Jayne’s husband put it.
In fact, Addie’s doctor had been trying for weeks to contact Rachel Lindquist, Addie’s daughter, to let her know about her mother’s condition. Whether or not the woman would respond was anyone’s guess. No one in Anastasia had even known of her existence.
Bryan hated to think of what would happen to Addie. Not that he was getting involved in her situation, he told himself stoutly. It was just sad, that was all. It didn’t sound as if Rachel Lindquist cared what happened to her mother. Addie would probably be packed off and forgotten, dead in all the ways that mattered most, the shell of her body left to the care of strangers.
“I could win a prize for being morose,” he mumbled, disgusted with himself and his morbid frame of mind.
It wasn’t like him, really. He had always been an optimist, a great believer in magic and rainbows. Besides, he was supposed to be thinking about the case, about the possibility that Addie’s Wimsey was in fact a psychic disturbance of some sort. He knew nothing would happen to Addie as long as he was staying in Drake House, and he had no immediate plans to leave.
Producing a playing card from inside his shirtsleeve, he walked it between the fingers of his left hand with careless dexterity, wondering only vaguely at the sudden strong sense of anticipation that surged through him. It was a pleasant feeling, both soothing and exciting, like a promise of something good. The warmth washed through him, chasing out the chilling ache. Tension seeped from the muscles in his broad shoulders, and his eyes drifted shut as he let himself enjoy the sensation without questioning where it came from or what it meant. His glasses slipped down his nose as his head bobbed forward, and the playing card dropped from his fingers.
TWO
The scream could have pierced steel.
Bryan jolted awake, his body exploding out of its cramped position on the landing. His actions were purely instinctive. He had no idea who or what had issued the sound. All that registered was the buzzing of his alarm telling him that sensors indicated a presence in the downstairs hall. He was halfway down the stairs when the flash of his still camera went off, blinding him. Unable to see and unable to stop himself, he stepped out into thin air.
“Aargh!”
His cry of surprise was abruptly cut off with a grunt as he bounced the rest of the way down the steps, rolling like a human tumbleweed. Another otherworldly scream split the air as he hit the marble-tiled floor in a heap and sprawled out, groaning.
The sound had a definite ghostlike quality, he thought excitedly as he struggled to sit up. He was going to have bruises from here to Hyannis, but they would be well worth it if he had captured something on film or tape. He could already see his articles in the scientific journals. Funding for studies and documentaries would come out of the woodwork. Maybe he’d even get invited to the
Wincing, he hauled himself to his feet and fumbled for the light switch beside the front door. His breath hardened in his throat as the foyer was flooded with amber light from the old chandelier. He’d caught something all right, and she was beautiful.
Bryan straightened his glasses and stared, his heart beating a curious rhythm. The woman before him was quite real, vision though she seemed. The professional in him acknowledged an appropriate amount of disappointment at that, but the basic male in him could find no regret. It would have been physically impossible for a red-blooded man to have been anything but awestruck by the young woman gazing up at him.
She had the face of an angel-gently prominent cheekbones with slight hollows beneath, a chin that looked as if it were made to be cupped by the hand of a handsome lover; a slim, tip-tilted nose; and full pink lips that looked so soft and kissable, they almost made him groan aloud. Her skin was like rose-tinted cream, so tempting, he nearly reached out to touch her cheek. Instead, he pulled his hand back and splayed his fingers across his chest, as if he were having a heart attack.
The overhead light caught in the woman’s halo of pale golden hair, adding to her ethereal quality. She wore it up in a loose chignon, but soft tendrils escaped all around her head, framing her feminine features. She stared at him, her periwinkle blue eyes wide and brimming with terror.
Her obvious fear struck him like a slap in the face. He cleared his throat nervously, peeled his hand off his chest, and offered it to her, attempting a genial smile.
“Bryan Hennessy.”
Rachel flinched at the sound of his voice. The silence had held her spellbound, now she was jolted out of the trance. She stared first at the big hand hovering before her, then her gaze traveled up a considerable distance to take in the rest of the man.
He was fairly tall with shoulders so wide, they seemed to block out the stairwell behind him. His hair was disheveled. The strands falling across his broad forehead were a color somewhere between blond and brown. With panic overruling her other senses, the only thing she noticed about his face was the strong jaw and the five o’clock shadow that darkened it. His clothes-worn jeans with bits of paper sticking out of one front pocket, and a chambray shirt that was tucked in on only one side-were rumpled.
All things considered, she thought, he looked dangerous, maybe even unbalanced. He certainly didn’t look like anyone her mother would invite into her home. The woman she remembered wouldn’t have sat next to this guy on a bus. How, then, had he come to be the one to greet her at the door? The possible answers were not reassuring.
She choked down what fear she could and called on years of vocal training to project a confident tone when she spoke. “What have you done with my mother?”
“I don’t know,” Bryan said, bemused. He was too thrown off by her remarkable beauty and by his reaction to it to think straight. He pulled his hand back and combed his fingers through his hair. “Who is she?”
Rachel swallowed hard. She started to back away from him, wondering what her chances were of making it to her car and from there to the police station. Not good, she figured. He appeared to be in wonderful physical condition. That was probably essential when one was running from the law. As she took a step back, the man took a step forward. She held up a hand to ward him off.
“If you touch me, I’ll scream,” she promised.
“You’ve already done that,” Bryan pointed out ruefully. “Quite well, I might add. My ears are still ringing. Now I know the full meaning of the word
“I know karate,” Rachel blurted out. She braced her feet, squared her shoulders, and raised her hand as if she were preparing to take on Bruce Lee. It was ludicrous, of course. Bryan Hennessy dwarfed her. He wasn’t the stocky, no-neck, musclebound type, but he was big and athletic-looking; and she was all of five feet seven, a hundred and twenty pounds. She decided she would have to make up the difference with her temper.
Bryan’s brows bobbed up and his face lit with genuine interest. “Karate? Really?”
Now was not the time to be overly honest, Rachel reflected as she frantically cast her gaze about for a handy sharp-edged instrument with which she might defend herself.
She thought of her mother and a terrible pang reverberated through her. All the years they’d wasted! And for what? Now she was finally returning, hoping she and Addie could patch up their relationship. What if she were too late? Dr. Moore had told her it wasn’t safe for Addie to live alone any longer, that her mother’s impairment made her forget things like turning off the stove and who to allow inside her home. Had her mother let this man into the house thinking he was a friend? It was entirely possible.
On the drive to California from Nebraska, Rachel had thought about what time she would have left with her mother-the mother she knew and loved-not some vacuous stranger existing in her mother’s body. And she had vowed to make the most of it. Time for them may have been snatched away. The thought filled her with a sense of almost overwhelming loss.
“Rachel,” he said abruptly.
Her eyes widened at the sound of her name. The stranger’s voice was husky and warm, but the fact that he
