"Well, we're gonna find out." Nina turned from the telescope. "He's leaving."
Three different looks on three different faces told Lance all he needed to know as soon as he walked into Caroline's huge house. Nina was standing at attention, a human paper towel, ready to absorb all the juicy details. Caroline was resting in an overstuffed chair, her feet propped on an ottoman and her eyelids fluttering as exhaustion slowly won the battle with intrigue. But Julia's face was priceless.
"What took you so long?" she said before he'd even closed the patio door. "Don't tell me you were stripping all that time, because you're not wearing that many clothes!"
As much as Lance was enjoying the look on her face, he thought it was time to ease her mind a little. "I looked for the manuscript," he said. "I couldn't find it. I'm sorry."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"The manuscript," he reminded her. "I couldn't find it." "So you're okay?" she demanded. "Yes," he told her, slightly taken aback. "You scared me half to death," she said, and Lance thought he sensed something like affection in her tone. She tried to
smack his shoulder as a punishment, but he caught her wrists in his hands and pulled her toward him.
"Myrtle," he spoke softly, calmly, "is a sentimental drunk."
"She cried afterwards, didn't she?" Nina jumped in.
But Lance's gaze never left Julia. "You know that stuff in her house, all those mountains of junk we had to dodge all night?" he asked.
'Yes," Julia said.
"Well, there's a story behind it. Every piece of it. There are stories about the stories. I got to hear them all."
"But was this nak*d listening? Semi-naked? Can you give us a visual?" Nina asked.
"Nina," Lance said, turning to face her, "a gentleman never tells."
After dozing most of the night on the sofa in the playroom, Julia woke once again to the sight of Nina and Caroline staring out a window.
"Aunt Julia!" Cassie cried as she plowed through the playroom and jumped into Julia's arms. The little girl was still in her pajamas, her wild hair frizzing all around and tickling Julia's nose as she gave her a huge hug. "Come on," Cassie said, sliding down Julia's hip to the floor. "Let's go play in my room."
"No, honey," Caroline said. "Aunt Julia can't play right now."
"Caroline, I'll . . ." Julia started, but stopped cold when she read her sister's expression. Then she turned her attention to her niece. "You go on, sweetie. I'll be in after I talk to your momma."
Cassie darted down the hall, and Julia crept toward the window.
"He's back," Caroline whispered, urgency rising in her voice. "He's in the house . . . Richard Stone!"
Julia rushed to the window just in time to see Lance's agent appear on Myrtle's porch and shake the woman's hand. Then he turned and began walking down the sidewalk toward a car. an accordion-style folder tucked under one arm.
Without thinking, Julia flew down the stairs in bare feet and her burglary outfit from the night before. Sleep and fatigue clung to her, and a disgusting taste filled her mouth, but she knew that she had to stop that man before he drove away. She was at the base of the stairs and through the entryway in a matter of seconds. She saw him step toward his car that was parked across the street, so she hurled herself off the porch. In the middle of the street, Richard Stone stopped and stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Stone!" she yelled.
She stumbled into the street and clung to the front bumper of his car. But the agent merely eased closer to the car door and broke into a laugh. "Well, if it isn't the blushing bride," he said. "Now, you need to be careful. All this physical exertion might not be good for someone in your delicate condition." He opened the car door and stood so that he was shielded by the big piece of metal and glass.
"I believe you have something that belongs to me" Julia said.
"This?" he asked, chuckling. He held up the folder that contained the manuscript, then tossed it casually onto the passenger seat of the car. "My friend Myrtle found that and thought I might like to read it. I'm looking forward to it. I just can't help but wonder why a big, bestselling author like you would want to publish under any other name. But, babe, I'm really looking forward to finding out." I Julia clawed her way onto the hood of the car. "You're not leaving here, Stone!" she yelled. "You're not getting away with ..."
The car must have been newly waxed, because Julia, in her black cotton burglary gear, was sliding farther and farther down the hood. She tried to crawl up, but every time she moved forward six inches, she'd slide back a foot. Julia had to press her cheek to the warm hood of the vehicle and brace her feet against the hood ornament to maintain any kind of traction at all.
"You're not getting away. ..."
She heard the engine start and felt the hood begin to vibrate as she lost her grip and slid to the street, and a split second later, both Richard Stone and Veronica White were gone.
Chapter Twenty Three