Read Online The Dead of Winter by Jane A. Adams - Free Book Online Page A

she could see a small door fitted into the grey stone wall. A figure moved beside the door and then opened it. Rina could see a light come on, and then the door closed again. She frowned, annoyed with herself that she had seen no one leave the house and could only guess who the figure might have been. Tall and slim built, she would surmise Melissa. Not that it mattered, she told herself. It was just that she liked to know these things.
    She was about to move away from the window and go to her room when a second figure detached itself from the shadows by the library wall and walked swiftly across towards the stable door. Intrigued, Rina noted that whoever it was walked the length of the lawn rather than down the path, as though to avoid the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet. Rina leaned out a little further. This second person was male, and something in the way he pushed back his hair caused her to believe it might be Toby. He paused, glanced around, then opened the small door and went inside.
    â€˜Well,’ Rina breathed. ‘Now, isn’t that interesting?’
    Or was it, really? So Melissa and Toby were meeting in the stable; there could be so many and varied reasons for that. Romantic, perhaps, or something merely practical to do with the events of the weekend.
    Telling herself not to be such a busybody, but knowing that the habit was far too ingrained for her head to take the blindest bit of notice, Rina withdrew and began to close the window, only to pause as a third person stepped into view. He – she was pretty sure it was a he – moved out into the patch of light slanting through the dining room curtains and stood looking towards the door in the stable wall. For perhaps a couple of minutes, he didn’t move, and neither did Rina. She couldn’t place him. Carefully, she compared her mental images of the males in their party to the figure standing there, dressed, unlike Melissa and Toby, in a heavy coat and what she assumed was a thick scarf or hat muffling the shape of his head.
    Too heavily built for Rav, and not Robin either – far too tall, and definitely without Robin’s slightly apologetic little stoop. Tim she would know anywhere, and Jay Stratham had a distinctive way of moving that was quite unlike this man. Jay thrust his head forwards when he walked, as though listening for something, or stalking some mysterious prey. The old man, Edwin Holmes? No, definitely not him. Terry, maybe, or possibly the professor?
    The figure moved, and Rina retreated, suddenly uneasy about being seen. She watched as the figure marched confidently across the lawn, heading towards the line of trees. He didn’t seem worried about being seen, but then, she thought, why should he be? Melissa and Toby, the seeming objects of his interest, were in the stables, and no windows looked back out on to the lawn. The rest were in the dining room or anteroom, and both of these had their curtains closed. He, whoever he was, had no reason to give any thought to a potential spy in an upstairs window.
    â€˜There’s trouble in this,’ Rina said to herself as she eased the window closed. ‘Just mark my words.’
    Reaching her room, she put the kettle on, the routine of tea making and drinking always guaranteed to help get her thoughts in order. Then, mug in hand, and notebook with a list of questions on her lap, she phoned Mac, knowing he wouldn’t mind being called so late. Mac, like most police officers, and his partner, Miriam, a CSI, often kept peculiar hours.
    â€˜No, there’s nothing wrong,’ she reassured him. ‘I just felt the need to chat with someone back in the civilized world.’
    â€˜Frantham? The civilized world? I’m not sure it’s made it into the twentieth century yet.’
    â€˜Quite,’ Rina said. ‘How is everything back at home?’ she asked rather wistfully.
    â€˜Missing you and planning celebrations. Anyone would think