it dawned on him. The murder victim on the beach had dark red hair. “Ms. Davies, please wake up.” He shook her gently.
Kayla blinked, her eyes staring up into his, tears filling them almost immediately. “I’m sorry.” She pushed against him, the movement not enough to convince him to let go.
Gabe kept his hold on her, his arm slipping around her waist, her breasts pressed firmly into his chest. He stood a head taller than she did; the soft curls hanging down her back brushed against his hand. Her pale skin against the deep auburn hair gave her a pretty, feminine and fragile appeal that would inspire any man to want to protect her. Including Gabe.
So where did the bruises come from?
“I can stand on my own,” she said.
“I don’t believe you. If you don’t mind, I’d rather hold on until we’re well away from the edge of the cliff.”
“But I was painting,” she said, waving her hand limply.
“Considering the canvas flew over the edge, I’d say you’re done for now.”
Her gaze held his for a moment, then she sighed. “You’re right. Who was I fooling anyway?” The last bit was muttered under her breath.
Keeping one hand around her waist, he handed the box of paintbrushes to her and gathered the easel under his spare arm. “Ready?”
“I guess.” She looked at the edge of the cliff where her canvas had gone over.
“Trust me, you won’t find it.” Gabe urged her toward the cottage. “And if you did, you wouldn’t be able to get to it. That part of the bluff is too steep to climb down and back up.”
She smiled, a short quirk of her lips. The sun seemed to come out, then fade away as quickly as it rose in her face, her green eyes darkening with her frown. “Really, I can walk on my own.”
“Prove it by walking with me first.”
She let him walk her several yards away from the edge of the cliff before she glanced up at him. “See?”
Gabe reluctantly let go of her waist, a strange feeling of loss resulting from the separation. He wanted to keep her tucked safely in the crook of his arm. Must be that waiflike appearance she had about her. Her pale skin only emphasized the dark circles beneath her eyes, adding an air of mystery and tragedy to her beautiful features.
They crossed the distance between the cliff and the cottage in silence. Gabe didn’t want to start questioning her until he was certain he wouldn’t be picking her up off the ground again. A chair would be nice. And apparently, Ms. Davies wasn’t anxious to talk right away, either, her lips pressed into a line, the frown furrowing her forehead more worried than angry.
When she reached the cottage and pushed the door open, she paused. “Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you, Ms. Davies.” Gabe stepped inside and leaned the easel against the wall. The cabin was like so many other cabins along the coast, decorated in light, durable furnishings in keeping with summer vacation beach residences. The open living space had a large picture window facing the ocean.
“Call me Kayla. Ms. Davies makes me sound old.” She set the box of supplies on an end table and headed for the kitchen. One after the other, she rummaged through the cabinets, her movements brisk and efficient, but Gabe noticed the way her hands shook a little as she unearthed a teakettle.
Gabe stepped up beside her and grabbed her hands, kettle and all. “Sit.” He led her to the dinette table and pulled out a chair, forcing her into it.
For a moment, Kayla looked as if she was about to argue, but then the fight seemed to leach out of her. She stared out the window, her face blank, expression closed. “I thought it was my nightmare.”
“What?” Gabe sat across from her and continued to hold her hands in his. “What did you think was your nightmare?”
“The scream.” Her gaze shifted from the window to his face. “I thought it was part of my nightmare. I did nothing.”
His stomach did a flip-flop, the desperation in Kayla’s face making him want to pull her back into his arms and shield her from whatever ghosts haunted her. He squeezed her hands in his. “So you heard a scream?”
“Yes. I woke from a bad dream and was just going back to sleep when it happened.”
“What time?”
“Around midnight. I thought I’d drifted off. I thought the scream was me.”
“And what do you think now?”
“I wasn’t asleep. I know that now.” She dragged her hands from his and buried her face in them. “She screamed and I just lay there.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
When she looked up, he saw that her face was streaked with tears. “I could have helped.”
“Or been just another victim.”
“If I’d realized what was going on, I could have called the police.”
“Likely the man would have gotten away by the time we got there anyway.” He took one of her hands in his again. “You didn’t kill her. Someone else did.”
Her eyes widened and her free hand went to her throat. “H-h-how did she die?”
Gabe’s gaze focused on the yellow markings on her neck. “Without having an autopsy report, I can’t be certain, but she showed signs of strangulation.”
Kayla gasped. “Oh, God, no.”
“What?”
“No.” She shook her head, more tears slipping down her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands again.
“Kayla, what’s wrong?” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.
Her body trembled beneath his touch.
“This is my fault.”
“What? No, Kayla, I told you. You’re not responsible for what the killer has done.”
“Yes, I am. You don’t understand.” She looked up, the expression on her tear-streaked face deadly earnest. “I’m the reason it happened.”
Gabe released her shoulder to reach down and take her hand. “Does it have to do with the bruising on your neck?”
She stared up into his face, but there was a vacant look in her eyes that made him uneasy, as if she didn’t really see him there. “He followed me, he must have.”
“Who followed you?”
“I don’t know.” Her hand clenched tightly around his. “He’s come to kill me. And instead, he’s killed that girl, that poor girl….”
“Who, Kayla?” Gabe was filled with confusion. Was someone truly after Kayla? Uneasily, he
