The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (best ereader for comics .txt) 📗

summer sunset. Tessa entered the room and closed the door behind her. She crossed the floor quickly, passing a hand-carved wooden structure that held five or six different canes. That let her know she was in the right place—Mrs. Green's private quarters.

Tessa made a beeline for the huge, delicately carved walnut desk facing a huge window that overlooked the horse pasture. She moved papers around, looking at each one of them carefully but swiftly. But there was nothing there.

She turned in a slow circle, examining the room closely but not sure what she was looking for. Her fingers tapped a beat on the desk as she bit her lip.

Her fingers hit something that felt different from the rest of the desk, and Tessa glanced down, expecting to see a mouse pad or blotter. She frowned. It was a slight divot in the surface of the wood. She probed at it and squeaked when a tiny panel moved under her fingers.

A noise across the room made Tessa spin around. She caught the last bit of movement as a narrow floor-to-ceiling armoire slid aside to reveal an equally narrow doorway.

She glanced back at the panel on the desk. “Cool,” she breathed before hurrying over to the door. Her fingers trembled just a touch as she twisted the knob and prayed it wouldn’t be locked. It gave under her hand. “Yes!”

Tessa cracked open the door and peeked in.

It was a stairwell.

She left the door open because light from the big window splashed in enough that she could see a little. She crept forward, but before she got to the stairs, which led downward, something caught her eye. She pulled out her phone and swiped up, then tapped the flashlight icon. When it came on, she pointed it at the pile of jugs at the top of the stairs.

Bingo.

Tessa snapped several pictures and then pulled out Detective Taggert’s business card. She texted him the pictures and then hurried back through the secret doorway.

For a second, it was too bright in the room, and she stumbled to a halt and blinked several times, trying to adjust.

When her vision cleared, she started, took two steps, and then jerked to a stop again. She sucked in a breath and held up her hands. “Don’t shoot,” she said.

Chapter 21

MRS. GREEN STOOD IN the doorway, straight, without a cane. She looked at least ten or fifteen years younger than she had downstairs during the funeral. She held the gun pointed at Tessa, with no hint of trembling in her arm. A sneer twisted her face. "I saw you that morning, you know," she said. "You were with that boy—that fan of Artemis’s who was arrested and then released."

Tessa felt her eyebrows twitch upward and struggled to keep her expression impassive while her mind swirled around, frantically trying to figure out how to get out of this one. The only thing she could think of at the moment was to draw out the conversation. “You saw me?”

Mrs. Green barked out a short laugh. "Oh, there isn't much the security cameras around this house don't pick up if you know which ones to check, like I do. I used them to keep tabs on my daughter and that Lark when they were younger and, later, my daughter and her good-for-nothing boyfriend, Nathaniel. Oh, yes, I recognized you at the reading of the will, and I knew there was something strange going on. I knew you were after something."

“I'm after the truth," Tessa said flatly.

"I'll tell you the truth," she snapped. "But it isn't pretty. A young lady like you will surely think I'm the monster of the story."

Tessa didn't answer. Even though she didn't want to show weakness, she also knew it was a bad idea to antagonize the woman with the gun.

There was one other way she could end the conversation. She could call on the power of the scythe. But here and now, it didn’t feel right. She wasn’t judge, jury, or executioner—no matter what Silas thought of her career. There had to be some other way of talking sense into Mrs. Green.

The old lady twisted her hips to sidestep the door as she swung it shut behind her. She laughed at Tessa’s widened eyes, misinterpreting the reaction. "I see you're surprised at how well I can get around. The truth is, my condition has improved over the years. I'm feeling much better. Much, much better. My husband spent millions on my rehabilitation, and it did the trick. He just never knew it.”

"Why hide it?" Tessa demanded.

"Ha! Because I wanted my husband to think I was infirm. I needed him to continue to provide for me. If he’d known I wasn’t sick, he would have divorced me. Left me with a measly stipend and a regular house in the suburbs.”

Tessa shook her head. “Why would he do that?”

“Because, over the years, we drifted apart—oh, I knew he had an affair with Sky Jordan. Of course, I knew. Just like I knew the brat of a child she brought around here was his daughter. I saw how he played with her and smiled at her when he didn't think I was watching. The look in his eyes, why, it was the exact same one he gave our own daughter.

“Over the years, I watched that man dangle his mistress and her daughter right in front of my face and Hannah’s too. As though he thought I was stupid. Just a stupid, old, crippled wife that he felt good about taking pity on and keeping around." She sneered again, and it twisted her features into something much darker.

Tessa realized the woman had marinaded in her own spite and anger for decades. How sad. "Do you really think your husband felt that way about you?"

"What would you know about it? You're still young, with your looks about you. You have no idea what it's like to be married for so many years and then get sick—to be unable to