The recognized entry path leading up to the chapel was on the opposite side. That left the side adorned with the crucifix and the other side that looked out to the sea. The crucifix side was a sharp drop. Thechances of making it up that incline with or without a hostage in tow were slim to none.
She stared out at the sea, moved to that end of the chapel. This route wasn’t much better. Pretty steep slope. A few hundred yards beyond where she stood, past the expanse of woods, was the narrow gravel road Conner had told her about, and beyond that, a house that sat on the rocky shore. No, not a house. A mansion.
Someone was up late. Lights glowed from the massive windows. Maybe they couldn’t sleep, either.
Reaching into her bag, her icy fingers fumbled for the binoculars. She could only be labeled a Peeping Tom if she was caught, right?
She rested the binoculars against her eyes and focused the lens to the longest zoom setting. A soaring window came into view. The room was ...
A man stared at her.
Sarah jumped. Jerked the binoculars away from her face.
A man stood at the window gazing toward the chapel or maybe toward her.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. He can’t see you.”
It was dark as hell where she stood. She was wearing a black coat and dark jeans. She had turned off her flashlight.
No way could he see her.
Another deep breath and she set the binoculars back into place. There he was. Perfectly still, gazing out the window like a statue.
He wore dark clothes. Navy, perhaps. He was older. Fiftyish. Dark hair.
She stepped closer to the edge of the rock floor and studied the man. Was he lost in thought? Had he seen her flashlight and was curious as to who would be up here this time of night?
Strange. He seemed to be looking right at her.
Couldn’t be. It was dark and he wasn’t using binoculars.
No sooner than the thought had formed, he moved to his right.
A telescope.
A big, powerful telescope.
She stepped to the side, close to where the vines had encroached, despite ambitious pruning. The thick, rebellious vines snaked about in no particular pattern, weaving in and around the wooden pillars supporting the chapel’s roof.
He had to know someone was up here. He’d seen her flashlight. She was sure of it. Now he was looking for the owner of that light. He would likely call the police. Damn it.
If she knew his name and number, she would call him and tell him not to worry. She was a little weird, but she was no threat to him or his prestigious property.
The hair on the back of Sarah’s neck lifted.
She tensed.
The rasp of leather on icy rock whispered in her ears a split second before she recognized the danger.
Turn around.
Something slammed into her back.
She was propelled forward.
Cold, thin air met her.
She was over the edge.
