Page 2 of From the Darkness

In a fast and furious exchange of e-mails, after their initial phone conversation, she and Helen had cooked up a plan to get her into the house—a plan that would keep her here while she found out what was going on. It had made sense when they’d talked. Now. .

Now she was dead tired and full of doubts. She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn and started north. She was in no shape to sound brilliant. But there was no way to avoid the coming confrontation.

Pulling up in front of the iron gate, she rolled down her window, pressed the button on the intercom, and looked up toward the television camera focused on her window.

Long, nerve-racking seconds passed before a woman’s voice asked, “Yes? Who is it?”

It sounded like an older woman. Probably the housekeeper, Edith Martindale, whom Helen had described to Bree. Good. She probably wasn’t going to be as tough a gatekeeper as one of the Sterlings, the distant relatives who had moved in with Troy two months ago.

“I’m Bree Brennan,” she answered, exaggerating her native North Carolina accent so that her name came out as a thick, honeyed drawl. “I’m Dinah London’s new teacher,” she added, very glad that she’d taught second grade for the Baltimore County schools before joining Decorah Security as a secretary. When she’d told Frank Decorah she was taking this job, he’d advised her to use an assumed name. Because she was really Bonnie, she’d chosen Bree, because that would be easy to remember. He’d gotten her a driver’s license to match.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. “I didn’t know Mrs. Sterling hired a teacher for Dinah.”

Mrs. Sterling was Nola Sterling. She and her husband Abner were supposed to be down on their luck—which was why Troy had allowed them to move into Ravencrest. According to Helen, they’d taken over the place.

Bree dragged in a deep breath and held it for a second before answering, with a complete non sequitur. “I’ve driven all the way up here from Baltimore.” Baltimore was close enough to her apartment in Beltsville, and it was a lot more recognizable.

“Well. .”

Bree went on quickly. “I was hired by Helen London when she learned that her niece’s previous instructor, Miss Carpenter, had been dismissed.”

“Ms. London is out of the country. How could she hire you?”

“Didn’t she send you a message?”

Again, there was that slight hesitation. “No. I don’t think so.”

Probably the housekeeper was wondering if Nola Sterling had neglected to inform her of the new arrangement. That would make sense, but in fact, Bree and Helen had decided that making her arrival a surprise was the best plan. And Helen had arranged not to be available.

Following their script, she said, “She interviewed me by e-mail. And she sent me an authorization attachment in her reply. I’ve printed it out. She produced a piece of paper and held it up to the camera.

After half a minute, she lowered the document and stared into the camera again, her blue eyes wide and naive. “Who am I speaking to?” she asked politely.

“Mrs. Martindale,” the woman confirmed.

“Is Mr. London there?”

“He’s not available at the moment.”

Through the television camera, she felt herself being scrutinized and kept her own gaze steady. Her appearance was a plus, she knew.

Around the Decorah office, she always looked businesslike. But it didn’t take much effort to transform herself into the classic subject of a dumb blond joke. She’d combed her shoulder-length wheat-colored hair to frame her face in soft waves and carefully outlined her bow-shaped lips. Now she kept her blue eyes wide—as though she’d just walked off the farm.

“Come up to the house.” As the woman spoke, the gate creaked open.

With a sigh that was part relief and part trepidation, Bree drove through. As the barrier clanked shut behind her, she couldn’t help thinking of prison security.

Hands clamped to the wheel, she steered the car up the winding drive, past pine trees dripping with green moss that fluttered in the wind blowing off the ocean.

Now that she was here, it was hard to catch her breath, and she knew she had good reason to be edgy. When Helen had first contacted her, Bree had proposed that one of the men from Decorah Security should find out what was wrong at Ravencrest.

Her friend, who’d always had a flair for drama, had argued against that plan. “The Sterlings are up to something bad. I just know it. If they think they’re being attacked or investigated, they could take Dinah hostage. Maybe they’ve already done it—to keep Troy in line. They could have him locked up somewhere. Or maybe they had him drugged. Or he might already be dead. And if they’ve killed him, what would stop them from killing his daughter?”

“Those are pretty serious accusations,” Bree had said carefully. “You think your cousins are capable of something like that? What would their motive be?”

“I just don’t know! I’ve never even met them. I don’t think Troy had either—before they showed up.” She sighed. “Probably I sound hysterical. But I’m so frightened. Before Grace died, I never worried about Troy. But he turned so spacey.” She sighed. “If I could take care of this myself, I would.”

If the plea for help had come from anybody else, Bree wouldn’t be here now. But five years ago, when her mother had needed a kidney transplant, Helen had lent her the money for the operation. They’d worked out a payment plan, but when Bree had sent the first check, Helen had refused to accept it. Mom had lived three more years after that. Bree knew that Helen had given her those years. Which was why Bree had gone off to Maine, without giving anybody at Decorah Security a chance to point out all the flaws in her plan.

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