Sarah came up on Jayne’s other side. “Ms. Thomas? Are you okay?”
“I’m not going to murder or rape her,” Chris Hammond said irritably.
Pale blond hair and light blue eyes might give the impression that Sarah would be timid, but she didn’t flinch in the face of Chris Hammond’s temper. Jayne put her free hand on the girl’s arm. “I’m fine. There’s something Mr. Hammond and I need to get straightened out. I’ll show him where he can sleep tonight and be back here in a few minutes.”
As she stepped past him, the grip on her arm fell away. Jayne walked down the hallway to the private door of her office without looking back, certain he would follow. She motioned him inside, then shut the door and leaned back against it, refusing to let him believe she was scared of being alone with him.
Although, in truth, she was terrified.
“All right, Mr. Hammond, you’ve got what you want—complete privacy with no possible intervention from the police, the girls or anyone else. What in the world do you have to say to me?”
Chapter Three
Chris took his time examining the office. More wood paneling and a wall of bookshelves surrounded a huge desk with brass handles. Leather armchairs and a brocade sofa faced each other on an Oriental carpet. Original oil paintings and velvet drapes at the windows bespoke money and prestige.
“Very nice,” he said crisply, turning to face the headmistress again. “Looks like a cushy job. One you wouldn’t want to lose.”
“Yes.” She didn’t dress to impress, which suggested she was very comfortable with the power she held. Posed with her shoulders against the door, wearing navy blue slacks and white sneakers, a navy sweater and white turtleneck, she looked casual and confident. But he could sense the tension in her body.
“Is that the reason you won’t tell the truth?”
“What truth? What could I possibly be lying about?”
Chris set his jaw. “Your name, for starters. Not Jayne Thomas, but Juliet Radcliffe.”
“I have never heard that name before in my life. And it certainly isn’t mine. You have me confused with someone else.”
He sat on the edge of the big desk. “So where do you come from?”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “About fifty miles south. My grandmother lived near Nantahala. She raised me.”
“Not your parents?”
“Our house burned down when I was seven. They were killed trying to bring out my little brother.”
“That’s quite a tragedy.”
She gave him a dirty look. “Don’t be so sympathetic.”
“Sorry. But I don’t understand why you would make up a background like that when you’ve got a legitimate past to call on. With me.”
She took a step forward. “You have to believe me. I’ve never heard of Juliet Radcliffe.” Her voice had softened, lowered, as if she were pacifying a wild animal. “You and I met for the first time yesterday.”
“Charlie says different.”
“Charlie?” She stared at him with a puzzled look. “Your grandfather? How would he know?”
Chris took out his cell phone. “Not much quality in these gadgets, but you get a general idea. I snapped your picture yesterday in town. Charlie said he would have known you anywhere.” He pushed a few buttons and called up the photo, then held up the phone screen for her to see.
She gave it a brief glance. “Charlie, the ‘old mountaineer’? At least he’s got the excuses of age and bad eyesight. You, I’m afraid, are just plain wrong.” Turning her back to him, she reached for the doorknob. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I think the best place for you to sleep is—”
“The hell we have.” Chris strode forward, grabbed her forearm with his good hand and pulled her around to face him, while shutting the door with a single kick. Then he gripped her other elbow, ignoring the spear of pain through his shoulder. “I learned every inch of your body when we were seventeen.”
She stopped struggling and stared at him, mouth open.
He nodded. “You have a birthmark on your left hip, red and shaped like a boot.” Her gasp made him smile. “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen it. I’ve kissed it. Want to tell me now that I’m plain wrong?”
Before his next heartbeat, the lights went out.
IN THE ABSOLUTE BLACKNESS, the girls started screaming.
“Dear God.” Jayne whirled, felt for the doorknob and flung open the panel. “Sarah! Monique!” Out in the dark hallway, she started running. “It’s okay, girls,” she called. “Everything’s okay.”
“No generator?” Chris Hammond asked from behind her.
“There is. I don’t know why it’s not kicking on.”
Outside the kitchen, she ran into a bumbling, sobbing huddle of teenage girls. Stretching out her arms, she touched as many of them as she could reach. “Calm down, everybody. We’re okay. Everybody is okay. Our eyes are adjusting. We’ll be able to see soon. Shh. Shh. Just relax.”
Gradually, the sobs were replaced by sniffles. Jayne herded the girls into the library, where embers glowed red in the fireplace.
“We’ve got plenty of flashlights,” she told them, “one for each of you, at least. Thousands of batteries. We’ll build up the fire and be warm and cozy.”
“What happened?” Taryn’s voice still quivered. “Why did the lights go out?”
“I don’t know.” Jayne carried a plastic tub of flashlights and batteries from the storeroom into the library.
“Isn’t there a backup generator?” Sarah started handing out the torches. “Doesn’t it switch on automatically?”
“That’s the plan.” Jayne stood back as the girls began playing with their lights. “I don’t know why it didn’t work.”
“Can’t we call somebody to come fix it?”
At the window, Jayne looked out into a white curtain of snow. “I don’t think anyone can get out from town tonight.” She picked up the nearby phone and was relieved to hear the dial tone. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow morning.”
Red-haired Haley raised her hand. “Ms. Thomas, who’s taking care of the horses? If Miss Ruth Ann can’t get here, are they going to starve in the snow?” A computer genius with a history of anorexia and several arrests for hacking into business systems, Haley had started riding lessons this fall.
“We’re lucky in that regard. Ms. Granger had already planned to spend the vacation with her husband and daughter in Ireland. She left
