Vi’s eyes drifted back toward the door and Carmen knew she’d lost her again. She sighed. It was like trying to scoop water out of a bucket with her bare hands.
Rising to her feet, she aimlessly wandered across the room, glancing out the window that offered a view of the side garden. When she was very young, her mother would set up a table in the garden so they could have a tea party with her dolls.
The memory was interrupted as she caught sight of a car pulling past the house to halt in front of the nearby garage. She stepped closer to the window, craning her neck to watch as a man climbed out of the vehicle.
He was average height and looked slender beneath his leather coat. His hair was a sandy blond and tousled from the breeze. She guessed his age to be late twenties.
“Who is that?” she asked.
There was a rustle of expensive silk as Vi shifted in her chair, but she didn’t bother to rise to her feet.
“Excuse me?”
Carmen’s gaze remained locked on the man who had moved to open the trunk of the car.
“Someone just arrived.”
“It could be one of the boys,” Vi said. “Or maybe Andrew.”
Carmen frowned. The man was glancing toward the garage, not the main house, but he was too young to be Andrew.
“Is Ronnie around?” she demanded.
“Who?”
Carmen rolled her eyes. Of course her aunt didn’t recognize the name. She was no doubt lucky to remember her own.
“Andrew’s son.”
“Oh. I suppose he comes to visit his dad, but I haven’t seen him.”
Carmen turned back to study Vi’s blank face. “He doesn’t live in the area?” she asked. Blink, blink, blink. Carmen shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll be back.”
Grabbing the coat that she’d draped over the back of her chair, Carmen allowed her distant memories to lead her out of the room and down the hallway to a side door. Stepping into the small garden, she crossed the paving stones at an angle, managing to intercept the young man as he neared the side of the garage that led to the private apartment.
“Ronnie?” she called out.
The man halted, seeming to pause before he slowly pivoted to watch her hurry toward him.
“Can I help you?”
Close up, Carmen could make out the thin features. The narrow nose and tight slash of a mouth. His cheekbones were high, and he had pale blue eyes that were surrounded by sandy lashes. His skin was pale and pocked with old acne scars.
Her gaze lowered to take in the cheap coat, and the worn overnight suitcase he was carrying in one hand.
“I’m Carmen Jacobs,” she said in bright tones. “I used to live here with my parents.”
His brows drew together. “Carmen?”
“Carrie,” she added.
“Carrie.” The pale eyes widened. “Of course. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s been a while.” She glanced toward the bag in his hands. “Are you visiting your family?”
“Just Andrew,” he said. “My mother passed last year.”
Carmen didn’t have to fake her pang of sympathy. From what she could remember, Ronnie had been very close to his mother. She also remembered he’d always called his father Andrew. Maybe because he wasn’t his real father, or just because the two didn’t get along.
“I heard. I’m so sorry.”
He offered a pained grimace. “She was sick for a long time. It was a blessing, really.”
Carmen nodded. “It’s still hard.”
“Yes.”
“Do you live in the area?”
Ronnie shook his head. “No, but Andrew insisted I come back for Christmas. The past year has been difficult for him.” He glanced from her to the looming mansion. “Are you moving back to Louisville?”
She couldn’t entirely squash her shudder. Even after fourteen years this place haunted her dreams.
“No. Just passing through.”
His gaze remained on the big house, as if wondering why anyone would walk away from such luxury. Understandable. Looking at the wealthy from a distance always made it seem as if they lived golden lives.
You had to be beneath the roof to realize they were just as messed up as everyone else.
“I suppose you’re having Christmas with the family?” he finally asked.
“That’s the plan.” She shrugged. “Although, I have to admit that they really don’t feel like they’re my family after all these years.”
His lips flattened as he returned his gaze to her face. “Blood is blood, no matter how many years pass.”
What did that mean? Carmen didn’t have a clue. She pasted a meaningless smile on her lips.
“What have you been doing with yourself? Did you get married and have a family?”
“No, not yet.”
“Where do you live now?”
“Here and there,” he said. “I like to travel around.”
Carmen hesitated. Was he being deliberately vague? Or was he naturally awkward around women?
“That’s nice. I’ve been traveling myself.” She made her tone casual. “In fact, I just drove here from Kansas City.”
She carefully watched his expression, looking for any hint that she’d struck a nerve.
There was nothing.
“It must have been cold there,” he said, his expression unchanging. “I heard there was a snowstorm in the Midwest.”
“There was. Did you have to drive through it?”
“No.”
Stalemate. Carmen reverted to her journalistic skills. It was possible Ronnie was trying to hide something. On the other hand, there were people who simply didn’t like to talk about themselves. At least not directly.
She needed a new approach.
“It’s been several years, but I still remember when you were young and you helped me sneak cookies from the jar your mother kept on top of the fridge,” she said.
His wary expression eased. “It didn’t seem fair to keep them out of reach.”
Carmen wrinkled her nose. “She probably knew I’d eat the whole batch if I could get my hands on them,” she said with a laugh. “I had a terrible sweet tooth.”
His thin lips moved in a ghost of a smile. “Not the whole batch. I usually stole a few for myself,” he admitted.
“Do you have a job you can do from home?”
He gave a lift of his shoulder. “I do construction, and gardening when I can find a job.”
“Like your dad.”
An indefinable emotion darkened his eyes. “I guess you could say that.”
Her lips parted. She wanted to probe deeper into his travels, but before she could ask, the door at the top of the stairs was pulled open and a short, heavyset man with silver hair stepped onto the landing. He was wearing a faded muscle shirt and a pair of jeans, with bare feet.
Andrew.
“Ronald,” the man called down, barely glancing at Carmen.
“I should go,” Ronnie muttered.
“It was good to see you,” Carmen said as Ronnie hurried toward the stairs.
“You too,” he said without glancing back.
Carmen released a frustrated sigh. Could Ronnie be the one tormenting her?
He hadn’t seemed to recognize her, but that could be an act. And he’d admitted he was more or less a drifter, which meant he could have been traveling around the country killing women and terrifying Carmen.
But why?
Their paths had crossed when they were young; they lived on the same property, after all. But Ronnie had never been aggressive. And as far as she could remember she’d never done anything that would anger him.
Lost in her thoughts, she was caught off guard when her uncle suddenly stepped into the garden, closely followed by Griff.
“Ah, there you are, Carrie,” the older man said, his expression strained.
Carmen briefly wondered if Griff had caused her uncle’s tension. Probably. For a man who seemed so cool and collected, Griff had a unique ability to get beneath a person’s skin.
“Done with your tour?” she asked.
“Yes.” Lawrence cleared his throat, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. “I’m afraid we have plans for today, but you’ll come to lunch tomorrow? We’d love to spend some time with you.”
Carmen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was perhaps the most insincere invitation she’d ever received.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she said.
“No intrusion.” Lawrence managed to force the words past his stiff lips. “I insist.”
“We’d be happy to join you,” Griff smoothly agreed. “Until then we’re staying at the Regal downtown.”