that safety had been as fictional as the books she wrote.
Outside, an engine fired up and she climbed out of bed to have a look. That “caretaker” was on the front lawn, using a chain saw on a couple of large limbs that had fallen in the driveway. His straight dark hair was just a little too long to be considered tidy and his skin had a beautiful tanned glow, either from the sun or perhaps a Creole heritage. She tried not to admire the way he handled the piece of equipment on a limb the size of a horse, but it was impossible not to when he tackled the tree limb as if he had a personal vendetta against the hunk of wood. If he’s not legitimate, he’s pretending awfully well.
She glanced at her watch and groaned. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and was pleased to see that service was restored. Scrolling through her contacts, she located the estate attorney and dialed. It was his personal cell and Olivia hoped she woke the man. It would serve him right after her being scared half-to-death the night before, and being left to dodge a potential chain saw murderer this morning.
“Hello,” the attorney mumbled.
“Mr. Wheeler, this is Olivia Markham.”
“Yes.” The attorney sounded a bit more focused than before. “Ms. Markham, what can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to call you so early,” Olivia lied, “but I’ve run into a problem here at laMalediction.”
“What sort of problem? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but I got a bit of a scare last night from a man who says you hired him as a caretaker. He obviously wasn’t expecting me, either, and it’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet in him.”
Okay, so there wasn’t a chance for her to put a bullet in him or she would have taken it, but Wheeler didn’t need to know that.
“I am so sorry, Ms. Markham.” The attorney sounded completely flustered. “The old caretaker had a family emergency and had to leave unexpectedly. I’ve been trying to hire a younger, more capable man for quite a while, and Mr. Landry is the first suitable applicant I’ve had. The house needs extensive repairs before it can be sold.”
“You never mentioned hiring a new caretaker and you should have. And since Mr. Landry appeared as shocked as me, I can only assume you didn’t bother to speak to him, either. Someone could have been seriously injured, Mr. Wheeler.”
“I apologize. I meant to call both of you yesterday morning but got so busy I forgot. I tried in the evening and last night, but couldn’t reach either of you. I assure you Mr. Landry’s credentials are fine.”
Olivia looked out the window, watching “Mr. Landry” stack the cut branches to the side of the driveway. “Good. Then you won’t mind sending me a copy of his paperwork.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Landry’s paperwork is confidential. Without his consent, I can’t really send you his information.”
“Fine. Then I’ll be by your office tomorrow to cancel the lease.”
“Wait! Surely something can be worked out. I don’t want you to cancel.”
“And I don’t want to cancel, but as you know, the house is very remote. I have every right to know exactly who I’m sharing space with. If you’re not willing to provide that information, then I won’t feel comfortable staying.”
“I understand,” the attorney said, but Olivia could tell by his tone that he wasn’t the least bit happy with the situation. “I will contact Mr. Landry today and explain the situation. I’m sure he’ll give me approval to forward his paperwork to you for your review. If not, then I’ll relieve him of his responsibilities and find another person for the position. Will that suffice?”
“For now, but I want that paperwork before the day is over. Email all the documents to me. Does Mr. Landry have a first name?”
“John. As soon as I get to my office, I’ll contact Mr. Landry and get his permission to forward the documents. Give me a couple of hours.”
“Thank you. I’ll be looking for it.” She flipped the phone shut and tossed it back on the nightstand. The attorney had annoyed her with his forgetfulness and seeming unwillingness to understand the situation he’d placed her in. Did he really think it was acceptable for her to be shut away in the middle of nowhere with a stranger? If so, he’d obviously lost all common sense.
She stretched, touching the floor with her hands, then rose back up, thinking about her agenda for the morning. First, she was going to brush her teeth, then she was going to put on her mud-caked boots, stroll outside in her makeshift pajamas, and ask John Landry to show her some ID. Then she was going to convince him to help get her car out of the mud.
Piece of cake.
Ten minutes later she stepped outside and walked to the middle of the huge circular drive. She slowly turned to get a good look at it in the daylight. The bizarre angles of the roof, the two round attic windows positioned on each side of the chimney, the stained glass window that created prisms of light in the entry—all of them exactly as she remembered. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, her heart pounding in her chest.
She hadn’t been mistaken last night. Her view of the house hadn’t lasted more than a second before the flash from the lightning had faded, but that one second had been enough. This was definitely the house. She crossed her arms over her chest as a chill swept over her, despite the heat and humidity of the early morning. For as long as she could remember, she’d dreamed of this house. Frightening dreams that she awakened from in a cold sweat, but the only thing she ever remembered was the house.
The house she was certain she had never, ever set foot in before last night.
Chapter Three
John heard the front door of the main house close and looked up from his work as the woman walked to the middle of the drive then turned and faced the house. She was wearing the same clothes as last night, but then once he’d realized there was no car in the drive and saw her mud-covered boots next to the front door, he’d gotten a clear picture of what must have happened. She’d probably grabbed the minimum amount of necessities and hiked from wherever her car had gotten stuck. He could only hope that the lack of reliable roadways, utilities, and phone service would send her running straight back to whatever big city she’d matriculated from.
Though he knew less than nothing about ladies’ shoes, he recognized her boots as an expensive designer brand that his half sister was drooling over the last time he’d met her in the French Quarter for lunch. Fancy, soft leather. Not even a steel toe. Women who spent eight hundred dollars on a pair of shoes couldn’t possibly find much of interest in a dusty old house in a town with only a café and a gas station serving as the local commerce. At least that’s what he was banking on.
He picked up several pieces of the branch he’d been working on and carried them to the pile he’d started at the far end of the circular drive. With every step he took, a curse came to mind. He needed to be in that house, looking for something, anything to help him find his sister. That rotten branch could have waited another fifty years by the looks of the rest of the estate, but here he was slaving over debris blocking a drive that no one had used in years and it was all that woman’s fault. He flung the wood onto the pile and spun around. It was time for action. He didn’t have time to lose.
She stood at the edge
