Paul Folger was a painter.
Katrina was scribbling industriously on her clipboard, as if Laurel weren’t there. Finally, she moved away from the portrait, over the glazed brick floor, through another archway into the third entry with the front door to the outside of the house and the archway into the main staircase, its huge bay window overlooking the overgrown gardens. At the end of the entry was the archway into the great room. And it was at the archway that Katrina had her first “hit.”
She stopped in the archway and froze.
“What is it, Katrina?” Laurel asked, forgetting for a moment that Katrina didn’t seem to be speaking to her.
“It was here,” Katrina murmured, and Laurel started. She’d said exactly the same thing when she’d crossed through the archway.
“What was?” Laurel asked, neutrally.
Katrina turned to her slowly. “What?” she said, sounding annoyed.
“You said, ‘It was here.’ ”
Katrina looked at her without expression and then bent to her clipboard and made a notation.
Fine, Laurel thought to herself. Don’t mind me.
Katrina stepped down the several stairs into the great room and drifted across the floor as if she were hearing inner music. Laurel glanced immediately to the middle of the floor, where they had seen the footprints—but the fine coating of dust was gone; the floors gleamed dully as if they had been swept, if not polished.
But by whom?
Across the room Katrina stopped to play a few notes of the piano—it was wretchedly out of tune. “Have you and Dr. Cody stayed in the house already?” she asked abruptly.
Why, whatever do you mean? Laurel thought, but answered calmly. “No, we’ve only been through it once, ourselves.”
Katrina narrowed her eyes and turned away.
At the other side of the room she paused, frowning at the spot where the footprints had been. Laurel watched her, holding her breath … but Katrina continued on, into the dining room.
More steps down, into the dark-paneled dining room (that bizarre unevenness of the house … ). The sky had darkened considerably outside and the room was thick with the gloom of twilight. Katrina grimaced with distaste, and moved quickly past the long table and French doors and out. Laurel herself felt the same overpowering urge to get out of the room she had felt initially, and she noted that on her own clipboard. Then she flipped back to the first part of the floor plan and made a note about the family portrait as well.
Katrina barely glanced around the kitchen: it was obvious she “felt” nothing, or perhaps she was so unfamiliar with kitchens it seemed not worth the bother.
The women started upstairs via the servants’ staircase beside the kitchen. There was something appealing about the idea of a servants’ stairway; Laurel wasn’t sure that she’d ever been in one before, and she lingered, moving slowly up the steps. Then as she stepped onto the curved landing halfway up the stairs, Laurel felt her face flush and a rush of warmth through her body, a palpable sexual feeling spreading from between her legs, as if a hand had reached to stroke her there. She stopped with a gasp.
Katrina turned on the stairs above her and looked down, annoyed.
Laurel tried to summon control over her body. Her legs felt too weak to walk on. Get a grip. You haven’t gotten any in a while. Deal with it, Laurel told herself, and forced herself to take a step up onto the next stair. The sexual feeling instantly disappeared, leaving Laurel with her heart still pounding in confusion.
Katrina turned and continued upward without a word. Laurel climbed shakily behind her. What the hell was that?
At the top of the stairs, Laurel was suddenly aware of a soft murmur of voices. The two women stopped still, and looked around them, listening.
“Tyler and Dr. Cody, I think,” Laurel said. Katrina looked at her as if she were an imbecile and flounced on.
Katrina breezed through the first part of the upstairs with an indifference that fairly shouted, “These are just the servants’ quarters.” But she slowed again in the linens room with its surprisingly lush dark wood floors and intricately cut stairs leading up to the small study.
There was a rumble of thunder outside, and suddenly the sky opened, dumping rain on the gardens.
Laurel watched as Katrina sat on the divan in the linens room and looked out the window at the rain, even closed her eyes. When she opened them she marked something Laurel couldn’t see on her floor plan.
In the study, the girl stared