Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [118]
“He does seem to be smitten, doesn’t he?”
“Smitten might be a bit mild. I can’t remember the last time I saw that look on his face.”
“What look is that?”
“The one he gets when he looks at her.”
No doubt much like the one I get when I look at you. Sean smiled to himself. Aloud, he said, “It was hard for him to leave and go back to Virginia while all this is going on.”
“Well, he didn’t go quietly, that’s for sure. But I didn’t see any reason why he should miss out on that training. Besides, I think he understands that you’re not going to let anything happen to me.”
“I told him I’d guard you with my life, Amanda. I meant it.”
She knew he would. Just knowing that made this whole thing so much easier.
“You okay, Amanda? You know that we can always—”
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”
“Scared?”
“A little.”
“It’ll be all over after tonight?”
“I think if it isn’t, Miranda is going to go stir-crazy. She’s been moving around this house like a ghost all day. And she made some comment earlier about feeling like the bride of Dracula.”
“What was that?” Sean tilted his head in the direction of the hall, listening, then slowly stood.
“Pipes. They always do that soft little clink thing about this time.”
“You sure?”
“Positive,” she whispered. “Sit down, Sean. It’s going to be a long night.”
“I don’t think so. If he’s been watching the house, he’ll be along any time now. We figured an hour or two from the time the lights went off. He’s going to want to come in when he thinks you’re asleep, so he’s going to give you some time there. He wants you totally powerless. I think Anne Marie is right on the money with this guy.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Ramona.”
He groaned softly.
“Come on, Sean, you have to admit, she—”
“Shhhhhh.”
There was an indistinct sound from the first floor.
“Showtime,” Sean said softly. “Don’t move . . .”
The footfalls on the stairs were barely audible, but in the silent house, unmistakable. In the dark, Amanda counted. When she reached number twelve, she held her breath. Twelve steps up, just seconds from the landing to her room.
The bedroom door opened so slowly that at first she was uncertain that it had moved at all. But bit by bit, the pale, pale halo from the night-light in the hall spread dimly across the floor. Not enough to see much more than shape and shadow, but that, of course, was the whole idea.
The form moved to the bed, then stood at the side for several minutes.
Then, in a soft, seductive voice, he said, “Wake up, dream girl.”
He rested one knee on the side of the mattress. One hand reached for the end of the blanket and started to pull it back.
“Uncle Vince has something for you, baby.”
“Baby has something for you, too, Uncle Vince.”
The hard muzzle of Sean’s gun pressed up against the back of Vince’s head, dead center, and Vince froze.
The lights went on overhead as Miranda stepped into the room, her gun drawn.
Amanda stepped out of the closet.
“What the fuck . . .” Vince looked down at the shape on the bed.
Amanda pulled back the covers on the mannequin that lay facedown on her pillow. “Well, hey, would you look at that? Uncle Vince’s dream girl is a real dummy.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY
“You look as tired as I feel,” Amanda told Sean as he parked the Jeep in front of Greer’s house and got out. She’d arrived only moments earlier.
“You should be tired,” he said, then amended that to, “We should both be tired. Up half the night waiting for Giordano, up the rest of the night and all day today writing reports.”
“You were writing reports,” she corrected him. “I was giving statements.”
“Close enough. You sure you want to have dinner here? I’m sure Greer would understand if you wanted to go home and catch some sleep. I’m sure she has no idea what you’ve been through these past four days.”
“I’m okay, except for the fatigue, and we all have that. Besides, I had to come by to pick up some things I left in the guest room. It was nice of Greer to invite me over for dinner, though.”
“You know