“Simon’s going to carry her across the lawn? And get her across the moat without anyone noticing? Or without hurting her? C’mon, Kira. That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, but...” She couldn’t think of anything else to keep the vultures from descending. If Steele made a commotion out front, they had a chance to sneak out the back.
“You know this sounds like a movie, right?”
“Then who better to pull it off?”
He sighed. “Fine. I think you’re crazy, but if you’re not about to have the doctor come here, then yes, it’s probably our best shot.”
Downstairs, Kira jabbed her thumb twice on the intercom button before it connected. “Rex? Simon? Hello?”
She told them of her plan and then peeked outside. The rain had stopped, and moonlight dappled the lawn. Thank God for the power outage. Fifty feet away sat Steele’s sports car. He’d parked under a tree, at least. The dark of the porch and the thickness of the branches would buy them a little time. She glanced over her shoulder as footsteps descended.
“Everything all set?” He stopped on the bottom step with Francesca in his arms.
“Yeah. Simon should be out back in about five minutes.”
“Miss Isabella,” Miles began, “I’m not so sure this is the best idea.”
“We don’t have any other options. She needs medical attention.” Psychiatric attention, for sure. Kira peeked through the curtains again. “I’m not parading her down the front steps for everyone to see.”
He held the flashlight a little steadier. “Then I’m going with her.”
“Miles, you can’t.” The poor guy was what? Seventy-five? Eighty? He’d probably have a heart attack or a stroke the moment they stepped outside.
He straightened his tie. “With all due respect, she has employed me for over thirty years. I’m not deserting her tonight.”
Kira relented. “Okay. Simon could probably use the help.”
He nodded and turned down the hallway.
Steele stepped close to her, shifting Francesca in his arms. “I still think this is crazy, you know.”
“Got a better idea?”
“The doctor could come here.”
“And do what? There’s no medical supplies in this house. No equipment or anything. I doubt she has more than a few Band-Aids on hand.” Her voice caught. “She could die here if something goes wrong.”
“Fine.” He shook his head and followed Miles without another word.
Kira hurried ahead of them to the library. She pulled open the back door and peered into the darkness, searching in every direction. Francesca moved in Steele’s arms and murmured something unintelligible. After another minute, a bulky form appeared in the shadows, a shaved head atop broad shoulders and no neck.
“Simon?”
“She gonna make it?” The guard lifted the woman from Steele’s arms.
“I think so. I hope so.”
He nodded. “Rex is waiting with the car right outside the back gate. We’ll get her there.”
Kira reached out and touched Francesca’s ankle. There was a faint blush in the woman’s cheeks, and she was breathing evenly again. Thank God. In the shadows, Kira could make out the place where the water grew shallow. How many times had she crossed that moat? At fourteen, she’d rolled rocks into the water, creating a makeshift bridge she must have used a hundred times in the years that followed.
Until the day I walked straight out the front door and never came back.
“You coming too?” Simon asked.
“No, Miles’ll go with you now. I’ll drive separately and meet you at the clinic. I have to get some of Francesca’s things first.” And check her office to make sure certain things stay buried.
“You’re right,” she said to Steele. “We’re in a goddamned movie.” A life-or-death predicament, a moonless night, a handsome guy standing behind her that she barely knew at all. “All that’s missing is a soundtrack.”
“We should go,” he said as Simon and Miles disappeared into the mist.
She nodded, and they hurried inside, almost colliding with a six-foot Grecian urn near the front door. It swayed, she swayed, and Steele caught it at the last minute before it went over and shattered on the tile.
“Take it easy, killer. I’m going.” He opened the door a few inches and then hesitated.
“Why are you stopping? We don’t have a lot of time.”
But he caught her mouth with his before she could protest any further. One arm wrapped itself around her waist and crushed her to him, until she wasn’t sure if she was losing her breath because of his tongue winding around hers or her chest pressed against his. Colors danced behind her eyelids, and for the second time that night, Kira suspected she was in trouble. She couldn’t tell him no. She couldn’t peel herself away. No matter the danger, she couldn’t separate herself from Steele Walker or resurrect the wall he’d managed to dismantle in a matter of hours.
“Stop.” In near agony, she placed one hand in the center of his chest. “Please go.” Or I’ll drag you up to the bedroom I slept in as a child and do things to you that are one hundred percent un-childlike.
“Okay.” He touched her chin with his thumb and smiled. “But I’m coming back to get you.”
She allowed herself to smile. She knew he meant it. She hoped he might find a way to. Yet another part of her wanted him to drive into the darkness and just keep going until he reached the coast. It would be easier for them both.
2:00 a.m.
Steele slipped out the front door and took his time. He didn’t want to be recognized, not right away, but a faceless figure sneaking out of the Morelli house was bound to make people sit up and take notice. He dropped his keys on the driveway. He knocked over a flowerpot and watched as it rolled down the steps and shattered.
“Sorry,” he said aloud.
A set of headlights blared to life. Then another. He heard a low murmur. Voices buzzing with caffeine spread the word from car to car.
“Bring it on.” He reached his convertible, slipped his key into the ignition and, for good measure, turned on his brights and revved the engine. Kira wanted a distraction? She’d get one. He counted to ten. He pushed down the adrenaline that urged him to move now, right now, get the hell out of here and adjusted the mirrors instead. He laughed at the irony that had placed him on the other side of the cameras for once and imagined the looks on the reporters’ faces and their wide, wondering eyes.
Cell phones flashed in the dark, and he had no doubt that within ten minutes, a video of a mysterious car fleeing the Morelli estate would be circulating online. He grinned. He didn’t care. It was a better way to spend a night than chatting up strange women in bars and trying to see how fast he could get them into bed.
He waited another breath. Then he slammed the vehicle into gear and spun around the driveway.
“Security will open the gate remotely,” Kira had said. “As soon as you get there.”
For a moment, he didn’t think they would. He thought maybe it was a cruel joke, a way to get him out of the picture. He was barreling toward the gates, but he let off the gas a fraction of an inch and wondered if he could cut a tight circle and go around the drive one more time. Then the massive iron structures cracked against the sky. He let out his breath, and the car slipped through the gates before they’d widened completely. In his rear-view mirror, he watched as they reversed direction a second later. One set of headlights maneuvered toward the entrance, but the screeching of brakes an instant later told him all he needed to know. No one had slipped inside the grounds.
She’s safe, he thought as the gates clanged shut. That was all that mattered. Francesca was on her way to the clinic, and Kira was still a secret ferreted away inside stone walls. Longing mingled with a sort of pride inside his chest, and if a string of headlights hadn’t crested on the hill behind him, Steele might have allowed himself some time to think over what had happened in the last twelve hours.
As it was, the o
nly thing he had time for was a good old-fashioned drag race. He downshifted and let the vehicle behind him gain a little ground. Some of the crews camped outside the estate might recognize his sports car, but it didn’t matter. Anyone leaving a celebrity’s house was fair game for a picture, if you could catch them.
He took the first hill and felt his tires leave the pavement. Whoa. Take it easy, Walker. He slowed and tried to recall the twisting road that led back down to the center of town. He’d never driven it in the dark. Was he supposed to turn around? Or was he just supposed to leave? He thought Kira wanted him to come back. They hadn’t talked about that part of the plan. But he couldn’t imagine she’d desert her grandmother and stay in the house alone.
Why didn’t she go with Simon and Miles in the first place? He hadn’t even thought to ask. She’d marched him down the stairs and given him orders. And he’d taken them, just like that. A sweat broke out on his forehead. Had Kira planned this all along? Was this a way to get rid of him? I’m an idiot. Honestly, she was probably hoping he’d lose his way, get caught in the web of side roads, and wind up hours later sharing a cup of coffee with his buddies back home.
“There’s something in that house she doesn’t want me to find, and she’s back there right now, hiding it for good.” Or destroying it.
Steele’s fingers tightened on the gearshift. He had to find his way back, as soon as he lost the idiots trailing him. Street lights lit up a road that arrowed straight into town. His speedometer inched its way to fifty. Then sixty-five. He skimmed through a yellow light at one intersection. Two news vans followed, about a hundred yards behind. He dared the next red light and lost one vehicle. A single SUV gained ground as Steele zipped past signs for the Napa Valley Wine Train and restaurants with white lights in their windows. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he almost drove off the road.
“What the f—” His heart leapt into his throat before settling back in his chest. He jerked the wheel to center. A minute later, he was on the far side of town. He glanced into the rear-view mirror. Nothing. Had they given up? He slowed at a stop sign and took a long minute to study the road behind him. Worked, I guess. He wondered how far the rumor of Kira’s reappearance had spread. Maybe as far as the rest of the world knew, the only person back at the estate was the reclusive Francesca Morelli. Maybe Peter Mirables and David Walker had kept their mouths shut after all. He checked his phone, saw the red light glowing for a low battery, and plugged it into his car charger. Last thing he needed tonight was that thing going dead.
He took a right, then another, until he found himself on a road running parallel to the town’s main avenue. Here, the homes crowded together, all dark and silent. He stayed five miles under the speed limit until he found a deserted parking lot, then pulled in and killed the engine. He needed a few minutes to peel his hands from the steering wheel and slow his racing pulse.
For a minute he thought about driving around town, just to try and find Dr. Meadham’s mysterious clinic. Then he changed his mind. All he really wanted was to go back to the Morelli house and explore the mystery he’d only scratched the surface of. He had fragments of a story. He had pieces of interviews strung together from the last month. Now he had a long-lost daughter too, a kidnapping, and an attempted suicide. Excitement moved along his spine. He’d just discovered there was an iceberg of titanic proportions underneath the people who’d lived in that house. Now he had to figure out how everything fit together.
He glanced around and wondered if any gas station in the valley sold coffee at two in the morning. Doubt it. But what he wouldn’t give for a cup right then, even that shit that came out of a machine. Stifling a yawn, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages. Only one, from his father. He listened to the voicemail, which ranted about sources and stories and deadlines and promotions, and getting his head out of his ass and his mind out of his dick. He knew what was at stake. He didn’t need his father to remind him.
This chance—it’s what you’ve waited for, forever. This was what he’d wanted since the first day he followed his father up the steps to the newspaper office and watched in wonder as he spun stories and changed people’s lives. Steele had always dreamed of that. He’d always wanted to break the biggest story he could find. He wanted people to look up to him, to admire him. He wanted to make the world stop with a single headline. You wanted to show him you could be as good a journalist as he was. Better, even.
A lump rose in his throat. Here was the moment that could alter his future, waiting for him in a silent California town. Here was the day he could become a success in his father’s eyes. And all he wanted to do was toss the story out the window and let it crumble into pieces on the winding road that led up the hill, through the darkness, back to her.
KIRA DRAPED HER FLEECY pants and tank top on an armchair, pulled a blanket around her shoulders and tried to find warmth. She couldn’t stop shivering. She didn’t dare check the news again. This nightmare had swelled into something larger than she could comprehend. Her father? Francesca? Would the universe take both of them away from her in the same night?
She climbed onto the middle of her childhood bed and sat cross-legged for a long time, staring at the defunct fireplace. She’d never lit a single flame in it. She hadn’t been allowed to. Her fingers fell against her neck and twined through the black leather cord of her pendant. She didn’t need to close her eyes to remember the day he’d given it to her. The picture played out when she least expected it, usually inside her dreams.
“Do you know what this means, Isabella?”
She shook her head. She didn’t care. She loved his funny, foreign accent and the way his cologne whispered into her nose and made her giggle. He pulled her onto his lap, even though she was almost eight, and looped the necklace over her head.
“Then let me tell you a story...”
Kira’s hand dropped into her lap as the words and the memory haunted her. A story. Their story.
A low rumble of thunder startled her back to the present. Moonlight spilled across the floor, bright enough that she could fumble through her bag and find a dry pair of yoga leggings and a T-shirt. This thing she needed to do, the thing that loomed in front of her, required solitude and secrecy. It required a level head, most of all. She glanced at her watch and counted backwards, trying to figure out how long Steele had been gone. Ten minutes, maybe. That gave her another ten, or twenty at the most, to find the file in Francesca’s office and destroy it.
If it still existed. The skin at the back of her neck tightened at the thought.
Kira stole through the hallway and down one flight of stairs. It’s just as well that Miles went to the clinic. Her heart thudded in her eardrums. She didn’t want any witnesses to her destruction of the evidence. She paused in the center of the second-floor balcony and stared at the front door. A small part of her ached for it to open, for Steele to rush through and save her from the search she had to make.
If he comes back now, I won’t have a chance. I won’t have to make the choice. She sighed in the stillness. But that would be just another way of making the choice, wouldn’t it? She had no way out, not really. Burn the papers and survive with her reputation intact, or let authorities stumble upon the secret and fill the headlines with the horror of the Morelli name.
The silver stud in the center of her tongue clicked against her bottom teeth as she counted to ten and summoned strength. It happened, after a minute of sheer willpower. A screen lowered on her emotions, closing them away, as if someone had pressed a button inside the back of her eyes. Fear vanished along with uncertainty and sadness. This was the only choice she had.
Kira slipped into Francesca’s bedroom. The door to the private office opened with a creak, swinging on hinges nearly rusted shut. She wondered how long ago Francesca herself had ventured inside this room. She ran her fingertips under the flat surface of the massive oak desk. After a moment, they brushed over a small metallic object. There. She’d seen Francesca tape the key in thi
s hiding spot once, when the woman thought Kira was sleeping. There’s more than one secret in this house, she used to think. I know where you hide keys. I know where you keep extra bottles of wine. I know where you sit on the back lawn when you want to be alone and cry.
“I thought it was power,” she said aloud. She loosened the tape with one fingernail. I thought knowing their secrets made me stronger. She never guessed they’d weaken her instead. She held the key in her palm for a long time. Flat, silver, cool to the touch, it burned her skin with the secret it held. She didn’t want to look. Maybe if she left it locked away, she could pretend it didn’t exist at all. She could imagine that the last seven years had been a bad dream. She could spend the rest of her existence as Kira March, the way she liked it.
She fumbled with the key, and it slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor. “Damn.” On hands and knees, she felt around the threadbare Oriental carpet until she located it. She pinched it between her fingers and tried the lock. It didn’t open the center desk door. She frowned and tried the three side drawers. Nothing, even after she jiggled the locks and pulled on the handles until she broke a nail and it started to bleed.
“Damn it!” The file was here. She knew it was. She pressed her fingers against her temples. Think. She’d watched her father put the folder back in the drawer after sharing the secret that lay inside it. She’d hovered on the other side of the door, peeking through the crack, when he thought she’d fled to her room in tears.
She supposed someone could have moved it in the last seven years, but somehow she doubted that. She knew her family too well. She looked around the room. In the corner stood an antique Japanese cabinet, carved with ornate flowers and symbols. Left over from some geisha film Francesca had done back in the eighties, it was an elaborate piece of furniture with shelves and drawers and secret compartments.
Maybe it’s in there?
Her hands shook as she inserted the key. Nothing. She jiggled it. “C’mon.” Something clicked into place, and the key finally turned. The tumblers shifted, and she pulled open the door. Though the moon shone through the curtains, most of the room sat in darkness. She squinted and reached forward with caution. She hoped she wouldn’t come across a dead animal or a rat’s nest inside.
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