Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [159]
“He’s held down two jobs, one scooping ice cream—that one lasted about three months. Later he signed on at the local car wash and took a turn polishing fenders. Right now he’s not working.”
Thane nodded, staring at his son. His son. Ryan Brown. A boy he had yet to meet; a kid he hadn’t known existed until just recently. Damn Mary Theresa.
“Since I’ve given you the phone number and address along with a hefty bill for my services,” Roy said with a smug, self-deprecating grin, “I figure from here on in, the ball’s in your court.” With a glance at his watch, he scowled, “Oh, shit, I gotta run. Got a plane to catch. Finish that, will ya?” he asked, pointing to the long-necked bottle that he’d barely touched. “And pick up the tab. This one’s on you.” He grabbed the overnight bag he’d stuffed under their small table and started for the door.
“Roy?” Thane said, realizing his friend was leaving.
“What?”
Thane stood and stuck out his hand. “Thanks.”
Roy’s grin showed off teeth that were beginning to yellow. “Any time.”
Heart thundering, Maggie wheeled into Marquise’s drive and felt like an intruder as her sister’s home loomed in the watery blue glow of street lamps. The house, usually warm and inviting, was dark, a massive structure with all the warmth of a tomb. But this had to be right, didn’t it?
The message she’d received didn’t make any sense. Why would Marquise be at her house? Or did she mean that she was going to…“Don’t even think it.” Maggie cut the engine and tossed her keys into her purse. Just because Mary Theresa had supposedly written a suicide note, one that the press, thankfully, hadn’t mentioned anywhere, didn’t mean that she was actually going to take her life.
Maggie was out of the car in a second and flying up the front walk. She banged on the front door and poked the doorbell with an insistent finger, but she knew no one was inside; the house looked cold and empty. Using her key, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and nearly jumped out of her skin as the security system started beeping softly and for a second she thought a man was lurking in the shadows.
Then she remembered the suit of armor and forced herself to remain calm, to try and settle her erratic pulse and the feeling of doom that seemed to seep from the walls. Her boots slapped against the floor as she snapped on lights along the hallway to the closet where she disengaged the alarm system. “Mary Theresa?” she called, knowing deep in her heart that she was alone in the behemoth of a house. She walked back to the base of the stairs and again called to her sister, but the house was silent.
“Great,” she said under her breath and glanced at the suit of armor and mannequin as if they could hear her. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin and rubbed her arms through her thick jacket.
Maybe coming here was wrong, maybe Maggie hadn’t interpreted Mary Theresa’s message correctly, she thought as she crossed the living room and spied the piano, black and gleaming near the bank of windows that viewed the still lake. The water was smooth and dark, only a ribbon of moonlight illuminating the surface. The snow had completely melted away, and the grass shimmered silver and cold in the night.
“Come on, M.T., where are you?” she whispered, a feeling of dread settling like lead in her heart. Where was her sister? She passed by a hallway mirror and jumped at her own image—her sister’s image.
You’re losing it, she told herself and set her jaw. Just wait. M.T. said she’d be here.
Or did she? Maybe you didn’t hear a message at all. Maybe it’s all in your mind, just as the shrink told you a long time ago, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
“Damn.” She sat on the piano bench and sighed. “Where are you, Mary?” she wondered aloud, running a finger along the keys of the concert grand and listening to the tinkling notes as she stared into the vast darkness of the night. Dread squeezed