manners and the way he growled at her like an old bear. A
She padded down the hall on bare feet, down the winding staircase, without turning on lights. She knew the way to her father's office and she hoped his familiar scent, still lingering there, would bring her a measure of comfort. She had instructed everyone to stay out of the office, including the cleaning staff, because she needed to be able to find his papers, but, truthfully, she didn't want to part with the scent of his pipe that permeated the furniture and his jacket.
She closed the heavy oak door, shutting out the rest of the world, and settled into his favorite armchair. Tears welled up, clogging her throat and burning her eyes, but Lily blinked them determinedly away. She leaned her head into the cushions where her father had leaned so many times while he talked with her. Her gaze drifted around his office. Her night vision was acute and she knew every inch of his office so it was easy to make out the details.
His floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were symmetrical, the books perfectly aligned and arranged in order. His desk was at a precise angle to the window, his chair pushed in two inches from his desk. Everything was in order, so like her father. Lily stood up and wandered around the room, touching his things. His beloved collection of maps, neatly laid out to be easily accessed. His atlas. To her knowledge he had never touched it, but it was displayed prominently.
An ancient sundial sat to the left of the window. A tall glass Galileo barometer stood on a shelf closest to the enormous grandfather clock with its swinging pendulum. Next to the barometer was a thick hourglass wrapped in lead spirals. Lily lifted it, turned it over to watch the grains of sand slip to the bottom. His most prized possession was the large world globe on the mahogany stand. Made of crystals and abalone shell, the perfect sphere had often been examined as he talked with her late at night.
She touched the smooth surface, sliding her fingers over the highly polished shell. Sorrow washed over her. She sank into the armchair closest to the globe and slumped down, pressing her fingers against her temples.
The ticking of the grandfather clock was overly loud in the silence of the office. The sound beat in her head, disturbing her solitude. She sighed, got restlessly to her feet, and wandered over to the clock, brushing the intricately carved wood with loving fingers. It was magnificent, fully seven feet tall and nearly two feet deep. Behind the beveled glass the mechanism worked with precision and the giant golden pendulum swung. On each hour, beside a distinctive gold Roman numeral, a different planet emerged from behind double doors of shooting stars, beautiful glittering gems spinning through a darkened sky, complete with moons revolving. Only at noon and midnight did all the planets emerge together in a spectacular display of the solar system. Three o'clock had the emergence of a brilliant spinning sun. And the nine o'clock position held the moon, filling the entire clock with wondrous delights.
She had always loved the clock, but it belonged in a different room, where the loud ticking didn't drive a person crazy while they tried to think. Lily turned away from the unique masterpiece and threw herself into a chair, stretching out her legs and glaring at her feet without seeing them. There were nine planets, the sun and moon and solar system display, but during the night, the moon display was empty. It came out faithfully at nine in the morning, but steadfastly refused to make an appearance at nine in the evening. Lily has always been vaguely irritated by the inconsistency of the moon's appearance. A flaw in something so precise. It bothered her enough that she'd begged her father to have it fixed. It was the one thing he didn't keep in perfect condition.
Her head came up slowly, her eyes locking on the Roman numeral nine formed in gold. Images crept into her brain; the pattern lined up and she could see it so perfectly, just the way it always worked. She sat up straight, staring at the grandfather clock. A surge of adrenaline burst through her, carrying sudden elation. And sudden fear.
Lily knew she had found the way to her father's secret laboratory. She carefully locked the door to her father's office, then went back to the clock, moving around it, studying it from every angle. Carefully, Lily opened the glass door. Very gently, she spun the hour hand in a complete rotation, nine times, ending on the gold Roman numeral nine. A soft snick told her she found something.
The entire front of the clock moved aside, revealing the entrance into the wall. Her breath catching in her throat, she found and opened the door without much trouble, entering the narrow space to stand there staring at the walls. It didn't really go anywhere. Lily frowned at the walls, ran her hands up and down the panels, feeling for something hidden. Nothing. 'Of course not. The clock. It's in the clock.' She turned back to look at the door of the clock. The solar system etched into the mirrored background. The golden sun, so radiant and in plain sight. She pressed the sun hard with her thumb.
The floor in between the walls slid away to reveal the steep narrow stairway below the floor. Lily stared down into the utter darkness, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart pounding in alarm. 'Don't be a coward, Lily,' she whispered aloud. Peter Whitney was her beloved father and she was suddenly terrified of what hidden secrets lay in his secret laboratory.
Taking a deep breath, she started down the stairs. To her horror, as she stepped on the fourth stair, the floor slid into place above her head with an eerie silence she found frightening. At once a faint light glowed along the edges of the stairs, illuminating the descent. She was instantly claustrophobic, the feeling of being buried alive overwhelming. The staircase was extremely steep and narrow, obviously to make it more difficult to find sandwiched between the basement walls.
She remained at the top of the stairs, startled at the clarity of Ryland Miller's voice in her head. He was so strong. Lily could see why he would terrify Colonel Higgens. Ryland Miller just might be able to influence someone to kill. He might be able to influence someone to commit suicide.
Ryland swore, a harsh, brutal string of words, venting his frustration.
The desperation in him penetrated her fear. She could feel the strength and wildness of his emotions. Captain Ryland Miller, so in control with everyone else, cool under pressure, so out of control with her, burning like a wildfire neither could hope to contain. Lily let her breath out slowly, made every effort to conquer her aversion to tight quarters.
She stood on the stairs, awareness creeping in. The murmuring voices were gone abruptly, disappearing with the strength of Ryland's voice. She gripped the banister, wondering what she was more afraid of, finding out what her father had been involved in, or the fact that the tie between Ryland and her was growing stronger with each passing hour. She couldn't resist the hoarse plea in his voice. He sounded raw with tension, edgy with the need to know she was unharmed.
She sensed him letting out his breath. Felt the tension leave his knotted muscles.
His voice gave her an added confidence. She looked up at the trapdoor and saw the same characters etched into the door. She wasn't imprisoned. Unlike Ryland and his men, she had a way out. Lily started down the stairs.
She hesitated only a moment.
