Night Whispers (Second Opportunities 3)

Edith Reynolds reached for her cane and struggled to her feet while the last dessert plate was being lifted off the linen tablecloth. "It is time for me to retire," she announced.

Paul and Noah both stood up to assist her, but she waved them off. "I do not need to be treated like an invalid," she informed them brusquely. "I am as healthy as the two of you!"

Despite her claim, Sloan saw the awkward stiffness of her movements as she leaned heavily on her cane, and Sloan realized it was sheer force of will, rather than physical strength, that propelled the elderly woman to the far side of the enormous room.

In the doorway, she paused and looked back at the group seated at her gigantic baroque dining room table beneath a spectacular chandelier. Sloan expected the white-haired matriarch to say some sort of formal goodnight. "Do not forget to turn off the lights!" she barked instead, and Sloan hastily looked at her lap to hide her mirth.

Edith's departure seemed to signal the immediate end of the dinner. "If you young people will excuse me," Carter announced, standing up, "I have some work to do."

"I think I'd like to take a walk," Paul said, already pulling out Sloan's heavy chair. "Sloan?"

"I'd love a walk," she replied, absolutely dying to get out of there.

There was no way for Paul to avoid inviting the other couple to join them, but Sloan breathed a sigh of relief when they declined.

Outside, Sloan waited to speak until they were almost to the putting green and out of hearing of anyone at the house; then she turned and looked at Paul with unconcealed mirth. "I cannot believe I'm actually related to these people," she confided.

"Neither can I," he admitted with a chuckle.

"My great-grandmother must be a direct descendant of Genghis Khan," Sloan continued.

"For appearances' sake, I should either hold your hand or put my arm around you, in case anyone is watching. Do you have a preference?"

"No, either one is fine," Sloan said, so preoccupied with her subject that she scarcely noticed when he took her hand. "And then there's my sister! She's so lifeless. No wonder people think she's cold and haughty."

"Do you think she is?"

"I don't know yet."

"What do you think of your father?"

"I have an impression, but it isn't completely formed yet. At least I think I understand what my mother saw in him. She was only eighteen at the time, and he has a lot of charm, a lot of polish, and he's very handsome. I can see how dazzled she must have been by all that."

"What did you think of Maitland?"

The question surprised Sloan, since he wasn't a family member or of professional interest to either of them. "Handsome," she reluctantly admitted.

"He certainly thought you were attractive. He couldn't take his eyes off of you at first."

"You mean until dinner, when he discovered I'm actually a complete idiot?" she said ruefully.

In a spontaneous gesture, Paul let go of her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, and gave her a light hug. "You were absolutely perfect."

Startled by the gruff sincerity in his voice, Sloan gazed at his moonlit profile. "Thank you," she said, and for the very first time, she actually felt as if she had merit to him as a partner.

"You haven't left your badge or weapon where anyone might find them, have you?"

"No, they're well-hidden in my room."

"We may as well call it a night. I know you're dying to get back to your book."

Sloan turned back toward the house, and while he seemed in a more relaxed mood, she decided to press him for a little more information. "I wish I knew what you were specifically looking for here," she began.

"If I had a specific answer for that," he said, "I'd be able to get a judge to sign a search warrant, in which case, I wouldn't have needed you to get me in here."

In a lighter tone, he said, "No matter what happens, my time here won't be completely wasted. I heard some very interesting things at the dinner table tonight when Maitland and your father were talking about the world economy."

"Like what?"

He laughed at her intent expression. "Like the fact that I need to change my stock market investment strategy. Interesting, isn't it, that their opinions differ so much? Your father controls a bank with branches all over the world, and Maitland has investments all over the world. They both have common interests and a global outlook. I expected them to have a reasonably similar philosophy."

"I thought the same thing," Sloan said. "Fundamentally, it seemed to me that they both think the same things are going to happen, but they disagreed on the effect and the timing. I noticed they seem to do a lot of off-shore investing."

He slanted her an odd smile. "I noticed that, too."

He walked her to her bedroom door, but instead of saying good night in the hall, he followed her into the bedroom and closed the door; then he waited.

"What are you doing?" Sloan asked, already halfway across the room and removing her earrings.

"Kissing you good-night," he joked.

When he left, Sloan decided to write a letter to Sara while all the events of the evening were still fresh in her mind. A television set was concealed inside the antique armoire across from her bed, and she turned on CNN; then she went to work on the letter.

16

The first hour after dawn was Sloan's favorite time of day to run along the beach, but it was nearly seven o'clock when she woke up. Anxious to get started, she hurried out of bed, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top that Sara hadn't removed when she repacked Sloan's suitcases.

The house seemed deserted as she walked silently along the hallway and down the stairs, but outside, two men were pruning a hedge along the side of the property. Sloan waved to them as she jogged across the lawn, her spirits already beginning to lift as she breathed in the salty air and felt the familiar presence of the sea. Lazy waves lapped the sand beside her feet as she ran along the water's edge, and gulls wheeled by, their boisterous cries as uplifting and soothing to her as music.

Overhead, the sky was crystal blue with fat white clouds floating by on a gentle cooling breeze. On her left, the ocean filled the entire horizon, majestic, beautiful, untamed. On her right, the horizon was obscured by a procession of mansions, a few of which were even bigger than her father's, and there was some sort of activity at all of them. Gardeners were looking after flower beds, servants were tidying patios and taking care of swimming pools, and sprinkler systems were spraying water on lawns that sparkled like wet emeralds in the morning sun.