anyone had ever lived here.
The floor felt a bit gritty beneath her feet. Nina crouched down and touched it, discovering another reason why the room lacked any warmth or lived-in qualities. Someone had rolled up the plush Persian rugs and removed them since she had been there.
Perhaps McDonough had ordered it done to go over the rugs for further traces of evidence. She hadn’t thought he would be that thorough. Maybe she would have to reassess her opinion of him if that were the case.
She approached the area where the bloodstain had been, where Desmond had lain after the attack. She could see where his lifeblood had seeped through the rug and stained the light marble tiles. Unwilling to stand on the exact spot, Nina kept as close to the wall as possible.
“Ouch!” she yipped as she stepped on what felt like a tack. Quickly, she backed up to the hearth, dropped her shoes and sat down to pull the sharp object out of her instep. When she extracted it, she found it was not the tack she’d expected. Fishing out her penlight, she held it close to the object and examined it.
An earring! A clue? She had found a clue!
Of course, it might have been here for ages. Or it could belong to one of Desmond’s friends, not the person who killed him. Still, it was something Mr. Royal Investigator had missed. Nina felt a glimmer of satisfaction in that. Now he would have to admit she could be of help to him.
She tucked the earring into the zippered compartment inside her purse, switched off the penlight, slung the purse over her shoulder and continued her search. Maybe she could find something else.
The house was larger than it seemed from the outside. The second bedroom she checked was the largest and probably the one Desmond had used. There were no clues to be found as far as Nina could determine. The drawers and wardrobe had been emptied. A fine dust coated everything. Fingerprinting dust, she supposed.
Nina had just reached the open door to the bathroom when she heard the noise. The hinge from the French doors off the dining room creaked.
It must be the guard from out front doing a routine check, she thought. She listened for a few seconds, then ducked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. She stepped into the bathtub and crouched low behind the door of thick frosted glass to hide.
Oh, lord, where were her shoes? By the door? On the hearth?
Her heart hammered so loudly, she was afraid whoever had come in would hear it and find her immediately. Surely it was the guard from the front door doing a regular check. She hated to think who else it could be or why she was so frantic not to be discovered after all.
In spite of that reluctance to guess who was in the house with her, Nina did recall that no lights had come on just prior to or just after she’d heard that creak of the door. Wouldn’t a guard need light to check the place out? No reason for him not to light up the place. Oh, God.
She remained exactly where she was as time passed, scarcely daring to breathe or shift her position against the end of the tub enclosure.
The air inside the bathroom felt exceedingly warm and she wished she could shrug out of her suit jacket. But she didn’t dare move. Her silk blouse clung to her skin and her hose felt like they would melt on her legs. Perspiration dotted her face and made her scalp tingle. She was breathing through her mouth, practically panting. Nerves.
Now was no time to develop panic attacks, she cautioned herself. Be calm. Wait till they leave. Grab your shoes and get the heck out of here.
Furtive rustling sounds from the bedroom had her scrunching down even farther in the bathtub, holding her breath until there was a roaring in her ears. When she did draw in a deep breath, she recognized the acrid odor. Her nostrils began to burn and her eyes stung. Smoke!
The place was on fire!
In full-blown panic now, she scrambled to her feet and out of the tub. She grabbed the door handle, then stopped herself and flattened her palm against the door. Hot! She didn’t dare open it. The fire roared and crackled audibly on the other side.
Hurriedly climbing up on the commode, Nina raked the curtains aside and shoved open the tiny window. No way could she fit through it, she thought, but she had to try.
Shoving her head, one shoulder and arm through the opening, she screamed for all she was worth. When she grew hoarse, she stopped and began wriggling, gaining only an inch now and then in her struggle to break free. Frustrated and panicked, she screamed again.
This time a siren screamed back. She glanced to her left. Glass and flames had burst outward through the front window of the living room.
People were running toward the guesthouse through the gardens, two men dashing toward her. McDonough shouted, but she couldn’t distinguish his words.
“Help!” she cried. “Over here! I’m stuck!”
Together, Ryan and the other man dragged over a wrought-iron bench, climbed up and began hammering at the top part of the window that had her trapped, breaking the panes and mullions until the entire thing gave way. They roughly shifted her sideways so that her hips fit through the opening and finally yanked her free. The three of them tumbled into the bushes below, landing in a heap.
She’d no sooner hit the ground than McDonough had her in his arms and was running away from the building. Oddly, she thought of the purse and the earring inside it. Grasping at the shoulder bag, she clutched it to her and sighed with relief. It was still on her shoulder. She hadn’t lost her clue.
If it was a clue.
Chapter 4
Ryan dumped her unceremoniously into the back seat of a waiting car. “Are you hurt?” he growled, grasping her hands and bringing them to his face. He took a deep breath in each of her palms, then released her. A strange thing to do, she thought, looking down at them, flexing her fingers.
“Um, no, I don’t think,” she replied, sounding rough, either from the smoke or the screams. Her hips were banged up and her throat felt raw. She glanced down and saw a cut on her lower leg from the broken glass. It stung a bit, but she was out of that firetrap and that was all that mattered to her at the moment.
“Good God, you’re bleeding,” he muttered, running his hand beneath her calf. Without warning, he slid both his hands up under her skirt and tugged down her ripped panty hose. She had no thought to object, as she watched him discard them and straighten her clothes.
“Medic! Over here!” he called, his voice deep and carrying on the night air above the racket around them. Then he spoke softly to her. “Listen to me, Nina. Did you see anyone inside the house?”
“No,” she rasped. “Whoever set the fire was there, but I didn’t see them.”
“You didn’t start it,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course not!”
A man in white came loping over. “Her leg,” McDonough said, holding it to examine it himself now that it was bare. “Superficial cut, but it needs cleaning.” He allowed the medic to look. “Let’s get her over there.”
He helped her out of the car and picked her up again, carrying her to the small white emergency
