By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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MORE,” PIPER SAID. “And you’re not going to like it.”
That’s what she’d said the moment that she’d looked up from the note. Then she’d led him into the library. And she’d been right. He didn’t like it at all.
Duncan silently cursed himself as he stood next to her and studied the rose petals that had been strewn over the white sheet on the terrace outside the library. He’d contacted Skinner and Adrienne. Lightman had been in plain sight all afternoon—sitting on the park bench and taking in the view of the lake. Richard Starkweather and Sid Macks were both still in D.C., their movements accounted for.
As he’d relayed the news to Piper, he’d wanted more than anything to simply pull her into his arms and hold her. But he didn’t dare. Everything on the terrace had been pounded by the downpour, but even in the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sunlight, the wet rose petals looked like drops of blood.
And that could easily have been the case. It could have been Piper’s blood he was looking at. He’d left her alone because his mind had been so full of her, so obsessed with her, that he’d gone out to the stone arch to find out what her secret fantasy had been when she was nineteen.
Idiot. He cursed himself again. No woman had even come close to turning him into one before. If he was going to keep her safe, it had to stop.
About fifteen feet separated the scene he was studying from the couch where he’d left her sleeping. And she’d been there alone when the psycho had set up the little tableau for her. A mix of emotions assaulted him as he stood there, imagining what she might have been thinking, feeling. He was furious with whoever was doing this to her and angry with himself that he’d left her alone. But overriding all of that was a cold fear that he wasn’t doing enough to protect her, wouldn’t be able to do enough.
Ruthlessly, he shoved the feelings aside. None of them were helping him.
“Take me over it again,” he said, “starting with when woke you up.”
As she did, he tried to put himself into the mind of the person who’d taken the time and the opportunity to set up the scene they were both looking at. Whoever it was had been in a position to see what was going on in the library. There were several positions in the woods where an observer might have stationed himself. He might have even chosen to use the garden shed for cover.
“And when I saw the petals,” Piper said, “my first reaction was to rush out and give chase. But you’d locked the doors and keyed in the code. That slowed me down enough to think.”
Thank God, Duncan thought. If he hadn’t slowed her down. He reined his thoughts in.
“If Lightman, Richard and Sid Macks are out, that leaves Cam’s library guy or the hoodie guy that Lightman captured on his phone.”
“Right.” It irked him a bit that she was able to focus more on analyzing the evidence than he was, so he followed her lead. “When I called Daryl, he and Vi were about a half hour away. He’ll be able to download what the security cameras captured.”
“I’m betting the guy’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and we won’t get a look at his face. He had to be out here waiting and watching. He would have spotted the security cameras.”
“Yeah.” Duncan reviewed what had led up to the rose petal shower in his mind. “The woods provide plenty of cover. While you were sleeping I opened the doors for a while. I even stepped out to take a call from Cam.” He scanned the clearing again. He took his gun out of his backpack and tucked it into the waist of his jeans and continued, “There are lots of places he could have concealed himself. Even in the gardening shed. He could have heard my conversation, then watched me lock up the place and go out to the stones, and he grabbed the opportunity.”
“To scare me or to lure me out,” Piper said.
“Come with me.” He punched the code into the pad, then slid open the doors and drew her with him out to the terrace. Alba followed.
After he re-armed the security, he closed the doors and they moved toward the shed. The door was closed, the padlock secure. Any hope of footprints had been erased by the fury of the storm.
“Whoever was here is long gone,” Piper said. “Otherwise Alba would be barking.”
Duncan turned to see that the dog hadn’t ventured beyond the terrace, and she was digging at something. Pressing a hand to the small of Piper’s back, he urged her back to the library doors. Together, they squatted down to see what had caught Alba’s attention.
Duncan picked up the small round piece of plastic.
“She found a clue,” Piper said.
“Some kind of lens cover. And there’s a logo on it, something we can trace. Good girl.” He ran a hand over Alba’s head, and the dog rubbed against his side.
“She was the one who woke me. And she threw herself against the glass doors. She probably scared the wits out of whoever was out here.” When she turned back to Duncan, their knees were nearly brushing. “So you can stop feeling so damn guilty about leaving me alone for a few minutes. You left Alba with me. And I can take care of myself.” She used a finger to poke him in the chest and nearly set him toppling back on his heels.
Yes, he thought. She could. And even though she had that Diana-the-Huntress look back in her eyes, he was going to see that she had backup. And to do that, he needed to keep an objective distance. He raised both hands, palms up. “Agreed.”
For now.
TWO HOURS LATER, PIPER STOOD in the main parlor of the castle stifling the urge to pace. Once Daryl and Vi had arrived, the men had formed a separate team. While she and Vi had made sandwiches for dinner, they’d worked in Adair’s office. Through the open French doors, she watched them still huddled at the computer screen. Duncan stood looking over Daryl’s shoulder. He took his reading glasses off, set them aside and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Something pushed at the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t quite catch hold of it. Hoping to get another push, she continued to study the two men. They were still running through the pictures from the security cameras. She’d been right about the rose petal person wearing a hooded sweatshirt. The cameras hadn’t caught more than pieces of his face. Daryl was using some software program to come up with a composite picture.
What she could clearly read in the body language of the two men was that they weren’t having much luck. The lens case Alba had found belonged to a portable telescope with a powerful lens. Not something that could be easily found at a chain store. Daryl had assigned someone in his office to try to trace where it might have been purchased. It proved someone was keeping a close but distant eye on the castle and its grounds.
No big news there.
There hadn’t been any useful updates from D.C., either. The only relatively interesting piece of news had been provided by Sheriff Skinner. The vase of roses that had been delivered from Margie’s Flowers had been called in from a D.C. florist, and it had been paid for with a stolen credit card over the phone. The call could have been made from anywhere.
She stood there for a few more minutes studying the two men, but whatever was struggling to get foremost into her mind had slipped away again. And she’d found herself just staring at Duncan. He was doing exactly what she’d asked. Keeping his distance. He hadn’t touched her since they’d left the stone arch. They were in agreement that they’d chosen the right solution.
So why was she feeling so … restless? Worse, why was she second-guessing herself? Turning on her heel, she went to the kitchen where she knew she’d find her aunt.
The room was filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies, and Vi was pulling a tray out of the oven. The scent and the memories it triggered immediately eased some of her frustration. “Can I help?”
As if in answer, the teakettle began to shrill.
“You can help me load the tea cart. I think the men