“No problem,” I said and wheeled Rachel out of there.You lose a husband; you gain a whole, makeshift family, dog included.
Eighteen
The houseI had shared with David for the past eighteen years of my life squatted like a malignant toad on top of a little rise.I had expected—or let’s say hoped—to see construction vehicles on the parking pad, and maybe hear some banging or sawing from inside.
There was nothing.The driveway—twice as long as Griselda Grimshaw’s—was empty, and so was the parking area at the end of it.
There was no sense in pulling into the garage—I’d have to leave again later, to go see Zachary—so I just pulled the car to a stop outside the house and turned the key in the ignition.“Here we are.”
Rachel nodded.She’d been here before, of course.Both before and after the fire.“It doesn’t look too bad.”
It didn’t.Most of the exterior damage had been repaired, to keep out the elements.We were into fall, and going into winter, which in the South means a lot of rain and maybe some snow.I’d been insistent that the roof and exterior wall be done first, so at least the rest of the interior wouldn’t take any more damage than it already had.
I reached into the back and grabbed Edwina.“Here you go, sweetheart.Check it out.”
I put her down on the concrete.She started sniffing, and eventually made it off the edge of the parking pad and into the grass, where she squatted.
Meanwhile, I hauled Rachel’s suitcase out of the back and headed for the front door.“Come on inside.Let’s get you situated.”
She followed me up the walkway, and after some more sniffing, so did Edwina.
I unlocked the door and turned to the alarm system, only to find that, for some reason, it was turned off.
That figured.The construction crew was supposed to turn it back on when they left at night, so the house wouldn’t be unprotected during the time they weren’t here, but God only knew when they’d last been by.The house could have been sitting like this for a week or more.
Guess I’d have to call them and cause a stink.And see if I could light a fire under someone, to get the work finished.
I picked up the suitcase again.“The bedrooms are upstairs.Let’s go find you one.Come on, Edwina.”
The terrier pranced across the floor of the foyer.When Rachel and I started up the stairs to the second floor, she stood for a second at the bottom, head cocked to one side, contemplating the staircase.She might not have seen one before.Griselda Grimshaw’s ranch had been all on one level, and of course the penthouse was a flat, too.As well as the office.
I stopped halfway up.“Do you need help?”
“No,” Rachel said, holding onto the railing.“I can make it.”
I hadn’t been talking to her, but it turned out to be moot.Edwina backed up to get a couple of steps’ running start, and bounded up, past us and all the way to the second floor, where she stood grinning down, pleased with herself.
“We can take a breather,” I told Rachel, since she clearly wasn’t feeling great.Her face was pale, and there were beads of sweat along her hairline.“You probably should have let them keep you another few hours, at least.”
“I hate hospitals,” Rachel said.“I’ll be all right once I get to the top.”
She kept going.I did the same.
Once we got to the second floor, we did take a breather before I led Rachel down the hallway.“There are four bedrooms up here in addition to the master.Two on each side of the hallway.”With the master (still under reconstruction) at the end.I’d probably end up in one of the guest rooms too, while we were here.“You might like this one.”
I turned the knob and pushed open the door to what I knew was a feminine, lacey sort of room, with floating curtains and ice blue walls.
Only to stop with my mouth open.“What the hell…!”
It was all I got out before I found myself staring down the barrel of what was most likely a Smith and Wesson M&P 9 millimeter pistol.
And no, I won’t pretend I can distinguish one handgun from another.I based the assumption on the woman who was holding it.Blond, with Russian cheekbones, big, blue eyes, and a terrified expression on her face.
I dropped the suitcase and lifted my hands.Next to me, Rachel did the same.Edwina made to prance inside, and I shifted my foot to try to keep her out.
“It’s all right.”
The girl—Anastasia—looked at me.I have no idea whether she even understood what I said, but she didn’t shoot, so we were doing fine.
