Page 82 of Our Little Secret

Time to find out.

With an effort, she pushed the trapdoor up, its old hinges grating. Once it was open she eased herself upward into the musty, cold space. She located a light switch on a post near the entrance, but when she flipped it nothing happened, the old bulb burned out.

Great.

The space was dark as night, the ceiling low. As she felt around in the darkness, allowing as much weak light from the stairway below to enter the area, her eyes adjusted and she could barely make out the exposed joists with the ancient insulation packed between.

An uneven plank walkway had been set upon the cross beams to an area where the ceiling was the highest. There, the previous owner had nailed down a couple of pieces of plywood to create some rough flooring in the area.

The attic felt undisturbed.

She touched the nearest plank and discovered dust, cobwebs, and the desiccated remains of a dead insect. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that appeared out of place.

And yet . . . she sensed someone had been in the house. Someone unwanted. Someone who had access and a key. As she shone the flashlight toward the rafters, she noticed some of the spiderwebbing seemed torn and was that a spot where the dust had cleared? An old mousetrap, scooted out of the way?

The skin on the back of her neck pimpled.

It had to be Gideon.

He knew too much.

Her heart pounded. Her thoughts swirled. Would he have really broken into her house? Spied on her?

Call me or else.

She swallowed hard.

Your daughter is as beautiful as you are.

Be careful.

It would be a shame if you were to lose her.

“No way,” she whispered, a sense of terror gripping her. She fought it and tried to ignore the fact that the attic seemed suddenly cloying, as if the darkness were closing in on her.

The tense moment was broken by the sounds of life. She heard movement downstairs, people shuffling around, a toilet flushing, water running.

She didn’t want to try to explain why she’d been on the back stairs, so she quickly climbed down the rungs, then paused at the landing of the bedroom floor, where she listened for a second. She didn’t hear a thing. Letting out her breath slowly and being as quiet as possible, she made her way back down the stairs quietly and found Shep waiting for her in the laundry room. “Nothing,” she said to the dog, as if he’d asked what she’d found. She quickly brushed the dust and cobwebs from her hair and clothes, replaced the keys, and took a deep breath.

Luckily, no one was in the kitchen.

She heard muffled voices coming from Neal’s office, so she took a quick minute to step outside, across the deck.

Rain was starting to fall, the chill of deep autumn in the air as she stuffed the bracelet into the birdhouse to hide it. For now. Not that it was safe here, but for the moment she could think of nowhere else to stash it. She intended to get rid of it more permanently ASAP, but for now she didn’t want to be caught with it in her pocket.

Back inside, she noted that Shep was sniffing for crumbs under the table and Neal was stepping out of his office, the lights already off. “Leah?” she asked.

“She went upstairs to her room, I think. She’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But she just got here.”

“I know.” His smile was cold. Cynical. “I think she got what she came for.”

“Your sage advice.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“And a check,” she guessed.