A Lethal Legacy Read online

  TREASURE OR TREACHERY?

  Douglas Island sits off the coast of New York State, its imposing cliffs warning away visitors. Still, Finn Douglas has big plans for his inheritance and the rambling manor house that dominates the landscape. He has a vision to turn the island into a resort getaway for overworked city dwellers. But when the broken body of his business partner is found at the base of the rocky escarpment, he fears it wasn’t an accident.

  Special Agent Craig Frasier agrees to help his cousin Finn by investigating and, with psychologist Kieran Finnegan at his side, heads to the island. As Craig and Kieran delve into the history of the Douglas estate, they discover that the property comes complete with strange lore and a blood-soaked past. Something evil seems to be lurking in the caverns that run beneath the stony ground. Is there something on the island that someone is willing to kill to protect? Kieran and Craig take on a dangerous search for the truth, where one false step could send them plummeting to their deaths, and one wrong turn could bring them face-to-face with a killer.

  Also by New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

  ECHOES OF EVIL

  PALE AS DEATH

  FADE TO BLACK

  A DANGEROUS GAME

  WICKED DEEDS

  DARK RITES

  DYING BREATH

  A PERFECT OBSESSION

  DARKEST JOURNEY

  DEADLY FATE

  HAUNTED DESTINY

  FLAWLESS

  THE HIDDEN

  THE FORGOTTEN

  THE SILENCED

  THE DEAD PLAY ON

  THE BETRAYED

  THE HEXED

  THE CURSED

  WAKING THE DEAD

  THE NIGHT IS FOREVER

  THE NIGHT IS ALIVE

  THE NIGHT IS WATCHING

  LET THE DEAD SLEEP

  THE UNINVITED

  THE UNSPOKEN

  THE UNHOLY

  THE UNSEEN

  AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS

  THE EVIL INSIDE

  SACRED EVIL

  HEART OF EVIL

  PHANTOM EVIL

  NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRES

  THE KEEPERS

  GHOST MOON

  GHOST NIGHT

  GHOST SHADOW

  THE KILLING EDGE

  NIGHT OF THE WOLVES

  HOME IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS

  UNHALLOWED GROUND

  DUST TO DUST

  NIGHTWALKER

  DEADLY GIFT

  DEADLY HARVEST

  DEADLY NIGHT

  THE DEATH DEALER

  THE LAST NOEL

  THE SÉANCE

  BLOOD RED

  THE DEAD ROOM

  KISS OF DARKNESS

  THE VISION

  THE ISLAND

  GHOST WALK

  KILLING KELLY

  THE PRESENCE

  DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR

  PICTURE ME DEAD

  HAUNTED

  HURRICANE BAY

  A SEASON OF MIRACLES

  NIGHT OF THE BLACKBIRD

  NEVER SLEEP WITH STRANGERS

  EYES OF FIRE

  SLOW BURN

  NIGHT HEAT

  * * * * *

  Look for Heather Graham’s next novel

  THE SUMMONING

  available soon from MIRA Books.

  HEATHER

  GRAHAM

  A Lethal Legacy

  This one is especially for my niece-in-law, Franci Naulin Davant, for loving books—and for being the most incredible mom to Graham, Noah and Liam, and wife to my incredible nephew, D.J. Davant.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  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

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM THE SUMMONING BY HEATHER GRAHAM

  PROLOGUE

  HE’D FOUND IT! Good heavens, thank God above. He’d found it.

  Frank Landon couldn’t believe his luck. The cave wall was littered with strange symbols, and the little low archway in it had to mean that a hiding place was near.

  He moved forward, sliding first to his knees and then down flat. The arch, which he figured must be an entry, was a good fifteen feet ahead of him down the narrow, low tunnel. People had probably stashed all kinds of goods in the caves since the beginning of modern history, but this had to be what he was looking for.

  He started, nearly bumping his head against the hard stone, when he heard a shuffling down the length of the cave. For a moment, he froze.

  How could he explain his current position to Finn?

  He listened—there was nothing. He was probably being an idiot. Finn hadn’t followed him, and there was no one else on the island. Except for Finn’s new girlfriend, Elayne, and Frank’s own fiancée, Margie.

  Margie hated exploring anything; she would be sunning by the house, on the one little spit of beach the island offered.

  And Finn and Elayne...were still in bed. They spent a lot of time there.

  There were bound to be creatures in the cave. Rats, at the very least. That was probably it.

  Rodents notwithstanding, it was all so amazing.

  Just minutes ago, he had been standing on the highest point of the island, looking around. He could see the panorama of the great skyscrapers of New York City off in the distance—modern man’s great pyramids to the sky, reaching almost to the heavens above. Now, he was deep in the earth.

  The day was hidden; it was pitch dark except for the narrow stream of light from his lantern. Above, the day was a field of sunlight and blue.

  Little-known Douglas Island was a tiny bit of granite and poor earth and dirt out in the water, far from the madding crowd, the bustle of ants. Close enough—but the mainland was obtainable only by boat. It was like an afterthought, or a crumb, left over when the continents split and shifted.

  And it belonged to Finn’s dad, Jamie Douglas.

  A room! He felt another surge of excitement. Just beyond the archway and the sunken-in wall, there was an open space. A tunnel leading down to...treasure. He was certain.

  Frank inched forward, army crawling on his belly.

  Of course, Jamie Douglas had no idea that his son and Frank were out on the island. To him, it was a dangerous place where pranksters came to die.

  And that was because of myth and legend, Frank thought. Superstition. There were so many stories about the island. Frank didn’t really know or understand them all. But the biggest rumor to include the island was about the Ark of the Covenant—that fabulous box crafted from wood and covered in gold, created to hold the Commandments and whatever else. The Ark had begun life in ancient Hebrew times in the Middle East. And supposedly according to the top scholars, the Ark was still somewhere hidden deep within a tunnel where a temple had been. The Israelis didn’t allow people to mess with it because it was now a Muslim holy place.

  However, legend also had it that the Ark had been seized by some unbelievers in a battle, then had been rescued by the Knights Templar, moved to a church in Scotland, and then s
upposedly brought over to the New World when the Vikings visited North America long before Columbus sailed the ocean blue. There had been rumors throughout modern history that it had been secreted on a Canadian spot of earth—Oak Island. Some even said that the Patriots had stolen it from Redcoats during the American Revolution, or that it had been hidden when a Confederate general/professor had sent spies to find it.

  But recently a scholar by the name of John Smith had written an article that suggested Oak Island as the landing spot for the Ark was wrong from the get-go, that it had in fact been brought to Douglas Island by Scottish Vikings, descendants of Templars.

  It was a small article about that rumor that had gotten Finn going. Finn didn’t want to look for treasure. Finn was a businessman. He wanted to build a world-class resort. The island was rumored to be cursed, but what self-respecting island wasn’t? Finn saw dollar signs. He was a good guy; a hard worker. Frank saw dollar signs, too. Just differently.

  Frank didn’t believe in curses or legends; he didn’t even believe the Ark existed—religious artifacts were not his thing.

  Although, as far as curses went, he’d admit that through time, many people had died here. It could be a rough world. Indigenous tribes had perished. Pirates had perished. Settlers had perished.

  All that death was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as he once again heard a weird shuffling sound down the cavern, from somewhere near the entrance.

  Squirrels, rats, creepy crawlies—there were all kinds of creatures that might make those noises.

  But the only people on the island right now were him and Finn and their significant others. Finn had gotten the old seventeenth-century house wired and set with private electricity and water, but the contractors who had done that work were long gone, and more workers weren’t due out until tomorrow. So for now, it was just the four of them. And there was nothing to be worried about except for the rats. Or maybe bats. Or worms. Not even stray dogs lived on the island.

  The last people to die here had been a pair of armed robbers. When they had been found, their stash of stolen gold and jewels had not. They must have gotten into some horrible fight with other robbers or drug runners, maybe. Their broken bones and decomposing flesh had been found out on the eastern rocks, just below the great stone cliff that faced the sea; they’d died painfully from the fall they had taken.

  How two men had managed to fall like that to their deaths was beyond Frank. But he could still remember the media sensation when they had been discovered. The incident had occupied the pages of local and national papers for days. Douglas Island, previously unknown to most New Yorkers, had received its fair share of TV time.

  Frank believed that somewhere on this island was enough “booty” to let him live to a ripe old age in absolute splendor—even if he turned it all in. The reward—still offered almost a decade later—was generous.

  The police had searched. And Jamie Douglas had stepped in as well, but nothing had been found. And while Jamie had never wanted to sell the family inheritance, he also didn’t really want to do anything with it. Nor did he want strangers prowling over his land. There were stern warning signs about trespassers being strongly prosecuted if caught.

  Douglas Island was littered with caves. And it had been years and years since they had really been explored.

  But Frank had discovered this labyrinth in the system. Just yesterday. Someone had been there before, of course. Maybe several someones. But it had been a while.

  He’d explored and charted—all while Finn had thought that he was hiking and making notes. Because Finn had no interest in buried treasure, just his resort—a private getaway for wealthy New Yorkers. Somewhere they could get to quickly—twenty to thirty minutes by boat—but that was entirely different from the stone, steel and concrete jungle of the city itself.

  Finn would make it happen, Frank knew. It wouldn’t hurt, though, if they could discover the cache of missing modern treasure that had seemed to have disappeared as cleanly as whoever had done in the bank robbers.

  The sound came again—an odd shuffling sound. This time, Frank didn’t think that it was rats. It sounded as if something was being...dragged, as if someone—or something—moved or walked while dragging half their body.

  He grabbed his lantern and shot the light back down the passageway. Nothing.

  But...yes. He heard the shuffling again.

  “Finn? Are you fooling around with me? Come on!”

  But there was no answer from Finn. Just that sound again.

  He moved forward and the tunnel widened above him, providing him enough space to crawl on his hands and knees again. Then a riveting, blinding light suddenly shone in his eyes.

  The light disappeared. And then he saw...

  What? What the hell was he seeing? A face, not a face, eyes...eyes that seemed alive like fire in the brutal light.

  “What the hell?” he managed to shriek.

  Then he felt the first pain. Something hard and sharp against his temple. Then another, against his thigh, and another...hard against his arm.

  He heard bone break, and he screamed in shock and pain.

  There were more and more projectiles coming at him. Rocks, one after another.

  And then he knew how the stupid bank robbers had managed to die. They hadn’t fallen.

  They’d been stoned.

  Stoned...to death.

  CHAPTER ONE

  WAVES ROCKED THE coast guard cutter gently against the rickety dock.

  “I’m good! Thank you,” Kieran Finnegan said, releasing the hand of the man who had helped her off the boat.

  “No problem. Special Agent Frasier has been around for us plenty of times,” the young man assured her.

  Craig had friends everywhere, Kieran thought dryly. They’d had no problem getting out here after he’d received the phone call from Finn Douglas.

  They’d easily hitched a ride with Captain Ernst of the coast guard, one of his old friends, a man with whom he’d worked at one time when a body had been found floating in the East River, or so Craig had explained to her.

  So now she was on the dock, on Douglas Island.

  Although, to call the thing she stepped out on a dock was an act of kindness—the tiny planks of ancient wood that stretched out to accept arrivals was crooked and uneven at best, but thankfully it seemed to be sound. She really didn’t feel like crashing through faulty lumber into the salt water below, banged and bruised.

  Especially since they were here today because a man had died—horribly mangled and brutally broken.

  Craig watched her eyeing the questionable dock. He shook his head. “Honestly, I told you that you didn’t have to come with me.”

  “I’m fine, just fine, and I want to be with you.”

  It should have been a matter for the police—one accidental death on an island off New York that she barely knew about herself—and only because she’d seen news back in school about two shiftless bank robbers who had met a mysterious end here.

  Douglas Island. A private island. She’d thought it deserted.

  Except that they were out here because Craig was a second or third cousin or a slightly removed cousin or something like that of Finn Douglas—son of the island’s aging owner. Finn had called Craig, sounding shattered and desperate, and so here they were, on a Saturday evening when they should have been celebrating at the pub. They had a team who had been involved in a run for the elephants at the zoo. Kieran wasn’t much of a runner, but the cause had been right. While she wasn’t first over the finish line, she’d made it, and to her, that was worth celebrating “Finnegan’s Pub Team.”

  Craig had assured her that coming here might not be as much fun, but it would be good for the elephants. Finn Douglas would donate to the cause, and do so generously.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Craig asked her, taking her hand as she m
oved carefully down the dock.

  She smiled. Pain-in-the-ass protective though he might be at times, she loved him. And seeing the concern in his eyes and maybe just his face—handsomely sculpted, and yet ruggedly so—made her realize that she was an incredibly lucky woman, madly in love with him.

  And if this was about family—no matter how convoluted—she was all in. God knew he had dealt with her zany family at their wild Irish pub often enough.

  “Of course. I’m fine.”

  “There are a few planks missing—take care.”

  “You know that this is solid?”

  The look he gave her was one of reproach. “That’s why I got off the boat first.”

  “When’s the last time you were out here?” she asked him.

  “Oddly enough, not that long ago. Mike and I were working a case when a pleasure yacht was stranded not far from here—with drug smugglers aboard. Used the island to hold a few people until the police boat could arrive to collect them all.” He gave her a grim smile and added, “I was out here a few times when I was a kid. When Deedee—my mom’s cousin—was still alive. Jamie Douglas was thinking of doing something with the place back then, but he decided against it, I guess. Watch your footing.”

  “I’ll watch for the missing planks,” she assured him.

  But she almost missed a step, because she found that she was looking at the island.

  It was small, no larger than one of the little spits of isle off the Florida Keys, but it offered towering rocks with a few scraggly trees and rugged underbrush. There was a large house before them, built, she assumed, in the later Colonial period, or perhaps early Victorian. It offered great columns and wraparound porches on the ground and second level. One cupola rose from the center of the house.

  The paint was peeling. There were a few chunks missing from the columns, and in all, if she had come upon it at night, Kieran would have thought it a fantastic entry for a Halloween horror house. Of course, dusk was falling. That added to the look.

  “Nice place your cousin keeps,” she said lightly.

  “Jamie Douglas hates this place. It’s been associated with all kinds of bad stuff—the Native Americans didn’t even want anything to do with the island, from what I understand. Finn is my cousin. Deedee was my mom’s relative. Once...I was close to Finn. But that was before his mom died, and that was a long time ago now. Anyway, at no time in history has anyone ever wanted to do anything with the place—not the Native Americans, not the Dutch and not the British.”