Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [8]
She froze, forgetting about the stranger behind her. “Another? David, what are you talking about?
I haven’t heard about any murders.”
He looked nervous, her sensitive husband. “I didn’t see the point of mentioning it, given what you and Sophie had just been through. Anyway, it’s not something we talk about here, particularly since the last one was years ago. We thought…” He peered into the darkness, and his voice sharpened. “Who’s that with you?”
She looked back, and the stranger moved into the bright light. She couldn’t very well introduce him, since he hadn’t given his name.
“Hello, David,” the man said.
Her husband turned pale. “Shit,” he said. The first time Rachel had ever heard him curse. “What are you doing here?”
“Haven’t you heard the story about the prodigal son?” His face was expressionless. “Is this your wife?”
“It is,” David said, putting a possessive hand on her. Another anomaly—he seldom touched her in front of other people.
“Are you going to introduce us?” There was just the faint taunt in his voice. Whoever the stranger was, David wasn’t happy to see him. And David was always unfailingly polite.
“I don’t think so.”
The man laughed. “You can’t keep her away from me forever. You know that.”
“I can try.”
“What the hell is going on?” Rachel said. “Why are you two having a pissing contest?”
“Old habits die hard,” the stranger murmured. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“Now isn’t a good time, Caleb,” David said stiffly.
“Is it ever?”
The damp night air had turned to rain once more, and Rachel had had enough. “My name is Rachel Chapman,” she said, seriously annoyed. “And of course you’re invited in.”
“Rachel Chapman Middleton,” David corrected her.
The smile the stranger sent David was nothing short of a triumphant smirk, and he moved into the house, pushing David out of the way. David fell back, and there was no reading the strained expression on his face.
“Don’t you think you could give the old man a break?” he said. “Just go away. Go back to whatever disaster zone you’ve been haunting and leave us alone, for God’s sake.”
“Who’s there?” Stephen Henry’s deep voice could be heard through the closed door.
“Might as well face the music, David,” the stranger, Caleb, said. “You want to do it together?”
“I better warn him.” David pushed past him, shoving the kitchen door open. Leaving Rachel alone in the kitchen with the stranger who was no stranger at all.
He gave her a faint, quizzical smile. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have some old acquaintances to renew.”
She was tempted to stay put, or even better, go take her car and drive home. This was supposed to be a safe place, where murder couldn’t happen. But It had happened, apparently more than once, and she needed to get to Sophie, fast.
But Sophie was at Maggie Bannister’s house—the safest possible place. She needed to calm down, not rush into anything and end up freaking Sophie out.
She could be reasonable, wait for David. In the meantime she wanted to know who was the man who managed to rattle her unflappable husband.
She followed him into the living room where Stephen Henry had been holding forth. Half the guests had already departed in the wake of the horrifying news, and the ones who remained were looking even more stunned at the sight of the newcomer.
Stephen Henry looked up, his long silver mane pushed back from his face in artistic disarray. His faded blue eyes focused on the newcomer, and to Rachel’s astonishment, a smile wreathed his face.
“My long-lost son,” he said. “Welcome home, Caleb. We’ve missed you.”
2
With a superhuman effort Rachel shut her mouth, waiting, watching, when she wanted nothing more than to go up to her sulky husband, shake him and say “why the hell did you tell me you were an only child?” In fact, when he’d come into their shattered lives he’d said that was one thing he had in common with Sophie—he knew what it was like to grow up alone. He’d lied. And she really hated liars.
She moved across the room and sat down on one