Brenda yawned. "I hate the sound of that. What a mess. There might be bugs, Paul. You aren't really going to get one from the wilds, are you?"
Tara looked alarmed. "We are going to have a Christmas tree, aren't we, Jessica?"
"Jessica doesn't have a say in the matter," Robert pointed out, "Dillon does. It's his house and we're here to work, not play. Brenda's right, a tree from out there," he said, gesturing toward the window, "would have bugs and it would be utterly unsanitary. Not to mention a fire hazard."
Tara flinched visibly. Trevor stood up, squared his shoulders and walked straight over to Robert. "I don't think you needed to say that to my sister. And I don't like the way you said Jessica's name."
Jessica gently rested her hand on Trevor's shoulder. "Robert, that was uncalled for. None of us need reminders of the fire, we were all here when it happened." She tugged on Trevor's resistant body urging him away from Robert. "Tara, of course you'll have a tree. Your father has already agreed to one. We can't very well have Christmas without one."
Brenda sighed as she stood up. "As long as I'm not the one dealing with all of those needles that will fall off it. You need such energy to cope with the kiddies. I'm glad it's you and not me, dear. I'm off to the studio. Robert, are you coming?"
Robert obediently followed her out without looking at any of them. Don drained his coffee cup, rinsed it carefully and waved to them. "Duty calls."
"I'm sorry about that, Jessie," Paul said. "Robert lives in his own little world. Brenda goes through money like water. Everything they had is gone. Dillon was the only one of us who was smart. He invested his share and tripled his money. The royalties on his songs keep pouring in. And because he had the kids he carried medical and fire insurance and all those grown-up things the rest of us didn't think about. The worst of it is, he tried to get us to do the same but we wouldn't listen to him. Robert needs this album to come about. If Dillon composes it and sings and produces it, you know it will go straight to the top. Robert is between a rock and hard place. Without money, he can't keep Brenda, and he loves her." Paul shrugged and ruffled Tara's hair. "Don't let them ruin your Christmas, Tara."
"Whose idea was it to put the band back together?" Jessica asked. "I had the impression that Dillon wanted to do this, that it was his idea."
Paul shook his head. "Not a chance. He's always composing, music lives in him, he hears it in his head all the time, but up until last week, he hadn't worked with anyone but me since the fire. He can't play instruments any more. Well, he plays, but not anything like he used to play. He doesn't have the dexterity, although he tries when he's alone. It's too painful for him. I think Robert talked to the others first and then they all came to me to see what I thought. I think they believed I could persuade him." His dark eyes held a hint of worry. "I hope I did the right thing. He's doing it for the others, you know, hoping to make them some money. That was the pitch I used and it worked. He wouldn't have done it for himself, but he's always felt responsible for the others. I thought it might be good for him but now, I don't know. If he fails . . ."
"He won't fail," Jessica said. "We'll clean up in here. You'd better go."
"Thanks, Jess," he bent and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm glad you're all here."
Trevor grinned at her the moment they were alone. "You're getting kissed a lot, Jess. I was thinking there for a few minutes when you were . . . er . . . talking with my dad, I might even get my first lesson in sex education." He took off running as Jessica madly snapped a tea towel at him. His taunting laughter floated back to her from up the stairs.
chapter
5
JESSICA SLOWED MIDWAY up the staircase, the smile fading from her face. It was the smell. She would never forget the smell of that particular incense. Cedarwood and alum. She inhaled and knew there was no mistake. The odor seeped from beneath the door to her room and crept out into the hallway. Jessica paused for just a moment, allowing herself to feel the edginess creep back into her mind. It seemed to be there whenever she was alone, a warning shimmering in her brain, settling in the pit of her stomach.
"Jess?" Trevor stood at the top of the stairs, puzzlement on his face. "What is it?"
She shook her head as she walked past him to stand in front of the door to her room. Very carefully she pushed it open. Ice-cold air rushed out at her, and with it, the overpowering odor of incense. Jessica stood in the doorway of her room, unmoving, her gaze going immediately to the window. The curtains fluttered, floating on the breeze as if they were white, papery thin ghosts. For one moment there was vapor, a thick white fog permeating her room. She blinked and it seemed to dissolve, or merge with the heavy fog outside the house.
"It's freezing in here, why did you open the window?" Trevor hurried across the room to slam it closed. "What is that disgusting smell?"
Jessica had remained motionless in the doorway, but when she saw his shoulders stiffen, it galvanized her into action. She hurried to his side. "Trev?"
"What is that?" Trevor pointed to the symbol ground into the throw rug near the window.
Jessica took a deep breath. "Some people believe that they can invoke the aid of spirits, Trevor, by using certain ceremonies. What you're looking at is a crude magician's ring." She stared, mesmerized, at the two circles, one within the other, made from the ash of several sticks of incense.
"What does it mean?"
"Nothing at this point, there's nothing in it." Jessica's teeth tugged at her bottom lip. Two circles meant nothing. It was simply a starting point. "Some people believe that you can't make contact with spirits without a magic circle drawn and consecrated. The symbols invoking the spirit and also for protection would be inside." She sighed softly. "Let's check Tara's room and then yours, just to be on the safe side."
"You're shaking," Trevor pointed out.
"Am I?" Jessica rubbed her hands up and down her arms, determined not to scream. "It must be the cold." She wanted to run to Dillon, to have him hold her, to comfort her, but she knew the minute he saw that symbol he would throw each and every one of the band members out. And he would never try to make his music again.
"I want to go get Dad," Trevor said, as they entered Tara's room. "I don't like this at all."
Jessica shook her head. "Neither do I, but we can't tell your father just yet. You don't know him the way I do. He has an incredible sense of responsibility." She took his arm as they entered Tara's room. "Don't shake your head--he does. He didn't leave you alone because he didn't love you. He left you alone because he believed it was the right thing to do for you."
"Baloney!" Trevor poked around the room, making certain the window was securely closed and that no one had disturbed his sister's things. "How could he believe that leaving was the right thing to do, Jessie?"
"After the fire he spent a year in the hospital, and then he had over a year of physical therapy. You have no idea how painful it is to recover from the type of burns your father suffered. The kinds of things he had to endure. And then the trial dragged on for nearly two years. Not the actual trial, but the entire legal process. No one actually found the murderer so Dillon wasn't freed from suspicion. You had to know him. He took responsibility for everyone. He took the blame for everything that happened. He's his own worst enemy. In his mind he failed Vivian, the band, you kids, even my mother and me. I don't want to take a chance that he might quit his music. Someone wants us to go away and they know what frightens me. But they directed this prank at me, not at you."
"I knew you thought someone was trying to hurt us." Trevor shook his head as they walked into his room. "You should have told me. That's why you brought us to him."
She nodded. "He would never allow anything to happen to you. Never."
They finished the examination of Trevor's room. It was immaculate; he hadn't even pretended to be using it. "What was all that business about insurance money? Does Brenda really have a policy on us? Can she do that? It freaks me out."
"Unfortunately, it sou
nds as if she has. I intend to talk to your father about it at the earliest opportunity." Jessica sighed again. "I don't understand any of this. Why would someone want us gone enough to try to scare us with a magic circle? They all know Dillon, they must realize he'd throw off the island whoever is trying to scare me. If the music is so important to them, why risk it?"
"I think it's Brenda," Trevor said. "Robert doesn't have any more money and she's looking at my dad. You come along and Dad's looking at you. Jealousy rears its ugly head. Case solved. It's the cold-hearted woman looking for the cash every time."
"Thank you, Sherlock, blame it on the woman, why don't you. Let's go back downstairs and find Tara. She's probably already cleaned the kitchen."
"Why do you think I'm stalling up here?"
Jessica was glad the tea towel was still in her hand. She snapped it at him as she followed him downstairs.
To Trevor's delight, Tara had tidied the kitchen so the three of them spent the next couple of hours exploring the house. It was fun discovering the various rooms. Dillon had antique and brand-new musical instruments of all kinds. There was a game room consisting of all the latest video and DVD equipment. Jessica had to drag Trevor out of a poolroom. The weight room caught her interest, but the twins dragged her out. Eventually they settled in the library, curled up together on the deep couch surrounded by books and antiques. Jessica found the Dickens Christmas classic and began to read it aloud to the twins.
"Jess! Damn it, Jess, where are you?" The voice came roaring out of the basement. Clipped. Angry. Frustrated.
Jessica slowly put the book aside as Dillon called for her a second time.
Tara looked frightened and reached for Jessica's hand. Trevor burst out laughing. "You're being yelled at, Jessie. I've never heard anyone yell at you before."
Jessica rolled her eyes heavenward. "I guess I'd better go answer the royal command."
"We'll just go along with you," Trevor decided, striving to sound casual as Dillon roared for her again.
Jessica hid her smile. Trevor was determined to protect her. She loved him all the more for it. "Let's go then, before he has a stroke."
"What did you do to make him so angry?" Tara asked.
"I certainly didn't do anything," Jessica replied indignantly. "How could I possibly make him angry?"
Trevor flicked her red-gold hair. "You could make the Pope angry, Jessie. And you bait him."
"I do not!" Jessica chased him along the hall leading to the stairs. "Punky boy. An alien took you over in your sleep one night. You were good and sweet until then."
Trevor was running backward, dancing just out of her reach, laughing as he neared the top of the stairway. "I'm still good and sweet, Jessie, you just can't take hearing the truth."
"I'll show you truth," Jessica warned, making a playful grab for him.
Trevor stepped backward onto the first stair and unexpectedly slipped, his foot going out from under him. For a moment he teetered precariously, his hands flailing wildly as he tried to catch the banister. Jessica could see the fear on his young face and lunged forward to grab him, choking on stark, mind-numbing terror. Her fingers skimmed the material of his shirt, but missed. Tara, holding out both hands to her twin, screamed loudly as Trevor fell away from them.
Dillon rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time, furious that Jessica hadn't answered him when he knew damn well she'd heard him. Strangling her might not be a bad idea after she explained to that idiot Don what he was looking for. What was so difficult about hearing the right beat? The right pause? As Tara's scream registered, he glanced up to see Trevor falling backward. For one moment time stood still, his heart lodged in his throat. The boy hit him hard, squarely in the chest, driving the air out of his lungs in one blast. Protectively he wrapped his arms around his son as they both tumbled down the stairs to land heavily on the basement floor.
Jessica started down the stairs, Tara in her wake. The moment her foot touched the first stair, she felt herself slide. Clutching the banister, she caught Tara. "Careful, baby, there's something slippery on the stair." They both clung to the banister as they rushed down.
"Are they dead?" Tara asked fearfully.
Jessica could hear muffled swearing and Trevor's yelp of pain as Dillon ran his hands none too gently over his son to check for damage. "Doesn't sound like it," she observed. She knelt beside Trevor, her fingers pushing his hair from his forehead tenderly. "Are you all right, honey?"
"I don't know," Trevor managed a wry grin, still lying on top of his father.
Dillon caught Jessica's hand, his thumb sliding over her inner wrist, feeling her frantic heartbeat. "He's fine, he fell on top of me. I'm the one with all the bruises." Fear, mixed with anger, pulsed through his body. He hadn't experienced such panic and dread in years. The sight of Trevor falling from the top of the stairs was utterly terrifying. "I can't breathe, the kid weighs a ton." Dillon didn't know whether to hug Trevor or to shake him until his teeth rattled.
Jessica pushed back the unruly waves of hair falling into the center of Dillon's forehead. "You're breathing. Thanks for catching him."
Her touch shook him. Dillon's blue gaze burned over her face hungrily. It was painful to be jealous of his son, of the tender looks she gave him, the way she loved him. The way she was so at ease with him. Dillon wanted to drag her to him right there in front of everybody and kiss her. Devour her. Consume her. She was wreaking havoc with his body, breaking his heart and reopening every gaping laceration in his soul. She was making him feel things again, forcing him to live when it was so much better to be numb.
"And it was a great catch," Trevor agreed.
Dillon shoved the boy to one side, glaring at him, furious that he had been so terrified, furious that his life was being turned upside down. "Stop fooling around, kid, you could have really been hurt. You're too old to be playing so carelessly on the stairway. Roughhousing belongs outside, that way you don't break things that don't belong to you or injure innocent parties with your stupidity."
The smile faded from Trevor's face and color crept up his neck into his face. Tara gasped, outraged. "Trevor didn't hurt your stupid staircase."
"And you need to learn how to speak to adults, young lady," Dillon concluded, switching his glare to her furious little face.
Jessica stood up, drawing Tara up with her. She reached down to help Trevor to his feet. "Trevor slipped on something on the stairs, just as I did, Dillon," she informed him icily. "Perhaps, instead of jumping to conclusions about Trevor's behavior, you should ask your other guests to be more careful and not spill things on the stairs that will send people flying."
Dillon climbed to his feet slowly, his face an expressionless mask. "What's on the stairs?"
"I didn't stop and check," Jessica answered.
"Well, let's go see." He started up the stairs with Jessica following him closely.
The top stair was shiny, a clear, oily substance covering it. Dillon hunkered down and studied it. "Looks like cooking oil, right out of the kitchen." He glanced down at the twins who were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as if suspecting them.
"They didn't spill oil here. They were with me," Jessica snapped. She reached past him, touched the oil with a fingertip and brought it to her mouth. "Vegetable oil. Someone must have poured this oil onto the stair." Oil was used in magical ceremonies to invoke spirits. She remembered that piece of information all too well.
"Or accidentally spilled some and didn't realize it." Dillon's blue gaze slid over her. "And I wasn't accusing the kids, it didn't occur to me they did this. Don't jump to conclusions, Jess."
"Let's go ask the others," she challenged him.
He sighed. "You're angry with me." He held out his leather-covered hand to her, an instinctive gesture. The moment he realized what he'd done, he dropped his hand to his side.
"Of course I'm angry with you, Dillon, what did you expect?" Jessica tilted her head to look up at him. "Don't treat me like a child, and don't use that in
furiating patronizing voice on me either. I told you the accidents that have been happening at home could easily be explained away. I'll guarantee you, no one in this house is going to admit to spilling cooking oil on the stairs."
He shrugged. "So what if they don't? This wasn't directed at Trevor and Tara--how could it be? We're recording down there. Why would anyone think the kids would come down? No one could possibly have predicted that I would be calling for you."
"I disagree. I love music and I'm a sound engineer, and everyone here knows it. And you mentioned earlier in the kitchen that the twins could come down later and watch."
He raised his eyebrow at her. "Everyone, including Brenda, is in the studio. How do you explain that?"
"The twins were with me the entire time, Dillon," Jessica countered, her green eyes beginning to smolder, "how do you explain that? And speaking of Brenda, why in the world would you give your consent to allow that woman to hold an insurance policy on you and your children?"
"She's family, Jessie, it's harmless enough, although costly," he shrugged carelessly, "and it makes her feel a part of something."
"It makes me feel like a vulture is circling overhead," Jessica muttered. She followed him back down the stairs to where the twins waited expectantly.
"Hey, we're wasting time," Brian called. "Are you two going to come and work or are you going to discuss the positive versus the negative flow of the universe around us? What's going on out there?"
"We fell down the stairs," Dillon said grimly. "We'll be right there." He leaned close to Jessica. "Take a breath, Mama Tiger, don't rip my head off," Dillon teased, searching for a way to ease the tension between them. "Pull in the claws." Her instant, fierce defense of his children amused and pleased him.
Jessica glared at the twins. Both backed away innocently, shaking their heads in unison, awed that their father knew their secret pet name for Jessica. "I didn't tell him. Honest," Trevor added, when she kept glaring. "And he didn't mention fangs."
"Does she have fangs?" Dillon asked his son, his eyebrow shooting up. He was so relieved the boy hadn't hurt himself in the fall.