“I trust your judgment.”
The simple four-word statement probably shouldn’t have annoyed her, but she found herself bristling, wanting to scratch at him for acting like he respected her opinions after he’d treated them like they meant nothing before.
But that was the key, she reminded herself. That was then. This was now. So she took a deep breath to settle the flare of anger, and said, “Wells is a little on the slick side for my taste, and rumor has it he’s got his eyes on bigger and better, and doesn’t mind making deals to get things done.”
Luke shrugged. “Sounds like a politician to me.”
“Yeah.” Rox left it at that because she didn’t have any real reason to dislike Mayor Wells. Just her gut feeling that his charming smile hid things that weren’t in the best interest of Raven’s Cliff or the town’s inhabitants.
“This disease have a name?” Luke asked.
“The residents are calling it the Curse.”
“Why?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Local legend about a fishing captain and a lighthouse—not important.” She didn’t think now was the time to get in to the town’s recent problems, which had ranged from the loss of the mayor’s daughter, Camille, in a freak wedding-day accident, to the discovery that they had a serial killer in their midst, one who thought he could lift the Captain’s Curse by brainwashing women and sacrificing them to the sea.
Some said the bad luck had come with the arrival of the reclusive stranger who’d bought a property outside of town, some that it was attached to the destruction of the Beacon Lighthouse five years earlier…while others said that it dated as far back as the late 1700s.
As far as Rox was concerned, the superstitions were nothing more than a way for the locals to deal with a serious run of bad luck.
She didn’t deal with luck, she dealt with science.
Luke frowned. “Since when do you discount legends? You were usually the first one looking to bring in the local medicine man and ask him to do his voodoo schtick and help heal the village from the inside out.”
“That was Africa and this is Maine—it’s a little different. Besides, this time I’m the local medicine man,” she said, but her voice lacked bite as she felt the weight of the responsibility, and the failure. “And so far my ‘schtick’ hasn’t made a dent, so I’d appreciate it if you and your team could get to work ASAP.”
Luke looked at her for a long moment, expression far more complex than the surface charm she remembered. Finally, he nodded. “You’re the boss. That is, assuming you want us to stay.”
He was giving her an out, an option of sending him away. Only there wasn’t any possibility of that, because her people were dying and she couldn’t help them on her own. He’s here and there isn’t time to request another team before more people die, she told herself. In the end that was what it came down to.
She’d come back to Raven’s Cliff because she’d wanted a more personal relationship with her patients than the here-today-gone-tomorrow life of relief medicine. Now, the town needed her to set aside her past history with Luke and accept his expert help.
Telling herself that she could handle this, that forewarned was forearmed when it came to men like Luke Freeman, she turned to his three teammates, who were still ranged behind him as though waiting for the go-ahead.
Rox stuck out her hand. “I’m Dr. Roxanne Peterson. Welcome to Raven’s Cliff.”
FROM THE DARK SHADOWS beside Lucy Tucker’s junk store, Tidal Treasures, the Seaside Strangler stood in the rain and watched the doctors carry Aztec’s motionless form to the police station.
Part of him was disappointed that the others had arrived when they did. He’d been poised to come to Roxanne’s rescue, ready for her to see him as a protector rather than just another part of the town’s background scenery. Then again, it was probably best that he hadn’t needed to expose himself like that. He had far more important work to do.
Secure in the knowledge that Roxanne was safe for the moment, he eased back along the junk store porch, knowing what he had to do next to ensure that she and all the other innocents in Raven’s Cliff would be released from the threat that hung over the town.
He’d done it once before, and his sacrifice had bought the town peace for five long years. Then, just a few months ago the curse had come back and the gods of the sea had risen up and demanded another sacrifice. He’d tried to appease them once already, but he’d been thwarted, and the townspeople had rejoiced at the woman’s safe return.
Just look what that got them, he thought in a flare of righteous indignation. An epidemic. A disease straight from the halls of hell, one that turns men twisted and evil.
As far as he was concerned, there was only one way to abate the curse and bring peace to the town of Raven’s Cliff.
Another Sea Bride would have to be sacrificed.
Chapter Two
Within twenty minutes of Luke and the others carrying the groggy Violent into the Raven’s Cliff Police Department, the briskly efficient officers on duty had gotten the patient secured in a cell and called in the chief of police and the mayor to meet with the CDC team.
After a round of introductions, Luke sent his teammates—clinical specialist May O’Malley, geneticist Bug Dufresne and biochemist Thom Harris—to check on the patients down in the holding cells and back at the clinic, and do something about Rox’s busted-in door.
Then, as Rox started telling the mayor and chief of police about what the CDC team could do that she couldn’t, Luke leaned back and watched them, dropping into detached-observer mode partly so he could avoid thinking about his own reaction to seeing Rox again, and partly because his job was often as much about local politics as it was medicine.
When he’d first left relief work for a coveted job as head of a CDC outbreak response team, he’d discovered that the protocol was pretty consistent whether he was covering an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in Africa or a cluster of food poisoning from bad burgers in middle America. When he first showed up at an outbreak site, the powers that be always welcomed him with open arms, but as time passed, he invariably discovered local undercurrents that affected his ability to do his job.
As such, he made a point to figure out right away who was who among the players, and what they were likely to think about outside intervention.
In this case, he pegged Captain Patrick Swanson as a straight shooter who would help if asked and stay out of the way otherwise. The chief of police was a barrel- chested no-nonsense guy in his fifties, who came off as the epitome of a career cop who pretty much lived and breathed for his town. He was exactly the sort of guy Luke liked to have on his side.
Consistent with Rox’s warning, Mayor Perry Wells was another story. He was probably the same age as Swanson, but that was where the similarity ended. Even though he’d been rousted out of bed near midnight, the mayor was neatly put together in casual slacks and a designer pullover, and didn’t let his charm—or the perfectly calculated degree of tension on his face—slip for a second. Luke pegged him as a politician’s politician, and figured he’d be one to watch.
“I trust Roxanne implicitly,” the mayor said, turning to Luke. “If she says you’re the best man for the job, then I know we’re in good hands.”
Luke suppressed a grim smile. He knew damn well she hadn’t said anything of the sort—she’d called him “experienced” and “competent,” a description that, although accurate, was probably better than she thought he deserved.
Swanson said nothing, just kept looking from Rox to Luke and back again, as though trying to figure out the source of the