plastic bottle to hit the door behind him. He didn’t want to leave her alone in her present condition. He had no idea what she was capable of.
He could tell her the truth, but the truth could put her in even more danger. His hands were tied right now. There was work to be done. Afterward, he could tell her everything.
“Get some rest. The sleeping pills will be out of your system soon and you’ll feel better.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You think I’m losing my mind.”
“No, I don’t.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, searching for the magical words that would put her mind at ease. “I think the drugs are causing this reaction. I also think you’ll be back to normal within the next few hours.”
She stared at him through sky-blue eyes that glistened with mistrust. Michael had learned early not to care what others thought about him, but the angelic blonde cut him to the quick with her suspicious gaze. For some reason he wanted her trust and respect. Unfortunately, he hadn’t earned either one.
“I want you to go,” she stated firmly.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I’ll be fine once you’re gone.”
Michael reluctantly left her to her own devices. Closing the door softly behind him, he stood there for several minutes, waiting for another frightened cry that never came. The dimly lit hallway remained silent. When he heard her walking across the bedroom floor, he left. She was safe in her room.
HAD SHE WRITTEN the words on the mirror?
No one else could have done it. She strained to picture the mirror in her mind again, trying to see it as it was before she’d left the bathroom to find Michael. There had been one word when she’d stepped from the shower. She was sure of it.
Maybe Michael was right in thinking she was losing her mind. He didn’t have to utter the words. It had been evident in the way he looked at her.
She’d seen the pity in his eyes. Avoiding that look was the reason she chose to live in isolation at Moore House. When she was growing up in Tinkerton, going to the local schools, she’d learned to hate the smell of pity. People in town knew the tragic story behind her scars. Most of them were kind, trying not to glance down, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need their pity or Michael’s.
Returning to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water. She was lost, confused, with no idea what to believe. She prayed Michael was right about the sleeping pills. If her problem was that simple, it was easily remedied. She wouldn’t take them anymore.
She got dressed in a frantic rush, wanting to escape the four walls of her room. She purposely wore a long-sleeved sweater to hide her scars.
Kelly hurried down the hallway, but froze at the top of the stairs. She had an unexpected visitor.
Wade Carpenter, her best friend, was tiptoeing across the large foyer, heavy toolbox in hand. Wade was mildly retarded, but he was a genius when it came to carpentry work. He was larger than the biggest football player in the National League, an intimidating figure in faded coveralls.
“Wade,” Kelly called out.
Startled, he jumped at least a foot in the air. His toolbox hit the floor with a loud clang and the tools scattered across the marble with an awful noise, as if an entire orchestra had dropped their instruments at the same time.
“W-what?” His wide blue eyes snapped up to find her on the landing. “Oh, Kell. Hi. Were you sleeping?”
“It’s nearly noon,” she pointed out. “Why would I be asleep?”
He shrugged his large shoulders and kicked at an invisible rock. “I dunno. I knocked. I knocked real hard.”
“I didn’t hear you.” Kelly descended the stairs to stand beside her friend. Wade didn’t feel sorry for her or for himself. She felt most people could learn a lesson from him. He was nice to everybody.
“I have a key. I’m sorry.” Wade banged his head against the wall, punishing himself. “I knocked. I really did.”
“Don’t be silly.” Kelly stroked his back. She could barely reach his enormous shoulders. “I gave you the key so you could come in anytime you wanted to work on the house. Don’t apologize for using it.”
Wade was going to restore Moore House to its original beauty, although he worked for a construction company part-time, so he wasn’t always available. He didn’t believe in ghosts any more than she did. He loved hearing the old stories about the house’s origins.
Wade sank to his knees, grabbing a hammer and a wrench in his large fists. “I dropped my tools. I take good care of them.”
“I know you do, Wade.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Here, let me help you.”
“That’s okay. I can do it. I can take care of my tools.” His curious eyes turned in her direction. “Are you sad?”
She felt as if he was talking Greek to her. “Why would I be sad?”
“I dunno.” He placed the last tool in the metal box and stood, towering over her. “’Cause Michael left. You’re lonely. Huh?”
He thought Michael was gone. Why would he think that? She opened her mouth to correct him.
Before she could say anything, Michael appeared in a doorway off the foyer. Wade stiffened beside her. His eyes were glued to her houseguest, with a hostile emotion evident. It didn’t surprise her. Wade hadn’t liked Michael from the beginning. Although he hadn’t said anything bad about him. Wade didn’t speak ill of anyone.
Wade stuttered, “I—I d-didn’t know y-you were here.”
Michael shrugged without comment.
Wade took a step backward, fear in his gaze as if he was looking at the devil himself. Did he see the change in Michael, too? From Jekyll to Hyde, or vice versa, her fiancé had exchanged personalities sometime during the night.
Did he think he could fool her, pretend to be something he wasn’t? Which one was the real Michael? The animated, generous listener she’d spent so many hours with or the cold, magnetic man she saw standing in front of her now?
If she didn’t know better, she would think they were two entirely different people.
Wade turned abruptly and headed for the door. “I gotta go.”
“But you just got here,” she said.
“I gotta go now,” he insisted, dancing around as if he had to use the bathroom. He charged toward the exit. “Bye-bye.”
Kelly chased after him. She managed to reach him before he made it out the door. Her hand landed on his arm, tugging him to a stop. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Wade.”
“You mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t
