When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(59)

“Calm down,” Arthur said soothingly. “You are allowing yourself to become hysterical. Oxlade mentioned your delicate nerves.”

“That is the dumbest thing you could have said to me.” She flashed her coldest smile. “Take my advice and stop talking.”

For the first time he looked uncertain. She got ready to scream. He must have realized she was going to go through with her threat, because at the last second he stepped out of her way.

She yanked open the door and went out into the hall. Guilfoyle hurried after her. She ignored him.

“Miss Lodge, please wait,” he said. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

She hurried down the hall. The lobby was nearly empty. Dolores Guilfoyle was chatting with a couple that was waiting for their car to be brought around. When she saw Maggie and Arthur her face tightened. Maggie remembered the words from her dream: Stay away from my husband.

The dream guide named Jake opened the front door for Maggie.

“Can I get your car, ma’am?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she said. “Someone is picking me up.”

Jake looked out at the driveway. “The Packard?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Nice car.”

“It is.” She smiled. “I just wish I got to drive it more often. My research assistant insists on being behind the wheel.”

Jake chuckled. “Can’t blame a man for wanting to drive that speedster.”

“Can’t blame a woman for wanting to drive it, either,” Maggie said.

She went briskly outside, aware that Arthur was right behind her.

“Miss Lodge,” he said. “Let me explain.”

Sam was waiting in the shadows, the fedora angled a little lower than usual over one side of his face. The result was that he looked a little more dangerous than usual. Relief splashed through her. He was all right. The disturbing sensation she had experienced a short time ago in the theater must have been a trick of her imagination, generated by the shadows from the seat in which Nevins had died.

Sam saw her and started forward, but his attention shifted immediately to Arthur. A hard, cold light appeared in his eyes.

“Ready to leave?” he asked. He took her arm but he did not take his eyes off Guilfoyle.

“Yes.” She gave Arthur a cool smile. “It’s been an insightful evening.”

“Tomorrow is the last day of the conference,” Arthur said. “I hope you will attend the seminars.”

He inclined his head in a courtly gesture and strode back into the lobby.

Sam watched him leave. “An insightful evening?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “What about you?”

“An insightful evening.”

He eased her into the front seat and closed the door. Rounding the hood, he got behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and put the car in gear. A prickly sensation made her glance back at the lobby.

Distance and darkness made it impossible to make out Dolores Guilfoyle’s expression, but there was no need for a closer look. Her stiff posture and rigid shoulders told the story. She was furious.

Sam drove out through the main gates of the Institute and headed toward the lights of the Sea Dream Hotel.

Maggie settled back into the seat. The memory of the earlier flash of anxiety returned. This time she did not dismiss it. She turned to study Sam’s hard-edged profile.

“Were you hurt?” she asked. “Did someone see you go into Oxlade’s villa? I know something bad happened. Tell me.”





Chapter 33




Her concern made no sense, Sam thought. She could not know he had been very nearly run down in the hotel parking lot, so how had she guessed there had been a problem? Another Maggie mystery.

“I’m fine,” he said. “No one saw me search Oxlade’s villa. At least, I don’t think I was seen.”

“That does not reassure me. I know something bad happened. Tell me. I’m the client, remember?”

“Trust me, I’m not going to forget that.” He pulled into the hotel parking lot and shut down the engine. “All right, I’ll give you the facts, but try not to leap to conclusions, okay?”

“Too late. I’ve already made the leap and I don’t like where I landed.”

“I can tell.”

He studied the other vehicles in the lot. There were a couple of Ford sedans, but he knew it was highly unlikely the one that had almost struck him was there—not unless the near miss really had been an accident. The parking area was poorly lit. Maybe the driver hadn’t seen him.

Right. Now he was the one with the overactive imagination.

“Sam?”

He rested one hand on the wheel. “The search took me longer than I had planned, so on my way back from the gardens I didn’t go into the hotel. I went straight toward the car. As I was crossing the parking lot, a vehicle came out of nowhere. Well, no, that’s not right. It came from the far side of the lot. The driver gunned the engine on the way to the exit. No headlights. I would have been hit if I hadn’t managed to get out of the way.”

“Someone tried to murder you,” she said.

She sounded shocked. Horrified.

“Could have been an accident,” he said, automatically trying to reassure her. “The driver might have been drinking in the hotel bar. Forgot to turn on the headlights, so he never saw me.”