Phantom Lover. Rebecca York

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      She was just reaching for a curtain covering the wall, when Dinah’s fingers closed around the fabric of her slacks. “Don’t go look for him,” she begged. “He’s scary. Come see your room.”

      Although Bree wanted to find out exactly how the man had disappeared so quickly, the child was more important.

      “Okay,” she agreed, and heard Dinah’s small sigh of relief.

      The girl led her down another hallway that turned off to the right. Bree was thinking that perhaps she should have left a trail of bread crumbs so she could find her way back downstairs when Dinah stopped in front of a closed door. “This was Miss Carpenter’s room. I guess you’re supposed to sleep here.”

      “That sounds right.”

      Bree turned the knob and pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked on worn hinges. Fumbling along the wall for the light switch, she found it and flipped the toggle, turning on an elaborate, old-fashioned metal-and-glass ceiling fixture.

      The rest of the room looked as though it had been redecorated with a combination of new fabrics, gleaming white woodwork and beautifully restored antiques. Under a flowered Oriental rug, the wood floor was newly refinished. And the small green-and-white checks on the bedspread matched the gracefully flowing draperies. The dresser and high chest were polished oak.

      “It’s nice,” she murmured, then crossed the room and laid her suitcase on the double bed.

      Dinah gave her a small smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

      “Did Miss Carpenter like it?” Bree asked.

      The girl considered the question. “She did at first, then she said it was spooky.”

      “Oh.”

      “I think that’s why she left. It didn’t have anything to do with me,” she added quickly.

      “I didn’t think so,” Bree agreed, even as she digested the new information. Had Miss Carpenter made the decision to leave because she was afraid to stay at Ravencrest? Or had the Sterlings sent her packing?

      In this unfamiliar environment, inconvenient questions were piling up like unpaid bills, and it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed. Bree was in over her head and she’d been here less than an hour.

      Suddenly unsteady on her feet, she reached to brace her hand against the bedpost, her fingers closing around the carved wood. She’d set her alarm for four in the morning to get through airport security and catch her flight. Now she was jet-lagged, stressed and worn out.

      Although she desperately wanted to make friends with Dinah, she was afraid that if she tried to do it in her present condition, she was going to make some crucial mistake that would set the wrong tone for their whole relationship.

      Keeping her voice even, she turned toward the girl. “I’ve had a really long day and I don’t think I’m going to be very good company tonight. Would you mind very much if I just go to bed, and we start off fresh in the morning?”

      Dinah looked down, dragging her foot in a small half circle over the rug.

      Bree felt her heart squeeze as she watched. “I’m probably disappointing you,” she said. “I’ve just gotten here, and you want to get to know me.”

      Dinah hesitated for several seconds, then gave a small nod.

      “Well, I’m really eager to get to know you and Alice, too. But I’d probably fall asleep as soon as I sat down in a chair.”

      “I understand,” the child answered, sounding much older than her years, and Bree had the feeling she’d learned some strategic coping skills in the past few months.

      “We can see each other at breakfast. I’m looking forward to that,” Bree added, using her last store of energy to sound enthusiastic. Then another thought struck her. “That Mr. Graves—you’re not afraid he’s going to be in the hall, are you? Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

      “No. He never stays up here long.”

      “That’s good.”

      Dinah hesitated for a moment. “You don’t have to worry about me, because my daddy takes care of me.”

      Bree held back any reaction. “So your daddy’s okay? Can I talk to him?”

      “Only if he wants you to.” Perhaps to forestall more questions, the child darted from the room, and Bree was left staring at the closed door.

      What did Dinah’s assurance mean? Maybe Troy wasn’t a captive, after all. Maybe he was in hiding, watching out for Dinah. Or had the little girl made it all up?

      Her hand closed around the door frame to keep herself from running after the girl. She wanted answers, but at the same time, this child tugged at her heartstrings. It was a little girl a lot like Dinah who had started Bonnie Brennan on the road to her new life. She’d been a timid, guarded person when she’d been teaching in Baltimore. Now she realized that teaching had been a safe place for her—where she could deal with children instead of adults. But one afternoon just as class was letting out, a man named Harvey Milner had stormed into the room and demanded that she turn his child, Cathy, over to him. Only Bonnie knew from conversations with his ex-wife that the father didn’t even have visitation rights and that he’d threatened to take the girl and flee the state.

      Milner’s aggressive tactics had scared her, but she’d taken Cathy in her arms and marched down the hall to the principal’s office, the angry father trailing behind her, shouting threats.

      Afterward she’d been amazed at what she’d done. It had made her see herself in a different light, made her realize that she’d been selling herself short. But still, she hadn’t figured out what she’d wanted to do with the rest of her life until she’d read about a kidnapping case in the Baltimore Sun, a kidnapping thwarted by the Light Street Detective Agency.

      Excitement coursed through her as she’d read the article. And she’d known she’d wanted to work for that agency. She wanted to help other children, and adults. As soon as the school year was over, she’d contacted them. They’d needed a new secretary and were willing to hire her for that job and to start training her to be a lot more than that.

      She’d learned a great deal in the past two years— enough to know that she was now way over her head.

      Her mouth twisted as she crossed the room on unsteady legs to lock the door. Then she turned around to study her surroundings. Besides the entrance from the hall, there were two other doors—one on the wall opposite the bed and one at the back of the room. She tried the closer one first and found a dark, cavernous closet.

      The other led to an opulent bathroom. The idea of soaking her tired muscles in the deep, claw-footed tub was suddenly very appealing. But afraid that if she lay down in hot water, she’d fall asleep, she settled for a quick shower.

      After drying off, she pulled on a simple cotton nightgown. In the act of turning off the light, she stayed her hand. Although she’d never been particularly afraid of the dark, Ravencrest had spooked her from the moment she’d driven up the access road. Feeling slightly paranoid, she kept the light on in the bathroom and left the door open a crack, so that a shaft of light slanted СКАЧАТЬ