Tailspin (13 page)

Although there wasn't anyone to watch her, she made a show of unpacking and then putting away the few items she'd brought, as though she had every intention of staying in her old room like she'd told her stepfather. Like she was a little girl again—a princess—as Will had put it.

Sylvie wasn't a princess. She was a woman on a mission who'd dragged an unintentional hero along with her. In keeping with their ruse, Will was in one of the guest rooms at the far end of the hallway. Not too far. And yet, entirely too close.

Part of her wished she hadn't needed his presence to chase away her fears. Regardless, they were both in it deep now, if they hadn't been before. There wasn't a moment to lose or any time to let her guard down, especially now that she'd revealed so much to Damon.

With his reaction, he'd made her doubt every conclusion she'd reached. When she'd seen him in the doorway, she hadn't known what to do or expect. Had no idea why she'd blurted out the truth, but she'd desperately wanted to know if he was involved, had been willing to risk hers and Will's lives to know the truth about the man who had raised her.

A chill ran over her.

She hadn't liked what she'd seen behind his gaze. He was hiding something. Something was terribly wrong but Sylvie couldn't tell if it was related to company woes, as he'd mentioned, or her accusations. But Ashley, his assistant and her mother's friend, was here, too. Despite the fact Sylvie hadn't wanted to see Damon, she'd been glad to see Ashley. If only she would get the chance to speak to her privately before she left.

The thrum of a helicopter drew Sylvie to the window. Darkness had taken hold, but lights kept the helipad well lit. Ashley at his side, Damon hurried toward the helicopter that would deliver them to their meeting. But then they paused, appearing deep in conversation.

There was a soft knock on the door. Probably Marguerite, coming to ask if she needed anything more before retiring to her own room. Sylvie had grown accustomed to living on her own. No maids or staff hovering, watching her every move. It had been surprisingly easy to get used to. Sylvie craved freedom and privacy. She swung the door open. Will stood on the other side.

“Sylvie—”

She yanked him into the room and closed the door. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why all the cloak and dagger?”

“Because I'm supposed to be in bed already. I'm tired, remember? You, too.”

“You told me you'd come get me in a few minutes. It's been half an hour. I got worried.”

“Honestly, I needed a few minutes to myself. Being here is hard. Seeing him drained me.”

“Since we're being honest, I've been in the hallway outside your door, standing guard. I got tired of waiting.”

Watching him lean against the door now, anxiety in his eyes mixed with concern for her, warmth tingled through her belly. A feeling she couldn't ignore. A feeling she couldn't afford.

She turned her back rather than risking that he'd see her face and read the thoughts rushing through her silly-girl head. Rubbing her temples as if thinking things through, she said, “We have to get to work before the bodyguard shows up in case Damon has instructed him to spy on us or stop us. I've been waiting for the helicopter to leave with him. I don't want Marguerite to know what we're up to, either.”

“What's your plan, then?” Will's voice was close behind her.

Without looking at him, she moved to the window again, watching for any sign of a vehicle arriving with a bodyguard.

“We head for the basement.”

“The basement?”

“That's my first stop to find the boxes with Mom's stuff.” Sylvie turned, ready to escape the room and the memories that rushed at her. “That's one of the big differences in a regular house and a Frank Lloyd Wright house. His houses had no basements or attics.”

Will stood in her way, grabbed her shoulders. “I don't care about Frank what's-his-name. I care about you and this situation. I have a bad feeling about this. We're risking too much by just being here. Your stepfather was right about one thing. This can't be easy on you. It must be hard to think he could murder your mother.”

“Hard enough hearing the arguments they had over the years. Knowing that he cheated on her.”

Sylvie couldn't look at him anymore and rushed to the door. What he must be thinking—that her mother deserved to be cheated on, considering Sylvie was the product of an adulterous relationship. All of it serving as a reminder to Sylvie that she couldn't go through that kind of pain, loving a man and getting married. Couldn't expose herself to that kind of hurt. The reminder was good timing, helping her keep her heart distanced from the man standing just behind her, his concern for her resounding in his panicked breaths.

Placing her hand against the knob, she spoke softly, “Let's get this over with.”

The sooner she discovered the truth and exposed it, the sooner she could put safe distance between her and Will Pierson.

FOURTEEN

W
hat would a basement inside a place like this look like? Will wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Didn't want to go down in the dark and be trapped if someone tried to attack them again.

As far as Will was concerned, the longer they stayed, the greater the danger, now that Damon Masters himself knew they were here.

Trailing Sylvie down the hallway, Will fought the urge to creep around like a couple of criminals. Just like Sylvie, he wanted to find out what really happened to his mother. But since their arrival here, he was beginning to think that Sylvie was leading them on a wild goose chase. Surely Masters would have destroyed any evidence against him rather than packing it away in the basement. Still, he couldn't bring himself to tell Sylvie that. Instead, he followed her around like a puppy. Hadn't he been here before? Following Michelle around? Whoa...what was he doing, comparing the two women? He'd been in love with Michelle. He and Sylvie were trying to solve a murder together and stay alive while they were at it.

He should ask the obvious question. Should have asked a long time ago. “Why would your stepfather leave anything incriminating in your mother's things if he thought she had something to hide and had killed her for it? I'm thinking that's the main reason he had the stuff boxed up and put away before you got to it—so he could go through it and get rid of anything problematic.”

She cast him a glare. “I don't want to believe my stepfather is a murderer, and that's why I'm here to find out who is responsible. But you're right, if he is involved he would... Wait... He had Ashley do it.”

“So he says.”

“Look, it's the best place to start.”

“But you were looking for the plane first—you thought that was the right place to start.”

“I went looking for the plane so I could find out what happened. If I found it then I could let the authorities know and they could see if it looked like foul play. I was only working on the slightest suspicion. Now that I have a strong reason to believe that it wasn't an accident, I need to see her things. Make sense?” Sylvie paused and turned to face him. “Why are you asking me this now? If you didn't want to come along, you could have said so earlier. I told you I didn't need your help.”

Disappointment flickered in her eyes. Will wanted to kick himself. “I'm here, aren't I? I told you I'd see this through with you. I'm just thinking out loud, is all. The basement doesn't seem like a good idea to me. What could you hope to find?”

Turning her back on him, she started down again. “I can't tell you what I'm looking for. Only that I'll know it when I see it.”

At the end of the hallway, Will followed her down a spiraling wrought-iron staircase that seemed as at odds with the stark lines of the home's architecture as he was with Sylvie at the moment.

With each step drawing them closer to the basement, Will's concern for her increased. “Your stepfather told you not to look for your mother's things. It might be too upsetting. Are you sure about this, Sylvie?”

At the bottom, she turned on him. “He wouldn't be the man he is today if he wasn't skilled in the power of persuasion. He's very convincing. I've listened to him persuade my mother that he loved her and only her and would never cheat on her.” Her voice cracked.

Her pain was palpable, and he wanted to take her hand and squeeze it. Reassure her. Instead, he whispered, “Sylvie...” And with that one breath he conveyed all the turmoil and emotions he felt about their situation. About Sylvie. But he didn't know how to comfort her, or if that was even something she wanted from him.

She had a smudge on her cheek and for some reason Will couldn't fathom, he reached up and pressed his thumb against the silk of her skin and wiped it away. An innocent-enough motion, but it somehow had his breaths coming faster. And sent his heart into his throat.

Sylvie inched back, wiping the moment away. “Okay, the basement is just down another flight of stairs.”

Will followed her, descending a slim and dank staircase. Everything beyond the spiral staircase looked as if it belonged to a different house entirely. A different century, even. Sylvie slowed as she approached. A single bulb flickered from the ceiling. She took the last three steps to stand in front of the door and tried the knob.

“It's locked. I should have known.”

“There's a chair here, too. Would he have a guard on the door to keep you out?”

“I don't know what to think.”

“Well, if there was a guard here, he might be back soon. We need to hurry.”

Pulling out his pocketknife, Will tried to work the lock free, but the dead bolt was obviously engaged. “Why not ask for a key?”

“You heard him. He didn't want me in her things. I can't ask for a key. All the more reason for me to look.”

Sylvie's stepfather had told her to stay away, so she would do the opposite. “I'm not sure what's worse. That what you just said makes some kind of sense to me or that the door is locked and our whole reason for coming is shot.”

Sylvie scraped her hands through her hair. “Being in this house drains me. I can't think straight. That's why I moved out and went to work doing what I love. But down here in the dark and dank, I feel like the walls are closing in on me.”

Will could relate. “What now?”

She cocked her head. “Do you hear footsteps?” she whispered. “Someone is coming down the stairs.”

“If it's the same someone who is guarding the door we can ask for a key.” He grinned, but only to bring levity to the moment. He didn't like this one bit.

Someone was definitely creeping down the steps, their footfalls soft.

Panic swirled in Sylvie's eyes. “There's no place to hide.”

“We're not going to hide anymore. We're going to walk up the stairs like we have every right to be here.” Will would go first in case this house harbored the villains after Sylvie.

On the next corner, he came face-to-face with Marguerite, who stood two steps above him. She gasped, covered her mouth and let out a stream of words in French.

Sylvie pushed by Will and hugged Marguerite to her. “You scared us to death. Marguerite, we need to get in the basement.”

“I thought I might find you down here when you didn't answer your door. You cannot be here, Sylvie. I don't have the key, and even if I did, I would be afraid to help you.”

Sylvie released Marguerite, a woman she'd known almost her entire life. “Why do you say that, Marguerite? Please tell me. I need to know everything. Do you know what happened to my mother?”

The woman shook her head vehemently. She pressed a finger to her lips. “The house has ears, too many ears,” she whispered.

“I'm not leaving until I get into the basement.”

Marguerite's eyes grew wide. “Of course! Do you not remember you grew up in this house? Back then, you had your own secret passages.”

Sylvie's face scrunched up.

“Of course I knew about them. You think I wouldn't know?”

“Thank you for reminding me.” Sylvie kissed Marguerite on the cheek then looked at Will. “I used to get into the basement all the time. I had my own secret way in. Why didn't I think of that before?”

Sounded like the house really was closing in on her and choking her thoughts.

“Probably because you weren't thinking you'd need a secret passage as an adult.” He was glad they hadn't faced some new threat on the stairwell. “Lead on.”

“Wait.” Marguerite stood in Sylvie's path. “Be careful. There have been strangers here. More than that, I cannot tell you. Make your search quick and then please leave. Promise me.”

“Of course,” Sylvie whispered. “I promise. And thank you, Marguerite, for your help. Now promise me you'll go back to your room. I don't want you involved.”

“Don't worry about me. Unless they need something from me, I'm only the help and invisible to the strangers. Even to your stepfather.”

Sylvie and Will waited until Marguerite had disappeared before they continued on. Once it was quiet again, Sylvie led him to the top of the stairwell where they ducked into a dark closet that smelled of pine-based cleaning supplies. She turned on the light and bent over. Started removing the boxes beneath a shelf.

“See? An old laundry chute. The laundry wasn't done down there anymore, even when I was a child, and this was closed off and forgotten. I'm so glad I ran into Marguerite.”

If she expected Will to climb down that, she might need to think again. It would be a close fit, if he could do it at all. The thought of crawling through that tight space made him shudder. “Isn't that kind of far for a child to slide?”

Sylvie rummaged around, looking for something in old boxes. He had a hard time seeing her as the kind of child to play in a basement, given her love of the water and diving—a wide-open space she could explore. Just like the skies were for him. His only use for big bodies of water came in landing his plane.

“Found it. I can hardly believe it's still here, but I guess looking at all the rest of this junk, it makes sense.” She held up a fire escape ladder. “My mom made sure I had a ladder I could hang from my window in case of a fire.”

“That's good emergency protocol.”

“I found another use for the ladder.”

Sylvie unfolded the ladder to its full length, let it drop down into the laundry chute, and hooked it in place. Will felt silly. But if there was no other way into the basement without that key, then...

“I'll go down first,” he said.

“I don't need a hero, Will.”

“Sure you do.” He grinned then made sure the thing was secure.

At Sylvie's wide-eyed stare, he almost laughed. He had an innate urge to plant a kiss on her lips that had formed into a half frown, half smile. He could tell she didn't know what to make of him. “We're in this together, remember?”

Before she could argue he disappeared down the ladder, hoping a big load of trouble wasn't waiting for him at the bottom. Will climbed down as far as he could but then the ladder ended. How much farther was the drop? Sylvie said she'd done this as a child. He should be okay to let go and fall then, but it was dark down there. He had no idea what he was dropping onto or into.

He squeezed his eyes shut.
Lord, help me out here?

“Will?” Sylvie whispered.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? What are you doing? I need to come down, too.”

“I'm working up the courage to drop into the unknown.”

“The ladder doesn't go all the way?”

“No. Maybe you don't remember exactly how this worked.”

“I remember that ladder went all the way. But if you want me to go first, I'll go. I told you I didn't need a hero.”

“Especially if he's dead,” he mumbled.

“What's that?”

“Nothing.” Will let go and slowed his progress with his feet and hands as he slid the rest of the way. As he neared the bottom, he could finally see his surroundings. Someone had left a dim light on. Will didn't care why, only that it lit his way enough.

Beneath him boxes were stacked high. He could drop and hopefully stand on them, or fall and get hurt. He slowly lowered himself onto the first box. Held on to the rim of the laundry chute then grabbed on to a beam while he got his bearings, put more weight on the box. He bounced a little to get the feel of it.

Then he heard Sylvie making her way down. Oh, no. He wasn't prepared for that yet.

“Wait up,” he said into the laundry chute.

Will climbed down, removed the boxes from beneath the chute and found the sturdiest-looking old chair. He stood on that to catch Sylvie. “Okay, careful coming down.”

Sylvie slid down the chute rather than crawling out, which surprised him. She would land hard. Then she appeared, popping out, and Will caught her in his arms, surprising them both.

“Will!” she gasped his name.

And he laughed.

The chair collapsed beneath them.

* * *

Will kept his balance and her in his arms. “Are you okay?” she asked.

The chair lay splintered on the floor. He was entirely too close, the masculine scent of him wrapping around her and making her dizzy. Making her feel things she didn't want to feel.

“Yeah, but I think we might have woken the dead.”

“We don't need to worry about them. It's the living we should worry about. The guard, if there is one, outside the door.”

“Which brings me to a question I should have asked before we made this leap of faith down the laundry chute,” Will replied.

Sylvie studied the mess in the basement. What looked like old IKEA furniture was piled high, along with the wooden chair Will had just broken. Her spirits sank. She couldn't imagine someone actually storing her mother's things in the basement. “So what's your question?”

“You climbed down here as a child. How did you get out? Because there's no way we are climbing back up.”

“Oops. I hadn't thought of that.” At Will's grimace she laughed. “We go out the door. It's locked from the outside to keep people from getting in. But it can be unlocked from the inside to prevent someone from accidentally being locked down here.”

Sheer relief registered on Will's face, along with a day's worth of stubble. His beard would grow thick and fast, by the looks of it, if he didn't shave every day. Why was she thinking about that? She pulled her gaze from Will's features in the dim lighting and glanced around the basement. Where to start?

“I remember it being much brighter down here when I used to play.” Now it was dark and gloomy. Cobwebs hung in every possible place. Where were the spiders that had left all these? Still alive and well? Her skin crawled. “There's another light somewhere. You can be a hero now, Will, and find it. Knock down some of those webs, too.”