Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [93]
The window behind her was locked. She looked around her for a weapon, but there was nothing, and at the last minute she grabbed David’s chair. It was heavy, but she managed to lift it, using all her strength, and fling it through the window. The glass shattered, the mullions smashed, and the chair ending up on the flagstone patio. And she followed after it, feeling the shards of glass rip at her arms, disappearing into the wet afternoon just as a shadow appeared in the ruined window, calling after her. Her name was lost in the wind as she ran.
Sophie knew how to get around Silver Falls. The light rain gave her the excuse to pull the hood over her hair, and she walked with her head down. She dumped her backpack in the playground on her way—too bad if someone took it. She was bored to tears with the schoolwork anyway—even the college-level courses were too easy.
She was heading straight for the one place she had any chance of getting an honest answer. Straight for the Old Goat.
He was sitting in his wheelchair in the study, reading a techno-thriller, one he immediately put down when he saw her standing in his door. “How’d you get in?” he said, sounding less than welcoming.
“The door was unlocked. I want to know about your sons.”
The Old Goat had recovered himself. “Why don’t you come over here and sit beside me and we’ll talk…”
“I can hear perfectly well right here,” she said in a stony voice, no longer bothering to do her Miss Charm thing. “I don’t trust you.”
The Old Goat looked affronted. “What are you accusing me of? You think I’m a child molester?”
“No. You’re just a dirty old man who thinks he’s a lot more interesting than he is, and I don’t want to get any closer. Where’s David?”
“Your father is—”
“Not my father,” she snapped. “And you’re not my grandfather. Where is he?”
Stephen Henry managed a dignified pout. “I have no idea. He said he had some arrangements to make. This has all been extremely difficult, and I know what a sensitive child you are. Let me call your mother…”
“I’m not sensitive, I’m pissed off. Why is Caleb in jail? You know he didn’t kill anyone.”
“Do I?” he replied, refusing to meet her accusing stare. “I’m not sure what I know. I’ve never been certain.”
“Certain about what?”
He leaned back in his chair, and it was clear he wasn’t going to give her any answers. “I don’t think they’ll hold Caleb for very long,” he said in stead. “They can’t have any proof.”
“Why are you so sure of that?” Sophie persisted.
Stephen Henry looked at her with clear dislike, something she much preferred to his fawning.
“Did anyone ever tell you you were too inquisitive for your own good?”
“Next you’ll be saying curiosity killed the cat. My mother has always encouraged me to have an inquiring mind.”
“Your mother needs to learn not to be so impulsive,” Stephen Henry said in a grumble. “Things were doing fine until she came here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sophie said, still trying to be polite. “What’s my mother done?”
“Set him off,” Stephen Henry said in a low, empty voice.
“I don’t believe you. Caleb wouldn’t do these things and you know it. Besides, he likes my mother, I can tell.”
“Of course Caleb likes your mother. He likes anything that belongs to David,” the Old Goat said in a cranky voice.
Now Sophie was getting pissed. “My mother doesn’t belong to anyone. And I don’t know what you think is my mother’s fault, or why, but she has nothing to do with Caleb being arrested for something he hasn’t done.”
“She has everything to do with it, and you’re an idiot,” Stephen Henry said, any trace of charm long gone. “Go away and leave me alone. I don’t have time for inquisitive little girls right now.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. If you know Caleb didn’t kill anyone then why aren’t you doing something about it?”
“Caleb can take care of himself. He always has.” Stephen Henry put his hands on the wheels and tried to turn himself away.
Sophie