Solving the Mysterious Stranger. Mallory Kane

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      “Great. I’ll see you later, Uncle Marvin.” She put a hand on each of her friends’ shoulders. “Girls, I’ve got to run to the pharmacy before I go home. I’ll talk to you two tomorrow, okay?”

      “Amelia, wait!” Rita stood and caught her forearm. “The midnight fireworks show is going to be better than the earlier one. Stay and watch it with us.”

      “I can’t. I’ll see it from the cliff house.” Amelia gave Rita a hug and pressed her cheek against Carrie’s. “Have a good time.”

      She glanced at her watch as she pushed through the crowd. Eleven-thirty. The street was packed with people waiting for the fireworks. Tired children drooped in their laughing parents’ arms. Teens and adults alike filled the air with the din of noisemakers and whistles, and even some of the town’s most prominent citizens sloshed beer and shouted welcome to tourists.

      Looking down the street, she saw lights in the pharmacy’s window. Thank goodness Frank was still working. He usually closed up at 9:00 p.m. She supposed he’d stayed open because of the festival.

      Her dad was completely out of his arrhythmia medication. If she didn’t get his prescription tonight, neither of them would make the meeting tomorrow. He couldn’t miss a single dose, or his heart would start beating too fast to pump blood. And without blood flow to his heart, he’d die.

      COLE ROBINSON SET his half-full beer mug down on the table. Amelia Hopkins had left The Pub. He’d seen her mahogany-colored hair swinging as the heavy wood door closed behind her.

      “Hold it, Robinson,” his tablemate growled. “Where d’ya think you’re going? You haven’t finished your beer.”

      “None of your business,” he growled right back. “I’ll see you later.”

      “The excitement’s just about to get started. We’re supposed to be ready to—you know, as soon as the fireworks start. Leader said so.”

      Cole pulled the brim of his cap down. “Yeah? Well he gave me my own orders.”

      “Your own—?”

      Cole pushed past another couple of sailors and headed out the door. He ducked his head and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. Hunching his shoulders, he tried to appear inches shorter than his six-feet-two as he glanced up and down the street.

      He’d been in town two days, following Amelia Hopkins, getting to know her habits. He’d already figured out she was a workaholic.

      She’d spent at least twenty-four hours of the past forty-eight down at the boatyard below the architectural phenomenon that was Reginald Hopkins’s house. The locals called it the Cliff House. Cole glanced upward. Built into the side of a cliff, away from the lighthouse and south of the town proper, Hopkins’s house was faced with local rock. On first inspection it appeared to be a part of the cliff face. In fact, if it weren’t for the elevator that must have been added recently, the house would be all but invisible.

      Cole spotted Amelia a few stores down, lit by all the Boat Fest lights. She knocked on a glass door, then entered. The Rx symbol above the door told him it was a pharmacy. He headed in that direction, curious to know what she needed from the drugstore.

      What did a rich, beautiful heiress to a vast boat-building fortune need from a small-town pharmacy?

      Birth-control pills? Allergy medication? Something more serious? Cole had dug up everything he could find about her, which was quite a lot. She’d lived a life of privilege and fame, being the daughter of one of the East Coast’s most famous yacht designers.

      From everything he’d seen and learned, she was the very picture of health. Dewy skin, shiny, bouncy hair, unusual honey-colored eyes and a mouth that was made for smiling—and kissing.

      Hell. Where had that thought come from? Sure she was gorgeous, with a supple, delicately muscled body that spoke to years of climbing on the cliffs and sailing along the rocky coastline. But he had no business thinking of her like that. She was an assignment. An innocent victim about to be caught up in a heinous domestic terrorist plot.

      It was his bad luck that ever since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he couldn’t get her out of his head or figure her out.

      For instance, why had a no-nonsense businesswoman like her agreed to pose for a mildly risqué calendar? She didn’t look at all like her photos in the new Hopkins Boatworks calendar he’d picked up at the last port.

      The woman in those pictures was a sexual being—sizzling in forties-style clothes and makeup. She’d been photographed in black and white, standing in front of next year’s model of luxury yacht presented in full color.

      If he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t believe they were the same person. Even though the woman in the calendar was definitely a turn-on, for some reason he preferred her like this. Serious, straight and trim, with her hair loose and swinging about her shoulders.

      What he had to do bothered him—a lot. Enough that he’d followed an impulse he never should have considered, much less acted on. If his abrupt decision backfired, it could blow the plan that had taken months to set in motion.

      And blowing the plan at this stage would be a deadly mistake.

      Not to mention that he was two hundred dollars poorer, with no idea whether his money had been wasted. He’d paid the fortune-teller to embellish Amelia’s fortune.

      But had she?

      “Tell her to be careful,” he’d instructed the woman. “Can you somehow let her know she can trust me?”

      The fortune-teller had looked at the wad of twenties and then at him. She’d frowned. “You are caught between two worlds.”

      “Yeah—look, lady. Don’t tell my fortune. I know mine. Tell hers. She’s on her way here now. You just finished with her two friends.”

      “No. Wait a moment. You must listen to me. You live in two different worlds, and those worlds are about to collide. You must be extremely careful or your young woman may be crushed in the collision.”

      “Great.” He’d tossed another wad of twenties down and turned up his nose at the smell of spice and roses drifting up from a dish on the table. “Sounds good. I’m going out through the back.”

      As he left, she’d called out to him. “Listen for my voice. I will guide you as much as possible. But only if you open your mind and heart.”

      Back on the street, Cole had muttered a curse. That was two hundred dollars ill-spent. He figured the fortune-teller was already pocketing the bills and planning to get as much from Amelia as she could.

      A couple passed him, walking arm-in-arm, drawing his thoughts back to the present. They glanced at him with idle curiosity.

      He half turned away and pretended to light an invisible cigarette with a nonexistent lighter.

      The high-school band struck up a march, and the chatter and cheers grew louder as the twelve-o’clock hour approached.

      Cole’s pulse sped up. The fireworks would begin in a few minutes. He needed to be done with his task before his new buddies СКАЧАТЬ