Secrets

By Aris Whittier

Ashley Dawson has a gift—she can communicate with spirits. Her life profoundly changes when she is urged and guided, by a spirit, to the house of Nathaniel Marshall—a man who doesn't believe Ashley's bizarre accusations and makes no attempt to hide it. 
When Nathaniel discovers a cunning man who disappears as quickly as he appears is stalking Ashley, his fear for her safety consumes him. Their terror is taken to a new level when several murders throughout the city surface.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aris Whittier
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533733276

Book preview

PROLOG

What’s your name? Ashley Dawson asked in a low, encouraging tone to the translucent figure that hovered at the foot of her bed. She fought the inclination to look at the clock and see what time it was. She feared if she did the apparition would disappear like it had done before. She guessed it was around three in the morning. Please, tell me. I need to know your name. This time, she didn’t speak the words aloud because it wasn’t necessary.

Sara.

Ashley watched the woman’s mouth move, but the words that were spoken were not heard through her ears. Instead, they touched deep in her mind. That’s the way it always worked. She heard them in her head but not necessarily through her ears. She did have to admit, it was hard to distinguish the difference at times. Even for her.

Sara. She repeated the name and felt the overwhelming peacefulness that always accompanied the spirit’s presence.

The name fits her, Ashley thought. It was sweet and simple, like everything else about her. Sara was petite and her dark brown hair swirled around her shoulders freely, as if it was caught in a light breeze. An unblemished drop of cream was the only way to describe her milky-white skin. Her disposition was tranquil and kind, naturally calming. Her voice was like something out of a Michelangelo painting.

In the huge, ornate four-poster bed, Ashley pushed herself into a sitting position, never taking her eyes off of the spirit. With a quick puff, she blew the lock of fox-red hair from her eyes. When it fell back into place, she raked the thick wave to the side in irritation. There was a reason why Sara was coming, and Ashley didn’t want the spirit to leave until she found out what it was.

This marked Sara’s third appearance. The first time she had appeared, she’d awakened Ashley out of a dead sleep and done nothing more than just stand at the foot of her bed and watch her like some angelic guardian angel. With a shy smile, Sara had disappeared, leaving Ashley completely baffled as to who she was.

Waking up to spirits had become commonplace to Ashley. Actually, she couldn’t remember a time when spirits didn’t come around. It had taken years for her to master how to block a spirit out. Even then, there were a few that refused to disconnect. When this happened, she just chose to ignore them and fall back to sleep. However, with Sara, Ashley never wanted her to leave. There was something about Sara that drew Ashley in. From that first meeting, Ashley knew she would come back. It was just a matter of when.

The second time Sara manifested was after a long night of writing and editing her latest mystery novel. Exhausted, Ashley had hauled herself into the bathroom to get ready for bed and through the mirror, over her shoulder, Sara had materialized. When Ashley turned, Sara had spoken her first words.

Hello, Ashley. Sara’s soft, lilting voice reached deep inside. I want you to see something.

Sara had slowly faded away and a beautiful house immediately replaced her. Like Sara, the house had been slightly transparent, but Ashley could make out every exquisite detail. Elegant gardens and a courtyard surrounded the handsome stucco exterior and clay tile roof. The grand house looked as if it should be sitting in the French countryside surrounded by rolling hills of neatly planted vineyards. Moments later it too had disappeared.

Although she hadn’t taken her eyes off Sara, Ashley had lost focus as she drifted back to their first encounters. Bringing herself back to the present, she reached for a pillow and tucked it tightly against her. The house. Why did you show me the house?

Remember it.

Her words were nothing more than a subtle whisper, which danced through Ashley’s head. I don’t think I could ever forget it. It’s magnificent.

It is how you will find him.

Ashley watched her weightless form drift back and forth. She could see her dresser through Sara’s translucent shape and glanced at the clock—2:47 a.m. I’m not sure what you want from me.

I need your help.

How could I possibly help you?

You’re the only one who can help me. You’re the only one who can help him.

Ashley was quiet for a long moment then asked. You know you’re dead, right? It was blunt, Ashley knew, but unfortunately, she had met spirits who had not accepted the fact that their body had passed on. Some referred to these spirits, which were stuck in a state of limbo, as ghosts. She had the feeling that Sara was well aware of her passing, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

Yes, but he’s not dead. He is alive.

"Who is he? Sara slowly faded. No, don’t go, Ashley said quickly as she tossed the pillow to the floor and kicked her feet from the sheets. As her foot dangled from the side of the bed, she realized just how silly she was being. It wasn’t like she could stop Sara from leaving. I don’t even know where the house is. Please tell me more. I can’t help you unless you give me more information."

"Ashley," she said in a soft, calming voice. You’ll know what to do. Please don’t forget, he needs you.

Sara was gone.

ONE

Three weeks later...

Ashley Dawson stood at the door of the magnificent house staring at the glowing amber button of the doorbell. The cool morning breeze, which caused her hair to dance across the back of her neck, signaled an end to the last week-and-a-half of nice weather. Autumn was coming—she could feel it.

As she shivered, she realized that she should have worn more than the wide-leg, cropped trousers and the silk and lace boudoir jacket. But then again, she never expected that her early morning drive would result in this.

When she saw the house, she’d been so surprised she had nearly taken out the neighbor’s mailbox and a well-trimmed hedge before she’d gained control of the car and convinced herself she wasn’t hallucinating. For weeks, she’d been taking back roads, bypassing freeways, and driving the long route in hopes she would find the house that Sara had shown her. Her efforts had finally paid off.

As she reached out, ready to poke the button, she noticed her fingers were slightly shaking. Sara had said she’d know what to do and Ashley truly hoped this was it. This was a huge step out of her comfort zone. Never before had she gone to this length to help a spirit. Never before had she shown up at a stranger’s door unannounced. Nervously, she pushed the button, took a small step back, and waited.

The anticipation of waiting correlated with the excitement of finding the house, played havoc on her patience. Grabbing the vintage multi-strand necklace at her neck, she fiddled with the shiny beads. Under normal circumstances, she was a patient person. She blew out a breath and glanced down at her knee-high suede boots. Three months ago, they had been a birthday gift to herself. She was glad she had splurged because they covered her shins and the extra layer of warmth was appreciated. Involuntarily, the tapered leather toe tapped eagerly as the seconds passed. She knew that she had only been waiting less than a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. Restlessly, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder as she leaned to the side to see if she could get a glimpse through the front window. All at once the large front door quickly swung open.

A tall, serious man with perfectly trimmed dark brown hair filled the doorway. Without a moment’s hesitation, his deep, piercing eyes moved slowly over Ashley, pausing as he took in details.

Good morning, Ashley said pleasantly after a moment of his awkward inspection.

The unsmiling man didn’t utter a word in return.

Releasing the beads, she’d almost ripped off her neck when the door opened, she watched him glance down at his watch. She couldn’t decide if it was surprise or irritation that caused him to note the time. I’m Ashley Dawson.

His gaze moved to her, but he still didn’t say anything.

Ashley didn’t offer her hand because he didn’t look like he wanted to take it. Unsure of what to do next, she just stood there staring at the man who looked like he’d love nothing more than to throw her off his porch. Or at the very least, slam the door in her face.

Maybe she should just leave. For whatever reasons, this man did not appreciate the fact that she was there. She could go to the county offices and dig up some information on the home and its owners now that she had the address—something she probably should have done first— to avoid the awkward moment and to prepare herself properly. She chewed on that for a moment before Sara popped into her head. She couldn’t just walk away, at least not yet. She was already here; she could get whatever information she needed from this man. Though prying the information out of him would be difficult and most likely time-consuming, she knew the results would be worth the effort. This house is amazing. Truly Texas-size isn’t it? she said with a nervous laugh.

Ashley swallowed hard when he made no effort to speak. Think, she demanded. She was a writer. She could come up with something. You’re creative, resourceful, and pretty damn quick on your feet, she reminded herself. Inside, she moaned. How could anyone be productive with a man staring down at you like that?  May I ask what style it is?

Dark hair danced as he nodded. Fingers drummed with annoyance on his hip. It’s Mediterranean.

Ashley sighed with relief when he finally spoke. He wasn’t mute. She was beginning to think he couldn’t speak. But to her delight he could, and his voice was rich and raspy—perfectly matched for a hero in one of her books. The hint of twang told her he was a native of the Lone Star State. He looked extremely powerful even in the domestic faded jeans and a basic t-shirt. Nevertheless, she didn’t allow his handsome appearance or his lack of interest to throw her completely off balance. She was more interested in the house he resided in than his good looks, sultry voice, or irritated attitude. Although she couldn’t help but see a resemblance between the owner and the structure—both were not only well built, but they also reeked of strength and history. She had the feeling they both held a profound story. It’s exquisite, she finally said.

Thank you. He shifted his weight to lean against the mahogany-colored wood frame encasing the door.

Turning her head, she gazed at a magnificent six-tiered water fountain surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges. Just beyond the fountain, there was a courtyard where delicate moss grew in between the cracks of huge irregular slabs of stone. An extensive, not to mention stunning, rose garden was beyond that. The gardens are amazing too. I can only imagine what they look like in the spring.

The man glanced at the fountain and the preened roses before his gaze shifted back to her.

I’ve never had much luck with roses, she said awkwardly under his weighted stare. Well, any type of flowers...or plants for that matter. If it’s green and living, I’ll kill it.

I’m sorry to hear that.

Her nose scrunched up as she eyed him. Have I interrupted something? she asked curiously.

No, you haven’t.

Are you sure? I feel like I have.

I was making coffee when I heard you at the door, he said nonchalantly as he folded his arms across his lean body.

Coffee, she sputtered with relief. That’s what has you so distracted.

His brows lifted as he watched her for a long moment. It was a long night. I desperately need a cup.

I apologize for keeping you from your much-needed cup of java, she said half-seriously. Truly, I understand what a catastrophe it is when— she stopped when he smiled at her. Yes, the man actually smiled. The grin was slight, but it completely transformed his face. The hot scorn in his eyes had cooled to an amused glint. He was breathtakingly handsome.

I’m Nathaniel Marshall.

He extended a hand and after a moment she gave him hers. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Marshall.

Just Nathaniel.

Well, Nathaniel, perhaps I should come back when you’re well caffeinated.

That won’t be necessary, he said seriously as he stepped back into the house. Please, come in.

Completely taken aback, she glanced about her before she walked into his home. When she had first seen the house, she’d never dreamed that the homeowner would invite her in. There wasn’t time for her to dwell on the unforeseen generosity because he closed the door quietly behind her and said, This way.

Ashley fell in step with Nathaniel as they made their way through a series of hallways and rooms. Large white columns anchored the high ceilings, which were lined with beautiful thick crown molding. The heels of her shoes clicking gently against the polished stone floors broke the quiet that had fallen between them. Their final destination was the kitchen, which was located at the back of the house.

Would you like a cup? he said as he moved around a massive, center island topped with speckled brown granite and retrieved two cups.

I would love a cup, Ashley said with a soft smile.

Cream, sugar?

A little of both, please. The kitchen was magnificent. Its sheer size was impressive enough, but the cabinetry was superb and made quite a statement. Floor-to-ceiling dark, rich wood wrapped the space beautifully. Several of the cabinet doors had elegant inlays of colored glass giving splashes of color here and there and breaking up the uniformity of the wood.

They are made of cherry with an antique finish, Nathaniel said as he paused and looked at her.

I’m sorry for staring. They’re stunning.

Don’t be. He slid open a drawer and retrieved two spoons. And thank you.

Ashley liked the fact that his gratitude was authentic and heartfelt. It was refreshing to see he didn’t take his home for granted. People, who lived in houses like this, often thought the finer things were just a natural course of their life. Therefore, there was a lack of appreciation. That didn’t seem to be the case with Nathaniel. What kind of stone is the backsplash made of?

Tumbled marble. It’s imported from India. With the gesture of his head, he said, If you’d like, you can look around.

Are you sure? She asked apprehensively.

Nathaniel nodded as he moved to the refrigerator.

Ashley peeked around a long wall painted a deep cranberry, to find that it opened into a huge formal dining room. Like the exterior of the house, the dining room had a Mediterranean influence but with a hint of old-world charm. A pair of ornate gold embellished lamps sat atop a massive buffet. She moved across the room and stood before a stunning picture of a blonde-haired child with three little rabbits at her feet. After a moment of admiring the sweet image and the thick aged frame she continued.

She couldn’t help but smile when her gaze landed on an enormous Texas Star which was placed perfectly over the hearth of the gas fireplace. Though it was elegantly made from different wooden inlays she thought the contrast between the massive star and the elaborate Italian style of the room was amusing.

She made another trip around the room taking in the exquisite details of the dining set, the warm colors of the intricately woven rug, and the extensive use of delicate molding. The room was a masterpiece. It looked like it was plucked off the cover of a fancy magazine. It was elegant, and warm, and held a true understanding of design in both architecture and interior. She loved it.

She turned and stared for a moment down the long hallway that branched out in two different directions from the dining room. She assumed they led to bed and bathrooms, but she had no intention of looking any further. She wouldn’t press her luck by being too snoopy. Nathaniel was extremely accommodating and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

Where did you find that beautiful antique buffet in the dining area? she asked as she made her way back into the kitchen. It’s superb.

My wife found it in Europe on our honeymoon. It took six men to get it in here.

Ashley took the cup that was sitting on the counter when Nathaniel gestured to it. It was well worth it. It looks like it was made for that spot.

That’s what my wife said.

Ashley sipped the coffee. This is delicious. She smiled. I can see why you were so distracted.

His eyes momentarily dipped down to her cup before he looked up regarding her with slight amusement.

Is your wife here? I’d love to ask her a few questions.

He shook his head. No, she’s not.

Perhaps another time. She lifted the cup again and looked out a row of windows to her right. Wow, look at that view. She moved closer. The view was enhanced by the sun, which seemed to float a few inches above the horizon. The back yard came alive as countless sparks of sunlight shimmered off the lush green foliage of the densely planted vegetation. The landscaping is outstanding.

I can give you the name of the company, Nathaniel offered. They did the hardscape, too. He looked out the windows toward a massive stone fireplace, which was the focal point of the outdoor kitchen. I highly recommend them. He turned to her. They also maintain the rose garden if you’re interested.

I was more impressed than interested, she said honestly.

You don’t have a formal garden?

No. I’m lucky that I’m able to keep my grass green. She paused for a moment. My dear friend gives me a beautiful miniature rose every year for Christmas which promptly dies two to three weeks later on my kitchen windowsill.

And yet she still gives you one each year, he asked curiously.

Sadly, yes. It has now become a game to see how long I can keep it alive. She raised a brow and gave him a serious look. I’ve done a little research so I’m confident that I’ll break the four weeks mark this year.

I would think a good starting point is watering, Nathaniel offered indifferently.

Ashley smirked at his sensible suggestion. I do water them. But thank you for the tip. Her gaze shifted to the left where a few steps dropped down to a path, which led to a small building that mimicked the architecture of the main house. Is that a pool house?

Yes.

She shook her head in total admiration. His home was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Just beautiful. She turned and glanced around the interior again. From what I’ve seen the inside is just as amazing as the outside.

Have you driven by before?

No. But I’ve seen it in a picture. She looked back to Nathaniel slightly irritated with herself for not choosing her words better. At least she hadn’t said vision she reasoned with herself.

Nathaniel’s brows drew together as he took a sip of his coffee. That’s strange, I wasn’t aware they had a picture of my home. Who showed you, William or Brad?

William? Brad? I’m not sure who you are referring to.

Are you a client from the firm?

Firm? she asked curiously. What firm might that be? She had no idea what or who he was talking about, but she was certain that she’d just worn out her welcome.

Intrigue propelled Nathaniel from around the counter toward her. Who showed you a picture of my home if you’re not from the firm?

I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not from a firm. I—I... How was she going to explain her situation? She cringed inside. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought about how she was going to explain why she was there. When she had gotten out of the car and was approaching the house, she had decided she would just wing it. In hindsight, she realized that wasn’t the best plan. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Nathaniel. She winced at his expression. Any plan would have been better than this.

Ashley slowly lowered her cup and looked for a place to set it. The counter would be the best choice. However, Nathaniel was between her and it, and there was no way she was going to step around him. Anxiously, she held it with both hands. You’ve been very kind letting me in your home—

Yes, I have, he agreed in a provoked tone as he cut her off.

Ashley swallowed hard. I appreciate your hospitality. Please, tell your wife that she did a beautiful job decorating it. She discreetly, but very quickly, moved to the side, stepping around him to set the cup on the very edge of the glossy countertop.

Who showed you a picture of my home? he growled as she walked past.

What the hell was she doing here?  She should be at home with her nose buried in her computer screen, writing until her fingers bled. At least she couldn’t get in any trouble that way. Besides, she had a book that was supposed to be finished by now. She didn’t have time to indulge mysterious spirits, hunt down mysterious houses, or pursue mysterious men. She shook her head quickly, clearing her thoughts. I think it’s time I go.

Nathaniel held up his hand. Ashley, it’s not a habit of mine to repeat myself.

The way he said her name caused Ashley to become immobile. His foul mood was growing rapidly, and she knew ignoring the question would get her nowhere. A friend, she said the words meekly regretting them the moment they came out.

That’s a little vague. Could you be more specific? His head cocked to the side slightly as he stared at her intently. Does your friend have a name?

Ashley nodded, offended by his cynical tone. Of course, she does. What had she been thinking coming here like this? God, he was tall. His shoulders were comparable to that of a linebacker. His biceps visually stretched the cotton material of the navy-blue t-shirt to the limit. Her eyes dipped to his chest just long enough for her to realize the material was tight there too. I’m sorry for all this.

All what?

Her fingers tangled nervously together as she tried to clasp them in front of her. Of course, he wouldn’t understand her apology. How could he? Coming here so early and uninvited. This wasn’t a good idea.

"What do you mean by this?" he probed further.

Ashley looked about her as the reality of the situation sank in. She was alone in a strange house, with a strange man, who was giving her an unnerving, precarious look. She looked down at her watch though she didn’t note the time. I really must be going.

You’re not leaving until you tell me who your friend is that showed you my home, he said impatiently.

She felt herself come on the defense instantaneously when his words reached her. Her body snapped to attention. What was his problem? It wasn’t like he was the one who had something to fear. She was clearly the vulnerable one. Is that a threat?

Name. He demanded.

Ashley’s stance shifted as her hands moved to her hips. She hoped her posture implied how serious she was. Just because he ignored her question didn’t mean she was going to drop the subject. I don’t like to be threatened.

That’s good to know. Now, give me a name.

I don’t have to— It was his sardonic gaze that silenced her. He spoke volumes with just the narrowing of his dark brown eyes.

Yes, you do.

I—

Give me the damn name, he bit out slowly.

Sara, she snapped unexpectedly. The person that showed me this house, your house, is Sara.

Really?

Ashley nodded as her hand slipped into her purse and found her keys. Though she wasn’t an inch closer to the door somehow having her keys in her hand made her feel like she was on her way. Now I’ll be leaving, she said firmly and with as much composure as she could muster.

Nathaniel stepped in front of her. When did Sara show you this picture?

She stopped abruptly when he blocked her path. I don’t see how that matters. She made sure she didn’t take a step back—she stood her ground.

It matters a great deal to me. The words oozed from his mouth. Tell me when.

Several weeks ago.

In one hasty movement, he took her by the arms, his fingers digging into her biceps. I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what kind of fucked-up game you’re playing, but you’re messing with the wrong person.

I’m not playing any game. She fought his grip as he pulled her close to him and looked wildly into her eyes. Take your hands off me, she demanded.

He shook her hard. The jolt caused her copper hair to fall into her eyes. Who are you?

She tried to toss the hair over her shoulder so she could see. I already told you who I am.

Yes, Ashley Dawson. Her name rolled off his tongue arrogantly. Why are you here? He pulled her closer to him. When he spoke, his words were a hard breath against her face. What do you want?

I’m not answering any more of your questions. Let me go.

I’m entitled to some answers. He muttered the words through clenched teeth.

With all her strength, Ashley tore away from his grasp so forcefully that she stumbled back a few feet. Her chin immediately lifted when she regained her balance. Touch me like that again and you won’t like the answer I give you or how I intend to give it to you, she snapped furiously as she eyed his crotch. She would have no qualms kicking him where it counts if he came toward her again. Taking a moment to gather herself, she pushed her hair from her eyes, took a few steady breaths, and willed herself to settle down. Do you know Sara?

Yes. His face was a mask of anguish. She is my wife. He blew out a ragged breath and shook his head despondently. "She was my wife, he corrected quietly. She died a year ago."

Ashley felt all the blood drain from her body. The man before her began to blur as her head turned light. Her keys fell from her hand and her purse slid from her shoulder as she quickly looked around for a place to sit. The last thought that ran through her head before everything went black was Sara had a husband and he was alive.

Nathaniel caught the stranger in his arms before she fell to the floor. Christ. He swung her limp body into his arms and carried her into the living room to the sofa where he dumped her body in an unkind fashion. What in the hell was he going to do with her now?

TWO

In the kitchen, Nathaniel swung open the cabinet door and reached for a tall juice glass. When Ashley had first arrived, after he’d discarded the notion, she was trying to sell him something, he had thought she was just another highfalutin client who had demanded a personal tour of his home.

To his displeasure, he frequently showed his house to prospective clients. In fact, the annoying activity was becoming routine. As an architect, his own home was often on display because it somehow reassured the customer that he and his associates knew what they were doing.

He moved to the large stainless sink and stared despondently out the window. His initial irritation wasn’t simply because a strange woman had shown up unexpectedly. It had been because he hadn’t slept a wink the night before. In addition to his sleepless night, weekend showings of his home were off-limits. Everyone at the office knew it. He’d wanted to know if it was William or Brad who had shown her a picture because he wanted to know whose neck, he was going to break first thing Monday morning. He found that none of his efforts were wasted when he knew exactly at whom his anger was to be channeled. Efficiency was very important to him.

He sighed regretfully, there would be