but I do know she went running. I saw her this morning from my office window. And so did Clive.”
“That’s right.” His grandfather backed him up. “She was in the grove about nine-fifteen or so.”
Annabelle wiped her eyes and gave an unladylike snort into her tissue. “How do you know it was her?”
“Who else would be in the Allistair grove, young lady?” The only time Clive showed his old age was when he got testy and fired off exactly what he thought.
“She wouldn’t leave me behind.” Lily’s stubborn daughter was having none of it.
Stephen jumped in to diffuse the situation. “I recognized her track suit. It was pink. So were her shoes. I’ve seen you girls before taking a shortcut through the grove. Don’t you usually do that when you run?”
“They do. Oh, thank goodness!” Lily put her hand over her heart. “I was beginning to really get worried.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“Mom! We never run this long. And she’s not answering her phone. Something’s wrong. I know it.”
Annabelle looked on the verge of another bout of teenage hysteria. Stephen despised messy emotions. They had been the undoing of his father. Growing up without either parent, Stephen had learned the value of schooling his emotions. Clive had been strict about that.
Emotions are not real, Stephen. They’re the product of an over-active imagination and over-rated sentimentality. They’re the devil lurking in your mind looking for a chance to destroy you. Never give feelings a chance to take over your mind and your will. An Allistair is always in control.
At all times, Stephen was in control. Even now. Especially now.
So was Lily. Except where her troublesome daughter was concerned. She turned to him now, her face a mask of motherly concern.
“Annabelle has a valid point. What if there’s been an accident?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have Graden take a crew to search the estate and inquire around. Meantime, why don’t you and Annabelle drive their jogging route off the property and see what you can find out? I’d take you, but I was almost out the door when you came.”
It never hurt to remind her that these unexpected visits to his office were not appropriate. Allistair Roses thrived on routine and order, and so did he.
“Where to this time, Stephen?”
“Business meeting out of town. I’ll be back in plenty of time for dinner and our nighttime ritual. If anything else comes up while I’m gone, call me, darling.”
How satisfying it was to put a smile on Lily’s face. And with such ease.
Still, as he escorted her out the door with her volatile daughter trailing along behind, he had a vision of her with the doctor at the engagement party. A remnant of last night’s ridiculous uncertainty crept up on him. Lily had been awfully cozy with her old friend, Jack Harper.
What if she’d been talking to him about moving up the wedding? He knew they were close, and she hadn’t seemed too pleased with the idea. What if she changed her mind altogether?
He reached for her hand, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. There. He had nothing to worry about. She was his. She loved ritual and order as much as he did. And she had a deep longing for family. His family, his son.
He would give her everything she wanted, and more. So much more.
Chapter Three
It was dark and cold. So cold.
She shivered and drew the covers closer. Instead of the plush pink blanket she expected, this one was made of heavy wool that scratched her face and smelled of mold.
Where was she?
She jerked upward so fast the room spun, and she toppled sideways. Her head banged against a cast iron headboard, and she blinked away the pain.
Don’t panic. Breathe.
She lay still until her vision cleared. Then she eased herself upright.
She was on an iron bedstead whose headboard was bolted to the bare concrete wall of a mid-sized room. There was no furniture except her bed, a large overstuffed chair, and a plain wooden table. Metal duct work ran around the wall, probably some kind of inadequate heating system. A light fixture recessed into the high ceiling above the table cast a feeble yellow glow over a pile of books stacked there.
Beside the books was a plastic tray that held a glass of milk, an apple, an orange, cheese, and thick slices of bread on a lightweight aluminum plate, the kind used for camping. A piece of white notepaper lay beside the tray.
To the right