Duplicate Daughter. Alice Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ she was cold as because the sounds of the storm made her feel cold.

      And alone.

      Wind rustled in the trees, whistled in the eaves, banged things together, blew snow against the windows. The interior of the house was warm and welcoming in the way a port in a storm always is, but despite the reassuringly thick walls and the beautiful slumbering child a few steps away, the underlying tensions between Nick and herself, to say nothing of Helen’s abrupt departure, eroded the comfort level, letting the cold seep between the logs of polite construction.

      Katie settled back in the chair, closing her eyes. Her headache had disappeared with the ingestion of Helen’s excellent meal, but her leg still throbbed and she knew fatigue fueled her distress. For once she was glad Tess couldn’t pick up any telepathic vibes, because the maelstrom inside Katie’s head wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially not Tess. Tess needed to put her energy into healing, not worrying.

      Katie should have gotten back on that blasted plane. She’d been here for three hours and nothing had happened except she’d eaten dinner and made an enemy. Why was Helen so determined not to give her a chance?

      She opened her eyes and surveyed the surrounding room. The rock fireplace took up most of one wall. A wooden door about two feet square led to a supply of firewood—she’d checked. The wide hearth was two feet off the ground with a few cushions tossed atop, making extra seating. One photo sat on the mantel, framed in heavy wood. A blond woman holding a baby. Nick’s late wife, no doubt, Lily as an infant. The other walls, logs chinked with what appeared to be cement, were covered with watercolors, beautiful paintings of hillsides and wildflowers, snowy peaks and exotic animals. The furniture was big and comfortable, table-tops cluttered with toys and books and camera equipment. Because of the log construction, the windows were deep and dark—

      A face suddenly appeared in one of the front windows. Gasping, Katie shot to her feet. A man’s face but not Nick’s. Fuller, unshaved, dark eyes furtive.

      And then it was gone—poof!—as though it had never been there.

      Katie stood stock-still for several moments, her mind racing. Was the door locked? Were all the doors locked? She moved quickly to the front door and found a chain in place. She started to undo it, to open the door, to peer outside and call out, but her hand stilled at the last moment and she dropped it, leaning back against the door, listening, waiting.

      Nothing. No knock. The silence was ominous.

      She went through the kitchen to the back door. It, too, was locked. She didn’t know if there were other doors. Spying the phone on the wall, she plucked off the receiver, ready to call 911 and probably make a fool of herself. The line was dead. She dug her cell phone from her pocket. The screen lit at her touch. Still no signal.

      She was alone. Well, except for the slumbering child down the hall.

      Katie retraced her steps to the living room and the fireplace, sitting back on her red chair, staring toward the window, a black portal buffeted now and again by nothing more sinister than a snow flurry.

      “Who are you?” a high-pitched voice said from her elbow.

      For the second time that night, Katie gasped as her heart did a little stop-and-start thing in her chest. Lily Pierce stood nearby in pink footy pajamas, tousled fair hair a halo around her head, round cheeks blooming with pink. She held a gray stuffed bunny by one ear.

      Hoping the child wouldn’t burst into tears or run from the room, Katie said, “My name is Katie.”

      “Where’s Helen? Where’s Daddy?”

      “Daddy took Helen to visit her sister—”

      “Went to Auntie Joy’s house?”

      Sounded reasonable to Katie. She said, “I think so. Daddy will be back very soon. Did something wake you, sweetheart? Did you, uh, see someone?”

      The child shook her head. She shuffled a little and Katie started to get up to follow her back to her room and tuck her into bed, but Lily came to stop right in front of Katie.

      “You know ’bout the birdie in the palm tree?” she asked.

      Katie said, “I don’t think so.”

      “I tell you?”

      Happy for the company, Katie patted her knee. “Okay.”

      The little girl climbed onto Katie’s lap, squirming around until she fit comfortably, her head right under Katie’s nose, her fine hair fluttering when Katie exhaled a breath. She presented a warm, sweet-smelling bundle, totally at ease, one dimpled hand clutching the bunny, the other hand laying idle on Katie’s arm except for a single finger she used to stroke Katie’s watchband.

      The wind howled outside and rattled the door. A shiver ran up Katie’s spine and she wrapped her arms around Lily. She wasn’t sure what else to do. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined the man at the window.

      “’Bout that birdie—” Lily whispered, launching into a story that Katie tried her best to understand. She could only catch every third word, however, so she nodded a lot and murmured appropriate remarks. She kept her eyes focused on the window, jerking every time a gust of wind made something outside bang or clatter. Her other senses were attuned to Lily. Her clean little-girl smell, her warm weight in Katie’s arms, her soft voice.

      Katie liked children—always had, though she’d been raised an only child with no younger cousins to play with. There had been the neighbor kids, though, younger than she, a veritable gold mine of babysitting money. This child took the cake, however. She was not only physically attractive, but she was charming and trusting and her eyes twinkled.

      Katie hugged Lily tighter and, instead of resisting, the child relaxed. Her body grew heavier, the string of the story faded into words interspersed with yawns until there were no more words, just soft breathing and a heavy head on Katie’s shoulder.

      Katie knew she should carry the child off to her bed, but the temptation to hold her in front of the crackling fire was too great to resist. Besides, she didn’t want to be alone. Where was Nick?

      What she wanted was for him to come home and reassure her with something along the lines of: “That face in the window? Not to worry, that’s old man Petrie, a harmless recluse. The old coot likes to wander around in snowstorms looking for aluminum cans.” That would be great. She could handle old man Petrie…

      Resting her cheek atop Lily’s spun-gold hair and kissing her forehead, Katie closed her eyes, listening to the storm outside. Both the anxiety concerning the face at the window and worry about her mother’s welfare took a back seat as exhaustion caught up with her, spinning her thoughts into ever-more-distant circles.

      She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing Katie knew, a door slammed her back to consciousness. Nick Pierce stood just inside the room, the expression on his face unfathomable.

      “What are you doing with my daughter?” he said, striding across the room.

      A sudden stab of guilt made Katie flinch. She should have put the little girl back in her bed, but honestly, was it really such a big deal?

      Katie said, “I—”

      He leaned over and picked Lily up, shifting her in his arms, his embrace СКАЧАТЬ