ’ealth. I will ’ave to phone you back.”
“That’s fine. You have my cell number.”
“Oui.” Ms. Dupre rang off, and Ran shoved the phone into the pocket of his dark blue jeans. He’d cleaned his low-topped leather boots as best he could and put them back on. No choice since he’d be tramping around in the tunnel again. Not a pleasant thought.
Ran phoned Jesse and filled him in, told him to update the rest of the team, then checked his wristwatch.
“The coroner should be here any minute,” he told Jesse. “I’ll be back in touch after I speak to the owner of the asylum.”
Ran was in the living room checking the messages on his phone when the knock came at the door. Eve appeared in the hallway, and they went to the door together.
Oswell “Ozzie” Townsend was a frail-looking older man, silver haired and slightly bent. The man beside him, brown haired, midthirties and good-looking, wore a tweed sport coat and brown slacks. The way he filled the sleeves of the jacket said he stayed in shape.
“Mr. King, I presume,” Townsend, the coroner, said.
“Yes, and this is Dr. St. Clair. The house belongs to her.”
“I prefer Ozzie, and this is Detective Inspector Daniel Balfour of the Sunderland Town Police. Until we establish whether the bones are historic or contemporary, the tunnel is a crime scene.”
“Understood,” Ran said, having already figured that out.
Eve stepped back to allow them into the entry. “Please come in. Would you like something to drink, a cola, perhaps, or a bottle of water?”
Ozzie shook his head. “We have more people on the way. Better to just get on with it.”
Detective Balfour made no comment. His attention was fixed on Eve. His dark eyes swept her from head to foot with obvious interest, and Ran’s jaw went tight.
Several government vehicles pulled up in front, and a man and a woman dressed in white coveralls got out. Appropriate, Ran thought, for the toxic atmosphere of the tunnel.
“Shall we wait for the rest of your party?” Eve asked.
“We’ll take a look first,” Ozzie said. “Then bring them in.”
“All right,” Eve said. “If you’ll just follow me.” Eve led them down the hall to the newly installed basement door, still just rough, unpainted wood.
“We’re doing some remodeling.” Ran pulled open the door, revealing a staircase that smelled like new wood. “Why don’t I lead the way?” He didn’t wait, just headed down the stairs, not surprised to hear Eve’s softer footfalls behind him, followed by the coroner and the detective.
“We marked the location of the bones about forty yards down the tunnel. I’ll be happy to show you the spot.”
Ozzie and Balfour both walked past him into the tunnel, took a look around, then returned.
“Dodgy place, that’s for sure,” the detective said. “I’ll bring the others and get my gear.”
Ran turned to Eve. “I know better than to ask if you’re coming with us.”
She smiled. “Actually, I’ve decided to stay behind. I have every faith you’ll be able to find the bones and leave them securely in the hands of our local constabulary.”
Ran returned the smile, glad to see her taking it all in stride. “Smart girl.” It appeared she had forgiven him for this morning. His smile faded. Or maybe she didn’t care enough to be hurt.
Twenty minutes later, a clean, disposable slicker over his clothes, Ran led the coroner, the detective, and the two people on the forensics team into the darkness stretching in front of him. They all wore miners’ hard hats and carried lamps. According to what Ozzie had told him, they would photograph the location and do the primary forensics, then bag the bones and bring them back out through the cellar.
Ran was more than a little interested in finding out exactly how old the mystery bones were. And what had been the cause of death.