In the backyard, the slope spilled down into the edge of the woods, and below that a cliff. No luck on the view, even through the break in the trees: the fog blanked out whatever lay beyond, leaving the clearing swaddled in a gray cocoon of mist.
Far down the incline was a glint of metal. Her stomach twisted. The fence she had come through must encircle the entire house. When she had closed the gate and rejammed the lock, she had trapped herself inside.
“What are you doing?” a voice said from right behind her.
Kate started, almost losing her footing. When she turned, she saw a man standing about ten feet away, between her and the house. Tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned, a lean frame. His feet were spread wide—defensive—and his hands were in his pockets.
Theo Brand.
There was an intensity to him that the images online hadn’t captured. He was more vital, less coiffed. Her elbow clamped her tote bag to her side. Fear, excitement, something sharp and glowing, slicked through her veins. She shouldn’t have had that second coffee.
“I’m Kate,” she blurted out. “Your archivist.” She didn’t know why she said your.
“I figured. I guess you missed the front door.”
She swallowed. “I wanted to see the view.”
He looked at the opaque sky and raised an eyebrow. When Kate flushed, he said, “You know, I prosecute trespassers.”
He couldn’t be serious. And yet his voice was cool, and his eyes were steady. The laughter died in her throat. She cast her mind back to their emails. Had she gotten the start date wrong? No, she would never have messed that up. She was good with details.
“I know I’m a little early,” she said haltingly. “But I think…” She waited for him to jump in and correct himself. He didn’t. She could barely conceal her disbelief as she asked, “Are you saying I should go back around front?”
“Of course not,” he said. Then, as she was beginning to relax: “You should enjoy it a little longer.”
“Enjoy what?”
“The thrill.” He nodded in her direction. “That’s where she died. Shot herself right where you’re standing.”
Kate looked down at the sparse, matted grass.
“Go ahead, get down on the ground,” he said pleasantly. “See what it feels like. Get the full experience.”
Her heart had finally started to slow after the surprise of his arrival, but now it picked up again, indignant. But what could she say? There was no possible appropriate response.
“I’m…” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Theo gave no sign of hearing her. He just kept watching her, his expression growing cooler by the second, until Kate started to wonder whether she had somehow said the words in the wrong order. She remembered how he had signed his emails. TJB. She had figured it was an automatic setting he used at work. Now she understood that it had been a warning. Even before he met her, he was pulling her to a halt, yanking the reins until the bit stuck in her mouth.
At last he said grimly, “Come on, then,” and angled his head toward the house.
He turned without waiting for her to follow. And without introducing himself.
By the time her limbs unlocked, he was halfway to the house. She scrambled up the hill after him, her feet skidding against the damp grass. Up close, the house was in worse shape than she had realized. The back porch stairs creaked, age had creased the paint on the banister, and the floorboards were peppered with little lakes of raw wood.
“Do you—” she began, then stopped.
“Do I what?” He kicked the doormat flat.
She sighed. “Never mind.”
A squeal came from inside. The porch door was flung open. A little girl, maybe six or seven, hung on the door handle and beamed up at them. Her nightgown was covered in cartoon Disney princesses. Below its hem, her bare feet pattered with excitement.
“Hi hi hi,” the girl said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Jemima.”
Kate smiled and shook the hand. It was light and soft in her own. “Kate. I like your nightgown.”
Jemima turned to hold the door open with her back so she could pick up the hem, flounce it about. “It’s magic. It means I can fly.”
“No flying,” Theo said. “I told you. Feet on the ground. Where’s your brother?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably being a big baby.”
“Jemima, don’t start.” Theo pulled the door the rest of the way open and gestured Kate inside.
The kitchen was outdated, with a plastic-coated fridge and orange tiles.