In the Dead of Night by Castillo Linda Page B

annoyed. But she knew the kiss they’d shared was not his fault. Nick might have instigated it, but she hadn’t stopped him. In fact, she’d been as into it as he was. That made her every bit as guilty as him.

    Even now the memory of the kiss made her heart quicken. She could still feel the insistent pressure of his lips against hers. The warm brush of his breath against her face. The scrape of his whiskers against her cheek. Her traitorous body responding in a way that shocked and embarrassed her.

    “Enough, already,” she muttered, pulling out her key and unlocking the front door.

    The smells of dust and stale air met her when she stepped inside. She tried not to think of the intruder from the night before as she walked from room to room, making sure no one had broken in during the night. She checked the garage and the patio doors and found both secure.

    Nick told her not to come here alone. But Sara had never been good at taking orders. There was no way she could sit around the bungalow and do nothing until he came home from work. It was daylight, after all. The doors and windows were locked down tight. She had her cell phone handy. If someone pulled into the driveway or knocked on the door or even broke a window, she would have ample time to take evasive action.

    Still, her nerves were on edge as she wandered to the kitchen and put the kettle on the flame. An ocean gale lashed at the window above the sink as she waited for the water to boil. A few minutes later, steaming coffee mug in hand, she wandered to her father’s study and looked around. Richard Douglas had spent much of his time here, sitting at his desk with the phone in the crook of his neck. A good bit of that time had been shared with Sara’s mother and Nicholas Tyson.

    Setting the cup on one of the built-in bookcase shelves, Sara ran her fingers along the intricately carved wood. She told herself she wasn’t looking for a secret compartment. That would be far too…hokey. But Sara knew that when her father had designed the house, he’d made a few architectural errors and corrected them by indulging in a hiding place or two. She felt silly looking, but what would it hurt?

    Two hours later she stood at the patio door and watched rain stream down the panes. All she had to show for her time so far was a caffeine buzz and dusty hands. But, for better or worse, Sara had never been easily deterred.

    She was on the staircase heading toward the second level when her cell phone chirped. Her heart went into overdrive when she looked down and saw Nick’s name come up. The urge to answer was strong, but she resisted. She knew he wouldn’t be happy about her coming here alone; she didn’t feel up to defending herself. Besides, after what had happened between them last night, better to let things cool off anyway.

    Methodically, Sara searched each room. Frustration lay thick in the pit of her stomach when she found nothing of interest. She was thinking about calling it a day when she found herself looking at the attic door. She didn’t want to go up those stairs, particularly after what had happened the last time. After seeing that terrible film. But even more, she didn’t want to walk away empty-handed.

    “Just a quick look-see, Douglas,” she muttered as she opened the door and started up the narrow staircase.

    The attic was just as she and Nick had left it. The memory of the film flashed vividly in her mind. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out why her parents had had it in their possession. A part of her hoped Nick would come back with proof that the murder depicted in the film wasn’t real. But deep inside she knew it was. Something so horrific, so ugly, would be difficult to reproduce with such awful authenticity.

    She started at the shelves above the window that looked out over the rocky cliffs and churning ocean below. Leaving no place untouched, she lost herself in the search for something— anything —that would answer her