Page 28 of The Lost Heiress
Ana ducked back down and held her breath as she heard the door swing open and then the echo of several purposeful strides against the wood floor as someone entered and closed the door behind them. She chanced a peek over the desk. From where she was, she could see only the figure’s back. From the breadth of their shoulders and their height, she guessed that he was male. He carried a bag, which he set down on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.
What is this guy doing? Robbing the joint?
Ana got onto her knees and crawled to the other side of the desk to get a better look. The man took off his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. The lamp she had turned on on the other side of the room was still illuminated, so she could make out his face when he turned.
Ransom.
Ana recoiled behind the desk.What the hell is he doing home?
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Ana had heard nothing from Mrs. Talbot or Saoirse or the maids about Ransom being expected back at Cliffhaven this weekend.
She took a deep breath and peeked around the corner of the desk again. Ransom had unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and was shrugging out of it. Underneath, he had on a white undershirt that hugged his chest tightly. She could see the way his biceps bulged at the sleeves.
Ana swallowed hard. She drew back behind the desk and shook her head. She had to focus. There had to be a way out of this.
Maybe she could wait until he fell asleep, and then she could tiptoe across the room to the door. But she would have to pass by his bed if she did that, and the lamp was still on on that side of the room, so if he woke up or opened his eyes and looked over, he would surely see her. Whereas, where she was now, on the far side of the room, was at least shrouded in shadow.
She glanced toward the French doors that led out onto the balcony, only a few feet to her left. Her stomach dropped at the thought of having to traverse the stone railing in the dark and maneuver onto the thin ledge along the side of the house, absolutely nothing standing between her and a four-hundred-foot free fall into the water and rocks below.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t risk getting caught now. She’d come this far.
Ana heard footsteps—Ransom was up off the bed now—and a moment later another light flickered on somewhere in the room. Ana’s heart started to race. Of course Ransom was the type of person who would dive into work at 5:00 a.m. on a Sunday after taking a cross-country red-eye.
Fucking sociopath,Ana thought for the second time that morning.
She steeled herself for the moment he would discover her there, crouched behind his desk. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes—here was the end of it, after everything she had put into this, after the years of waiting, the planning, the sacrifices she had made.
Ana heard a spray of water against tile, the gurgle of a drain.
She peered around the corner of the desk again. It was the bathroom light that had been turned on. Ransom was in the shower.
Ana exhaled sharply.
Thank God.
Still, she wasn’t out of the woods just yet; she had to move fast. She glanced down at the frame she still held in her hands. When she went to put it back in the half-open drawer, she saw the black notebook lying at the bottom.
Ana paused. What secrets might lurk in a notebook locked away in one’s bottom desk drawer? Her fingers itched to take it, but was it too risky? The frame that had rested on top was dusty. Maybe Ransom never went in this drawer. Maybe it was a drawer full of memories too painful to look at but too precious to discard.
Before Ana could think better of it, she reached in and grabbed the notebook, slid it under her sweatshirt.
Maybe it was time for some secrets to see the light of day.
Chapter Nine
June 1982
Ransom had told no one that he was coming. He woke early—before the sun rose—dressed, and left the house without eating breakfast.
There was a cool, dense fog this early in the morning that obscured his view as he drove, but he’d taken this route so many times that he knew the view by memory. He drove south down the 101, which hugged the coastline near Pismo Beach and then veered inland, through the lush green valley of Santa Maria. He passed through the farmland, with its crops of squash and beans; through the city; and to the other side. When he saw the old white mission, he turned off the road and took the unpaved path that wound through the sycamore trees. Through the clearing, there was a singular white planked house with a black shingled roof and a chimney choking smoke into the sky.
He got out and reached for the briefcase on the front passenger seat and carried it with him to the front door.
Ransom knocked once and had to wait several minutes for someone to answer the door. When it did open, it inched open hesitantly, like a question, and an old woman wearing a habit poked her head out.
“Good morning, Sister Mary,” Ransom said.
“Ransom?” Sister Mary said, opening the door wider. “We weren’t expecting you. What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in. I was just making breakfast.”
