The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(23)

“Can you think of any logical reason why someone would break into a house like this but not take anything?” she asked.

She was serious, he realized. She was searching for an explanation for the break-in that would be less frightening than the one she evidently feared.

“There are some very dangerous people in the world,” he said. “It’s not inconceivable that someone broke in here tonight because he believed that you were at home and in bed and, therefore, vulnerable.”

She lowered the mug and stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise. “Do you think someone broke in here tonight because he intended to assault me?”

It struck him as a very odd reaction, especially coming from a woman who lived alone. The possibility that a rapist might have targeted her should have been the first thing that occurred to her. Instead, it seemed to be the very last thing she had considered.

“That kind of crime does happen,” he said, “even in places like Burning Cove.”

“Of course. I should have considered that immediately. I suppose I was more focused on . . . other possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“Theft, naturally,” she said a little too forcefully.

“But nothing was taken.”

She winced. “No. That doesn’t leave a lot of other logical explanations, does it?”

“There is one other thing you should probably consider.”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“A moment ago I reminded you that there are some dangerous people in the world. There are also some very disturbed people running loose in society. Not all of the crazies are safely locked up in an asylum.”

She almost dropped the coffee mug. Her lips parted but no words came out. She just stared at him, stricken.

“Right.” He had upset her enough for one night. Reluctantly he pushed himself to his feet. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay—”

“Thank you, but there’s no need, really. I’ll leave all the lights on until morning. I don’t think any intruder will return to a house that is lit up like a movie set, do you?”

She had found her voice again but she was talking much too fast now.

“Probably not,” he agreed.

“If he does, I’ll be awake and I’ll have my gun. Please don’t worry about me.”

“Tell you what, use the lights as a signal. If you hear anything, anything at all, turn the lights off in whatever room you happen to be in at the time. I’ll keep an eye on this house until dawn. If I see even one of the windows go dark, I’ll come back to check on you.”

She frowned. “But you’ll be asleep.”

“No,” he said. “I won’t be asleep.”

“You’re going to sit up all night watching my windows?”

He smiled. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do. Told you I was bored.”

She studied him for a long moment. She looked torn. Finally she moved one hand in a dismissive gesture.

“If you’re going to insist on watching my house for the rest of the night, you might as well stay here. I’ve got some books and magazines you can read if you don’t want to sleep. I’ll make more coffee.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.”

“You’re welcome to nap on the sofa.”

“I won’t be doing any napping.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Adelaide warned.

He smiled a little. “Not my first.”

She gave him a considering look. “You’re not the partying type. If you were, you would spend your evenings at the Burning Cove Hotel or the Paradise Club while you’re here in Burning Cove. I’m assuming those other long nights you just mentioned were connected to your import-export business?”

“Good guess.”

“Sometime I’d like to hear more about your line of work. It sounds interesting.”

“I told you, I’ve retired from the import-export business.”

She nodded. “You’re looking for a new job.”

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Nonsense.” She gave him a severe look. “You’re a healthy man in the prime of life. You need a profession, a career—a job.”

He sipped his coffee. “If you say so.”

“You’re not really interested in talking about this, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind at the moment.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue, but she managed to beat back her concern for his rather dim employment prospects. She gave him a cool smile, got to her feet, and picked up her little pistol.

“Let’s go into the living room,” she said. “The chairs are more comfortable there.”

She had a point. The wooden kitchen chairs did not invite extended sitting. He collected his own gun and followed her into the living room, enjoying the cozy feel of the small house. The floral upholstery on the sofa and chairs was badly faded and so were the curtains, but it was obvious that Adelaide had repainted. The walls were a smoky shade of green that reminded him of the inside of an avocado. The deep purple trim around the doors and windows could have been stripped off the outside of an eggplant.