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Kat went back to work but had trouble concentrating. Still no e-mail from Ross. She couldn’t keep her mind on business, her mind wandering to Claire and the fortune-teller and her mystery date. Nor could she seem to shake the uneasy feeling she’d had since last night. She remembered the devil tarot card. Temptation and fear, huh?

She glanced toward the daisies, still trying to imagine what it was about them that bothered her. All she needed was for Arabella to stop by now with another one of her warnings and her day would be complete.

Kat was almost glad for an excuse to leave the office and walk down to Threads for her fitting. The day was warm and clear, the smell of the sea mixing with all the scents of Waterfront Avenue—from the herbs and oils of the witchcraft shops to the corn dogs and cotton candy of the street vendors. There was an excitement in the air that was contagious, as if the whole town was counting down to Memorial Day weekend and the upcoming anniversary festivities.

For the first time all day, Kat felt a little better. The groups of tourists made her feel safe, the fresh air chasing away the darkness of the dream—and the events of last night. She hardly even looked for her mystery man in the faces she passed.

But half an hour later, her good mood vanished when Claire didn’t show. Kat tried calling her at home. No answer. Had she decided to do what the fortune-teller had told her? Had she gone to the cemetery, a place that terrified her friend and could set back the progress she’d made?

As she left the shop, Kat realized she had just enough time to make her appointment with Bud Lawson at his curio shop off Main. From the looks of the place, it had obviously been kids who’d vandalized the shop. Bud was still cleaning up when she got there.

“Any idea who they might have been?” Kat asked.

“Same ones that have been hitting all the shops,” he said with disgust. “You can bet Dodie and Razz were in on it, but how are you going to prove it? And even if you could, they’ll just get their hands slapped. Someone needs to do something about those hellions.”

Kat knew he had reason to be angry, but still, that kind of talk worried her since there was no proof that Dodie and Razz were behind the vandalism.

Back at her office, she made out her report for the insurance company, trying to keep her mind off everything but work. It proved impossible. She found herself calling Claire’s number every hour on the hour, but still no answer. Neither Elizabeth nor Brie had seen her. Both told Kat not to worry. But they hadn’t seen the look on Claire’s face after talking to the fortune-teller. Did her friend want a quick cure to her pain? Who wouldn’t?

When Kat checked her e-mail, she was relieved to see one from Ross, her real online blind date. Her relief was short-lived when she read it though, and realized he hadn’t left the daisies.

Flowers? Me? Way too traditional. Try date again? Witch’s Brew? Coffee? Meet at your office? 7? Ross.

A man of few words. A cup of coffee at seven at night? She thought about her mystery date last night and the quiet, romantic window table at the Moriah’s Landing Inn, and shuddered as she e-mailed Ross back:

Seven it is. We’ll meet at the Witch’s Brew on Main Street, the last building before you hit the wharf. I’ll be wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

He’d missed the little black dress. His loss. But she wasn’t about to wear it again. In fact, she might burn the dress.

Ross had been one of those impulsive actions she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She’d joined an online dating service as a fluke. Ross had sounded nice, safe, and the next thing she knew she made a date with him. She felt anxious about finally meeting. Especially after last night’s imposter date and the scare he’d given her.

She turned in time to see a familiar figure passing outside her office on the other side of the street. Kat hurried out of the office to catch Tommy, and was almost to him when she saw a man in an old army jacket stop the boy on the street, show him something and then head toward her.

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching her.

She just assumed he was one of the panhandlers who passed through town in the summer, bumming money for food or gas.

“Excuse me,” he said, smiling, but the smile did nothing to warm his gray eyes. He had a scar on his left cheek that looked like a crescent moon. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine.” He held out a snapshot in his palm. “Maybe you’ve seen him?”

She tried to hide her surprise as she stared at the photo of two men, the one standing before her sans the scar on his cheek and her mystery date holding a basketball and looking hot and sweaty. Both wore shorts and T-shirts, both were tanned and in great shape, and both were smiling into the camera as if they were the best of friends.

So, Kat wondered as she looked up at the man, why didn’t she believe it?

“Sorry,” she said, and started to move past him.

“You’re sure?” he asked, touching her arm to detain her. His tone as well as his expression seemed a little too intense, a little too desperate.

She pulled out of his reach, stepping back as she moved away from him. “I’m sure.”

As she hurried after Tommy, crossing the street when he did, she realized that she should have at least asked the stranger the name of the other man in the photo. But he’d made her uncomfortable. She wondered what he wanted with her mystery date. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, she’d bet on that.

“Hi!” she said, catching up with Tommy in front of Bait & Tackle, the local bait shop.

The boy flinched as if she’d hit him. He glanced around nervously, looking guilty as hell. “Hi.” He seemed to wait expectantly for her to tell him what she wanted. She’d forgotten what fifteen was like. Just as she’d forgotten seventeen, it seemed.

“I noticed you going past and I haven’t seen you for a while,” she said.

He nodded, still waiting.

“I saw that man stop you,” she said, turning to look back down the street. The man in the army jacket was gone. “What did he ask you?”

Tommy seemed relieved, as if she’d asked him something he didn’t mind answering. “He said he was with the FBI and that he was looking for a man and had I seen him.”

A different story. “Had you seen him?” she asked.

Tommy shook his head.

She realized Tommy was again waiting patiently to see what she wanted with him. “You know I have a job opening at my office for the summer, and I thought—”

“I have a job,” Tommy interrupted.

“Oh, shoot, I thought you’d be great at it,” she said, hoping he didn’t ask what job as she glanced back down the street. She noticed Alyssa Castor, the daughter of the owner of Madam Fleury’s—Yvette Castor. Alyssa appeared to be window-shopping—and tailing Tommy.

Kat saw the girl’s expression as she stole a look at Tommy. Kat recognized the look: idol worship. It appeared Alyssa had a major crush and, as always seemed to be the case, he didn’t even know she was alive—let alone following him.

“So where are you working?” Kat asked conversationally, watching a few tourists mingle past.

“I’m just running errands for a few guys,” Tommy said, sounding both defensive and evasive, two sure giveaways, if there were any.

“Em’s looking for a job.” She hoped. “Errands, huh? Here, along Waterfront?”

He squirmed a little. “Just for Ernie here at Bait & Tackle and Brody at the Wharf Rat and some other guys.”

She nodded, trying to imagine what errands someone like Brody at the Wharf Rat—a bar—would have for a fifteen-year-old boy. Alyssa had stopped a door behind them pretending to admire a huge gargoyle in one of the witch-shop windows. “Maybe you could run errands for me, too.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty busy already, you know.”

She didn’t know, but she planned to find out. “So what type of errands could I maybe get you to do for me? If you had time? Get me lunch? Or take packages to the post office? What do you do for the other guys?”

Before Tommy could answer, loud angry voices erupted from the bar in question. An instant later, a man came flying out of the bar’s front door as if thrown. He stumbled and fell to the bricks, followed quickly by another.

“Take it outside,” a third man called after them, flinging the cap of one of the men to the ground. The first man stumbled to his feet and dived at the second man still on the bricks. The two began wrestling awkwardly, obviously having had way too much to drink.

What caught and held her attention weren’t the quarreling drunks, but the man who’d just thrown the pair out of the bar. She stared at her mystery date from the night before, wondering why she was so shocked to see that he worked at the Wharf Rat. No wonder she’d been attracted to him! The man was an obvious loser—which unfortunately was her type of late. Maybe someone from the FBI really was looking for him.

He looked up, meeting her gaze, and she quickly swung back around to Tommy, disgusted with herself for being attracted to the wrong type, but also feeling relieved he wasn’t some psychopath just passing through town whom she’d not only had dinner with but had almost kissed.

When she turned, however, Tommy was gone. So was Alyssa. Angry that she’d let Tommy get away so easily, she crossed the street and started toward her office—and tripped over nothing, pitching headlong toward the brick pavement.

Chapter Four

“Hello.” Jonah caught her in his arms. Had he tripped her? He couldn’t believe it. Not when he’d promised himself he’d keep his distance from her. But that seemed damned impossible in a town the size of Moriah’s Landing. Even if he’d wanted to.

She looked surprised—either that she’d tripped on seemingly nothing but thin air—or that he’d rushed in to catch her with such quickness. She also looked a little suspicious. Imagine that.

She shook herself free of him, dark blue eyes sparking with anger and a little fear. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Oh that mouth. He desperately regretted having not kissed her last night.

It was obvious she’d found out about their “date.” He scanned the small crowd that had gathered around the brawling drunks, but he didn’t see anyone he knew in the faces. “Sorry about last night,” he said, turning his attention back to Kat. “Not sorry about the date. Just that I didn’t mention, I wasn’t him. My name’s Jonah.” He held out his hand.

She ignored it. “You took advantage of the situation.”

He smiled. “That I did.”

“You aren’t in the least bit sorry, are you?” she snapped, and started to turn away.

He caught her arm and leaned close to her ear, the scent in her dark hair intoxicating. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance.”

“You blew your chance,” she snapped, pulling free of him. “And since you won’t be around long, with the FBI looking for you…”

He caught her by the wrist. “What did you say?”

“A man who said he’s an agent from the FBI is showing your picture around town, asking if anyone knows how he can find you.”

Deke Turner. Damn. “What did he look like?”

“Stocky, with gray eyes and a small crescent-shaped scar—”

He swore and released her. Definitely Deke. Definitely the man he’d recognized in the fog last night. The same man who’d recognized him—just before Jonah ducked inside Kat’s office.

“So you do know him.” Did she sound disappointed?

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll be leaving town,” she said, looking way too hopeful. So that’s why she’d warned him about Deke.

He could still feel the warmth of her wrist between his fingers even though he was no longer touching her. Just as he could still sense something around her like a bad aura. “You suppose wrong.” He couldn’t leave now, even if he wanted to.

“Too bad,” she said, and walked away.

He stared after her, still shocked by what he’d felt when he’d touched her and angry with himself for feeling anything. He blamed it on being back in this town. But unlike last night when he’d felt only an ominous presence around her, today he’d definitely detected something much stronger, much more dangerous.

Kat Ridgemont was in some kind of trouble. He could feel it. And if there was one thing he knew, it was trouble.

He considered going after her, trying to warn her. Yeah, like Arabella had last night?

“I see danger in your future,” a woman said behind him.

He turned to find the fortune-teller leaning against the wall, watching him from her dark hooded eyes.

“And I see dead people,” he answered, stealing a line from a movie.

“You will see a lot more if you aren’t careful.” With that, she pushed off the wall and disappeared back into her booth, her jewelry jangling after her.

He shook his head as he went back inside the bar. As if he didn’t have enough problems, now he had a damn fortune-teller telling him things he already knew.

His biggest concern right now, though, was Deke. No, he thought, it was not getting involved in whatever trouble Kat Ridgemont was in. He didn’t need more trouble. He had enough of his own. But he couldn’t forget the feeling he had when he was around her any more than he could forget her. Both a problem.

“I think you’ve finally found your calling,” the owner of the Wharf Rat jeered as Jonah stepped behind the bar again. Brody Ries straddled a stool at the far end, a cigar hanging from his thick lips, his small brown eyes narrowed against the smoke spiraling up. “You seem to have a real talent for mean-drunk tossing.”

“You might be right, cuz,” Jonah said, hiding his irritation, which alone was a full-time job.

“Maybe getting kicked out of the FBI was the best thing that could have happened to you,” Brody said, and laughed, never one to pass up the opportunity to kick a man when he was down. “Working for me, you get to learn about real life. Not like that fancy-ass school you went to, I can sure as hell tell you that.”

Brody had always resented the fact that Jonah had gotten a scholarship his freshman year in high school to go to Wentworth Academy in Boston. It was there that he’d put his past behind him. Moriah’s Landing. His family. And all that both meant to him. He’d never looked back, going on to college and then getting into the FBI. If he’d had his way, he’d have never come back here.

But plans change.

“You know, it’s odd,” Brody was saying, “one of your old buddies was in here just last night, not two hours before you showed up. An ex-FBI agent by the name of Deke Turner. Ring any bells?”

Just that loud clanging one that reminded him how dead he was if he ran into Deke again. “Maybe, but then the FBI is kind of a large place, you know, Brody.”

“Oh yeah?” Brody looked disappointed. And skeptical. “Too bad. You two have a lot in common. It seems he got booted out of the FBI, too. Only, I would have sworn he said he knew you. What’s wild is that he said he just got out of the slammer and heard about your trouble with the feds and decided to come looking for you. Seems he just missed you. Maybe he’ll come back in today.”

Jonah busied himself behind the bar, trying to keep from looking toward the door and letting Brody see just how worried he was about Deke showing up right now.

“So, what exactly are you going to teach me, Brody?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, you’ll see, cuz. We’ll see how you do behind the bar first.” He studied him. “I’ll be watching you real close. The only reason I’m trusting you at all is because we are blood.”

Don’t remind me, Jonah thought. I’ll be watching you even closer, cuz. He’d seen Brody’s expensive sports car, the fancy clothes, heard about the ostentatious home outside of town, the money-hungry ex-wife and the semiclassy influential friends, all out of Brody’s league. Either the bar made a lot of money and Brody’s manners had improved, or his cousin was into something dishonest but highly profitable. Jonah would bet on the latter.

“I can’t tell you what your giving me a job means to me,” he said honestly. The Wharf Rat was the heartbeat of the wharf area. Something illegal going on? This was the place to find out. Brody had his fingers in anything and everything—including a poker game with a man Jonah was dying to meet.

“We’ve all been down on our luck,” Brody said, still eyeing him. “But all the way from an FBI agent to barkeep, that’s one long fall.”

He’d expected Brody to be suspicious—and he was. Jonah would have to watch himself. His cousin was no fool.

“Even you, it seems, can hit the bottom of the barrel,” Brody said, as if in awe. “Maybe if you play your cards right, you won’t always have to be a bartender.”

Jonah was counting on it.

BACK AT HER OFFICE, Kat took out her frustrations doing the job she hated most: filing, which included kicking a few file cabinets and slamming a few drawers.

Her face still burned, Jonah’s words still buzzing in her ears, the memory of his touch branding her skin with a fire his words had done little to put out.

She was totally disgusted with herself.

She couldn’t believe she’d felt relieved to find out he had a job in town and wasn’t just some drifter passing through. Right now she’d love to see his backside heading out on the highway.

Especially since she hadn’t missed his reaction when she told him about the “FBI friend” asking about him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was a bartender at the Wharf Rat, she suspected that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Digging into the huge stack of filing, she reminded herself of her plan to get a receptionist. The problem was, every time she thought about hiring someone, something came up. This time, it was a new furnace for the house. She also wanted to help with Emily’s tuition in the fall. Kat was determined that girl was going to college. If not Heathrow, then somewhere else.

Their father had left them both insurance money, but it wouldn’t be enough if Emily got into a good college. Kat had been given the greater share because their father had known she would have to finish raising Emily if anything happened to him. Emily wouldn’t get the bulk of her inheritance until she turned twenty-one, which had become a sore point with her sister.

“Daddy didn’t trust me,” Em had cried.

“I’m sure he just thought you would appreciate the money more when you finished college.”

Her sister had given her one of those eye-rolling looks. “I’d appreciate it right now since I’m not going to college.”

Kat hadn’t pushed it, but she wanted more than anything for her little sister to get an education. Em didn’t have any idea how much fun college could be. But Kat did. Her best friend, Elizabeth, could attest to the good times they’d had. Kat had taught her to loosen up and Elizabeth had taught Kat how to study—the only reason Kat had gotten her degree. Elizabeth had also encouraged her to go into criminology and open an agency with the money Kat’s father had left her. It had been the best two things Kat had ever done.

To her surprise, it was almost seven by the time she finished the filing. She walked to the Witch’s Brew to finally meet Ross, her real online blind date, hoping he’d make her forget all about her mystery date from the night before.

JONAH CLIMBED UP the back stairs to his apartment over the bar, checking to make sure no one had been inside since he’d left. He knew Brody had a spare key and had come in while he was gone this morning. No doubt to look around for proof that Jonah was as down on his luck as he’d said.

But this time, the short piece of dental floss he’d left out of habit in the door was still in place and the second-story windows were still locked. He knew nothing had been touched as he glanced around, a deep gut knowing. The intensity of the feeling scared him, making him only too aware what being back in Moriah’s Landing was doing to him. Another cause for concern.

The apartment looked worse than it had last night—and that was saying a lot. Last night he’d been too exhausted to care if it resembled a Dumpster—it already smelled like one. The moment he’d opened the door with the key his cousin had given him, he caught the entrenched scent of long-ago fried fish and spilled beer. The plasterboard walls had holes in them the shape of fists, a sure sign of what kind of renters had been here before him.

The place was small. Just a studio, with the orange shag carpet of a lost bad era, a lumpy stained gold couch that doubled as a bed, two mismatched kitchen chairs with bent legs, an ancient metal table with unimaginative graffiti carved in the top and a makeshift kitchen with a fridge that ran all the time.

The bathroom was so small he could barely turn around. It contained only a toilet and a standing metal shower stall. No sink. But as Brody said, “There’s a sink in the kitchen, and hell, it’s better than living on the street, right?”

Jonah would have much preferred the street. But living over the bar fit better into his plans. He closed the blinds and reached under the couch, pushing aside the ripped underlining for the thin shelf he’d attached to the frame. Carefully he withdrew the small, state-of-the-art laptop he’d sneaked in early this morning with the groceries, and booted it up.

Last night he’d been anxious to get on the computer, but Brody had kept him up most of the night, giving him the third degree about his expulsion from the FBI. Then he’d had his first shift at the bar early this morning, no doubt just so Brody could search his room.

Anxiously, he now typed in his access number, waited for the satellite online connection, then found himself typing “The Landing Gazette, archives, obit, Ridgemont.”

He told himself he was just curious. Kat said she was three when her mother died. If the mother had died in Moriah’s Landing…A list of obituaries for Ridgemonts appeared on the screen. Only four were female, two were much too old to have been Kat’s mother, the third too young. He brought up the fourth obit, startled by what he saw. Kat was the spitting image of her mother, Leslie Ridgemont, at the same age.

But that wasn’t the only thing that shocked and scared him. Kat’s mother had been murdered.

He clicked back to the archives and called up the stories on the murder, becoming more intrigued and worried as he read. The body had been found in the gazebo just feet from the witch-hanging tree on the town green—and only yards from the house where Kat lived.

A chill washed over him. The twentieth anniversary of Leslie Ridgemont’s death was only days away. He didn’t need to check the Farmer’s Almanac to know that the moon would be full on that night—just as it had on the night of her death.

He swore. Some people in Moriah’s Landing believed the vengeful dead rose from their graves on the first full moon. Others swore it was on the anniversary of their deaths. When he’d left town, he’d put those kinds of beliefs behind him. But he couldn’t shake a bad feeling that Leslie Ridgemont was anything but gone and buried for good.

Twenty years ago. He tried to remember. He would have been eight that summer but it wasn’t likely that he’d forget a murder everyone was talking about. In the newspaper articles, it said Leslie Ridgemont worked as a waitress at the Beachway Diner, so that meant his family might have known her.

The more he thought about it, the more he recalled the hushed discussions and the rumors that ran rampant throughout Moriah’s Landing. Half the town blamed McFarland Leary, out of his grave and on a killing spree. But then the rumors had quickly changed to a vampire killer on the loose in the town green.

During his time at the FBI, Jonah had learned that some little thing usually got a rumor started—and that that thing often had a grain of truth. So what would have started talk of a killer vampire, especially when according to the news reports, Leslie Ridgemont had been strangled?

He reread the article, struck by how few details the press actually had. But one fact leaped out at him. The body had been discovered by Arabella Leigh. The crazy woman who’d accosted him and Kat on the street last night.

He read the rest of the stories, learning little more. Leslie Ridgemont had been strangled with a white silk scarf she’d been wearing earlier that evening. Her purse was full of change from the tips she’d made working that night at the diner, ruling out robbery. No sexual assault, but she had put up a struggle.

Reminding himself that this had nothing to do with him, Jonah found himself going through the list of possible suspects based on people who’d been seen on the town green at the time of the murder—or in close proximity.

It had been a stormy spring night, a night when the moon was full, but still the list was fairly long: his cousin, Brody Ries, high-school dropout, then age seventeen; Geoffrey Pierce, one of the town’s leading residents and a would-be scientist who never made the grade, then age twenty-five; Ernie McDougal, owner of the Bait & Tackle, forty-six; Marley Glasglow, high-school dropout, fifteen; and Arabella Leigh, seamstress, sixty-seven.

The last name on the list caught Jonah’s attention. Dr. Leland Manning, promising geneticist, then age thirty-five. Manning, at the time, had only recently moved back to the old Manning place due to his father’s death and was building a modern, high-tech lab on his property. He’d been driving by when he’d seen the commotion at the gazebo, according to the newspaper.

An odd mix of suspects. None really had alibis, since Leslie Ridgemont was killed just moments before Arabella found her. Arabella’s scream brought the others.

They’d all reported seeing each other—but no one else. The killer had never been caught, Jonah noted. Why did that worry him after all this time?

An instant-message box flashed on the screen with the words: “About time I heard from you.”

“I’ve been busy,” he typed, and hit send. He could see his boss dressed in one of her charcoal-gray pinstripe suits, sitting at her desk, ramrod straight, looking like an old-time schoolteacher. Or a nun.

“Everything fine?”

Jonah looked around the apartment. “Dandy.”

“Heard from our anonymous source. We’re looking for a boat called the Audrey Lynn.”

Jonah knew that their online transmissions were encrypted so no one could intercept them, but still he felt jumpy. Probably because the anonymous notes the FBI had received made him nervous. And damned suspicious.

“Still no idea what’s on the boat?” Jonah typed, convinced he was on a fool’s errand in a place that could get him killed. It had already possibly gotten another agent killed, Max Weathers. And now Jonah found himself interested in Leslie Ridgemont’s murder—and feeling things he didn’t want to feel about her daughter.

“No. Still having reservations?”

That was an understatement. Jonah cursed the vague anonymous tip that had him back in Moriah’s Landing. All he knew was that a boat was coming in sometime soon. It was suspected to be bringing in illegal medical supplies of some sort for someone in a secret society of scientists working out of Moriah’s Landing, a society as old as the town itself and its members all secret.

But this wasn’t the first boat to bring in such a shipment. Another boat had come in a month ago. Another agent had been on the case. Now that agent was missing, presumed dead, leaving Jonah to worry what had been on that boat.

“What about scientists at Heathrow College?” she wrote.

“I’ll rattle their cages tomorrow.” He wasn’t optimistic.

“Word is the Audrey Lynn won’t dock until end of the month,” she wrote.

He swore. End of the month? He’d planned to be long gone by the full moon and that was only days away.

“Seen Dr. Manning yet?” appeared on the screen.

“Might have way to meet him. Need some poker tips though.” He knew Dr. Manning played in a private weekly poker game put on by Jonah’s cousin Brody. Brody had already hinted that Jonah might get lucky and be invited. Brody knew a mark when he saw one.

“Tips how to win?” she typed.

“How to lose big.”

“Need more money?”

He smiled to himself. “Not yet.” He thought about his most imminent problem, one of many, but the one he’d called her about last night—former FBI agent Deke Turner. Deke had recognized him even in the fog last night just before Jonah ducked into Kat’s, and it seemed he was asking around town about him. Just what Jonah needed right now, a psycho like Deke Turner dogging his trail.

“Gotta have Deke out of my hair before boat comes in.” If the boat existed. He couldn’t help worrying that someone might have purposely gotten him back to Moriah’s Landing knowing full well just how dangerous it could be for him.

“Picked him up. Can only hold him forty-eight hours though. Sorry.”

“That will have to do.” In just over seventy-two hours the moon would be full and Jonah planned to be miles from this town by then. At least he’d better be.

“Remember. Officially, you have no net.”

“Or rules.” In order to cover his ass, the FBI had booted him—at least on paper.

“You’re there just to find out what happened to Max, not to avenge his death.”

That was assuming he was dead, which they all thought he was.

Jonah stared at the screen, feeling a wave of guilt. He should have taken the assignment when it was offered to him. He shouldn’t have let Max Weathers come to Moriah’s Landing without knowing just what he was up against. But even as he thought it, Jonah knew he couldn’t have warned Max about Moriah’s Landing and Jonah’s own history there. And even if he had, Max would never have believed him.

“Anything else?” she typed.

As a matter of fact…“Need copy of a local murder file.”