Always a Wanderer Page 5

  Just like every other decision she had made, it was hard to tell herself it had been the right one.

  Graham reached up and pulled the sheet down from Neill’s face.

  His bloodshot eyes were wide open, but they had started to take on the milky opaqueness of the dead. His blond hair was limp and lay in jagged angles over his forehead. Giorgio moved him, rolling him slightly as he inspected the body. Lividity had started to set in, and Neill’s back had turned slightly gray thanks to the lack of circulation. Where his shoulders touched the table, blood had started to collect in dark patches under his skin.

  She had to swallow back her feeling of sickness as she compared the vibrant man she had met to the decaying corpse in front of her.

  “If you look here”—Giorgio pointed toward the bruising on Neill’s neck—“this’s definitely a ligature mark, and if you notice the broken capillaries in his eyes, those are both signs of strangulation.”

  “Aye, we found him hanging.”

  Giorgio looked up with a raised brow. “He was definitely strangled to death, but that don’t mean he wasn’t already dead when they strung him up.”

  The guard ran his finger over Neill’s neck, inspecting the dark bruise that marred the man’s skin, and then he moved lower, to Neill’s arm. He picked up the right arm, which was slightly rigid but gave under his touch. He inspected the back of it, down to Neill’s hand.

  “See here? See how the flesh is open, and there’s no clotting?” Giorgio pointed to a jagged cut over Neill’s knuckles. “He hit someone at or near the time of his death. And he has defensive marks on the back of his arms.” He lifted the arm so she could see the scratches on the back. “Marks that wouldn’t have come from his accident.”

  “Ya think he tried to fight someone off, and they constructed a scene to cover it up?” Helena asked, trying to follow the man’s train of thought.

  Giorgio shrugged. “It’s hard to know exactly how the man died, but you’d be best served if you didn’t jump to any conclusions. In a case like this, you never know what you’re gonna discover. Only one thing’s for sure. This fellow didn’t kill himself. Someone else was behind his death.”

  So many questions were running through her mind. If only the answers would come as easily. “No one knew where we were takin’ him—at least not from the equestrian center or from his personal life. Whoever did this had to have been involved with the hospital. Who here thought they had so much to lose that it was worth taking a man’s life?”

  Graham had told her about his conversation with Mr. Shane, and though the man had insisted he hadn’t been behind the killing, everything seemed to point in his direction. He was the only one who had any kind of motive. And, so far as she knew, no one in the hospital had even known Neill.

  She tried to control her shaking hands. “Is it possible there’s something else going on? Something we’re missing? Who would do such a thing?”

  Between staff, patients, and guests, there were about a hundred people who had been in and around the hospital at the time of the murder. There were no cameras, as their patients typically requested they not be videotaped, so any kind of investigation into Neill’s death would be challenging.

  “Whoever did this had to be someone big enough to overtake him. And then strong enough to lift him.” Giorgio motioned toward the ceiling, like they were standing in the room Neill had been found hanging in.

  Giorgio pulled the sheet up to Neill’s thighs, exposing his tanned, hairy legs. They were the legs of a rider, toned and well-muscled after a lifetime spent gripping the back of a horse. On the inside of his right calf near his ankle was a brand similar to one that might be found on a horse’s rump.

  “He must have taken his job as a horse trainer very seriously...Or else this means somethin’ else.” Giorgio pointed at the strange marking.

  The mark looked as though it had been on Neill’s skin for some time. It was in the shape of a triangle, pointed at the top, but its bottom was open and a series of lines ran through its center. Helena had never seen anything quite like it.

  Graham leaned in close, inspecting the mark. “I’ve seen that somewhere before.” He took out his mobile and snapped a few pictures of the mark and the bruises on Neill’s body. “But I couldn’t tell you where.”

  Giorgio lifted the sheet, so he could look over the rest of Neill’s body, and Helena turned away to keep from seeing the whole man. She felt silly looking away, but she couldn’t bring herself to look upon his nakedness.

  Graham gave a gentle cough, as if cluing Giorgio in.

  “My apologies, miss,” Giorgio said.

  “It’s fine,” she said with a backward wave.

  Graham slid his hand over her lower back, making her jump. “We’re done. Nothing more to note.”

  “What are we gonna do with him? If any else sees him...they’re going to want answers.”

  “We’re going to have to bury him. The sooner the better. Mr. Shane is right about one thing—we don’t want this blowing back on us,” Graham said. “Giorgio, can you handle it sometime this afternoon? I have to meet my mother. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the priest. I’m sure we can find a spot for him outside the main cemetery.”

  Giorgio nodded.

  “What if they wanna have an autopsy done? If they ask that the body be exhumed?” she asked, shuddering at all the morbid thoughts and images that came to her mind.

  Graham sighed. “We can get the medical examiner to write a report to cover it up in case anyone comes poking around. Just say that he died due to a horseback riding accident. Head injury. Easy enough.”

  “Why don’t we have him cremated?” she asked. “Then there’s no way...ya know.”

  “She’s right,” Giorgio said. “I’ll have our staff take care of it. If you agree, sir, you can consider it done.”

  Graham answered with a stiff nod. “In the meantime, we need to find out who was behind this and why. The last thing we need is anyone else in this place getting hurt. If someone, a staff member or anyone associated with this hospital, is hurting people, we need to stop them. We can’t risk losing everything we have worked so hard to attain.”

  All Helena could think about was Mr. Shane. She was sure he was behind this. And it was up to them to bring him down.

  *.*.*

  The manor was full of guests, and as Graham walked through the parlor, he was greeted with a slew of tilted caps and slight bows from those who had come to celebrate the hospital’s opening—the only thanks he and Helena could be given within their world of secrets.

  The secretary at the front desk smiled as she saw him approaching with Helena at his side. “It’s so lovely to see you both. Congratulations on the upcoming events,” she said with a guilty smile. “Is everything ready, or is there anything I can do to assist you?” She gave Helena her warmest smile.

  Helena had handled the morgue surprisingly well—that was, after her brief moment of light-headedness. He had wanted to make her leave, force her from the macabre scene, but he had no power to make her do anything she didn’t want—her strength was one of the things he’d always been attracted to.

  He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as she smiled and her brown eyes lit up when she smiled. She was so beautiful. If only things were different between them.

  The phone rang, and the secretary answered. After a moment of not speaking, she frowned and put the phone back in its cradle. “That was Mr. Shane,” she said, her voice devoid of the energy that had been present only seconds before. “He says you’re late. He’s waiting for you in the study. You are to rush.”

  He glanced down at his watch. His mother’s therapy wasn’t for another ten minutes. John was just trying to be a pain in his arse—or rather, to intimidate him and make him look powerless in front of Helena again. Either way, he couldn’t let John get to him. His mother had to come first.

  “Thanks,” he said to the secretary as he slipped his hand into Helena’s.

  S
he gripped his hand harder than she had in a long time. Her palm was damp. Was she nervous about touching him, or was it excitement? He looked down at the way her hand fit ever so perfectly in his, and as he looked up he caught her gaze and she smiled.

  Yesterday it had been as if they were little more than strangers, but seemingly overnight something between them had shifted. It was as if they had gone back in time—to a time when things were easier between them.

  He lifted their entwined fingers to his mouth and gave the back of her hand a long kiss.

  “Oh, aren’t you a sweet man?” the secretary said, pulling him back to the fact that they were still in public, and in the middle of the manor.

  He looked to the secretary. “If you liked that, you are going to love this.” He pulled Helena into his arms.

  For a moment the world disappeared around them. There was only the feel of her lips on his, the flick of her tongue as it searched for his. His body awoke, quivering to life at the spontaneous display of affection. It felt so good, holding her in his arms, feeling her mouth move over his as she pushed for more, a deeper kiss...a deeper need...a deeper want.

  Oh, Jaysus.

  He pulled back and set her on her feet before his desire for her was visible to the entire manor staff. That was exactly what he didn’t need to be known for.

  Helena stumbled, and he caught her by the waist and held her. Her breath was quick and uneven, and there was the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Apparently she had enjoyed their kiss as much as he did.

  “Your...your mam,” Helena said, patting at the sweat on her brow. “We need to hurry. We don’t need any more issues.” As she said the word “issues,” her gaze drifted to his lips and a new wave of sweat seemed to rise on her skin.

  He loved that he had made her feel that way, and though he didn’t exactly mean to, he couldn’t help but gloat internally. She wanted him—or at least her body did. As for the rest of her, only time would tell.

  They made their way upstairs to the study. Books lined the walls of the room, kept private for the family and their guests’ personal use. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually spent any real time in this room, and for a moment he wondered why John had continued to keep it off-limits to the paying guests.

  His mother, Rose, was sitting on the Victorian-style lounge, complete with pink, floral-printed fabric that seemed to fit the woman who rested upon it. Since May, she had started to gain a bit of weight, and her cheeks and face had taken on a healthy shape and color. Her hair, still gray, was now clean and coiffed in a perfect chignon. Her Chanel suit hugged her nicely, and if he hadn’t known the trauma she’d experienced over the last few years of her life, she could almost have pulled off the illusion of normalcy. That was, until he looked into her eyes. As beautiful as she was, her eyes still carried the storms that tormented her soul.

  The storms...the reason they were all here.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Helena, so nice of you to come,” his mother said, standing as they entered. Her tone was light, as flowery and fake as the couch she had risen from.

  She could have saved herself the effort. Everyone in the room knew what she tried so hard to hide.

  Helena gave her a quick kiss on each cheek, and Rose turned to him. Her forced smile disappeared. “I keep trying to tell them this is all unnecessary. I’m fine. Really.” She motioned behind her to where Danny, John, and the therapist, Dr. Burke, sat waiting.

  John had a sour look on his face. He stood up and led Rose back to her lounge. “Dr. Burke wanted all of us here to show you our support.”

  Our support. Graham almost snorted with derision. What a difference half a year made. Not six months ago, John had threatened to take Rose to a mental health hospital, where he had fully intended on putting her through rounds of electroshock therapy and a lobotomy. The man was nothing short of a monster.

  Graham led Helena over to the couch nearest his mother’s, where Danny was sitting, and they took a seat beside his brother. Danny’s pale blond hair had taken on a darker tint since he had started to recover, but it still carried a ghostly white cast that made his skin appear a bit green. Yet, as he smiled, Danny’s eyes brightened.

  “What’s the craic?” Danny asked.

  “Same thing, different day,” Graham said. “How’s it been going in the den of despair?” he whispered, motioning to the puckered faces around them.

  Danny laughed, the sound light and airy, a sharp contrast to the dark and sucking air of the emotion-laden study.

  “Come on now, you know there’s nothing I like better than doctors and pity,” Danny said with another eruption of cynical laughter. “Heya, Helena,” he said, leaning around Graham so he could see her. “You’re looking mighty fine today. Graham must be working you over well.”

  Helena’s face turned a violent shade of red and her mouth opened like she was going to speak, but nothing came out.

  Dr. Burke stood up and opened up his little notebook like he needed a reminder of exactly whom he was there to treat and why. “Thank you all for coming to this meeting. I know I’m busy, and I’m sure that you are all as well.”

  Between the man’s self-important tone and his posturing, Graham wanted to stand up and walk away. Thank Jaysus he only had to come here once to see the only man who specialized in paranormal issues. How his mother and Danny managed to put up with the over-inflated penguin on a weekly basis was beyond him.

  “I thought it immensely important that we address the outstanding issues which are still present and active in and amongst your family dynamics.”

  Just when Graham thought things couldn’t get any worse. Did the man understand the Pandora’s box he wished to open? No. If he did, there was no way he would want to pursue this line of conversation—Graham’s family had the market on domestic issues cornered.

  John cleared his throat. “As a passive observer over the last few months, I wanted to thank you for the progress you’ve made with Rose and her mental health.” He motioned toward his wife. “Just by looking at her, you can see the progress you have managed to make. She is so well put together. Job well done, Dr. Burke.”

  Arse kisser.

  He must have been going for the Gold Star Award, or maybe the Husband of the Year Award. Either way, the therapist wasn’t stupid enough to fall for John’s act.

  “While I appreciate your support, Mr. Shane, you are part of the reason we are where we are today.”

  Graham snorted with amusement.

  John reached up and readjusted his expensive-looking silk tie. “I don’t know what my wife”—Graham could almost see the acid drip off of John’s tongue as he said the word—“has told you, but regardless of my complicity in her condition, I’m also the reason she is alive today. Without my financial backing and active contribution to her health care, it is my personal belief that she would have died long ago.”

  “So you’re saying that she owes you her life?” Danny said, his voice low from lack of use.

  John looked over at his son. “Danny, you and I both know the events that brought us here. Do you think you would be doing as well as you are today without me?”

  Danny laughed, but it had lost its soft and playful sound. Instead it was hard, bordering on dangerous. “The only reason I’m here is because of Helena.”

  “I am bankrolling this estate. Without me—” John started to say.

  Rose stood up and interrupted him. “Shut up. All of you shut up!”

  A look of repugnance flickered over John’s face.

  “I told you this was a bad idea, Dr. Burke,” she said, patting down the edges of her skirt. As she turned her wrist, the sleeve of her suit jacket raised, exposing a white bandage beneath.

  “What in the hell is that?” John asked, jabbing his fat finger in the direction of her bandage. “What in the hell did you do?”

  She pushed her sleeve down and glanced nervously over at the therapist.

  “Let’s not all jump to conclusions here,” Mr. Bur
ke said, thrusting both hands into the air like he was grasping for control of the situation.

  “I thought you were stopping her from doing this...From making her act like she was going out of her mind,” John said, his voice a wicked growl. “Don’t you understand what I have risked to make sure my family was healthy?”

  Mr. Burke’s mouth opened and closed.

  “You are fired,” John said. “You need to leave and never come back. You’re a fraud.”

  “I’m not a fraud, sir,” Dr. Burke finally said. “If anyone in this room is a fake, it’s you.” He turned on his heel and fled the room, slamming the door in his wake.

  John kept talking, almost manically, as he strode after the therapist. “He doesn’t understand. No one understands,” he repeated over and over under his breath.

  “You all need to go,” Rose said, walking to John and taking hold of him by the shoulders. “I’ve got him.”

  “What about you? Are you okay?” Graham gestured to his wrists.

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just had to tell him something. Everything got out of control, and he made assumptions. I’m fine; you don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Does this have something to do with the Codex?” Graham asked, remembering the book that had once been hidden within the manor’s walls—the book that had sent his brother and mother over the edge only a few years ago. “Please tell me you weren’t using the book again.”

  His mother ignored him and his question, and quietly cooed sweet nothings to John, who was still repeating, “They don’t understand...”

  For a moment, it appeared as if the sickest person in the room wasn’t the boy who’d spent years in a catatonic state or the woman they had assumed had tried to end her own life. Instead, it seemed to be the sweating, power-hungry man who paced the study like a rabid animal.