Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [84]
“Greer, I asked you—”
“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing.” She waved her hand absently. “I mean, Amanda is here, so it couldn’t have been.”
“Greer.” Sean closed his eyes and counted to ten.
“When I pulled up, it looked like someone—a woman—was running up the drive, but since Amanda is here and no one in their right mind would be out in this . . .” She draped the sweater over the back of a chair. “I’m sure it was just a shadow from all that lightning. I’m sure that was it.”
Sean and Amanda exchanged a long look.
He pushed past Greer and opened the door leading out to the yard.
“Sean, where are you . . .” Greer shook her head and turned back to Amanda. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Now he’s going to run around the neighborhood in this storm, get soaking wet, and come down with pneumonia.”
She went to the door and called out into the dark. “Sean? Come back in here.” She stood at the door and scanned the yard each time lightning flashed.
Finally she came back inside, shaking her head. “Cops. He’s not going to be satisfied until he’s gone through every yard on the street.”
The teakettle began to whistle.
“I know I need some nice hot tea right now, and I’m sure Sean will, too, by the time he’s done scouting the neighborhood for prowlers.” Greer dried her arms with the towel. “Amanda, would you get three mugs down?”
“Better make that four,” Sean told her as he came back inside, ushering a shrouded figure. “We have company.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
“Want to tell me what you were doing hiding in the garage?” Sean turned the wet shrouded figure around.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it was pouring buckets out there.” Ramona pulled down the hood of her rain jacket and shook out a mass of wet red curls. Her gaze went from Sean to the two women, who stood speechless nearby.
“Ramona, honey, why didn’t you just knock on the door?” Greer asked.
“There weren’t any lights on when I got here, so I just assumed no one was at home.”
“So you decided to break into the garage.” Sean nodded. “Sure. That makes sense.”
“I hadn’t planned on . . . well, on anything. I just wanted to see . . . Oh, hi.” She seemed to notice Amanda for the first time. “We met at the diner earlier.”
“We did,” Amanda said, then smiled weakly. “Nice to see you again.”
Ramona laughed. “I’ll bet.”
“I want to know what you’re doing here.” Sean reached for the roll of paper towels and tore off a few sheets to dry his arms and face.
“I could use a few of those paper towels, too.” Ramona put her hand out for the roll, which Sean passed to her. She dried her face, then rolled the paper towel into a tight ball. “Greer, I was in the area, and I wanted . . . I wanted to see the house, that’s all.”
“I don’t think I belong here. I really shouldn’t be part of this.” Amanda backed toward the door. “So if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to turn in.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Sean said as if nothing extraordinary was going on. “Try to get some sleep tonight.”
“Look, I just wanted to see where you lived. And once I saw how cute the house was, I just wanted to see it a little closer. I parked the car and got out and was just going to walk up the drive a little, but then it started pouring buckets and I ran for the first cover I could find, which happened to be the garage. I thought the storm would blow over real fast the way they do sometimes when they come on all of a sudden like this one did. I figured I’d be here and gone and no one would even know. But then you all came home in the interim. Look, I didn’t mean to upset anyone.” She looked at Sean, then at Greer. “I’m so sorry.”
“Well, honey, you don’t have to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Greer turned on Sean. “You’re making too much out of this, Sean. She has every right to stop here if she wants to. I don’t understand what your problem is.”
“I think you—we—need to take this just a little slower, that’s all.”
“Sean thinks I’m probably the daughter of some other Veronica Mercer who was born on the first of May in 1948 and who just happens to have the same social