The Ghosts of Cragera Bay Read Online Free

his father’s death, of course. He still wasn’t certain how he felt that he’d never met him, and now he never would. But inheriting an estate in Wales—he’d seen dollar signs and the chance to finally dig his way out of the hole his brother had landed him in.
    That, of course, was before he’d seen the crumbling stone house that looked like something from a horror movie. Before he’d learned of the murders, the bodies and the cloud of bad luck that hovered over the entire village.
    Before he’d spotted glowing red eyes watching him from the shadows.
    A chill washed over him, but he did his best to ignore it.
    “My life is back in Seattle,” Declan said. He had his family, his business, and he wouldn’t have stayed at Stonecliff if someone paid him to.
    Warlow nodded. “I understand, but I think your father hoped you’d feel a sense of duty and accept your legacy to this land, to the village.”
    From what he’d seen of the boarded-up shops and restaurants, there wasn’t much of the village left. Another strike against the house when he tried to sell it.
    A faint smothering wrapped around him. Warlow meant well, but all his talk of duty and legacy left Declan ready to bolt.
    “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”
    “Of course.” A wide smile lifted the man’s mouth, but never reached his chilly blue eyes. “I’ll leave you to make your call.”
    Once the butler had gone, Declan sank into the large leather chair behind the desk and let out a sigh. He shouldn’t feel guilty about not wanting Stonecliff. He really hadn’t needed to come here at all. He could have had the lawyer arrange the sale, but he’d been curious about this house that had sent his mother running and also about his father, despite his every effort not to be. A part of him couldn’t shake the sensation that he was somehow betraying his mother’s memory by coming here.
    What did it matter? In less than a week he would be home.
    Declan lifted the phone and returned Stella’s call, agreeing to see her the following day. When he hung up, he leaned back in the chair and glanced at the dark screen of his father’s computer. He toyed again with packing the ancient beast away and setting up his own laptop in its place. Declan had tried to keep up with his PI firm’s clients over the past weeks while he was here. He specialized in background checks and tracking down missing people. He had a knack for finding people who didn’t want to be found—maybe a result of spending his formative years trying to stay hidden. Working at the large, ornately carved desk would certainly be more comfortable than the small writing table in his room, but the idea made his chest tighten.
    Setting up a workspace felt like commitment, like accepting his place here the way Warlow wanted him to. No thanks. He could go on checking his email and making calls from his room for the days he had left.
    Declan stood, left the study and meandered into the kitchen. He’d fix himself something to eat, head up to his room and check those emails—doing his best to avoid thinking about unloading this house and Carly Evans.
    As much as he hated to admit it, the woman had flitted at the peripheral of his mind’s eye since he left her in the café. He might not particularly like her, and he certainly didn’t think much of her work, but he hated to think something had happened to her.
    Why would it? Sure, people had vanished from Cragera Bay, and apparently wound up dead in the bog on his property, but that couldn’t happen now. All three suspects were dead. The first, before police could take him into custody, and according to rumor, by his sister Eleri’s hand—though the rumors regarding that particular sister were extensive. The other man had apparently succumbed in hospital to injuries he’d suffered—also rumored to have been caused by Eleri. His sister must be a veritable Amazon. The only one of the three to have seen the inside of a jail cell—and the only