Page 9

“Nothing hurts. I wondered if I’d hit my head. That could cause the nausea and headache.”

“So something was in your dinner. Or wine.”

Silence dragged between them as they both glanced at the sleeping Violet.

“What kind of kids has she been hanging out with?”

“Not the kind who’d suggest she drug her mother,” Gianna snapped. “Especially in the middle of nowhere. What good would that do her? She can’t call anyone or text anyone.”

Chris held up his hands. “Then what happened?”

“I don’t know.” Gianna leaned her head back. “I asked myself that during our walk. My arms and legs weren’t behaving the way they should.”

“I noticed.”

“Maybe I inhaled something in the burning cabin that affected my motor skills and made me nauseated. But why didn’t Violet experience it? I’m trying to rationalize something to account for it. There’s got to be an explanation.”

“Maybe,” Chris echoed. Something had definitely affected Gianna. How it had gotten into her system was a mystery. Clearly she was the type of person who needed proof. He strongly suspected she’d been exposed to something that’d made her feel ill, but it appeared she’d need to see a blood test before she’d accept it as fact. He figured it was the scientist in her. She needed to weigh every possibility before drawing a conclusion.

It wasn’t a bad trait, but he found it a bit frustrating.

“Back in New York, Violet had started hanging out with the wrong kids,” Gianna said quietly. “I brought her up here so I could spend time with her without being interrupted every ten minutes by her instant messages or email. She’s been very angry with me since we moved. Granted, it’s been only a few months since we left New York, but I’d hoped she’d be over it by now.”

Chris nodded. Teen angst and issues were foreign to him. He’d been a teen at one time, but his perspective had been severely skewed. Being held in an underground bunker for two years after being kidnapped by a child abuser had given him a history few people could understand. He kept it to himself.

“She looks just like you,” he commented. The teen had Gianna’s long sleek brown hair and dark eyes, but stood a good three inches taller than her petite mother.

Pride flashed in Gianna’s eyes. “She does,” she said simply.

Chris abruptly missed his son. Brian had the dark coloring of his deceased mother, Elena, but looked exactly like Chris as a child. “Violet was terrified when I first got there,” he said. “She’d been awake most of the night, making certain you were still breathing, worried about keeping you from choking on your own vomit.”

Gianna’s tilted her head to one side. “Poor thing. She’s heard me tell too many stories.”

“Stories?” Chris asked.

She gave a grim look. “Stories that naturally come from working with dead people every day.”

“Ah,” said Chris. “I bet you see some fascinating things.”

“Most people say ‘gross things.’”

“That, too.” He deftly maneuvered a sandwich onto a plate and slid it in front of her.

“It looks incredible,” Gianna stated. She took a look at her daughter. “I’m not waking her up. I suspect she needs sleep more than anything right now.”

“She’ll have plenty of time to eat. We’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

Gianna carefully inched down the ladder from the loft. Dim light filtered into the cabin from the moon outside. She’d slept, but had spent the last hour staring at the close ceiling with images of the destroyed roof of her cabin and the mystery path in the snow bouncing around her brain.

How did the fire start?

Is Chris right that it was arson?

She’d finally gotten up, hoping a glass of water would put her back to sleep. She stepped off the last rung, turned, and sucked in a breath.

Chris stood ten feet away.

“Jeez! You scared me to death.” She tried to calm her racing heart. “Did I wake you?”

“No. I was up.”

He didn’t expand on his statement.

She silently stared back at him, caution creeping up her spine. She couldn’t see his eyes in the faint light. “What’s going on?” He was tense. Wide awake and standing where he could see out the front window and the side window at the same time. She knew the curtains had been drawn when she went to bed. Now they were completely open.

“Nothing. I don’t sleep much. Sometimes I just like to listen so I’m aware of what’s going on.”

She listened and heard a whole lot of silence. “You’re worried.”

He looked away, and she realized he was still in the jeans and shirt he’d worn that day. Violet had napped for several hours and woken up starving around dinnertime. Chris had heated them a simple meal of leftover stew and steamed rice that both she and Violet swore was the best thing they’d tasted in months. Later Gianna had picked a mystery from his shelf of novels while Violet entertained herself with games on her phone. Everyone had gone to bed early. Or so she’d thought.

“Did you hear someone outside?” How long has he been standing like that? I’ve been awake for an hour and haven’t heard a peep.

“No. It’s quiet.”

She moved to look out the front window. Moonlight reflected off the snow, doubling its radiance. She scanned for fresh tracks and paths. The snow sparkled and the frozen branches of the trees glistened. It was beautiful, but marred by her knowledge of the burned husk of a cabin a mile away. And the odd mystery path. Turning around, she saw Chris still hadn’t moved.