Once at a safe distance, she glanced back. “Good day, sir,” she said, figuring the formality might deter him, but when she heard his low chuckle, she knew the man had no scruples, and hoped never to meet him again.
Outside the entrance, Melanie hailed a cab. It was a ten-minute ride to Knight’s Manor – an enormous chunk of real estate for one man to live. He’d never married, to her knowledge. Chrissy had avoided talk of family, and the Knight legacy scored close to the bottom on the list of subjects for conversation.
Melanie paid the cabbie and went up to the front door. She wondered if Trevor had notified his staff that company would be calling. She rang the bell and waited.
When the door swung open, Spencer stood there with a welcoming smile. “Good morning, Miss Braxton. We are expecting you.”
“Hello, again, Spencer. Is Mr. Knight home?” The butler ran the place with military efficiency, avoiding useless small-talk with guests. A memory of Chrissy flashed through Melanie’s mind – of her saluting and standing at attention when they’d visited only a short week ago.
Spencer ushered her inside. “Mr. Knight is finishing up a business meeting in his office. Would you prefer to get settled into your suite or wait in the parlor?” He glanced at the taxi as it disappeared down the driveway. “No bags, Miss Braxton?”
“Not at the moment.” Spencer raised an eyebrow, and Melanie well-imagined the employee pondering the ridiculous notion of a lady traveling without luggage.
Inside the parlor, he spoke again. “I will notify the kitchen to send in tea and scones while you wait.” He nodded respectfully, then exited the room.
Melanie sunk into a cushioned chair and lay her head back. The clues – or lack thereof – swam against the swelling currents in her mind, invading the peaceful moment. She wondered if the police had found her car in the river yet. Melanie glanced at her phone, but she noticed no new texts from her partner in Langley. Uncovering the truth was first and foremost, regardless of Drew’s involvement. The police force would leave no stone unturned following any leads left behind from that fatal evening at the river. Grateful for the support of her peers, Melanie realized that the life of a lone soldier – either personally or professionally – was a lonely place to dwell. People needed people, all kinds, and from all stations in life.
Her Georgia pride, having been recently tried and tested, caused Melanie to survey the turbulent waves she’d left in her wake. There would be back-peddling required to rebuild the bridges she’d burned. She sought wisdom and guidance in a quiet moment of prayer realizing even that surrender was a milestone.
The door flung open and a deep masculine voice filled the air. “Melanie – welcome. You will never know how relieved I am to see you sitting safely in my parlor.”
She scampered to find her feet and somehow tripped up in the process. Trevor caught her just before she stumbled headlong into his arms.
“Sorry. Bit clumsy lately.” Melanie’s eyes met his. He seemed to capture her hurting soul within depths of kindness, but she also saw a hint of something else, though she feared to put a name on it after the recent botched-up-encounter with Casanova.
“Please, sit.” They turned when a tap sounded on the door, and the maid brought in two cups of tea and a plate of sweet treats. Trevor waved her away, bent to pour the hot liquid into the tea cups, and passed one to Melanie. “Just as you like it: black with no sugar.”
Melanie smiled. “You have a good memory.”
“You left a good impression, and I am eager to discover all there is to know about you.”
“Well, for starters, it’s been a long time since I’ve drunk tea from such a fancy cup.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve noticed that police officers tend to drink endless cups of caffeine from large mugs.”
She chuckled. “I suppose we do.”
“Well, fill me in – what’s happened since we met in South Carolina?”
“I filled out a report, the local detectives are hot on the case, and my partner promises to send me updates so we can stay informed.”
While Trevor Knight’s outward appearance matched the magnitude of the earlier Casanova, no sign of deceit marred the man’s penetrating scrutiny. No feelings of intimidation swept over the distraught woman, and the gift of his smile was intoxicating.
He reached out his hand to touch hers, and she flinched involuntarily.
“Where are you – a million miles away?”
“Daydreaming, I suppose.”
Melanie scolded herself silently. What was it with her and men today? Trevor was her friend’s uncle, pure and simple. She admired and respected him for his unselfish act of stepping in to take responsibility for his family, unlike her father. The senior Mr. Braxton, had gladly abandoned his family responsibilities the moment they’d buried her mother six feet under. The rejection had driven Drew to an extravagant, superficial lifestyle and Melanie to an understated one.
“Young enough to dream yet old enough to know your mind. Women like you pose a challenge for men like myself. Did I ever tell you that I love a challenge?” He touched her hand again. This time, his intention was unmistakable.
Confusion swept over her as she cast him a back-to-business smile. “When was the last time you spoke to Chrissy? I mean really connected,” Melanie asked.”
“Not for a long time. She isn’t easy to approach on subjects that matter. I could ask you the same question. You lived with her.”
“Touché, Mr. Knight. Chrissy had an uncanny ability to construct walls to keep others out. We did talk about her discontent with wealth and power, mostly because we had that issue in common, but she
