Daughter of Light (Kindred 2)

“A bit? He thinks he’s the Blue Streak, every girl’s fantasy policeman, ready to put her in handcuffs and do an investigation.”

I thought that was very funny. She was so much more outgoing and relaxed than Liam, and yet they had suffered the same family disaster.

“How did you know I was your father’s new secretary?”

“Dad’s been bragging about you. Normally, he feels uncomfortable around any woman who’s less than twenty-five, thirty. We make him too nervous with our explosive, unpredictable energy, but you apparently have the demeanor of someone older, calmer, and what he calls man-sensible. He said you’ve restored his faith in the female species.”

“I hope he continues to feel that way.”

“I’m sure he will. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll call a taxi for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Were you working on a relationship with Mr. Lamb?”

“No,” I said. “He was just being . . .”

“Hopeful?”

“Something like that,” I said, smiling. “He’s very sweet, but I’m not looking for a romance just yet.”

She nodded thoughtfully, started out, and then paused. “Maybe after you’re settled in a bit, we can go out together, have a little dinner, and get to know each other better. I’m sort of seeing someone—actually, the radiologist on duty right now who’ll handle Mr. Lamb—but with his schedule and mine, we’re often like two ships passing in the night, if you know what I mean, and I hate to stay at home on my nights off.”

“Yes. I’d love to go out with you when you’re free.”

“Maybe this weekend,” she said. “Clifford, Dr. Longfellow, is on Saturday night. I’ll call you.” She flashed a smile and left.

She returned about ten minutes later to tell me a taxi would be pulling up outside the ER entrance any minute. She said Jim Lamb had been concerned about me, but she had managed to get a message up to him telling him that I was fine and heading home.

“Thanks,” I said.

She helped me with my bags again.

“I have to build a whole new wardrobe,” I explained as we walked out.

“Sounds like you left home in a hurry.”

“That’s an understatement,” I told her. I smiled. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Well, something,” she admitted. “I look forward to hearing all about it. If you have any aches or pains during the night, just call the ER and ask for me. I’m here until six in the morning.”

“Thanks. I’m fine.”

The taxi pulled up, and the driver got out to help with my things.

“I’ll call you,” Julia said as I got into the taxi. She waved, and I sat back.

All the way to the Winston House, I looked out the windows, searching for signs of Thaddeus Bogosian, the elderly man I had met on the plane and the man I thought I had seen on the street in Quincy yesterday. If he was the same man Jim thought had stepped in front of his car, he had done so knowing that he would cause an accident. Why? Was he testing to see what would happen to me? Was he trying to hurt me? Or was this all just in my paranoid mind now? That could have been any old man I had seen or imagined, and it could easily have been another gentleman who wasn’t watching where he was crossing and then had fled because he had caused an accident and didn’t want to be blamed. If I permitted myself to be frightened away, how could I ever find any safe haven? Something similar would happen to me no matter how far away I went.

The taxi driver helped carry my bags to the front door of the Winston House, but before I could open it, Amelia and Mrs. McGruder were there, with Mr. Brady standing behind them. They had obviously been watching out the front window.

“How did this happen? Where is Naomi Addison? I thought she was taking you shopping. How did poor Jim Lamb get into this mess?” Mrs. Winston rattled off her questions in shotgun fashion.

“Let the girl get up to her room,” Mrs. McGruder said, reaching for some of the bags. “I’ll bring you something hot to eat,” she told me.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“She looks okay,” Martin Brady said from behind. Both women turned and glared at him so sharply that he shrugged and retreated.