Scarlet Nights p.8 Read online

  Sara was opening the package. “Maybe it’s Castle Heights, but I didn’t know the McDowells owned anything over there.” She pulled the deed from the package and began to read it. At last she whispered, “Merlin’s Farm.”

  “That’s it,” Mike said as he put the scallops in a hot skillet. “Merlin, Potter. I knew it was something to do with wizardry.” He bent to look at the flame and turn it down. When he straightened, Sara was standing beside him—and her face was red with anger.

  “You bastard!” she said under her breath.

  “What?”

  “You lying, sneaking bastard.” Her voice was rising. “You are in on this. You’re working with them to destroy what I want in life. I was ready to believe you were innocent, but you’re the worst one. You—”

  For the second time in Mike’s life, he allowed a woman to slap him. He made no effort to stop her or to protect himself, because he knew that every word she was saying was true. But how had she found out about his undercover work?

  When he saw tears in her eyes, he fought the urge to pull her into his arms. He wanted to apologize to her and to all the women he’d hurt in his life. Right now there were four women in prison because of his testimony. They all deserved to be there, but he still didn’t like that he had put them there.

  As the tears filled Sara’s eyes, she seemed unable to say anymore. She swept past Mike, and as she’d done the night before, she slammed her bedroom door.

  For a moment, Mike stood there, his cheek burning, and tried to figure out what had happened. She’d found him out, but how? He turned off the burner on the stove, went to the table, picked up the portfolio, and looked in it. Sara had taken out only the top paper. He read it, but it was just the usual legalese stating the longitude and latitude of a piece of property commonly known as Merlin’s Farm, and deeding it to Michael Farlane Newland.

  When Sara spoke, he nearly jumped because he hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen. “I want you to leave,” she said softly.

  Turning, he looked at her. Her eyes were red from crying and she looked so lost and forlorn in her pretty white dress that he just wanted to protect her—which he was trying to do. For a moment the photos he’d seen of the women they were fairly sure had been murdered by Stefan Vandlo flashed before his eyes. If Mike moved out and gave up watching over her, would he soon see pretty, delicate little Sara Shaw in a shallow grave?

  “I want you to leave now. I’m sorry your apartment was destroyed, but you have to find somewhere else to stay. If you can’t find a hotel, I’m sure my mother will take you in. Or maybe I will leave.” There was an old land line telephone on the wall, and when Sara reached for it, he saw that her hands were shaking.

  If he weren’t on such an important mission, he would have done as she asked and left. He didn’t like being the cause of any woman’s tears. But he couldn’t leave.

  When he went to her, he couldn’t help himself as he put his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t push him away, so when she started crying again, he pulled her against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  She was crying hard, her whole slight body trembling against his, and her tears were wetting his shirt. He could feel the damp and the warmth of them on his skin.

  Carefully, he led her into the living room, sat her down on the couch beside him, grabbed a handful of tissues, and began to blot her face.

  She took the tissues from him and blew her nose, and he handed her fresh ones.

  “Will you talk to me? Please?”

  “Merlin’s Farm,” she managed to get out.

  “Is that the problem?” he asked gently. “Did you want the place?”

  She gave a hiccup and blew her nose again as she nodded. “And Greg wants it very much, even more than I do.”

  It was as though an electrical current passed through Mike. Stefan Vandlo wanted an old farm that according to Tess was rotting to the ground? Mike took a couple of breaths to calm himself. He knew that he had to be cautious in what he said now so he wouldn’t set Sara off again.

  “Rams wouldn’t sell the farm to Greg,” Sara said, sniffing.

  “That’s because Ramsey promised it to Tess nearly two years ago.”

  “Two years? But they weren’t even lovers then.”

  “No,” Mike said slowly, cautiously, doing all he could not to further upset her. “But Tess took care of Ramsey’s life and his office, didn’t she?

  “Yes, but …” Sara trailed off, seeming not to know what else to say.

  From his end there was no secrecy involved in the farm, so Mike decided to be honest with her. “At the end of the third year she’d worked for him, Ramsey asked Tess what she thought would be an appropriate bonus, and she said she wanted Merlin’s Farm.”

  “And he gave it to her? Just like that? He gave her a farm that’s been in his family for over two hundred years?”

  “No. Tess didn’t ask that of him. She wanted him to draw up a contract that gave her a lifetime lease on it, but only after she’d managed to save twenty percent of its value as a down payment.”

  Sara wiped at her teary eyes. “That sounds like Tess. And I guess she wanted the place for you.” There was bitterness in her voice.

  Mike was dying to ask what the farm had to do with Vandlo, but he knew he had to hold back. “The truth is, she hopes it will entice me to retire here.”

  “And what you want most in the world is a broken-down old farm?” Sara looked him up and down, at his pristine clothes. “You don’t look much like a farmer. Wouldn’t you rather have some sleek apartment in Williamsburg?”

  When Sara kept looking at him in expectation, Mike knew he was going to have to tell the whole truth, which meant that he would have to reveal a great deal more about himself than he’d told anyone since he was a kid. As an adult, he’d worked hard at avoiding telling anything about his personal life, but then, secrecy was ingrained in him. But ever since he’d arrived in this town, it seemed that everything he’d tried to achieve was being knocked down. The first time someone had mentioned his grandmother to him, he’d wanted to leave.

  “That’s all right,” Sara said as she started to get up. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  He caught her arm and she sat back down.

  As she waited for him to answer, he thought that being shot was easier than having to confess the truth. “Remember that I told you I picked Tess up when she graduated from high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “What I didn’t add was that Tess was underage then—but I wasn’t. Our grandmother said she’d raise a stink with the police if Tess didn’t agree to do what she wanted her to. If the old woman had reported me, I probably wouldn’t have been prosecuted, but since I was new to the force, she could have halted my career.”

  “What did she want Tess to do?”

  Mike leaned back against the sofa. “She wanted Tess to—somehow—obtain Merlin’s Farm.”

  “But why?” Sara asked. “Did your grandmother want to be a farmer?”

  Mike shook his head. “Far from it. She had our backyard covered in concrete because she didn’t like the dirt.”

  “So, then, why …?”

  It was difficult for Mike to keep calm. One time after he’d had too many beers, he’d made a joke that nothing in his undercover jobs frightened him because no one he’d ever met was as treacherous as the woman who’d raised him. The men he was drinking with had wanted to know more, but Mike hadn’t said a word—and he’d stopped drinking.

  Sara put her hand on his arm. “Is this hard for you to talk about?”

  “Naw,” he said with as much bravado as he could muster. “The old woman hated Edilean and everyone in it, but she used to say that her only good memory of it was the afternoons she spent at Merlin’s Farm with a boy named Lang.”

  “Not Brewster Lang?” Sara asked, her eyes wide.

  Mike grinned. “I heard he’s the crankiest man in