Книга - Silent Witness

Silent Witness
Leona Karr


Colorado detective Ryan Darnell found the quiet of his small mountain town shattered when a young, hearing-impaired boy witnessed a brutal murder. With the help of the boy's summer guardian, Marian Richards, protecting the child became his first priority. Yet as he closed in on the truth behind the crime, Ryan found that sharing long days and even longer nights with the beautiful, brown-eyed Marian was a temptation he couldn't resist.As both the investigation and the summer drew to a close, Ryan knew it was only a matter of time before Marian returned to the city…and left him wanting a future he'd never imagined possible.






Ryan had to resist putting his arms around her.


He settled for lightly tipping his chin up so he could look straight into those soft brown eyes. “It’s going to be all right.”

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her fright. He was startled by a suddenly overwhelming need to protect her at all costs. More than that, he realized he wanted to draw her close and kiss those trembling lips. His gaze must have dropped to her lips, but instead of pulling away from his touch, her mouth seemed to part slightly with anticipation.

Then she suddenly did pull back as they heard a noise in the hall. And without much more warning than that, they were back to business.

Before turning away, she hesitated as if she wanted to say something more. Then she headed for the door.

“Good night, then,” he said, but all she gave him in return was a quick nod. And then she was gone.

The moment was over.




LEONA KARR

SILENT WITNESS





TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND


To Leslie Pitz and Angela Hart, with thanks for their help,

encouragement and love.




Contents


About the Author

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


A native of Colorado, Leona Karr lives near the front range of the Rocky Mountains. She delights in being close to craggy cliffs, dramatic peaks and hidden valleys. It is no surprise, then, that she chooses this setting for many of her books. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list and received many awards as a multipublished author of novels of romantic suspense, gothic, historical romance, time travel and mystery.




Books by Leona Karr


HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

574—INNOCENT WITNESS

623—THE MYSTERIOUS TWIN

672—LOST IDENTITY

724—SEMIAUTOMATIC MARRIAGE

792—A DANGEROUS INHERITANCE

840—SHADOWS ON THE LAKE

900—STONEVIEW ESTATE

949—CHARMED

973—SHADOW MOUNTAIN

1056—SILENT WITNESS

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CAST OF CHARACTERS


Marian Richards—Director of the summer program for deaf children.



Ryan Darnell—Detective at Rock Creek Police Department.



Scotty Tanner—The eleven-year-old rebellious boy attending the summer program who may have witnessed a murder.



Alva Wentworth—Wealthy elderly owner of Wentworth mansion and estate.



Ruth Tilman—Officious personal secretary to Alva Wentworth.



Henry Ziller—Cantankerous caretaker of Wentworth estate.



Victor Blaise—Henry’s nephew is both transient and dangerous.



Toby Bower—Forensic detective at Rock Creek Crime Laboratory.



Arthur Kennedy—The Denver lawyer hired to oversee the summer program may have come with his own agenda.



Nancy Collins and Ron Harman—Teachers involved with the summer program.



Bertha Higgins—Motherly nurse who helps children in the summer program.



Elsie Mullens—Wentworth estate cook, who is both outgoing and friendly.



Joyce Phillips—Is Ryan’s attractive ex trying to stir up trouble?




Prologue


Hidden in a thick drift of pine and cedar trees, Scotty Tanner didn’t hear the shot inside the mountain cabin even though a sharp gunfire report echoed loudly from the house. A chatter of blue jays in a nearby ponderosa pine went unheard as he waited and watched. Nothing but stillness dominated the deaf eleven-year-old boy’s world.

Scotty was spending the summer with a dozen other hearing-impaired children in a privately sponsored rehabilitation program held on a large mountain estate near Rock Creek, Colorado. He’d only been there for a week and had managed to duck out of most of the scheduled activities. He was patting himself on the back for slipping away right after lunch to investigate the mountain surroundings on his own.

About a half mile downstream from the large main house and outbuildings, he’d discovered a small cabin built near a swift-flowing mountain stream.

As he slowly moved out of the trees, his eyes darted in every direction.

No sign of anyone living in the place. No telling what kind of loot was waiting inside.

His heart jumped a beat as he boldly walked up the front steps. Shuffling nervously, he knocked on the door. He was glad he was good at reading lips and was ready with a lie about needing a drink of water if anyone opened it.

He’d lost his hearing a couple of years ago when he was running with a gang of older guys and had been experimenting with homemade bombs. One of them had gone off prematurely, injuring both his ears. Things had gone from bad to worse after that. He’d been made a ward of the court and the authorities took him away from his drug-addicted mother. Hating the close supervision and boring daily routines of foster care, he intended to make the most of this summer program for disadvantaged hearing-impaired kids. He’d go his own way and get some kicks this summer any way he could.

When no one responded to his knock, Scotty tried the door. Locked. Maybe he’d have more luck with a back door. A narrow deck circled the cabin and he quickly made his way around to a rear door flanked by two windows.

It was locked. Now what? What about a window? Both of them were locked, too, but he was able to remove one of the screens.

He hurriedly found a rock big enough to use as a sledge and used it to shatter the window glass. Carefully and swiftly, he removed the jagged shards and then hoisted himself through the opening into a small kitchen.

Inside, he hunched down in a waiting position, motionless and animal alert for any sign of danger. In the enveloping silence, he knew he had to depend entirely on sight to alert him. There would be no sounds to tell him what lay ahead, behind or beyond his peripheral vision.

Scotty could feel the skin on his neck prickling. He was alone in his silent world—or was he? Was some second sense warning him? As he fought the temptation to turn and bolt out the window, an inner voice mocked him. You turning into some yellow-bellied coward?

Straightening up and clenching his fists, he walked into the center of the kitchen and looked around. He opened some of the cupboards but didn’t see anything of interest. He couldn’t believe his luck when he spied an ashtray on the table with three long cigarette butts. He’d been dying for a smoke. He carefully put the butts in the pocket of his shirt and looked around for some matches but didn’t see any.

Then a portable radio sitting on the counter caught his attention. For a moment he forgot his deafness and reached for it. Then the truth stabbed him! Never again would he hear rap music blaring out of a radio station.

With childish fury and frustration, he lifted the radio over his head and threw it on the floor. Then, with a vicious kick he sent it sailing across the room.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!

He knocked over two chairs, swept the counters clean, spilling objects all over the floor. Then stepping over the shattered and broken clutter, he left the kitchen through a doorway that opened into a front living room. Pressing up against one wall, he waited until he was satisfied that it was as empty as the kitchen.

Boldly he moved forward to see what he might find that was worth lifting. If he was lucky, he might even find a full pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He had just taken a few steps into the room and was looking around, when he froze with sudden terror. Lying on the floor in front of the fireplace was the crumpled body of a man. His chest was bloody and his dead eyes stared straight at Scotty.

In that paralyzing moment, a shadow flickered across the front window, warning Scotty that someone was outside near the front door.

Frantically, he bolted back to the kitchen and pushed himself out the broken window. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt vibrations on the deck boards, warning him that someone was coming around the house.

He ran as fast as he could for the nearby cover of trees, not knowing if someone right behind him might be yelling, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”




Chapter One


As Marian Richards entered a large reception room in the Wentworth mansion, a hum of childish voices greeted her. The spacious, high-ceilinged room had been turned into an activity center, and as director of a summer program for disadvantaged hearing-impaired children, Marian was learning the hard way that the mountain estate with its imposing three-storied mansion had never been meant for a dozen eight-to twelve-year-old youngsters.

The property belonged to Alva Wentworth, a widow in her late seventies who was in a local nursing home. Located near one of the state’s popular tourist areas in southern Colorado the estate was worth a fortune and ripe for development. Countless investors had tried to persuade the wealthy widow to sell the estate but she had stubbornly held on to it. Her only heir had been a grandson, Stanley, whom she’d disinherited when she’d discovered a series of illegal maneuvers of his to get his hands on her money before she died. Everyone was amazed when she agreed to let the Colorado Foundation for Disadvantaged Children use the mansion and grounds for a children’s summer program.

Marian was determined that everything would go smoothly under her leadership. She’d been assistant director at a private school for the hearing impaired when she heard about the summer program and quickly applied for the position. She was delighted and slightly surprised when she was offered the job even though she was the youngest applicant, only thirty years old and still working on a doctorate in social services. She was determined that all would go smoothly, because this experience would be a professional stepping stone to the position of director at one of Colorado’s larger institutions.

Her first challenge had been to evaluate recommended children for the program. After considerable debate with teachers and social workers, she had chosen six boys and six girls of various ages and problems. She’d met with some negative reaction when she’d chosen Scotty Tanner, an eleven-year-old who had both hearing and emotional problems. Even his foster parents had warned her that the boy didn’t do well in groups.

As Marian entered the activity room, she looked around for Scotty but didn’t see the slender boy with unruly blond hair and snapping blue eyes. He usually dominated the Ping-Pong table, furiously venting his anger upon the small ball. Already Marian had learned that Scotty was constantly warring against the acceptance of his deafness and striking out at anything and everybody. He seemed intent upon isolating himself beyond what a hearing loss would create.

Uneasiness began to stir as she walked over to Rob Harman, a middle-aged physical-education teacher who had raised a deaf son and spent his summers working with the handicapped. He was easygoing and patient but at the same time firm enough to maintain control.

Marian had a staff of five people, counting herself, and was pleased they’d developed a summer curriculum that was both instructive and recreational.

“I don’t see Scotty in the room, Rob. Do you know where he is?”

“He was here right after lunch but complained his stomach hurt. He asked to go back upstairs to his bunk but I sent him to the nurse. I decided Bertha could tell whether he was goldbricking or not.” Rob sighed. “He’s not the most sociable kid on the block.”

Marian nodded in agreement. “A real loner, for sure.”

The only time the boy seemed visible was when there was trouble of some kind, but she was willing to give Scotty some leeway. He’d been running the streets most of his life. No father in the picture and a mother strung out on drugs most of the time. Scotty might have ended up serving time in a juvenile facility if a homemade bomb hadn’t plunged him into deafness and made him a ward of the court.

“Maybe after a few weeks in the program we’ll see a change for the better,” Marian told Rob. She was encouraged because she’d seen one good sign already in his behavior. For some inexplicable reason, the tough, streetwise Scotty had appointed himself protector of Mindy Simpson, a small, shy eight-year-old girl who had been deaf since birth.

Scotty had met her in class for the hearing impaired which he’d been required to attend when he was turned over to the court. It was because of the dark-haired, curly-headed Mindy that Scotty had mastered any sign language at all. Unfortunately, he seemed only willing to try signing in order to communicate with the shy little girl. Most of the time he got along as best he could with lip-reading, defying all orders to practice communicating with any of the other students.

“I’ll check with the nurse,” Marian told Rob and then walked across the room to a table where several girls were involved in an activity of following directions. They were making Indian god’s eyes out of yarn and sticks. Because a field trip was planned to the nearby Mesa Verde Indian ruins, the teachers had decided to incorporate some of the activities, stories and art around an Indian theme.

Nancy Collins, a chubby, round-faced teacher in her early forties, was busily moving around the table, smiling, nodding and signing her approval. Marian had worked with Nancy before and was delighted when the outgoing, good-natured teacher had applied for the summer program. Together they had developed a program of activities to help hearing-impaired children develop language, speech and listening skills.

Marian stopped at Mindy’s chair and lightly touched the little girl on the shoulder to get her attention. As she looked up, her smiling eyes were a sparkling blue and full of life.

“I’m looking for Scotty,” Marian signed. “Do you know where he is?”

She shook her head and her fingers flitted like butterflies as she responded, “I haven’t seen him since lunch. Is he in trouble again?”

I hope not. Marian sighed silently as she nodded approval of the rather lopsided god’s eye that Mindy held up for her approval.

Even though a building uneasiness urged Marian to find Scotty as soon as possible, she took time to look at all the girls’ handiwork. Marian knew these children wanted so much to connect with other people that sometimes they were like puppies willing to do anything for a pat on the head.

“We’re going to make one to hang in your office,” Nancy told her with a grin. “It’ll keep all the problems away from your door.”

“What a lovely idea. The sooner the better.”

“What’s happening?”

“I feel as if I’m holding on to a dozen horses going in all directions,” Marian admitted. “New-job jitters, I guess.”

“Relax, everything’s under control,” Nancy assured her with her usual optimistic grin.

Marian gave her a grateful smile as she left the room and headed down the hall to a small sitting room that had been changed into a nursing station and dispensary.

Bertha Higgins was a large, motherly-looking woman in her fifties who was not only a registered nurse but also a certified teacher, trained in speech, auditory development, sign language and lip-reading. Marian had hired her because she was qualified to take turns relieving Nancy and Rob with the students so the two teachers might have some free time. When Bertha wasn’t tending to medical needs or handling a class, she took it upon herself to instruct individual students about specific health habits they were ignoring.

Marian knew Bertha had playfully threatened to wash Scotty’s ears and neck for him. Much to everyone’s surprise the boy had given her a big grin as if he wasn’t used to anyone paying that much attention to him.

Maybe he was just faking the stomachache so he could get Bertha’s attention again, Marian thought as she politely knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The nurse had her back to the door, putting some medical supplies in a cabinet. When she turned around, she gave Marian a cheery smile as she said, “What can I do you for?”

“I’m looking for Scotty.”

“I haven’t seen him. Was he supposed to check in with me?”

“Well, Rob excused him and told him to see you because Scotty said he had a stomachache.”

Bertha chuckled. “The oldest ploy in the world. Better than a headache. I bet he knows every trick in the book, that one. He’s probably stretched out on his bunk waiting for dinnertime. I bet the kid’s been starved a lot of his life. He’ll put on a pound or two while he’s here.”

“Well, if he’s hiding out, I just might find a job or two that will help his appetite.” As she turned to leave, she said, “If he shows up, hold on to him.”

“Will do.”

Heading down the hall, Marian intended to go up to the second floor where the boys had assigned beds, but another youngster, Peter, came bounding down the center staircase just as she reached it.

Putting out her hand, she stopped him. Knowing the ten-year-old was a good lip-reader, she looked straight at him and carefully mouthed her words, slowly and evenly. “Peter, did you see Scotty upstairs?”

He shook his head. “Nobody up there. I went to get this,” he told her in a flat but understandable tone as he held out a small electronic game. “You want to play?”

“Not now, Peter. Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded to show he understood and then bounded down the hall toward the activity room.

Marian decided to check the kitchen, since Scotty had already been caught stealing food between meals. The cook, Elsie Mullens, had threatened him with a week’s dish-washing detail if he did it again and Marian had approved the promised punishment.

She liked the hefty, gray-haired cook who had been hired to prepare the meals. Once, Marian had heard Elsie on the phone arguing with a Denver dietician about the menus they had sent her to prepare. Elsie had spent most of her life cooking for ranchers and was used to preparing meals for hardworking men with healthy appetites and not finicky youngsters.

“Yeah, he was here,” Elsie replied when Marian asked her if she’d seen Scotty. “Hanging around, he was, waiting for me to turn my back. He’s got sticky fingers, that one. Lordy, he’s snitched more than one pastry right out from under my nose.” As she talked she vigorously patted flour on a bread board and wheeled a rolling pin over fresh dough. “I shooed him out of here fast like.”

“Do you know where he went?”

Elsie shrugged her solid shoulders. “He left by the back door.”

Marian mentally groaned. She knew it wasn’t Elsie’s duty to supervise the kids, but she wished the cook had stopped him. It wasn’t an easy job to supervise all the activities inside the house. One kid like Scotty could create a crisis in spite of their best efforts. Making certain none of the children wandered off was a number-one priority. She’d have to talk to Rob about not letting any of the children run around unsupervised, even for a few minutes.

“If the kid shows up again, I’ll sit him down till you come after him,” Elsie promised as if she’d read Marian’s mind.

“Yes, please do.” Marian thanked her and left quickly by the back door.

As she stood on the top step of the wide back porch and surveyed the surrounding foothills carpeted with thick drifts of evergreen trees, her chest tightened. She’d had enough experience in her hiking club to know how treacherous climbing slopes like those could be. A small city boy scrambling up the side of the rock-strewn slopes could easily lose his footing. Steep cliffs fell away to a swift-flowing mountain stream bordering one edge of the property, and in her mind’s eye, Marian unwittingly pictured Scotty tumbling into the current. He’d be swept downstream and—

Stop it!

Taking a deep breath, she stilled her rising apprehension and vivid imagination.

I can handle this!

She’d been telling herself that every time a crisis arose that demanded her attention and decision. The heavy responsibility of being in charge had come home to her the minute the busload of children had unloaded at the front door. Her intense week of preparation at the house to get ready seemed inadequate for the instant demands put upon her with their arrival.

Almost immediately, a myriad of unexpected problems challenged her on every level, none of which resembled those she’d experienced in her former administrative position at the day school. Scotty Tanner was one of those challenges. It was imperative that she get the belligerent boy under control without delay.

She left the porch and quickly made a circle walking around the stone mansion. No sign of him standing on the flagstone terrace nor on the wide-veranda front porch.

A large garage stood at the end of the driveway. She peeked in and saw a couple of cars and one pickup truck. Some old bicycles and garden equipment were stored there. No sign of Scotty.

Maybe the caretaker, Henry Ziller, had seen the boy snooping around. The older, rugged, sharp-tongued man lived in the apartment above the garage and it was clear he was less than pleased about having a dozen kids running all over the place.

She knew Henry had been with the Wentworth family since his youth and was very possessive about the property. Already there had been problems about letting the children play in certain places on the grounds and he’d raised a fuss about having any play equipment scattered about.

She quickly climbed the outside stairs to the small apartment and knocked on the door.

No response. A knot in her chest began to tighten. What now? There were a hundred places in the mansion alone where a small boy could hide and enjoy the uproar of people looking for him. She wanted to do her best to make sure Scotty wasn’t somewhere on the grounds or in the mansion before she organized an official search party. The uproar that would cause was something she couldn’t even bear to think about.

The only places left to look on the immediate property were a small barn and stable built a short distance from the back of the house and almost hidden by stands of cedar and pine trees. She knew horses had not been stabled there for several years but maybe Scotty was scouting these empty buildings like a hopeful pack rat.

As she headed across a green meadow in the direction of the buildings, she brushed back a strand of reddish-blond hair and shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight. At first she thought her eyes were betraying her when she glimpsed a shadowy movement in the trees. She stopped and shaded her eyes with her hands. A moment later, she glimpsed a small figure running into the stable.

Scotty! Thank heavens!

Was he trying to hide from her? At the moment, she didn’t know what kind of discipline was appropriate, but she was determined to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen again. Even as she cautioned herself not to lose her temper, she knew she was way too uptight for any game of hide-and-seek.

The stable door was ajar and as she stepped inside, the interior was dark and smelly. Shadowy horse stalls stretched the length of the building on both sides. As she stood there searching for any flicker of movement, a hushed, dusty silence greeted her.

She knew calling out Scotty’s name was a wasted effort. If the deaf boy wasn’t looking in her direction, he wouldn’t even know she was there. Once more, if he was deliberately hiding from her, he wouldn’t give himself away. The open stable door and small windows at both ends of the stable were the only source of a feeble light.

As she walked past the stalls, she could see inside each one because the half doors were hanging open.

All the stalls were empty.

She saw a door ajar on one side of the stable that looked as if it might open into a tack room. Maybe that’s where Scotty was hiding. She pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.

A high narrow window gave shadowy light to the small room and she could see bridles and harnesses hanging from ceiling hooks. Saddles of various kinds were mounted on wooden racks and a long table was loaded with ropes, saddle blankets and various tool kits. It was obvious to Marian from the stacks of boxes and clutter that the room was being used for storage now that there were no horses stabled there.

As she looked around, her gaze settled on some feed sacks piled in one corner. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when they registered the slight movement as a small head ducked down behind one of the sacks.

Scotty! Instant relief sped through her. She’d found him! Everything was under control. She’d lay down firm rules and consequences and keep a tighter rein on him. Since she’d gone out on a limb to include Scotty in the program, no one needed to know about this little escapade.

When she pulled away one of the sacks, she exposed his cowering body and was stunned by the look of terror that flashed in his eyes. She realized the boy was trembling with fright. Her anger quickly dissipated.

“It’s all right, Scotty,” she mouthed as she bent close enough for him to read her lips. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

He shook his head in denial. His eyes were wide and filled with fear.

“I’m not going to punish you.” She guessed that he was probably expecting the kind of discipline heaped on him by an abusive father and drug-addicted mother. No wonder his first reaction was to hide from any authority figure. “We’ll talk. Now let’s go back to the house.”

“No.”

He drew back and she wasn’t prepared for this kind of rebellion. “What do you mean, no? You’ll do as I say.”

His fearful eyes darted to the door of the tack room. “Have to hide.”

Hide? What was he talking about? He’d been hiding from her and she’d found him.

“Why do you have to hide, Scotty?” She mouthed the question with deliberate slowness.

“They might find me!”

As she searched his fearful expression, she realized he hadn’t been hiding from her. Maybe he hadn’t even seen her coming toward the stable. “Who might find you, Scotty?”

“The one who did it.” He grabbed her hand and held on to it as if some unseen hands were trying to pull him away from her.

As the terrified eleven-year-old boy clung to her, she knew with sickening certainty he wasn’t making something up. No child could pretend the kind of fear she saw in his eyes.

“The one who did what, Scotty?”

He swallowed hard. “Killed the man.”

“What man, Scotty? Tell me where you were.”

“The small house…by the creek,” he mumbled.

She knew there was a log cabin on the estate about a mile downstream. A kind of guesthouse. As far as she knew, the place wasn’t being used this summer.

“You were inside the little house?”

“But I didn’t take nothing,” he said with a rush.

“Tell me exactly what you did do, Scotty. Everything.”

He kept his hand in hers as he told her about breaking a window, trashing the kitchen and going to hunt for some loot in the rest of the house.

“Then I saw the dead man and ran.” He fixed terrified eyes on her face. “I ran before they caught me.”

“Who, Scotty? Who was there?”

He shook his head.

“Are you sure there was someone?”

He raised tear-filled eyes to hers. “I felt them coming around the house. The boards moved. We have to hide.”

“No, Scotty,” she said with a sickening plunge of her stomach. “We have to call the police.”




Chapter Two


The Rock Creek Police Department was a stone building just off Main Street. Detective Ryan Darnell was sitting at a scarred desk in his small office when the switchboard relayed a call to him. At first, Ryan didn’t understand exactly what kind of crime the woman was reporting.

“My name is Marian Richards. I’m the director of an outreach program for hearing-impaired children. We are in residence at the Wentworth estate for the summer. I have a situation here that I need you to look into as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He had heard something about old lady Wentworth letting some nonprofit foundation use the property. Apparently she’d hired a female executive to run it. Ryan pictured the caller as a middle-aged, uptight spinster used to ordering people around.

“What kind of situation would that be?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t about to drive five miles up a canyon road because some authoritative director didn’t want to take care of some piddling matter.

“I think there may have been a crime committed on the property.”

“You don’t know for sure?” Ryan’s tone was slightly mocking.

“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m calling you,” she replied impatiently. “I need someone to investigate.”

“What kind of crime are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure…maybe murder.”

Ryan’s chair came forward with a thump. “Murder!”



AS RYAN DROVE to the Wentworth estate up the mountain road winding through Prospect Canyon, he had the feeling he was wasting his time. The three-story stone mansion and extensive property had been vacant for over a year and he was curious who had persuaded Alva Wentworth, a wealthy widow, to let a charitable foundation use it for the summer. He’d heard that a Denver lawyer, Arthur Kennedy, who was overseeing the project, had been paying regular visits to Alva in a Rock Creek nursing home. Apparently there weren’t any legal problems turning the estate into a retreat for children with hearing problems, but Ryan was willing to bet the isolated rugged property would create plenty of headaches for those in charge of the program. He just hoped this wouldn’t include a series of SOS calls to the Rock Creek Police Department.

A simple sign, Private Property, identified a fork in the road and Ryan took the one that wound through thick stands of ponderosa pine and aspens. In about a quarter of a mile, an open gate to the estate came into view.

Even though Ryan had been there on some occasions during his growing-up years in Rock Creek, he still found the stone mansion set against the backdrop of rising mountain slopes very impressive.

As he drove the police car to the front entrance, he saw a woman and a scowling boy sitting on the steps. Obviously waiting for him, they stood up as he got out of the police car.

Ryan’s mental picture of Marian Richards underwent an immediate revision. She was young and pretty enough to attract his attention under any circumstances. Reddish-blond hair fell softly around her face and a soft green summer dress revealed a feminine figure that could have graced any fashion magazine.

“Thank you for coming, Detective,” she said as she walked down the front steps to meet him. “I’m Marian Richards.”

Something in the way her glance swept over him gave the impression that she was expecting someone older and wearing a uniform instead of casual brown slacks and a summer knit pullover open at the neck. He only wore a jacket when it was necessary to hide a shoulder holster and gun, which he kept in the car’s compartment until needed. He knew his tanned face and arms betrayed the free moments he spent outdoors riding his sorrel mare.

“Detective Ryan Darnell. Glad to be of service,” he responded in the same professional tone she had used. He could be as formal as any highbrow when it suited his purposes.

“And this is Scotty Tanner,” she said, motioning the boy forward. “He reads lips and will be able to answer your questions if you look directly at him, speak slowly and evenly.”

Since Ryan had grown up with an older cousin who had lost his hearing, her instructions were hardly necessary, but he nodded and did as she had instructed.

“Hello, Scotty.”

A belligerent glare was all he got in return, making it quite clear what the boy’s experience with the law must have been.

He’s a tough one, all right, Ryan thought. He suspected the kid had created some kind of incident that had gotten out of hand and he was trying to cover it up with a bigger story. In any case, Ryan decided he wasn’t going to waste time trying to get the initial information from him.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, Miss Richards.” He’d taken note that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and guessed she must be in her thirties to have the position of director.

For a moment she worried her lower lip as if she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Then she said in a firm voice, “Scotty was not where he was supposed to be. I went looking for him. No one in the house had seen him so I checked the grounds and garage. I was heading for the small barn, when I saw him dashing into the stable. I hurried after him and found him hiding in the tack room. He was clearly shaken up.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Apparently he had left the grounds. There’s a small cabin on the property.”

“I know where it is,” he offered quickly. “About a half mile downstream.” He’d even spent a night or two there on occasion in high school with some other guys when Alva’s grandson, Stanley, had been living with his grandmother.

“Did Scotty break in? Is that what this is about?” Ryan suspected the boy swiped something out of the cabin and made up a story to cover his tracks.

“I didn’t bring you way out here because of a little pilfering,” she answered shortly. “I called you because Scotty said he saw a dead man lying on the floor in the front room.”

“And you believe him?”

Her brown eyes snapped with impatience. “Yes, I do. Scotty was frightened because somebody else was there, too.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t see them but he felt the vibration of footsteps on the deck and ran.” Her flashing eyes dared him to make light of the boy’s story.

“All right. Let’s take a look.” He knew nothing more would be gained by questioning either of them further. “We’ll drive around to the cabin. It’ll be quicker than hiking.”

“I didn’t know there was a road to the cabin.”

“It goes a little ways past the mansion and then drops down to the cabin and the creek.”

“Does Scotty have to go?” she asked, showing resistance to the idea. “I hate putting him through any more trauma.”

“Finding out the real situation is the first priority, Miss Richards,” Ryan countered flatly. He wasn’t indifferent to the boy’s feelings, but it couldn’t be helped. If Scotty was making up the whole tale, he’d give himself away and put an end to this whole charade.

“You don’t believe him about the body, do you?” she asked, fixing accusing honey-brown eyes on him.

“It’s not my job to believe anything until I have evidence to support it,” he replied evenly. “We need to verify how much, if any, of Scotty’s story is true. But you don’t have to go—”

“Yes, I do,” she corrected curtly. “At the moment, I have to give this first priority.” Turning to Scotty, she slowly mouthed the words telling him they were going for a ride in the car.

Swallowing hard, he asked in a wavering voice, “Am I going to jail?”

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “No. We just want to find out…who frightened you.”

She put her arm around his shoulders, and they followed Ryan to the car. After guiding Scotty into the backseat, she quickly took her place beside him. Ryan closed the door behind them and there was a heavy silence in the car as he drove away from the mansion.

When he glanced in the rearview mirror, he could see worried lines on her forehead and he wondered what she was thinking. Marian Richards seemed too young and vulnerable to have the responsibility that went with a job like this one.

The nervous smile she gave Scotty seemed forced, and he’d bet anything she was really worried about being away from the mansion for any length of time. Hers must be a heavy responsibility. He hoped for her sake that this incident wasn’t going to throw her job into any kind of crisis.

As the road mounted a slight incline, he could see the cabin below nestled in a drift of aspen trees near the stream. The place looked deserted, but it was evident that some of the encroaching undergrowth and overhanging trees had been trimmed in order to keep the narrow road passable. Ryan decided to stop a short distance above the cabin so there wouldn’t be any chance of disturbing any crime-scene evidence around it. He took out his shoulder holster and gun and put it on before getting out of the car.

“I want you two to stay here while I have a look around.” Then he spoke slowly and directly to the boy. “How did you get in, Scotty?”

“I—I broke a window…in the back.”

“And then?”

“I climbed in.” The boy clenched his small fists as if ready to defend himself. “Then I got mad and trashed the kitchen.”

“What do you mean trashed?”

“Knocked a bunch of stuff onto the floor.”

“So you made a lot of noise?”

“I guess so.”

“And nobody came?”

He shook his head.

“What did you do then?”

Scotty looked at Marian as if seeking reassurance. She nodded and repeated, “What did you do then, Scotty?”

“I went into the other room.”

“The one with the front door and large window?” Ryan prompted.

Scotty nodded. “And he was there.”

“Who, Scotty?”

“The dead guy! On the floor! In front of the fireplace!” he yelled as if it was Ryan who was hard of hearing.

For the first time, Ryan believed Scotty was telling the truth. No pretense. No hint of lying. Nothing false about the boy’s behavior. His eyes were rounded with honest fear.

“All right. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

As Ryan quickly headed down the wooded slope to the log structure, his detective expertise immediately dictated his actions. He needed to verify if he was dealing with a crime scene and if so protect it from contamination. He slipped on his gloves as he approached the front door, which Scotty said had been locked.

He tried the doorknob in a way so as not to disturb any fingerprints. It was still locked.

Carefully making his way around to the back door, he searched for any signs of shoe prints on the deck but couldn’t see any with the naked eye. Jagged shards of broken glass and an open window verified Scotty’s entrance into the house, but when Ryan tried the back door it swung open easily.

The kitchen looked trashed, all right. Ryan tried not to touch anything as he carefully stepped past the clutter. He was treating everything about the cabin as a crime scene and drew his revolver when he reached the doorway of the living room, ready for any unexpected confrontation.

As his eyes surveyed the pleasant room filled with knotty-pine furniture, the only sound was the creaking of old timber settling in the log walls.

He slowly moved forward to a position in the room where he could see the fireplace. Since he was expecting to see a body lying there, he stared at the bare planked floor for a long minute in disbelief.

There wasn’t any body! There wasn’t any blood. There wasn’t any sign that there had ever been a dead man lying there.




Chapter Three


When Marian saw Ryan coming up the slope toward them, she hurried forward to meet him. The glower on the detective’s face wasn’t reassuring.

“Did you find anything?”

“No,” Ryan answered shortly. “I checked the whole cabin. No sign of a struggle. Nothing out of place except for a mess in the kitchen.”

“Scotty told you he did that,” she reminded him quickly.

“No sign of a body.” He looked directly at Scotty. “Either there never was one or it has disappeared somehow.”

Marian could tell from his tone which one of the two possibilities he believed. Remembering how terrified Scotty had been when she found him hiding, she was convinced the boy wasn’t making up the story.

“Scotty’s telling the truth,” she said firmly. “He saw something or someone. And he felt vibrations of someone walking on the wooden deck.”

“All right, we’ll go with that for the moment. I’ll take you two back to the mansion and alert our forensic crime-scene investigator to take a look. He’ll tell us in quick order if there’s any evidence in the cabin to support Scotty’s story.”

On the return trip to the mansion, Marian’s thoughts were a mixture of frustration, apprehension and impatience. As she stared at the back of Ryan’s handsome dark head, she wished she could be privy to the thoughts whirling there. Obviously, the detective had deep reservations about accepting Scotty’s story at face value.

If she hadn’t witnessed the boy’s panicked fear herself, she might have suspected he was making up the story to divert attention from himself. She could handle a boyish prank, but what frightened her was the impact all this was going to have on her summer program if his terror was real.

“Will it be possible to keep this low-key? I mean, until your investigator takes a look at the cabin and knows something for sure?” she asked when they reached the mansion.

“Let’s not cross any bridges yet. Toby Bower is one of the best and if he says we have a crime scene, it’s out of my hands.” He softened his tone. “He’ll collect as much evidence as he can and take his findings back to the crime lab. Maybe he’ll come up with something and maybe he won’t. Until we know for sure, I’d advise you and Scotty to remain mum about what is going on.”

She nodded in agreement, trying to keep the anxiety building inside from showing.

“I’m going back to the cabin now to wait for Toby.”

“And you’ll come back and tell me what he finds?” She knew her tone was more of a statement than a request, but she couldn’t help it.

His mouth curved in a slight smile. “Yes, ma’am. I certainly will.”

The way his dark blue eyes briefly locked with hers brought an unexpected warmth to her face. She quickly turned away, impatient with herself for reacting to his practiced charm. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the good-looking detective could wind women around his little finger whenever it pleased him.

She watched him drive away and then turned to Scotty. Putting her hands on his thin shoulders, she faced him squarely. “Don’t tell anyone where we’ve been. Nobody. Understand?”

“I won’t say nothing.”

“Good.”

As they came in the front door, the children were just trooping upstairs for a rest period. After telling Scotty to go upstairs with the others, she motioned to Rob, who was monitoring the group.

“Make sure Scotty stays resting on his bunk, Rob.”

“What’s the matter?” the teacher asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow. “Where’d you find him?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she lied and turned away before he could say anything more. She certainly was going to take the detective’s advice and not share the unbelievable events of the afternoon with anyone. Just imagining what the fallout might be sent a nervous prickling up her spine.

She turned in a different direction and entered a small room next to the library that she’d chosen for her office. She groaned when she saw the telephone on her desk blinking, a stack of invoices still waiting on her desk for attention and information the Denver lawyer had requested ASAP still unanswered.

As disciplined as she usually was, she struggled to concentrate on catching up with her work. She couldn’t help wondering what was happening at the cabin. What would the forensic detective find? Her stomach tightened with apprehension. How had a wonderful career opportunity suddenly become a threatening nightmare?

Could she trust the handsome Ryan Darnell? Even though he was obviously dedicated to doing everything by the book, he’d displayed a genuine concern for handling the situation as sensitively as possible. She appreciated that he hadn’t put Scotty through an intense grilling. No doubt that would come later if the forensic investigation found anything relevant to the boy’s story.

Marian knew that she was at a disadvantage not knowing how small-town police enforcement worked. She certainly hadn’t expected to meet a well-built, nicely tanned man who looked like a handsome movie star assigned to play the part of a policeman. The way his cobalt-blue eyes could soften as he looked at her was totally unnerving. And what was worse, the gentle way he put his hands on Scotty made her own skin prickle.

She gave herself a mental shake. She was through with such foolishness. Her last romantic liaison had been several years ago and had ended with a pathetic whimper. Her total relief at being free again had been a warning that she didn’t need a man to fulfill her life. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again no matter how many charming men like Ryan Darnell crossed her path.



RYAN WALKED TOWARD Toby’s forensic van as the investigator parked behind Ryan’s car. The small, energetic man in his forties had been in the Denver CSI office until a couple of years ago. He’d been born in New York City and had always worked out of a metropolitan coroner’s office until he spent a vacation in Rock Creek and decided to settle in the small town as its only CSI investigator. Toby kept his light brown hair cut short and always wore a gray baseball hat and overalls when on duty.

Ryan admired the man’s powers of observation, insatiable curiosity and dedication. “Thanks for coming right out, Toby.”

“What do we have?” he asked, shifting a carryall that contained all his portable forensic paraphernalia.

“Maybe we have a crime scene and maybe we don’t.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Quickly, Ryan elaborated on the information he’d given Toby earlier on the phone. “My gut feeling is the boy is telling the truth, but I need you to verify it.”

“Well, let’s have a look,” Toby responded with obvious interest as they walked down to the cabin.

Ryan stayed out of the way as Toby collected fingerprints from doorknobs, windowsills, and possible shoe prints on the deck and on the ground around the cabin.

Inside, Toby photographed the kitchen, front room, two small bedrooms and bathroom. He even took myriad photos of the wooden floors.

“Sometimes the camera picks up dust images that are not visible to the naked eye,” Toby said as he carefully put the camera back in his carryall.

Ryan nodded in agreement. When he’d taken a couple of forensic classes at the Denver Police Academy, he’d found the work interesting, but had decided a crime laboratory wasn’t the place he wanted to spend his days.

Toby shook his head when he’d finished doing everything that might offer a clue to what had really happened—if anything. “I really can’t declare this a crime scene unless some evidence turns up to indicate there’s been a felony of some kind.”

“I know we can’t launch a full investigation until we have something concrete,” Ryan replied quickly. “But my concern is the boy may be in jeopardy while we’re trying to establish if he really did witness a crime.”

“Somebody could be intending to shut him up,” Toby agreed. “Maybe you ought to keep him under surveillance for a few days. At least until I get the lab work done.”

Ryan nodded. “Will you clear that with the chief?”

“I can try,” Toby replied wryly. They both knew it would depend upon what kind of mood Police Chief Peterson was in when they made the request. “I don’t think he’d want to leave the boy vulnerable to a possible killer.”

“I don’t think so either. I’ll find an excuse for sticking around.”

“I’m sure you will,” Toby said with a teasing smile. “Are there any good-looking women around?”

“One that I know of,” Ryan admitted, but he wasn’t all that sure the attractive Marian Richards would be happy about having an unexpected bodyguard underfoot. They’d have to find an acceptable reason for his presence for at least the next couple of days.



WHEN RYAN APPEARED in the office doorway, Marian’s whole body stiffened.

“May I come in?” he asked politely.

“Yes, of course.” She couldn’t tell anything from his expression. Motioning to a nearby chair, she said, “Have a seat.”

“Thanks, but I need to talk to Scotty. Where will I find him?”

His polite but official smile irritated her. She decided that if he wasn’t intending to keep her informed, she’d better set him straight right now. “What more do you need to ask him?”

She wasn’t prepared for his deep chuckle. “You’re quite the guard dog, aren’t you?”

“When I need to be.”

He made a gesture of mock surrender. “Well, I guess you’d better come along then. I might need a witness in case I’m accused of child cruelty.”

She knew he was teasing her, but she didn’t care. Establishing her authority came natural to her. More than once she knew she had been referred to as Miss Ironsides.

“Rest period is just about ending,” she said as she looked at her watch. “Scotty should still be on his bunk. I told our male teacher, Rob Harmon, to keep an eye on him.”

“Good. Maybe Scotty’s had time to remember a few more things.”

As they made their way upstairs, she struggled with a growing impatience. What had the forensic examiner discovered? Why did Ryan want to question Scotty again?

A wave of children came pouring into the hall and down the stairs. An hour of outdoor activity was scheduled before dinner.

There were four bedrooms on both the second and third floors. Nancy and the nurse shared the large master suite on the second floor and two girls were assigned to each of the remaining three rooms. The same arrangement was made on the third floor for Rob and six boys. Marian knew they had to move quickly if they wanted to catch Scotty before he bolted down the stairs with the others.

She wondered if he’d gotten by them when the third floor echoed with emptiness as they walked by the vacant rooms. Her chest tightened when they reached the last one, but a wave of relief swept through her when they looked through the door and saw Scotty sitting on the edge of the top bunk, his legs dangling over the side.

Marian knew he’d picked this room because of the bunk bed. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want “one of them sissy twin beds.”

“Did you have a nice rest, Scotty?” she asked brightly when he sensed their presence and looked up. She knew the question was an inane one, but she was desperately trying to keep the moment as light as possible.

All color left Scotty’s face as he glared at Ryan coming in behind her. He looked frightened, as if he expected the policeman to have a pair of handcuffs ready for him.

“Detective Darnell just wants to ask you a few more questions,” she assured him.

Ryan held up two fingers as he stood in front of Scotty. “Two questions. Answer them and you can go outside and play games with the others. Okay?”

Scotty slowly nodded, a guarded look in his eyes.

“Did you see a car parked anywhere in the trees when you walked to the cabin?”

Scotty stared past Ryan’s shoulder for a moment before he shook his head.

“Tell me, what did the dead man look like? Old? Young? His clothes? The color of his hair? Anything?”

Scotty sent Marian a frantic look, like someone backed into a corner. “I don’t remember nothing.”

She was ready to jump on Ryan for overloading the question, but he was already reassuring the boy. “If you remember anything later, Scotty, tell me. It could be important.”

At that moment, Rob hurried into the room and seemed surprised to see Marian and Ryan there. “I’ve been busy getting things ready for a game of kick ball and came back to get him.”

Scotty must have read the teacher’s lips about kick ball, because he slid off the bunk and started toward the door.

“Is it all right?” Rob asked as he put a restraining hand on Scotty’s arm.

Marian gave Ryan a questioning look.

“Great idea,” he readily responded with a smile. “I think Scotty would love having a chance to kick something right about now.”

After they were gone, Marian turned quickly to Ryan and demanded, “What did the forensic officer find?”

“Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

“My office—”

He shook his head. “Too many interruptions and we don’t want anyone eavesdropping.”

“Why all the need for privacy?” she asked, frowning. “If Rock Creek is anything like every other small town, the fact that a law officer was at the Wentworth estate will be tomorrow’s gossip.”

“True,” he agreed. “But we can orchestrate the gossip to be what we want.”

“How do we do that?”

“We put a spin on the truth,” he said as he put a guiding hand on her arm as they walked down the hall to the stairs.

The only place Marian could think of that was off-limits to everyone was her own private quarters, which were on the ground floor near the solarium.

When Alva Wentworth’s health began to decline, she had remodeled a spacious reception room and bathroom on the first floor into a parlor and a beautiful bedroom. A small refrigerator and hot plate sufficed for simple kitchen needs, and the buffet bar had remained intact. The wealthy widow had occupied these rooms the last few years before her declining health required an assisted-living facility.

“My rooms would probably be best,” she told Ryan.

Under different circumstances, she certainly would have had second thoughts about inviting a man she’d met only a few hours earlier into her private suite, especially a physically attractive man who made her feel that she’d been missing vibrant male company for far too long.

Was she just imagining that when he put a guiding hand on her arm, his fingertips slightly caressed her soft flesh? She gave herself a mental shake as they made their way downstairs. Enough of such romantic nonsense!

She informed him in her director’s voice, “I usually have a little time to myself during the activity period. We have the evening meal as soon as the children come in and I’ll need to be in the dining room to help serve.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ll have about forty minutes. That should be enough time for you to bring me up to date.”

If he was put off by her businesslike tone, he didn’t show it. A half smile remained at the corners of his mouth as they made their way to another wing of the mansion. As Marian opened the door, the spaciousness of the former reception room still amazed her. Obviously Mrs. Wentworth had moved elegant cherrywood furniture from other areas in the house to furnish her private space. A beautiful sofa and chairs in burgundy velvet, graceful end tables and Tiffany lamps defined the sitting area, and a glimpse of the bedroom revealed a large canopy bed and antique furniture. These luxurious accommodations had been a special treat for Marian. She had deeply appreciated the fact that at the end of a long day, most of the clamor of staff and children was in the upper parts of the house.

Quickly she motioned Ryan toward one of the chairs and sat down opposite him on the sofa. She tried to keep her manner relaxed. “Now, then, what exactly did your investigator find that made you question Scotty again?”

“Nothing concrete. And that’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Toby didn’t find any blood anywhere, especially in front of the fireplace where Scotty said he saw the body. He looked the area over closely and took pictures. We’ll have to wait to see if Toby got any fingerprints. No telling who’s been using the cabin since Alva’s been gone.”

“The caretaker told me they hired a cleaning service for the mansion shortly before we took over. I don’t know if the cabin was included in that or not. I could ask and find out.”

“You are going to stay out of this,” he said firmly. Leaning forward, his eyes locked with hers. “No one is going to know anything about what happened today.”

“What do you mean?” She was startled by his tone and the sudden rigidity of his body.

“You haven’t told Scotty’s story to anyone, have you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He leaned back with obvious relief. “It’s a pretty safe bet the boy hasn’t said anything to anyone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the only one,” he admitted with a fleeting smile. “And that’s the danger, Marian. Until we know if a crime has been committed, any talk and speculation could trigger something totally unexpected.”

“But you just can’t ignore—”

He quickly moved to the sofa beside her. “My first responsibility now is to keep Scotty and you safe. If someone did see the boy running away from a murder scene and knows the boy confided in you, both of you could be in danger.” He put his hands lightly on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Do you understand?”

“Are you trying to frighten me?”

“No,” he replied in a softer tone. “I just intend to stay around and make sure neither of you are in jeopardy until we know exactly what we may be dealing with.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. How can I explain your presence to everyone? You want me to lie about who you really are?”

“Not at all. We just have to put a little twist on the reason for me being here at the estate.”

“Then you do mean lie.”

“It’s called a protective cover.”

“And what could that be? It’s hardly likely the staff will believe you’re a volunteer staff member.” Her mind raced ahead, already anticipating the problems of trying to incorporate a totally unlikely person into the curriculum.

“I was thinking more along the lines of something in keeping with the truth of my real occupation.”

“And what would that something be?”

“How about your needing my services to check out or change the security system?”

“I could never do that without the permission of Arthur Kennedy. He’s Alva Wentworth’s Denver lawyer and controls the budget. We’d have to get his approval for such an expenditure.”

“He’s in Denver? How often does he show up here?”

“I never know,” she admitted. “Most of the time we talk on the telephone. When he’s in town, he reports everything personally to Alva and then gives me instructions. I have never made a move without their approval.”

“Well, let’s go with the security story as long as we can. That will give me a free hand to hang around and keep you and Scotty under protection.”

“Do you think that’s really necessary?”

“I don’t know, but until we get something solid to go on, one way or the other, I intend to play it safe.”

She could tell from the firmness in his voice it was useless to argue. In a way she felt relieved that he was taking charge. On the other hand, just thinking about him being a constant presence in her life created challenges on more levels than one. She was very aware of his physical warmth and sexual appeal. Having him around as a bodyguard night and day wasn’t going to be that easy.

She rose abruptly to her feet.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as he stood up beside her.

“The children will be coming in soon. I have to see to the dining room.”

Something in her voice must have betrayed her anxiety, because he put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll make this as easy on you as I can. Just remember we’re role-playing. Okay?”

“Okay,” she echoed as firmly as she could.

“I’m here because you have been concerned for the security of the children and want me to check out the present system. I’ll offer to remain on the premises until everything is brought up to date. Hopefully that will give Officer Bower time to carry out his forensic tests and provide us with some direction for any necessary investigation. I have a relative who is deaf and I can handle a little signing.”

He fell silent as they walked through the house to the dining room.

“I need to check with Elsie Mullens, the cook,” Marian said, turning toward swinging double doors leading into the kitchen. “We don’t have any money in the budget for additional help, so all of us pitch in when we can. Two of the older children help load the two dishwashers and get a dollar a day for it. Scotty started out helping but gave Elsie such a bad time that she quickly decided to dispense with his services.”

As they came into the kitchen, Elsie was filling bowls with a hearty vegetable soup. Platters of fried chicken, corn bread, fruit salad and peanut-butter cookies were side by side on the serving carts with pitchers of milk.

“Wow, everything smells delicious!” Ryan said enthusiastically as he smiled at Elsie. “I hope there’s enough for one more.”

“I wasn’t told there was going to be a guest,” she informed him in her blunt fashion.

“And I wasn’t told there was a chef in the kitchen preparing good solid food that could send a man’s stomach growling,” he countered as he bent over and sniffed the vegetable soup. “Just a touch of oregano, I’ll bet.”

Elsie’s frown instantly changed into an expression of surprise. “You some kind of a cook?”

“Nope, but I grew up on a ranch. We had a chuck wagon cook who was a whiz at making a soup that smelled just like this.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time during roundup cooking for a bunch of cowhands,” Elsie said proudly as she gave him a full-blown smile.

“Really? I may just decide to stick around for a while. What do you think?” he asked as he turned to Marian.

“I guess you can take your time,” she replied on cue. She was surprised how easily the lie flowed from her lips when she introduced Ryan to the cook. “He’s going to be checking out the security system.”

As Elsie wiped her hands on her apron, she scrutinized Marian’s face and then Ryan’s. Marian couldn’t tell what was going through her mind but she knew the cook wasn’t going to be easily fooled. If anyone saw through the charade they were creating, it would be Elsie. Once her suspicions were aroused, she could easily say or do something that could blow Ryan’s undercover pretense sky-high.

Marian’s mouth went dry.

And then what?




Chapter Four


When the children came in from their activity period, Marian went upstairs with Nancy to help the girls get ready for supper.

“All right, give,” Nancy ordered, her round eyes sparkling with open curiosity. “Who is that hunk of masculinity in the kitchen? A parent checking us out?”

Marian shook her head. “No, his name is Ryan Darnell.”

“And?” Nancy’s full face spread in a teasing grin. “Do I detect something personal afoot?”

“Not at all. He’s here on business.” The lie came out easier than she thought it would. “He’s checking out the security system.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Maybe nothing. That’s what he’s here to find out.” In a way, that was the truth. If Scotty was lying, there wouldn’t be anything to find out. Ryan Darnell would go back to his regular duties and this whole thing would be forgotten. She’d probably never have the occasion to see him again. And if he turned up something to verify Scotty’s story, then…She quickly shoved the thought away. The consequences were much too dire to even think about.

When Marian came into the elegant dining room with the rest of the teachers and children, she was surprised to find Ryan helping to set places at the one long table. She was amazed at the ease with which he handled water glasses, helped scoot in chairs and unfold napkins. Obviously, somewhere, sometime, he’d had plenty of practice.

Nancy winked at Marian as they walked to the end of the table where the adults sat, and whispered, “Let’s jimmy the security system and keep him around.”

Children as noisy as any in the hearing world took their places and began attacking the food and drink that had been put before them. A few of the youngsters had been finicky eaters when they first arrived, but they’d soon learned that meals were “eat up now or go hungry until the next one.”

Henry Ziller, a tall, balding man in his fifties, also showed up for the evening meal. His habitual scowl spoiled his appearance and he was the only one who ate without any interaction with kids or adults. Apparently he preferred Elsie’s cooking to any he could do for himself in his small garage apartment.

For all intents and purposes, Henry ignored everything but the food. He’d made it quite clear to Marian that he felt Alva Wentworth had betrayed him by turning the place over to a bunch of do-gooders. He’d been in charge of the place for nearly twenty years. He was resentful, suspicious and obviously wanted them gone.

Marian watched Ryan ignore a chair at the adult end of the table and take one between Scotty and Mindy. When he signed something to the little girl, she laughed but Scotty just scowled and gave his attention to the food.

Marian’s stomach tightened as the day’s events played over in her mind. The detective was probably used to living on the edge of drama and trauma, but she prided herself on a well-ordered and uncomplicated life. How could events of just a few hours send her life into a tailspin?

When dinner was over, the children were taken into the large parlor for a movie before bed. Ryan remained behind in the empty dining room and so did Henry Ziller.

As the caretaker walked over to Ryan, his expression was like that of a guard dog ready to drive the intruder from the premises.

Apparently Ziller didn’t remember him as one of the boys who had been at Stanley Wentworth’s sleepovers in the cabin almost seventeen years ago. Ryan was not surprised and doubted if he would have recognized the caretaker if he’d met the balding, big-bellied, frowning man someplace else.

“You working here now?” Henry demanded bluntly. “Every time I turn around the old lady sends somebody else around to make my job harder.”

Ryan had enough experience with hostile people to know that interviewing was about asking questions, not answering them. “You’re the caretaker, aren’t you?”

“Damn right! I see to the whole estate,” he answered pugnaciously, as if ready for an argument.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Ziller. I remember you!” Ryan smiled as if the memory was a pleasant one. “You were the caretaker here the summer some of us high school kids were running around with Stanley Wentworth.”

Obviously taken aback by this reference to the past, the caretaker deepened his scowl as Ryan stuck out his hand and forced a handshake. “Ryan Darnell. My folks have a place west of town.”

“Don’t remember you none,” Henry replied flatly, still scowling. “Stanley’s friends didn’t mingle with the hired help. A snotty brat, he was. I’m glad the old lady cut him out of her will.”

“I heard Stanley got himself into some kind of a jam and she disowned him.” Ryan waited, hoping he might have turned on a valve that would bring him some personal information about the family.





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