question floated through her mind. Angel. How could one solitary word pack such a punch? It seemed to hit her in the gut, knocking the air from her lungs. A memory connected with the word teased the back of her mind. She almost grasped it, but at the last second it faded into nothingness.
“Hey!” Michael broke through her trance. “What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”
Kelly’s eyes snapped up to meet his. He was staring at her, his expression filled with concern again. He probably thought she was losing her mind. He’d asked her a simple question and she had zoned out on him.
“I’m fine, really. I was just thinking.” She pointed at the doors. “Someone locked me in. I stepped inside the garage and the doors swung shut. I heard the chain being linked together.” She looked directly at him. “How did you get past the lock?”
“The doors weren’t locked.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, gazing around at the mess.
“They were locked,” she insisted. “I tried them. I even kicked at them. They wouldn’t budge.”
“Well, they weren’t locked when I arrived. I only came tearing in here like an idiot because you screamed my name and I thought you might be hurt.”
Kelly took a deep breath, then shivered. “I’m cold,” she said. “Let’s go back to the house.”
Michael helped her over the fallen beam and out the door. As she started toward the house, Boomer fell into step beside her, with Michael tailing them. Kelly didn’t dare look back, feeling his perceptive gaze burning holes in her. He had almost died trying to rescue her. She should be grateful. She should be glad to have him around.
But her resentment grew.
He was lying to her, holding secrets in those dark eyes. She saw it in his every glance. She had the horrible feeling he knew exactly who had locked her in the garage, and he wasn’t going to tell her. He knew she wasn’t crazy.
She wasn’t losing her mind.
Or was she?
MICHAEL WALKED BEHIND Kelly as they followed the path to Moore House, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Neither of them spoke. There was a certain comfort to be found in silence. At least there was for Michael. It gave him opportunity to think.
At the house, he opened the front door and took a step back, allowing Kelly to enter first. He watched her limp up the steps, and realized she must have hurt her leg earlier. His hands itched to help her. Guilt flowed through his veins. She could have been killed. He should have been with her, but he’d gone to town to talk to Paddy. Following his agenda was important, but he wouldn’t risk Kelly’s life for it. Leaving her on her own was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
He followed her to the parlor. His concern for her escalated when she sank into the covered sofa and buried her face in her hands. He could tell by the way her shoulders shook that she was fighting tears.
Michael didn’t know what to do for her. Comforting traumatized women was not one of his specialties. He felt helpless, and he didn’t like it. Taking a seat next to her, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. He hoped it would be enough. He wanted her to feel safe.
A soft sigh was her only response.
Michael looked around the room. The parlor was definitely not one of his favorite spaces in Moore House. It was bleak. A spider would have second thoughts about living in such a room. The sheet-draped furniture loomed around them like ghosts from the past. Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see them move.
He wanted to ask Kelly about the burns on her arms. He wanted to know who had hurt her.
She straightened her back and said, “I thought I was going to die. I know you don’t believe me, but those doors were locked.”
“It’s possible… Maybe someone locked you in as a joke,” he suggested. “Then they got scared and unlocked the doors without letting you in on their prank.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Some joke. It was freezing in there and the stupid garage was falling apart.” She took a deep, cleansing breath and regained her composure. “You saved my life.”
“You would have been fine. Eventually you would have tried the doors again and found them open.”
“How did you know to look in there for me?” she asked.
“Boomer was circling the garage when I got back from town. That’s how I found you. You never mentioned what you were doing in the garage in the first place,” he added.
“I thought I saw someone duck inside there. I went to check it out. I don’t understand it,” she said. “I was so sure I saw someone, but the garage was empty. I don’t know how they got out without me seeing them.”
“Maybe they walked around the corner of the building, and you just thought you saw them go inside,” Michael stated.
“Yes. I guess that’s possible,” she said. “I heard the lock click shut soon after. I knew I was trapped before I tried the door. It was the worst feeling in the world.” She turned to him, staring deep into his eyes as if searching for truth. “Who would do something like that? And why?”
He shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to spill his guts, confess the real reason he was at Moore House, but he couldn’t as he had to put this woman’s well-being before anything else. He felt responsible for her. He had an overwhelming urge to protect her at all costs. The problem was he wasn’t absolutely sure he knew who was behind all the trouble.
She shivered and he pulled her closer, trying to warm her with his body heat. His hand stroked her arm, heating her flesh with friction. She was chilled to the bone. If he hadn’t found her so quickly, it was possible she could have died from hypothermia.
“Would you mind starting a fire?” she asked.
He looked at the fireplace with concern. Not long ago a friend of his had tried to light a fire in his hearth only to discover it had been booby trapped. Fortunately his friend had survived with only minor burns. Michael assured himself he wasn’t that careless. He would be able to spot the wire before he triggered it.
Kelly’s eyes burned holes in his back as he crossed the room to the fireplace. He quickly scanned the mantel for matches and found none. Bending his knees, he hunched down, checking the logs for a trap. Copper fireplace tools were on his right and there was a basket filled with logs to the left. Nothing looked tampered with. There were no matches here, either. What if they were in another room such as the kitchen? Did Kelly expect him to know where they were kept?
Was this a trick to slip him up? Did she suspect?
She rose slowly to her feet. He saw her approach from the corner of his eye.
Kelly pulled a box of matches from an opening at the side of the fireplace. She handed them to him without a word. She didn’t need to say anything. Her suspicious expression spoke volumes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Here I am taking my time and you’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Would
