The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(21)

Aside from the new accessory, he was still dressed as he had been for the theater, although he had discarded the fashionable drape-cut evening jacket and his tie. His crisp white dress shirt was open at the collar. His hair was tousled. It dawned on her that he had run the distance between his cottage and hers.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She realized he was looking at the gun in her hand. She tightened her grip on it and took a step back, raising the weapon as she did so.

“First, get rid of your gun,” she ordered.

“All right,” he said. Crouching, he set the weapon down on the floor just over the threshold. He straightened slowly but made no move to force his way into the hall. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t in some sort of trouble.”

“What made you think I was?”

His brows rose. “How about the fact that I glanced out my window and noticed that you were going through this place, turning on every light in every room? I’m assuming something scared the living daylights out of you.”

She exhaled slowly. “I think someone broke in here while you and I were out tonight.”

“Anything stolen?”

“Not as far as I can tell. I haven’t done a complete search but nothing important seems to be missing.”

“What about food? Transients sometimes break in just to get a bite to eat.”

“I thought about that, but I don’t believe that whoever broke in was after food. Nothing was disturbed in the kitchen.”

He glanced meaningfully at the pistol. “Would you mind pointing that gun in another direction while we sort this out? You’re making me nervous. I’m not supposed to allow my nerves to get overstimulated, remember?”

She lowered the pistol. “I apologize. I’m a little nervous myself at the moment.”

“Call the police. I’ll wait here on the front porch. They’ll send an officer out to take a look.”

She struggled with that for a few beats. The last thing she wanted to do was draw the attention of the local police. She was new in town, after all. Complaining about a break-in might cause the cops to ask questions about her past. She would have to lie, and that would lead to more lies, and then things could get complicated.

“What would I tell them?” she said. “That I think there was an intruder? That nothing was stolen? That all I’ve got to show for proof is an unlocked window? They’ll tell me I most likely forgot to lock it.”

“May I come in and take a look around?”

She thought some more. Common sense finally descended. There was no way he could have been the intruder. He had been with her all evening.

“First, tell me why you showed up on my doorstep with a gun,” she said.

He gave her a faint, ice-cold smile. “I used to be in the import-export business, remember? I traveled to some dangerous places around the world and met with some dangerous people. Years ago I started carrying a gun for protection when I traveled. It became a habit.”

“You consider Burning Cove a potentially dangerous town?”

“I don’t think there is any such thing as a crime-free town.” He paused a beat and glanced at the pistol in her hand. “I would also point out that you seem to have the same opinion of Burning Cove.”

“I’m a woman living alone. It seems sensible to take precautions.”

“I won’t argue with that. So, what’s it going to be? Do you want me to take a look around or leave?”

If he wanted to do her any harm, he’d had ample opportunity earlier in the evening when he had brought her home. She was overreacting.

She stepped back, opening the door wider. “Pick up your gun and come on in. Yes, I would appreciate it if you would take a look at the laundry room window and see if you think it could have been opened from the outside.”

“The intruder used a window in the laundry room?”

“That was the only one that was unlocked.”

Jake stooped, collected his gun, and moved across the threshold.

Letting him into her home was the biggest risk she had taken since her escape from the Rushbrook Sanitarium, she thought. But it was a calculated risk.





Chapter 13


Zolanda stood at the edge of the roof and looked out over the moonlit ocean. She had never felt so thrillingly alive, so powerful. She was the queen of the night, and soon she would be a star on the silver screen. She spread her arms wide, savoring the euphoric sensations sweeping through her. She was on fire. She could fly.

The wide sleeves of her caftan caught the cool breeze like great wings. Maybe her visitor was right, maybe she really could travel by astral projection. She was in a waking dream now. All she had to do was take one more step off the edge of the roof and she would be floating high above Burning Cove. The experience would be exactly as she had described it in her performance tonight. She would drift above the lights of the gorgeous Burning Cove Hotel and watch the glamorous people drinking their cocktails and making arrangements for illicit encounters. Soon she would be one of them, no longer the psychic to the stars; she would be a star.

But even as the glorious possibilities dazzled her senses, a tiny flicker of doubt intruded. Like a drop of poison in a glass of water, the whisper of uncertainty tainted the vision. She didn’t have paranormal powers. There was no such thing as astral projection.