Deja Vu Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Déjà Vu’s Author

  Déjà Vu

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About the author...

  Thank you for purchasing

  Then the image exploded in her mind again.

  The mud sliding toward her, the out of focus face, the skull, and finally the skeletons—this time more vivid than any of the previous assaults on her senses. A cold shudder moved up her spine, followed by a lump in her throat and a churning in the pit of her stomach. She hugged her shoulders in an attempt to fend off the shivers, but not from the cold. Her insides trembled to the point where she felt as if she had no control over her own body. Even though she still didn’t understand the message trying to get through to her, this time the vision truly frightened her on both a physical and emotional level.

  This time it felt very real...and very personal.

  She tried to shake off the uncomfortable feelings, but without much success. Then a new sensation hit her, an eerie awareness of someone watching her. Someone obscured by the fog. Someone laying in wait. Someone wanting to harm her? The possibility sent a hard jolt of fear racing through her veins. It played on her already tautly stretched nerves. A genuine sense of alarm welled inside her. She fought the desire to run blindly down the road. But toward what? And away from whom? One thing loomed abundantly clear…she needed to move on, to get away from this spot that radiated a feeling bordering on evil.

  Lexi hurried down the road toward the mansion as she fought against the almost uncontrollable urge to continually glance over her shoulder. The panic built, layer upon layer. The danger close on her heels, almost as if it could reach out and grab her.

  Praise for Déjà Vu’s Author

  Samantha Gentry has received excellent reviews for her romance novels:

  UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

  STEAMY ENCOUNTER

  MASKED ENCOUNTER

  All are available from the Scarlet Rose line of The Wild Rose Press.

  Déjà Vu

  by

  Samantha Gentry

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Déjà Vu

  COPYRIGHT © 2009 by Samantha Gentry

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 706

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2010

  Print ISBN 1-60154-616-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  Alexandra Caldwell shivered, hunching her shoulders against the stiff ocean breeze as the boat pulled up to the dock at Skull Island. Even the name left her uneasy…Skull Island. It sounded like a sinister place inhabited by pirates, thugs, and other undesirables.

  She glanced up at the angry storm clouds darkening the sky to the point where it seemed more like evening than eleven o’clock in the morning. Another tremor of apprehension washed through her body. Ever since she was a little girl, thunder and lightning had frightened her. But as much as she wanted to blame the approaching storm for her uneasiness, it wasn’t solely responsible.

  She forced her attention to the tall man standing dockside as he grabbed the line thrown to him and secured the vessel. He extended his hand to help her out of the boat. The instant they made physical contact, a potent arc of energy raced through her body followed by a moment of panic. The hair on her arms stood on end. Her mouth went dry and her throat tried to close.

  The vision exploded in her mind. Mud…a wall of mud sliding down an embankment toward her. A fleeting glance of an out-of-focus face that turned into a human skull. Then a skeleton. And a second skeleton. She jerked her hand from his grasp while trying to force a calm to her momentary panic.

  She didn’t know how to control her psychic abilities and didn’t always understand what the strange images, feelings, and dreams meant. However, she did know when they tried to tell her something important and this was definitely one of those times.

  The man cocked his head to one side. A slight frown wrinkled across his brow as he stared at her with a quizzical expression. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She quickly recovered her composure, at least outwardly, and extended a businesslike smile. “No, nothing is wrong. Just a little spark of static electricity, I guess. It must have something to do with…” she glanced up at the threatening sky as a shiver of anxiety swept through her. “…uh, this approaching storm.”

  She returned her attention to the man, her demeanor all business. “I’m Alexandra Caldwell. Mr. Talbot is expecting me.”

  “I’m Gable Talbot.”

  “You’re Gable Talbot?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. This man whose touch had sparked a disturbing sequence of frightening images was not at all what she had anticipated the owner of Skull Island would look like. He had to be six-one, maybe even six-foot-two inches tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and an athletic build. He was also much younger than she thought he would be. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Soft looking sable brown hair framed his ruggedly handsome chiseled features. And his eyes—she had never seen such intense green eyes. They could almost be called mesmerizing. No doubt about it, he definitely qualified as president of the Drop Dead Gorgeous Hunk Club.

  “Here’s her luggage, Mr. Talbot.” The deck hand’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’ve also got some mail for you, a delivery for Dolly from that catalogue company, and this package that architect fellow has been waiting for.” He emitted a soft chuckle. “Looks like it got here just in time for him to get it before he leaves.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy.” A teasing grin spread across Gable’s face revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “Better it should arrive before he leaves rather than after.”

  “I also had two of those reporters wanting me to bring them here. I did like you said and told them no one gets on the island unless you’ve approved them. They tried to tell me you said it was okay, but I told them I had to hear it directly from you. Then they offered me more money.” A spontaneous laugh escaped his throat. “I told them I’d be glad to take their money…as soon as you gave the okay.”

  “You did the right thing.” A scowl covered Gable’s face as he muttered under his breath. “Damn reporters. If I’d known my announcement was going to cause such an uproar, I would have found another way of doing it.”

  “What do you want me to do about the barge? If we’re going to bring over heavy construction equipment, I need to get it on the schedule.”

  “I’ll let you know about that in a few days.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Talbot.”

  Gable cast off the line, looking up at the angry storm clouds as the boat pulled away from the dock. He returned his attention to the woman who had invaded his island. “It’s goin
g to be raining any minute now. We’d better get up to the house.” He quickly loaded everything on the back of the electric cart, and they started up the road.

  He glanced at her as he cleared his mind of the troubling thoughts about the reporters, choosing instead to focus on her physical appearance. She was tall for a woman, probably five-foot-eight—a perfect match for his six-two frame. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid thirties. Her short, wind-blown hair was ash blond, her eyes a bright hazel surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her delicately sculpted features presented one of the most beautiful and alluring faces he had ever seen, one that triggered thoughts of carefree days and passion filled nights. He made note of the absence of a wedding ring or even an engagement ring, usually the first thing he checked when meeting an attractive woman.

  She presented a desirable package—in fact, very desirable. A momentary tightness pulled across his chest confirming just how much he was attracted to her. Clenching his jaw into a hard line of determination, he reminded himself that he didn’t have time to pursue a beautiful woman right now, regardless of how much she sparked his libido. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different, if he didn’t already have a critical agenda that took precedence over everything else.

  “I must be honest with you, Miss Caldwell—”

  “Please, call me Lexi.”

  “Okay…Lexi.” Something about her voice penetrated his hastily constructed wall of resistance, a throaty quality that sounded very sexy yet natural rather than put on. It truly matched the way she looked. Once again, he shoved aside his momentary mental detour and turned his attention to his primary objective.

  “I’m having second thoughts about allowing you to do research here on Skull Island for one of J.D. Prescott’s books. I’ve read a couple of his novels and I don’t see how researching a thirty-year-old true life missing person case fits in with the type of books he writes. We’re talking about a situation where two people disappeared, a big name newspaper publisher and his wife. Their bodies were never found. In fact, they couldn’t even find evidence of foul play even though logic said the missing couple didn’t walk out the door hand-in-hand and disappear into thin air of their own volition. As far as I know, there isn’t even an ongoing investigation into the case. It’s old news, what you could call a very cold case. J.D. Prescott writes horror stories. I’m not seeing the connection.”

  He paused, making sure his attitude and voice didn’t in any way project what was really going on inside him. “I also don’t see why it’s necessary for you to do this research here on the island. I’m sure all the information you need could be located in the newspaper archives, at the sheriff’s office, and on the internet. There couldn’t possibly be anything physical here that would relate to what happened thirty years ago. Anything considered evidence at that time would have been collected by the sheriff’s department during the original investigation.”

  Lexi flashed a confident smile. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Talbot—”

  “Gable.”

  “Gable…it will be helpful to me if I can get the feel of the island. See the Victorian mansion where the party was held that night, retrace the footsteps of the guests present at the party, immerse myself in the setting—that type of thing. Mr. Prescott has also requested photographs of the island as it is now to compare to photos of the way things looked thirty years ago. He wants pictures of the areas where you plan to do any construction and major landscaping such as the location of the golf course, new buildings, and the small plane landing strip.”

  She paused for a moment as if trying to gather the proper words. “And it wasn’t two people who disappeared. It was three.”

  Shock jolted through Gable’s body shoving his senses on full alert. No one had bothered to mention the third person in many years. It was almost as if he hadn’t existed beyond the original investigation and the surrounding lurid gossip. After a couple of years any mention in the news of the disappearances only dealt with the high profile Winthrop Hollingsworth and his wife, Evelyn, but not the third person.

  Not Jack Stinson.

  He tried to regain his composure as he forced a casualness to his voice that he didn’t feel. How deeply had she delved into the history? Did she know more than she should? “Three people? I thought we were talking about Winthrop and Evelyn Hollingsworth. If what I heard from the previous owners of the island is correct, they disappeared about a year after Winthrop inherited the entire Hollingsworth newspaper publishing empire, including this island.” Even to his own ear, his voice did not sound as convincing as he would have liked. “That made him one of the wealthiest men in the country at the age of only thirty-five.”

  “Skull Island is such an…uh…unusual name. Do you know how that came about?”

  She had abruptly changed the subject. His mind raced in an attempt to figure out the reason…or perhaps it was nothing more than simple curiosity on her part. Exactly what were her true intentions? Or more specifically, J.D. Prescott’s true intentions. Or maybe his own hidden agenda had him jumping to conclusions, making something significant out of an innocent question. He tried to rein in his trepidation and deal with her question as if it didn’t mean anything more than what it appeared on the surface.

  “It’s the shape of the island. From the air you can see that the shoreline bears a resemblance to a human skull with two of the wooded areas where eyes would be. I don’t know who actually decided on that for a name, whether it was the Hollingsworth family when they originally purchased the island in 1919 or someone who owned it before them.”

  “Hmm…perhaps some old maps of the area might indicate when it was named Skull Island or if it had another name at one time. Maybe I could find the information if I did a real estate title search.”

  Gable nervously cleared his throat as he attempted to get her back to the topic that had grabbed his attention. “This third person you mentioned, that’s something I hadn’t heard about.”

  “The third person was a man named Jack Stinson. He worked for Winthrop Hollingsworth. The official theory at the time said Evelyn Hollingsworth and Jack Stinson were having an affair. He wanted her to leave her husband. When she refused, he murdered Winthrop. The story goes that Evelyn was horrified at what he had done and refused to go with him. So, to protect himself, he murdered her, too. Gossip had Jack Stinson changing his name and slipping out of the country before the sheriff could take him into custody. After all, Canada is very close to this location. Only a few miles from here once you’re back on the Washington state mainland.

  “Several theories existed as to why the bodies were never found, all of them speculation without any evidence. At the time of the investigation, a member of the island household staff confirmed to a sheriff’s deputy that a small motor boat went missing that night. The sheriff believed Jack Stinson escaped using that boat and dumped the bodies in the ocean somewhere between the island and the mainland.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting theory, but what do you think? What has your research led you to believe?”

  Lexi glanced at him. He stared straight ahead at the road as he drove the cart, but the set of his jaw and the intensity that covered his features told her it was more than a casual question. She needed to be cautious in what she said, but she wasn’t too sure why that decision had popped into her head.

  She carefully measured her words before speaking. “I haven’t formed an opinion. I’m a researcher, not an investigative reporter or a detective. I’ve been hired to gather research information for an author, not investigate a thirty-year-old mystery with the hope of solving it. My job isn’t a matter of why it happened or to hunt for new clues to solve a cold case. It’s to collect accurate information for someone else’s use rather than draw conclusions or form theories.”

  “Doesn’t your curiosity ever lead you down a path of new discovery when doing your research?”

  She wrinkled her brow in a bit of a frown as she considered his question. “I do have to admit th
is is different from the type of research I usually do. Normally I gather facts about a known thing. It could be a specific period in history or an event. Sometimes it’s information about a prominent public figure—living or dead—whether a politician or celebrity or scientist. It might be material on a location or even facts about a specific job such as biochemist. That type of thing. I’ve never researched an unsolved mystery, at least not a contemporary one rather than historical.”

  She hadn’t formulated her thoughts in those exact terms before. This was an unusual research contract that deviated from her regular assignments. It had already produced unexpected results in the form of a tingle of excitement caused by Gable’s nearness combined with the anxiety of the psychic vision that had assaulted her senses. A little shiver told her nothing was as it appeared. So, until she could figure out what was going on, she needed to keep her thoughts to herself rather than voice her concerns.

  “Well, unless Prescott is weaving a tale that shows the dead bodies rising from the ocean and wreaking havoc on the living, I still don’t see how the disappearance thirty years ago connects with the type of books J.D. Prescott writes.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t give you any insight into Mr. Prescott’s intentions. He hasn’t told me how he plans to use the information.” Everything about the conversation sent warning signals telling Lexi to be cautious, that Gable’s mention of having second thoughts about her research contained more than was apparent on the surface. It was the type of psychic message she had learned to trust even though she usually didn’t understand what the messages meant.

  She wanted to put this line of conversation to rest rather than continue what could only turn into some sort of verbal joust. “I’ve never met J.D. Prescott in person or even spoken with him on the phone. All of our communication has been via email. I’m only a freelance researcher hired to dig into the disappearance as background information, what Mr. Prescott referred to as back story. In addition to all the material from the past, he also wants to know as much as you’re willing to reveal about your current plans for turning what has always been a private retreat into a luxury resort. After all, this is the scene of the crime, so to speak, and the mysterious events of that night have never been explained.”