She moved through all the video feeds quickly, seeing nothing she hadn't expected and finding herself impressed with the level of Raphael's security. The only part of the faux French manor house not at least partially wired for sight and sound was the basement room itself, with its nest of electronics and inexplicable bank vault which, having seen the main house, she was now pretty sure hid sleeping quarters for the vamps. She shook her head impatiently and moved on to the two angles of most interest to her, pulling on her headphones to enhance the weak audio. One was the piano room, with the images of Alexandra and the two vampires, but the other was the kitchen door on the side, the exit the abductors had used, the place where they'd parked their vehicle while they infiltrated the house itself.
She cued up the piano room and watched with fresh amazement as Matias was dusted right before her eyes. She'd half thought Duncan might delete that particular image. Those fifteen seconds of video all by themselves could net her a small fortune ... if she was stupid enough to betray a vampire lord. But, goodness, what the television networks would pay for footage of a vampire actually being poofed!
Light from the hallway washed over her monitor, bleaching out the video image and blinding her as she spun around in the darkened room, but not before she'd hit the hot key and blanked the screen.
Schooling herself to remain calm, she removed her headphones and stared at her sister, who stood in the open doorway. “Holly,” she said slowly. “I've asked you before not to interrupt me when I'm working in here. It's a matter of privacy for my clients.” She walked over to the door and maneuvered her sister out into the hallway. “Just give me a moment to close my files, and I'll meet you downstairs.” She didn't wait for an answer, but stepped back inside and closed the door.
Holly immediately began knocking rapidly on the door and calling her name. Cyn ignored her long enough to cross to the computer and close the video file, then yanked the door open once again.
"Jesus, Holly! I'm working. What could possibly be so important?"
"What the hell's wrong with you? I knocked before I opened your precious office door. It's not my fault you didn't hear me."
"I was working,” she repeated. “I don't let anyone up here. Not for any reason."
"You let your boyfriend Nick up here! Oh, I'm sorry. He's not your boyfriend; you're just f**king him."
"Good God, Holly,” she said, pushed beyond family civility. “Could you be anymore crude? What did you want anyway?” Cyn decided she was hungry and gestured clearly toward the stairs. Holly huffed in disgust, but stomped down to the kitchen. Cyn followed and opened the freezer looking for something to toast.
Her housekeeper, Anna, had left several muffins for her. Giant, home-baked, fruit-filled, butter soaked muffins, each of which packed at least 1500 calories. Anna was a nice, round lady who worried about Cyn's unmarried status and was convinced it was because she was too thin to attract a man. Who wanted a woman too skinny to breed children? She kept leaving fattening treats around, hoping to put a few pounds on Cyn and thus increase her chances. Cynthia eyed the muffins hungrily. If she jogged later, she could have a muffin now. But if she jogged later, she'd never have time to get through all of the video from Raphael's estate and she really wanted to get some movement on this case. Plus there were a couple of other things hanging she could dispose of today, clearing her calendar to concentrate on Alexandra's abduction. She sighed and reached for a plain English muffin instead.
"Are you listening to me?"
Cyn popped the muffin in the toaster, then blinked at her sister. “Sorry. Work problems. What were you saying?"
"I said if you worked a normal job with normal hours, you wouldn't be so odd. You're positively antisocial, Cyndi. It's not healthy."
"I like my job.” She looked up. “And I don't like most people, so it works out fine for me."
"Oh, right,” Holly said waspishly. “But you like hanging around those godless bloodsuckers and who knows what other abominations. Chuck says you're damning yourself, Cynthia. He says vampires are a perversion of nature, unholy creatures who belong in hell."
"Hmm. Let me think ... nope, don't care. So you're dating Chuck again? I seem to recall you telling me he reminded you of the Pillsbury dough boy."
"There are more important qualities in a man than his physical appearance, Cyndi,” Holly said primly.
"Yeah, right, like his bank book. Don't go all holier than thou on me, little sister. Your interest in Chuck has more to do with his daddy's money than any of Chuck's finer qualities."
"Says the trust fund baby."
"You've got plenty of money, Holly,” Cyn said mildly. This was an old argument between them and one Cyn was heartily sick of. As her father's only child, Cyn was the sole beneficiary of her grandparents’ generation-skipping trust fund, a small fortune which had become hers on her 21st birthday.
"Right."
Cynthia shrugged as she put a stingy dab of butter on her muffin and changed the subject. “So what is it you wanted?"
"They're finished with my house, but I need a ride to my car. I left it at a friend's house in the Palisades,” Holly said, deliberately casual. “Chuck brought me home last night."
Cynthia chuckled. “Too much medicine, Hol?"
"I was not drunk,” Holly objected. “Something in the dinner disagreed with me, and Chuck graciously offered to drive me home. That's all there is to it."
Cyn studied Holly's crimson face and the way she avoided meeting her eyes. “You brought Chuck back here last night? How long was he here?"
"Really, Cyndi, I don't think—"
"I'm sorry, Holly. I know you think this is unreasonable, but I'm really not comfortable with strangers being in my home when I'm not here. Besides, say what you want about Nick, at least he doesn't slink away in the night as soon as he's gotten his rocks off."
"And you call me crude. You talk like a truck driver."