Something shivered up her spine. An eerie prickle went cold over her shoulders, and suddenly, she didn’t want to go up there.
Abruptly, Fiona stepped back from the stairs, and a sudden sharp chill enveloped her. The hair at the nape of her neck lifted, and she sucked in her breath with a gasp—smelling, oddly enough, the faint scent of roses overpowering the dust and must.
Her heart began to bump out of rhythm in her chest.
Her hand curling at the collar of her loose peasant blouse, she backed away from the stairs and looked around. There was nothing to see. But it was suddenlycold.
Fiona swallowed, tasting dust, and turned to continue her walk toward the back of the shop, berating herself for her skittishness. “I’ll get a flashlight,” she said aloud…but her voice sounded weak and hollow in the silence.
As she turned, something whispered past her, brushing her fingers. Fiona gave a little shriek, and, pulling her hand away, stumbled backward a few steps, bumping into a table. Something rocked on it and fell to the floor with a loud crash, jacking her heart rate up even higher.
Just then, she noticed a glow of light from the alcove beneath the ascending stairs, and was able to make out three lamps arranged on the top of a massive piece of furniture; some sort of huge wooden secretary desk.
Her breath clogged, for the lamp in the middle of the trio was lit.
It hadn’t been lit a moment ago.
And she hadn’t touched any other switch.
The hair on the back of her neck turned cold, and her palms dampened. As she stepped toward the light, caution—and let’s be honest,nerves—making her movements slow, the light winked out.
She froze, smothering a gasp. The smell of roses became stronger and a chill stirred the air.
The light flickered back on.
Fiona shook her head to clear it, to try and find a way to make sense of it.
“There must be a timer on this thing,” she said aloud, pushing the heavy chair out of the way so that she could step closer to the large oaken desk. “Or a short in the wire. And that’s why it’s going on and off.”
She reached around and found the cord to the glowing white lamp, following it down to the depths behind the secretary. It wound behind it and disappeared into a corner. Fiona leaned over and because of the light from the lamp, she could see where the cord ended.
Fiona suddenly felt as though she’d been plunged into freezing water, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t react.
Then, she was a flurry of frantic movement, whirling away from the alcove, ramming into the corner of the chair, ricocheting against a table, and stumbling toward the front of the shop in a swirl of dust and the scent of roses. Her breath came back, furious and shallow, and her head felt light as she ran to the front door, struggling to flip open the lock.
Without looking back, without even hesitating, she yanked the door wide. The tinkling of the bells above barely registered in her stupefied mind as she burst out onto the sidewalk.
The lamp was unplugged.
Four
The phone rang,its low-key bleep startling Gideon in the silence of his office. Rubbing his dry eyes with a thumb and forefinger, he reached for the receiver as his attention skittered over the clock on his desk.
“Yes?” he said crisply.
“Gideon! I knew I would find you there.” His grandfather’s voice boomed over the line as if he were in the room with him, despite the fact that static crackled in the background. “What are you doing in the office at ten-thirty on a Friday night? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than to work?”
Tilting his chair back so he could rest his feet on the desk, Gideon smiled faintly. “Someone has to hold this practice together while you and Iva are gallivanting around the state.” He loosened the tie he’d been wearing since six-thirty a.m., and snagged open the top button of his starched shirt.Ahh.
He wondered vaguely why he hadn’t thought to do so before now.
“Good God, man, you’ve got to get yourself a life,” H. Gideon Nath, Sr., bellowed over the phone lines. “How the hell do you think you’re ever going to find a woman to marry if you’re at the office every day till midnight?”
Gideon shook his head at the old man’s familiar diatribe. If his grandfather would learn to call him on his cell phone, at least he wouldn’t know his grandson was at the office so late. “We’ve been through this before—you’ve been married enough times for both of us so I don’t need to worry about that. Besides, marriage is not in my five-year plan.”
“Fine, fine, whatever you say,” barked Gideon Senior. “Tell me whether everything’s wrapped up with the Valente estate.”
“Yes, it’s all finished up. I met with the last of the heirs late yesterday, and everything is settled. I left you a message, Grandfather.”
