Chapter 29
Ugh. Not again. They’d flickered earlier today but hadn’t gone out.
Normally a power outage wouldn’t scare her.
It was more of an annoyance. But tonight, in this gorgeous, stunning, but creepy mansion, Cressida couldn’t ignore the terror that threatened.
She’d left her handgun upstairs. Her cell too.
“Probably just the wind knocking the power out.” Hadn’t Evelyn said as much before?
Braden said nothing. Nor did he turn on his cell flashlight. She suspected he was listening. The wind buffeted the house, stirring all kinds of creaks and groans. Were any of the sounds footfalls?
“What if it’s the same intruder from earlier today?” she asked. “Maybe he came back to get what he failed to get earlier.” Except Braden believed he already found whatever he was after.
Evelyn had been upset about it too, so something important had been in that room.
“We could just leave now,” she whispered. She sounded like a complete coward. Then again, she was being smart.
But I can’t see.
“What are we doing?” Again she whispered.
“Power outages here are common,” he whispered back, his breath warm against her cheeks. “But until I determine otherwise, I need you to stay safe and quiet.”
A smidgeon of moonlight reflected through a break in the clouds and shone through the kitchen window, allowing her eyes to adjust. He tugged her hand, pulling her forward to the far end of the kitchen. Opened the pantry door and stuck her inside. Then handed his cell to her.
She grabbed a jar of olives and held it up for his approval. “I can use this as a weapon.” Like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
“I’ll clear the house.” He shut the door.
Heart pounding, she released a slow breath and tried to remain calm while hiding in a kitchen pantry with a cell phone and a jar of olives.
Dad . . . what did you get me into?
Footfalls sounded in the kitchen. Cressida squeezed back into the far corner of the large pantry, and then—of course!—she knocked into something. It rolled, then crashed to the floor. Great. She’d just given away her position.
She didn’t know who was in the kitchen, but it didn’t sound like Braden’s cadence.
The lights suddenly flicked back on—she could see under the door. If she flipped the switch, the pantry light would come on too, but she didn’t want to draw more attention to herself than she already had.
Her palm grew sweaty around the olive jar. What was she going to do? Throw it at whoever opened that door?
God, help me!
The room was quiet except for creaking—had the intruder left? She released her pent-up breath, feeling like a complete coward.
Lord, please let Braden be all right. Someone was in the house . . . and Braden missed them? Or was Braden hurt? She didn’t know, and not knowing was driving her crazy.
I can’t just wait in the pantry. I’m not going to die in here. If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, I’ll go looking for him. “Cressida,” Braden said. “It’s me. Don’t kill me with your olive jar. You can come out now.”
She burst out of the pantry, wielding the jar like she would a javelin, ready, set, aim, and go. “Someone was here, Braden. Someone was in the house.”
“I just checked everything.”
“The whole house?”
“Yes, though quickly.” Still gripping his gun, he looked out the kitchen window.
“Well, they were here in the kitchen while you were looking everywhere else.”
He still hadn’t looked at her. “How do you know?”
“Footfalls. It wasn’t you, okay?”
“I believe you,” he said. “Someone shut the power off. I turned it back on. We’re getting out of here.”
“Okay. Good idea. Can we get my stuff first?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Holding his gun, he looked wired and ready to shoot anyone who walked into the kitchen.
“What is that smell?” Through the wide arch she could see the rest of the house. The bright kitchen lights were on, and the rest of the home was dimly lit with a few lamps on here and there. But flickering caught her attention. “Braden. It’s a fire. The library is on fire!”
And I left the diary!
“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the windows as he ushered her to the back door, covering her as if he was well trained and had practice. She appreciated his willingness to give his life for her. But . . .
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m not a target here. Someone is burning down the library to stop us from learning what this is about!” She stopped in her tracks, causing him to stop too. “Braden—she needs protection at her hospital room.”
“Already on it. She’s well protected.”
“But why is this happening?”
“We can talk about it later. We’re leaving. I never should have agreed to this.”
Braden used his radio to call for emergency services.
Cressida wouldn’t argue, but staying here had been her decision, after Evelyn’s insistence, and that decision hadn’t been up to Braden.
She hadn’t hired him as security, but then again, she’d appreciated his protection.
She was too exhausted to argue with herself, but she didn’t feel right about leaving.
They crept out the back door and stayed in the shadows.
She couldn’t believe she’d left the possible answers back in the house to burn up. “Listen, we need to go back into the house to get that diary. Try to put out the fire before it’s too late. It’s obvious that someone doesn’t want us to find those answers in the diary or other journals.”
Without asking permission she didn’t need, she turned and rushed back through the door.
Braden would follow. And he did. She remained one step ahead of him.
And, yeah, this could be stupid, but then again—what was it all for if she didn’t learn what she was supposed to learn?
Smoke filled the library. Flames licked the ceiling and engulfed the books.
Anguish seized her chest. “No!”
She focused on the desk. The high-backed chair and the globe would be destroyed. All the books on the shelves.
“I left the diary on the desk!” And there . . .
Braden tried to reach her and drag her away, but she wrapped her fingers around the leather-bound diary and snatched it to her. Suddenly, strong hands gripped her waist. Braden tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her out in a fireman’s carry as if he didn’t trust her on her own two feet.
She’d gotten what she’d come for, and she wouldn’t fight him. As he moved her through the house, smoke billowed, and flames licked the walls.
The other volumes . . . what more could they have told her?