Page 17 of From the Darkness

Now the person in the hall stood listening to the sound of footsteps moving quickly around inside the bedroom. What the hell was she so busy doing in there anyway?

She’d arrived looking worn out. And for a long time there had been no signs of life inside the room. Now she was definitely awake. So—was she an early riser? Or was she just up disrupted by travel?

Either way, it was time to clear out—in case she opened the door and discovered that someone was interested in what she was doing so early in the morning.

The watcher hurried away down the darkened hallway, thinking that if Ms. Brennan had been smart, she would have turned away before she’d driven through the gate. But now she was here. Locked in. Helpless to do anything but play the role that had been assigned to her.

***

After donning a light blue sweater and jeans, Bree stood staring at the closet door.

She’d dropped her gun in the tunnel. And leaving it there could be a bad mistake—assuming someone besides Troy really could get into the passageway from the other end.

But she’d also dropped her flashlight—into the pit if she wasn’t mistaken. And despite her new resolve, the idea of going back there in the darkness made goose bumps rise on her skin. Besides, what chance did she have of finding the gun without a light?

With a sigh, she stepped to the window and looked out, studying the spellbinding panorama in the light of day.

Long ago Troy had described the house and the seascape. He’d painted a vivid word picture, but now she knew it was impossible to capture the rugged setting in words.

He’d told her he loved this place—that he was always drawn back here after his summers in the mountains. And it did have a wild beauty. But a beauty that was as dangerous as it was picturesque. Perhaps that was part of the appeal for him, she thought as she watched the relentless power of the waves—particularly one spot where fierce currents pulled the ocean into a circular whirlpool of what must be icy cold water.

As she stared at the awesome natural scene, her thoughts circled like the whirlpool—back to the man who had come to her room last night. She was pretty sure he was Troy London. Sure he was in some kind of trouble. And either he was pretending to have lost his memory, or he was using memory loss as an excuse not to communicate.

About the present? Or about the past?

She snorted. The past was over for both of them. She was nothing like that naive girl who had traveled to Montana to visit a college friend. She’d taught school, buried her mother, found a job she loved with the Decorah Security Agency, changed her life for the better. And he was different, too. He’d gotten married, had a daughter, buried a wife. But what if everything that had happened since that summer was less important that what was happening now?

Suppose he’d really lost his memory. Was he reaching out to her on some unconscious level because they’d once shared an intense couple of weeks together one summer?

Of course, there was another explanation, just as plausible. He was cold-bloodedly using her—acting like he wanted to make love—because he knew that she’d been attracted to him, and he thought he could get what he wanted from her.

Which was what—exactly?

Was he up to something shady? Something illegal? And he figured she was going to help him pull off some scheme he’d kept hidden from everyone? Even his sister. Maybe the Sterlings were even in on it, and Helen simply didn’t know about it.

Bree sighed—coming back to the inconvenient fact that she still couldn’t be absolutely sure the man who had kissed her so passionately last night was Troy London. What’s more, no matter who he was, as far as she could tell, he’d vanished into thin air at the end of the tunnel.

Either she’d have to wait until he chose to contact her again—or she’d have to find out where he was hiding. In some secret room in the house? In a cave carved out of the rock? In a hut on the grounds? She had no idea.

But she had a map of the house that Helen had given her. Now that she was here, she should be able to find Troy’s bedroom and poke around.

But all of that would have to wait until later.

Quickly she put on a little makeup, then stood beside her door—listening intently before turning the lock. She told herself that she was being paranoid. There was no one on the other side. Still, as she stepped into the hall, she looked quickly left and right, letting out the breath she was holding when she saw the corridor was clear.

As she came to the place where Graves had disappeared, she stopped. Another man pulling a vanishing act! Last night she’d wanted to figure out where he’d gone. It must have been into another secret passage, and now she was wondering if that passage connected with the one that opened into her closet.

There were curtains near the spot where he’d been standing. When she looked behind them, she found a blank wall. Like the back of her closet, it was covered with paneling.

Stepping partially behind the curtain, she knelt and began to examine the wall for signs of a hidden door.

She had just raised her right hand to tap on the paneling, when the sound of footsteps coming down the hall made her freeze.

Chapter Five

“Do you mind telling me what you’re doing?” a sharp voice asked, a voice Bree recognized.

Straightening, she slowly withdrew from behind the curtain to find herself facing Nola Sterling.

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