At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(59)

“So,” Addie said after a moment. “Do you really have something better to do than go with me to Helskin’s?”

He shook off his mood. “There’s the profile I’m supposed to be writing.”

“You can work on it in the car.”

“I could also sleep. Or read. Maybe sort all the loose screws in my toolbox.”

“You don’t have a toolbox.”

“Every man has a toolbox. It’s a requirement. Like facial hair and testosterone.”

“In that case,” she said, “man up.”

“Addie—”

His phone beeped and went silent. He stared at it, wondering if she’d hung up on him or if they’d been disconnected.

Probably the former. Addie was good at getting in the last word.

A moment later, the soothing Gregorian chants he’d been playing all evening cut off. The opening strains of “Ride of the Valkyries” poured through the in-house speakers in a rising swoop of violins. The volume rose and rose as if the speakers were possessed. Evan covered his ears.

Panicked at the noise, Ginny opened her beak and began to bate—flapping her wings and attempting to flee before the line brought her up short. She fell from her perch and hung upside down, a helpless flutter of feathers.

Evan raced toward her as the Valkyries gave full throat to their battle cry.





CHAPTER 18


“No!” Addie shouted in frustration when her phone died.

She reached into the glove box, fumbling around for the phone’s car charger. When she plugged in her phone and the screen lit up, she called Evan back.

Her call went to voice mail.

“Come on, Evan.”

She tapped his name again. Still voice mail.

He’d probably used the opportunity given by her dead battery to wander off in search of a drink and left his phone behind. Again. Evan and his classic absentminded-professor woolgathering that sometimes drove her so far up the cliff, she swore she could smell jet fuel. One of these days, she was going to staple his cell phone to his ear. She pulled up to the gate to his drive and jumped out into the rain. Without bothering with the intercom, she entered the code and hurried back into the cab of her Jeep as the gate swung open.

The drive along the road winding up to Evan’s home was one Addie usually enjoyed. The sweeping scenery, the sense of having stepped fully away from the city and into nature. But the storm had turned the landscape eerie; an angry wind lashed the elegant trees, and broken branches littered the road.

A few moments later, the house came into view. The outdoor lights glistened in the rain; inside the house, a handful of lamps glowed softly.

She parked near the front door. As soon as she exited her SUV, her ears were assaulted by the screeching of an orchestra and the apparent death yelps of a group of women, all going at a volume well beyond what should be humanly possible.

That gave her momentary pause. What was Evan up to now? Then she hurried forward, eager to get out of the weather.

Her glittering green stilettos skidded on the damp stones, and she removed them. She didn’t bother ringing the doorbell. Evan wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the music. She reached up to enter the code on the pin pad that would deactivate the alarm and was startled to see the light glowing red. Had Evan forgotten to set the security system? It wouldn’t be unlike him.

She bent to place her shoes on the porch and spotted a small figurine, a doll-like shape made of sticks and twine propped against the door. Its painted eyes stared blankly into the night.

That is one creepy doll. With her next thought, she wondered who could have left it there.

She moved the doll aside, set her shoes on the step, and tested the door. Locked. She entered the code, and this time, the handle turned.

Chiding herself for being paranoid, she drew her gun from her purse and hurried into the foyer.

Inside the house, the music came as a physical assault. Its battle cry rolled out from the hidden speakers like an unstoppable formation of tanks.

She ran lightly down the hall in her bare feet.

At the kitchen, she paused, pivoting from the doorway to scan the dimly lit space—she took in the opened bottle of whiskey on the counter, the crush of rosemary, and a peel of orange nearby—and then moved on into the house, clearing each room as she passed.

Other than the alcohol and a lingering scent of baked bread, there was no evidence Evan had even been here. Only the madness of the music, going on and on until her ears rang.

In the library, a fire burned. The remains of a drink sat on a table next to Evan’s notes, which were laid out across the table’s surface. Addie spotted Ginny’s perch—empty—and a dismaying number of feathers dusting the ground below.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She yanked the phone free.

I’ve taken Ginny to the mews. If you’ve reached the house, you’ll know why. Can’t turn off the music.

She closed her eyes for an instant. He was fine. Of course he was. Sometimes the fact that she was paid to be paranoid was not helpful.

Be right there, she texted back.

She made her way back through the house to the french doors that opened onto the rear deck and the intricate knot garden beyond. The mews stood some distance farther, hidden by the slope that angled downward past the garden. Addie unclipped the flashlight she kept hooked to her keys, a powerful LED torch that was also, fortunately, waterproof. Because by now, the rain was coming so hard that it felt as if someone had upended Lake Michigan and shaken it out over the city.