familiar stranger. She didn’t recognize anything about him: not the soft-spoken voice, high forehead, golden brown hair waving over the collar of a pale yellow shirt or slightly cool blue-gray eyes and not the mouth that either hinted at a secret or the capacity to be mean. She was certain she’d never seen him or met him before today—except she knew him. And he knew her. Hadn’t he just answered a question she hadn’t asked out loud?
Two policemen walked with an empty stretcher in the direction of the kitchen and the man moved so that his body blocked her from seeing it. “There’s no reason for you to stay here. Is there somewhere I can drop you off? Your hotel?”
“Thank you—” she started, then stopped. “I don’t even know your name. Or why you showed up.” She lifted her hands and let them drop in a helpless gesture. “Or anything.”
“I’m sorry.” Now the corners of his mouth moved into a smile and the secret was gone. “Sebastian Otto. I’m a friend of your father’s. He phoned me early this morning and said you would be arriving before he could get back. He told me his housekeeper would be here to let you in, of course, but since she doesn’t speak English, he asked if I would mind making sure you were all right and explaining his absence.”
“Making sure I was all right? His words?”
Sebastian nodded.
“The inspector wouldn’t tell me, do you know if the police have any idea what happened here? An arbitrary burglary gone awry? Or more complicated than that?”
“I wish I did, but I don’t. Except your father’s so smart—and he certainly knows how to protect himself…I’m sure wherever he is, he’s fine.”
“Do you have children?”
He nodded, and she thought she noticed a flash of pain in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“The way you’re reassuring me, you sound so paternal.”
“I think I was trying to reassure myself as well.”
“My father, he’s fine. He’s impervious.” That was how she used to see him: an adventurer who vanquished dragons, a swashbuckling pirate who stole stolen treasure. She had to remember he was a sixty-five-year-old, very religious, slightly eccentric curator who was far too comfortable taking chances. She was making herself nervous.
Coming from the direction of the kitchen, the two policemen reentered the living room with the gurney. Even with Sebastian in the way, Meer could see, under a sheet, the outline of the woman she’d found in the kitchen. She shuddered.
“I’ve got a car outside. Is there somewhere I can drop you?”
“The inspector said he’ll be going to the auction house when he’s finished here to see if they know where my father is. Could you take me there?”
Police cars crowded the narrow street in front of Jeremy Logan’s house and it took Sebastian a few minutes to maneuver his Mini out of his parking space.
At the end of the block, Meer looked back. “Did you know her?”
“Only to say hello when she answered the door. Or to thank her when she brought in tea or served dinner.”
“What was her name?”
“Ruth…” He hesitated. “I don’t know her last name.”
Meer looked at the fine blond hairs on the back of his hands on the wheel, noticed the long fingers and hard veins that stood out in relief and questioned her immediate sense of intimacy with this man she’d never seen before today. Not at ease with most people, never comfortable with small talk, instant simpatico with a stranger was alien to her. And yet, that’s exactly how she would describe her reaction to Sebastian—as if together they’d traversed the same treacherous shadows.
“You’ve been in my father’s house before. Did you notice if anything valuable was taken?” Then she amended the comment. “Nothing could be as valuable as that woman’s life. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right. I know you’re not heartless.” His accent wasn’t heavy but it was enough to make everything he said slightly
Two policemen walked with an empty stretcher in the direction of the kitchen and the man moved so that his body blocked her from seeing it. “There’s no reason for you to stay here. Is there somewhere I can drop you off? Your hotel?”
“Thank you—” she started, then stopped. “I don’t even know your name. Or why you showed up.” She lifted her hands and let them drop in a helpless gesture. “Or anything.”
“I’m sorry.” Now the corners of his mouth moved into a smile and the secret was gone. “Sebastian Otto. I’m a friend of your father’s. He phoned me early this morning and said you would be arriving before he could get back. He told me his housekeeper would be here to let you in, of course, but since she doesn’t speak English, he asked if I would mind making sure you were all right and explaining his absence.”
“Making sure I was all right? His words?”
Sebastian nodded.
“The inspector wouldn’t tell me, do you know if the police have any idea what happened here? An arbitrary burglary gone awry? Or more complicated than that?”
“I wish I did, but I don’t. Except your father’s so smart—and he certainly knows how to protect himself…I’m sure wherever he is, he’s fine.”
“Do you have children?”
He nodded, and she thought she noticed a flash of pain in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“The way you’re reassuring me, you sound so paternal.”
“I think I was trying to reassure myself as well.”
“My father, he’s fine. He’s impervious.” That was how she used to see him: an adventurer who vanquished dragons, a swashbuckling pirate who stole stolen treasure. She had to remember he was a sixty-five-year-old, very religious, slightly eccentric curator who was far too comfortable taking chances. She was making herself nervous.
Coming from the direction of the kitchen, the two policemen reentered the living room with the gurney. Even with Sebastian in the way, Meer could see, under a sheet, the outline of the woman she’d found in the kitchen. She shuddered.
“I’ve got a car outside. Is there somewhere I can drop you?”
“The inspector said he’ll be going to the auction house when he’s finished here to see if they know where my father is. Could you take me there?”
Police cars crowded the narrow street in front of Jeremy Logan’s house and it took Sebastian a few minutes to maneuver his Mini out of his parking space.
At the end of the block, Meer looked back. “Did you know her?”
“Only to say hello when she answered the door. Or to thank her when she brought in tea or served dinner.”
“What was her name?”
“Ruth…” He hesitated. “I don’t know her last name.”
Meer looked at the fine blond hairs on the back of his hands on the wheel, noticed the long fingers and hard veins that stood out in relief and questioned her immediate sense of intimacy with this man she’d never seen before today. Not at ease with most people, never comfortable with small talk, instant simpatico with a stranger was alien to her. And yet, that’s exactly how she would describe her reaction to Sebastian—as if together they’d traversed the same treacherous shadows.
“You’ve been in my father’s house before. Did you notice if anything valuable was taken?” Then she amended the comment. “Nothing could be as valuable as that woman’s life. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right. I know you’re not heartless.” His accent wasn’t heavy but it was enough to make everything he said slightly
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