No Ordinary Hero. Rachel LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
more amenable to a modern lifestyle. When you have the shotgun floor plan, where rooms were just added straight back, it’s hard to change things enough so that you’re not walking through bedrooms. A real challenge. But this place is just perfect.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Except for all the hard work you have to do.” That much was impossible to miss. Even the railing on the staircase had been painted, as had doors and moldings. He suspected there was plenty of fine wood to be uncovered in this house. “Somebody with money built this place.”
“That’s my guess, but I really haven’t looked into the history of the house.”
“You should. There’s probably a fascinating story somewhere.”
Yet, despite the architectural grace of the place, there they stood just inside the door. Mike hesitated, looking inward, trying to sense the cause for that. He’d gone through the house with her because she felt uneasy. Because something had made him feel a bit uneasy, too, yesterday, and again today. But instead of taking that walkthrough, they both stood here as if an invisible wall held them back.
His uneasiness had grown, he realized. But just a shade. Not enough to worry him. Finally, feeling the tension in the woman beside him, he asked, “Would you just like me to walk through on my own?”
He was willing, and a bit of a street fighter out of necessity. He could handle just about anyone who didn’t have a gun. Although why the hell he should be worried about that he didn’t know.
He paused a few seconds, searching places in himself that he usually kept hidden. There was something about this house …
Del gazed at him, her blue eyes reflecting perplexity and even some embarrassment. “What’s going on?”
He got the feeling she was asking herself, not him. But he hesitated only a moment before saying, “This house feels sad.”
She nodded, surprising him. “I never noticed anything before but …” She sighed. “Okay, I’m feeling really weird. I’m not an overly imaginative person. Maybe Colleen’s complaint about noises is getting to me.”
“Could be,” he agreed smoothly, although for an instant he wanted to disagree strongly. But he’d turned himself into a man of science on purpose, and if he were to consider the empirical evidence, it was nuts to say the house felt sad. He managed a crooked smile. “I guess it must have gotten to me, too. Your daughter just doesn’t seem like the kind of kid to think she has bears in her closet.”
“She’s not. We got past that stage before she turned four. So if she says she’s hearing something, it’s got to be mice in the walls.”
“Or a water pipe ticking. I don’t have to tell you how many sounds an old house can make.”
“Plenty,” she agreed. “And now I not only feel ridiculous, I feel stupid. You don’t have to walk through with me. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.”
He almost took it as a dismissal, which he was used to getting often enough in life. But her expression gave him pause. No, she hadn’t lost her uneasiness, but she was feeling silly for it. He tried to think of a way to continue to accompany her while taking her concerns seriously. She was obviously a quite independent woman, and there was a good chance she didn’t like leaning on a man, especially over an inexplicable feeling. And there was still something about this damn house.
“I’d actually like to see where Colleen’s hearing the noises.” He shrugged. “You never know. I might hear them and be able to identify them.”
“I wish you could,” she admitted. “I haven’t heard them myself, at least not yet.”
“So let’s go hunting.”
At that she chuckled and led the way.
The downstairs was quite spacious and nicely laid out. Kitchen and dining room on one side of the unusually large hallway, living room and an extra room on the other side. They skipped the extra room initially, though Mike could see color through the door that was slightly ajar.
Upstairs there were another three spacious bedrooms with walk-in closets and an unusually large bathroom that boasted an iron tub with clawed feet. A real antique, and a tub that a full-grown man could actually fit into.
“I wish this house had been available when I bought mine,” he remarked. “I’d have snapped it up.”
She flashed a smile. “You can always buy it once I get it fixed up.”
“I may take you up on that.”
The bedrooms, as yet, had clearly not been worked on, but even so their condition wasn’t bad. Her room held an ordinary double bed and a dresser, and not one personal item was in view. He found that a little odd. The two others were empty.
When they returned downstairs, she led him to the room at the back end of the hall, the one they had skipped the first time through.
It proved to be Colleen’s room and was a riot of color, with posters and a shiny mobile, and a bed nearly filled with pillows and stuffed animals. A lovely old table was obviously being used for a desk, high enough that the child’s wheelchair could slide up to it comfortably, and it sported a good laptop computer along with books, papers and doodads. Over the bed was a bar hanging from a chain, probably to help Colleen maneuver into and out of her chair. He squashed a natural sympathetic reaction, because he sensed it would not be welcome either by Colleen or her mother. That child showed every sign of becoming just as independent as her mom.
“Does Colleen only hear the sounds in here?”
“So far. I’ve checked the attic and upstairs, but I haven’t found any spoor, or anything else for that matter. I put in some traps but they haven’t been sprung.”
“Can we just stay here for a little bit?”
Del shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” She sat on the edge of the bed, leaving him to sit on a wooden chair in the corner, which meant moving an oversize stuffed rabbit.
“Does she only hear the sounds at night?”
“Mostly, but sometimes in the evening when she’s in here doing homework. They’ve always stopped by the time I get in here when she calls me.”
“That’s … strange.” Something warned him to be very careful here. There might be some emotional land mines he didn’t want to trip by blundering around. “I like your daughter. She’s so friendly for someone her age. I’m used to kids kind of glancing my way and dismissing me unless I’m caring for one of their pets.”
“Kids that age are so awkward about things. Some of them anyway. Colleen has had so many adults in her life, in one capacity or another, since her accident that I think she’s more comfortable with older people.”
“That could be part of it. And she’s certainly outgoing.”
They sat a few minutes in silence and Mike realized that Del seemed to be growing uneasier, rather than less so. He wanted to ask what troubled her, but he didn’t feel he knew her well enough.
“You know,” Del said finally, “maybe I should sleep in here tonight. Colleen is spending the night with a friend, and it might be the perfect time to do a little more detective work.”
He nodded. “Might be a good idea.”
Suddenly her blue eyes, as sharp as lasers, met his. “Why did you say this house makes you feel sad?”
Crap. He’d kind of hoped she would let that go, because he never should have said it, even out of natural sympathy. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It was just a feeling.”
She nodded slowly. “I’m Irish enough to be superstitious. Or maybe I should say my mother raised me to be superstitious. Don’t open an umbrella in the house, knock on wood, don’t tempt fate, all those things. I rebelled against all of that, of course. Sometimes I even open an umbrella in the house just to