Authors: Brenda Joyce
The Third Heiress (16 page)
“I don’t know.” KC stood and walked into the kitchenette and poured herself a glass of water.
Jill went and stood facing her from across the counter. She could not recall ever describing Kate’s physical appearance to KC. “Kate wrote letters to her best friend, Anne. Anne was Hal’s grandmother. I want to find those letters. I’m convinced Hal put them somewhere safe in his apartment.”
“You still have the key, don’t you?”
“Not anymore, I don’t. When I went over there the other day, I ran into Thomas.” Jill frowned. “He asked me for it and I had to give it to him.” Jill stared at her countertop, which was cheerfully tiled in marigold yellow. “I wonder if I could pick the lock.”
“Jillian! That’s against the law, isn’t it?”
Jill looked up. “I know. That’s breaking and entering. But Thomas is staying at the Waldorf, not at the co-op. He won’t catch me.” Did she dare? Was she crazy?
“I don’t know if any of this is a good idea.” KC was pale. “Jill, please change your mind about going back to London.”
Jill was seized with a brainstorm. “I have a great idea!” She stared at her friend. “I know the doorman. I’ll tell him I forgot my key, and that I lost my wallet or something. He’ll let me up.” Suddenly she was excited. She knew all the doormen. They would let her in. She had no doubts.
“That is a good idea,” KC agreed, but she wasn’t happy. “Maybe I should come with you. I could help you search.”
“Would you?” Jill knew she could use all the help she could get.
But then KC’s expressive face fell and she looked at her watch. “God! I forgot! I’m supposed to be playing in an hour.”
“Playing?”
KC nodded. “I got a gig at this bar. It’s sort of a dive. But they let me play my guitar during happy hour. It’s sort of fun. I meet cool people.”
Jill grabbed her purse. “KC, I gotta go.” While Thomas was still in the middle of his workday—or so she hoped. “Please ask around and see if you know anyone interested in a sublet.”
“Wait!” KC caught her by the elbow. “Jillian, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Jill’s eyes widened. KC wasn’t capable of deception. The notion was absurd. “What do you mean?”
“I saw something terrible,” KC cried, gripping her arm. “
Please don’t go!
”
Please don’t go!
”
Jill’s enthusiasm vanished. KC was so distressed that she did not move, did not speak, not for a long moment. “What? What did you see?”
KC dropped her hand. “In the dream, Jillian. Kate became you.”
Jill stared.
K
ate became you.
ate became you.
Jill was haunted by the statement as she turned the key, given to her by the doorman, in the lock of Hal’s apartment. KC did not know what the dream meant. But she said the darkness and shadows in the dream were terrifying, and they still frightened her. KC was convinced that Kate’s fear was real, and that it was crying out to her and Jill across the sea of time.
Jill was uneasy as she let herself into the co-op. She did not know what to think. It had only been a dream. But KC was so upset. Jill couldn’t remember when she had ever seen her this upset.
It was late in the afternoon and clouds had moved in, threatening rain, so Jill flicked on a light in the living room. As she did so, a man strolled out of the master bedroom.
Jill cried out.
He actually jumped, too. “Jill?” Alex Preston said, eyes wide, brows lifted.
Jill placed a hand on her thundering heart, coming out of her shock. And then she realized that he was wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans. His chest, which was broad and muscular, was bare. His hair was wet. In fact, his entire torso seemed damp—he’d obviously just stepped out of the shower.
“Hello, Jill,” he said, coming forward now.
Jill realized she had been staring, worse, that she had walked uninvited into the Sheldon apartment—and had been caught doing so a second time. She jerked her gaze to his face. He smiled at her. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” Alex was all lean muscle—not half as thin without his clothes as he appeared with them on. “I didn’t know you were here. I …”
“Obviously. I just got in. Literally,” he said, pausing and leaning one shoulder very casually against the wall. “How did you get in? Oh. Let me guess. Hal gave you a key.”
Jill felt distracted, and wondered what she was going to do now. “I think I’m in trouble,” she finally said.
“Really?” He didn’t seem angry. In fact, he appeared highly unruffled by their encounter. He hadn’t been exactly friendly back in London, but now, everything about him, from his posture to his expression, seemed more relaxed.
Jill bit her lip. How much to tell him? Everything she told him would get right back to Thomas. On the other hand, she could buy herself some time in the apartment. “I saw Thomas the other day,” she said slowly.
“Oh?” His smile remained in place. But his gaze was probing.
Jill winced. “I meant to ask him for permission to come here and look for a series of photos which Hal was dedicating to me. But I didn’t want to bother him so I just came up. I didn’t realize you were here. I’m sorry to disturb you.” She hated telling the tale she had just spun.
His blue gaze was steady. Jill had the feeling he knew she was making up stories. “Where did you run into Thomas?”
“Here.” Jill smiled uneasily.
Then he shrugged. “Okay. Go ahead. Look for the photos. In fact, this will be our little secret.” His gaze held hers. He was no longer smiling. “I won’t tell.”
Jill stared, doubting that. “Why?”
“Because I’m not hung up on control the way he is.” Alex stared back at her. “Because I try to be kind,” he said. “I think we’ve all been through enough, don’t you?”
Jill wondered at his about-face in personality. And oddly enough, she felt unhappy with herself for having lied to Alex. She was now perturbed, but she shoved her distress aside. She did not have all day. Where would Hal have stashed the letters? She walked over to the bookcase and took a handful of hardcovers down. She began opening them.
Alex said, from directly behind her, his breath on her neck, “Why are you looking for photographs in books, Jill?”
Jill jumped, whirling. “I …”
He took the book from her hands. “What are you looking for?”
She could not think of a reply.
He snapped the book closed. “Maybe I can help. Obviously it’s important to you or you wouldn’t be here—risking my cousin’s wrath.”
Jill grimaced. “I’m afraid to trust you. You’re on their side.” The moment the words were out she wished she’d been more discreet. She decided to throw the Xanax down the toilet when she got home. It was messing up her thought processes.
“Why are there sides?” he asked.
“Because I killed Hal. Because I’m the gold digger.” She met his eyes.
He did not answer her, replacing the books onto the shelf. Then he turned. “I know you loved him. Thomas will see things more clearly when he gets over the shock of Hal’s death.”
Jill sank down in a chair, holding her temples with her hands. “It was an accident. A horrible one. One I’ll never forget.” For the briefest of moments, she felt his hand, clasping her shoulder very lightly, and then it was gone. Jill slowly looked up. What the hell did that mean?
“No one can change the past. Living in it only causes pain. We all have to move on,” Alex said quietly.
“It’s not so easy.”
“Life isn’t easy, Jill, and anyone who says it is, is either a moron or a liar.”
Jill smiled a little. “You have a way with words.”
He bowed. “The truth? I’m okay with words. But I’m a helluva lot better with numbers.”
She smiled again, a bit more.
“How are you holding up, kiddo?” he asked matter-of-factly.
Jill was taken aback. What did he care? “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re out of it.”
“I’m on medication. I don’t think I like it.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing, for now. Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I can’t. At night I dream …” She shrugged helplessly, feeling very fragile now. She hadn’t wanted to expose herself this way. She wished he weren’t being sympathetic. “Forget it.” She forced a smile.
He studied her. “Maybe you should take a trip, get away.”
She inhaled. “I’m returning to London.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes.
“A friend of mine has two cats which need taking care of, and now that I’ve lost my job, it seems like a good idea.” She looked away from his piercing blue eyes. Why did she have the feeling that she should have kept her plans to herself? “I can’t stay here, not right now.” She stopped before she said anything else.
“I understand.”
Jill met his gaze. It was soft with sympathy. She shifted to avoid his eyes, as if that would put some distance between them, hugging herself. She was starting to unravel, seeing sympathy where there should only be hostility.
“So what are you looking for?” Alex asked.
The change of topic was welcome. Jill hesitated. She did not want to lie anymore. Besides, she had every right to try to research her ancestry. “Letters.” She looked at him. Their gazes locked. “Kate wrote Anne letters. I have to find them.”
Alex studied her. “So you’re still after Kate Gallagher. Why?”
Jill didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to tell him everything. The urge surprised her—especially because it was so strong. But he wasn’t a friend or a confidant, even if he was acting like one at the moment. He was a Sheldon, no matter that his last name was Preston.
“You’re hoping she’s your family, aren’t you?”
Jill started. “Is that so terrible?” she finally said. “Unlike you, I have no family. When your mother died, the Sheldons took you in. Wholeheartedly. My parents died, and while my aunt took me in, she hated every moment of responsibility and commitment which that entailed. What’s wrong with my trying to find out if a very fascinating woman who mysteriously disappeared happens to be a relative of mine?”
“It’s actually very understandable,” he said, as calm as she was not. “You have your work cut out for you, Jill. You know that.”
Jill met his gaze. “I know.”
He smiled and shrugged. “So, let’s start.”
Jill got to her feet. “You’re going to help me?” She was completely off-balance now.
“I’ve got an hour to kill until my next meeting. Why not?”
“Thank you,” Jill said, uncertain of just where he was coming from. It was unsettling, first Lauren and then Thomas with their apologies, and now Alex, acting kind. Maybe it was a conspiracy.
Again, she tried to shake the cobwebs from her mind. Probably the truth of the matter was that everyone was acting oddly, because when someone beloved died, the shock remained for a very long time. Jill thought she disliked Hal’s family but she wasn’t sure. They were probably as ambivalent about her.
She gave up trying to figure him out because he didn’t matter—Kate Gallagher mattered. She went back to the bookcase. As she began inspecting each and every book, she heard him walking into the bedroom, undoubtedly to finish getting dressed.
When he returned, he had thrown on a plain white undershirt. “Jill,” he said, taking her hand and preventing her from reaching for another book. “Let’s get real. If Hal had old, valuable letters, he would make copies. The originals are undoubtedly in a safe-deposit box—or a safe. The copies, well”—he smiled and pulled her with him into the office—“have to be filed away.”
Jill blinked at the computer, which was already on, as Alex turned on the rest of the room’s lights. “Do you work all the time?” she asked, wandering
over and peering down at the screen. The file that was open was some kind of financial progress report, with gross and net estimates, overheads, etc. Had the numbers on the screen been Chinese characters, they could not have been more foreign to her.
over and peering down at the screen. The file that was open was some kind of financial progress report, with gross and net estimates, overheads, etc. Had the numbers on the screen been Chinese characters, they could not have been more foreign to her.
“I like my work,” he said, sitting down in front of the PC. “A slight crisis brought me here, actually.” He smiled then, as if he enjoyed crises. “I’ve been in meetings ever since I arrived—got two more tonight. I hope to catch the first flight out tomorrow.”
“That’s a lot of traveling in twenty-four hours.”
He laughed. “I’m used to it.” Then his smile vanished. His stare was scrutinizing as he exited his file and clicked another program. The screen filled up instantly with hundreds of file names.
“Those can’t all belong to Hal,” Jill gasped, dismayed.
“I stay here whenever I’m in town. Which is often.” Alex smiled, but at the screen, not at her, scrolling through.
Jill suddenly recalled the nights when Hal had suggested they stay at her place, not his. He’d never told her that he had company in the guise of Alex or Thomas—or anyone else. He’d said, instead, that they could dine in Tribeca or SoHo, or even have great take-out and stay in. He’d called her studio “cozy.”
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