Heir in Exile (16 page)

Mattias tongued the edge of his teeth while he regarded her. He glanced at his watch, then straightened out of his lean. “Very well. Get some decent rest. I'll see you in the morning.”

Chey detected a hint of wariness in his tone. Thankful he didn't press the issue, she inclined her head. “You too. See you in the morning.”

Closing the door when he departed, Chey leaned against it. With any luck, she would have the DNA in tow come daybreak.

. . .

At exactly eleven o'clock, Chey stuck her head into the hallway. Small lights attached to the walls provided dim illumination. Seeing no one, she exited her room, the fanny pack in place beneath a new coat she'd found in the closet. Designed for winter weather, the thick, heavy jacket was just what she needed for the trip. Heading downstairs, she made the main level and paused aside the banister, listening for voices or movement.

She knew there were several guards and a few other staff members on the premises. What Chey
didn't
know, was if there was an alarm system that might flash bright red lights and scream warnings if she tried to leave the house. Peering toward the front door did her no good. Two potted plants with broad fronds blocked part of each wall where an alarm system might be mounted.

Veering away from the foyer, she aimed for the dining room and kitchen where she thought doors to the garage might be located. The garage was on this side of the house, so it made sense access should be here, too.

She found what she was looking for in an extra room off the kitchen. One whole side was shelves, the other contained a small sink, a few cupboards and a door. Next to the door was a row of pegs from which several keys dangled. Choosing a ring with a definite logo on the chain, she exited into the cold garage and closed the door behind her.

So far, so good. No alarms went off.

Matching the logo to the vehicle, she approached with a glance at the three other cars parked on either side. All three were SUV types made for questionable weather, and none appeared to have blinking lights of alarm systems on the dash.

Using the key, she let herself inside the one she would be using. This is where the whole plan got tricky. She needed to get the garage door up and the engine started without alerting the entire house. At least until she was on the road and able to put some distance between herself and the rest.

Pressing the button on the remote hanging off the visor, she jammed the key into the ignition as the bay door rolled up. In reality, Chey knew it wasn't as loud as it seemed. Cringing at the rumble, she started the engine and began backing out immediately. Slowly, so she didn't clip the garage door on the way.

Once more, she expected sirens and flashing lights.

Nothing.

Just the growl of the engine and the garage door easing to a stop.

Chey backed all the way to the gate, using the second remote on the visor to open it. Whipping onto the street, relieved to see it plowed of snow, she threw the SUV into gear and glanced at the house.

A light inside the foyer snapped on, visible through the front windows of the manor.

“Crap.” She picked up speed, turning on the headlights, determined to get lost before they could find her. Engaging the GPS, she drove away from Mattias's holding using every short cut and side street she could. Generally, she went in the same direction as the town where Mattias picked her up to begin with.

That was her starting point. It was where she knew she needed to get her bearings and begin backtracking toward her destination.

To her great relief, Chey saw no flash of pursuing headlights in the rear view mirror. It appeared as if her break was a success.

. . .

She made good time on the sparsely traveled roads, checking the onboard GPS every now and then. Darkness made defining her bearings harder, but not impossible. Certain houses with many windows—or a few—along with odd shaped Inns and other businesses helped guide her where she needed to go.

When she drove into the small town where Mattias found her at the restaurant, the real hunt began. One road at a time, Chey backtracked through the countryside, taking it slow. This was where her attention to detail would really matter most. The moon cast its pale glow over the scenery, highlighting peaked roofs, broad meadows and a glimpse of a snaking river that Chey didn't remember seeing on her first pass.

Strange.

Had she already taken a wrong turn? Or had she not been paying close enough attention at the particular moment she'd passed it? She decided she'd missed the river in favor of three houses that she
did
remember on the opposite side of the road. All three had tiny blue lights rimming the eaves, as if the owners lived in perpetual Christmasland, refusing to take them down no matter what season it was.

She was on the right track so far.

Forty minutes later, Chey brought the SUV to a halt in the middle of the road. Forest stretched to the right, a pasture to the left. Nothing for the last ten minutes had looked familiar. If she was honest, nothing had looked familiar for the last
fifteen.

An offshoot road intersecting with this one some miles back had caused Chey a bit of heartache. She didn't recall coming in from that direction. Yet this didn't feel right, either, and she decided to rely on instinct instead of sight. Turning around, she headed back to that smaller road. Once she was on it, she started scanning the roadsides for a landmark. Anything would do. There were no houses out here, which was both a blessing and a curse; it told her she was in the right area, at least, because Sander's brother—if that's truly who the man was—lived in the middle of nowhere.

A few minutes later, when doubt began to surface again and fear niggled at her that she might be lost, Chey spied a five way stop ahead.

“Yes! I remember that for sure.” Driving up to it, Chey put the SUV in park, engine idling, and leaned forward to stare out the windshield. This was an unmistakeable landmark. She was in the right place, on the right road.

The only problem now was that she couldn't remember if she'd driven straight through, or had come in at one of the slight, angling roads. Chey hadn't bothered to look for road signs, and even if she had, there were none to be seen. No names, no other identifying marks to denote one path from another.

“Okay, just think. Did you drive straight through, or did you veer off?” Imagining herself back in the driver's seat coming from the other direction, Chey attempted to figure out whether she turned or not.

Putting the SUV in gear, she went straight through the intersection. To the best she could recall, Chey thought she hadn't swerved from the stop sign. At least she had a new starting point to work from if this road proved a dead end.

Marking the mileage, she decided she'd give this one ten miles, then she would turn back.

Just before she hit five miles, another road cut away to the right. Chey eased the car to a stop. In the distance, through a sparse stand of trees on the other side of a long meadow, she could
just
make out lights. The dark mass behind what she assumed was a structure suggested forest.

“Bingo. Gotcha.” She cut the headlights. Turning down the smaller road, Chey inched forward, looking for a good place to pull off. She didn't want to park too far from the building, nor too close. If she needed a quick getaway, she didn't want to run a half mile to reach the vehicle.

Judging she was about a quarter mile away, she pulled onto the shoulder, shut the engine off, and opened her door. She left the keys in the ignition. Climbing to the ground, she eased the door closed and broke into a jog. Ahead, the trees clustered together near the wall surrounding the building, providing extra cover when she cut overland from the road. Shoes crunching through the snow, Chey paced herself, breath coming in white puffs past her lips. It was rough going where the snow covered fist sized rocks that tripped her up when she stepped on them instead of over them.

Reaching the trees, she ducked into the canopy and followed the line around toward the back of the property. This was the point she began hoping no one had found the broken basement door. If so, she imagined it would set off a chain reaction much like she'd written for her journal.

Slowing to a walk, she paced herself. It wouldn't be a good idea to use all her energy this early.

Following the trees to the back, she set her sights on the big bramble bush and the iron gate. Cutting into the open, obscured from the lower level by the wall, she jogged toward the gate, wary of dogs, guards and anything else that might suddenly jump out at her from the gloom.

To her surprise, she found the gate as she had the last time, latched but not locked. Opening it a fraction, she checked the flat ground between the wall and the building. No dogs. At least none in sight. No sentinel, either. Steadying her breathing, she slipped inside, closed the gate, and crouched to run the rest of the way to the basement stairs. Slinking down those, careful not to slip on ice, she came upon the door.

She saw the crack between the door itself and the frame, suggesting it was sitting just as it was when she'd closed it last. The latch wouldn't fasten thanks to splintered wood, meaning the door would remain open a couple inches until someone fixed it.

Entering just enough to get a good look at the basement, she discerned no one was down there gathering wood or anything else. Closing the door as it had been, she stepped over to the wall and eased along the stone toward the stairway to the main level. Pausing at the base, she opened her coat and unzipped the fanny pack to allow for quicker, quieter access. She wouldn't know if she needed the tweezers or needle until she saw whether the man was awake or how many clothes he had on.

Creeping up the stairs, she came to the landing and opened the door.

This was it. There was no changing her mind now.

As before, the lower level remained dimly lit. Chey could see both directions down the hall. No guards lurked at either end, or anyone else for that matter, making it easier for Chey to skulk through the shadows, up the staircase leading to the second floor, and along another main hall with many doors opening off into private bedrooms.

Feeling exposed, she sought a dark, empty room that allowed her to get out of the hallway where anyone might see her. The man could be anywhere. Chey had counted no less than eight doors she would have to search behind in order to track him down. She didn't want to consider what the odds were that someone would still be awake this late and catch her at her game.

Determined to continue, she plotted her course and exited the bedroom, choosing the door directly across from the room she hid in. Not giving herself time to think, she grasped the knob and went in. Stealth was imperative. Meager light from the hall slanted into the bedroom, highlighting several things at once: a pretty bed against the far wall, fluffy stuffed animals lined up on a decidedly feminine dresser and a girly lampshade with little sparkly crystals dangling off the edge. The shape of a slim body could be seen under the covers, a blonde swath of hair spilling across a pillow.

Chey took in all those minute details in a heartbeat. Backing out of the room, she eased the door closed and moved to the next. No one needed to tell her that was not the place she would find who she sought.

The next room also had feminine trappings, and the one after that. Chey stifled frustration while at the same time thanking her lucky stars that all the occupants had been asleep. Entering the fourth room, Chey peered into the gloom. Right away she discerned the masculine furniture and color scheme. While it appeared to be a well situated space, the décor was nothing befitting a Royal, abandoned or not. Unlike the others, the bed proved to be empty.

Chey wondered if this was the brother's room. If so, where was he? She had not heard the strains of a violin, so the likelihood of him playing in the music room was slim. The longer she stood there, the more Chey believed a teenage boy lived here rather than a grown man. It had that feel to it.

Backing out, she closed the door and went to the next, bracing herself before swinging it open. A startled gasp greeted Chey immediately. From the bed, a woman flipped over on the mattress and angrily broke into the language of Latvala, gesturing 'get out' with one hand.

This is it. You've done it now, Chey girl. She's going to call the guards and you're going to wind up behind bars.
Even while the mantra ran through her mind, Chey retreated, closing the door. She stood there, right there, while pinpricks of shock raced along her arms and legs. Crap. Although she'd known this would happen eventually, and prepared herself for coming face to face with someone who wasn't the man she needed, it was still a bigger surprise than she thought it would be.

It occurred to Chey that the woman, who did not call out for guards or chase her into the hall, probably hadn't been able to see Chey very well. Backlit by light, all that woman had made out was Chey's silhouette. Perhaps she thought it was one of the other girls, someone coming in to play a prank or bother her.

Chey looked up and down the hall. She knew she needed to move. Unfreeze her feet. This was a bad time to blank.