weeks ago.”
As she drew closer, Mallory tried to gauge how much room there was to either side of him, just in case she had to make a run for her car.
“I heard.” Three feet on either side. Close enough for him to reach out and grab her, if that was what he had in mind.
“So you might think it’s not a good idea to go walking around alone in the dark,” he said as the distance between them narrowed. “You never know who you’re going to meet in a place like this.”
“Right. You never do,” she said as she passed him, never breaking stride, her gaze level and straight ahead. “So you be sure to be careful out there, okay?”
She unlocked the car with the remote while she was still ten feet away, but never looked back. Once she was safely behind the wheel, she glanced over to where he’d stood, but he’d already disappeared into the night. With a shiver, she started the car and drove off, vowing that first thing in the morning she’d get her handgun out of its box in the bedroom closet and apply for the license necessary to carry it as a concealed weapon. And while she was in the courthouse, she’d pick up an application for her PI license.
FIVE
T he drive to Robert Magellan’s home took Mallory down meandering roads she normally wouldn’t have cause to travel. Once outside Conroy’s city limits, beyond the deserted factories and the paper mill, all long since closed, the road widened slightly and the scenery vastly improved. Gone were the rows of brownstone houses that, once fashionable, now were home to several families on each floor. The downtown area where boarded-up storefronts were commonplace gave way to farms whose crops were just starting to come in. Fields of summer wheat and newly sprouted corn lined the road on either side. Long lanes led to farmhouses that had been standing for more than a century. Mallory opened all the windows in the car and let the warm, fresh country air blow through until she reached her destination.
She turned off the road and followed the short two-lane drive until she reached the gated entry. When she’d met with Father Burch the previous night, he’d given her a passkey that would open the gate when she arrived. She slid it into the slot and removed it once the gate began to swing open. She drove through, then stopped along the side of the road and dialed the priest’s cell phone as the gates closed behind her.
“I’m here, Father,” she told him when he answered.
“Great. Just come on up to the house. I’ll meet you outside the front door.”
Well, he sounds chipper,
she thought as she put the car in gear and continued up the driveway. Once she was past a big bend to the right, the house came into view.
“Holy shit,” she muttered.
There were bigger houses in this world, she was sure, probably some much bigger right here in Pennsylvania, but to Mallory, the Magellan home was more than impressive. Built sometime in the 1920s, she guessed, judging by its Tudor architecture, its wings sprawled both to the right and to the left from a very large rectangular center stucco and half-timber structure. She parked her car and got out, taking it all in while pretending not to in case someone was watching. Before she rang the bell, she reached out with her right hand to touch the smooth coolness of the heavy front door—at least she hoped it was the front door; she’d passed several others, but they’d looked less significant.
“Good morning.” A cheerful Father Burch opened the door almost immediately. “I forgot how short the drive is from the gate. Come in, please. Susanna is waiting for you.” He gestured for her to follow him.
“Susanna?” She tried not to appear knocked out by her surroundings, as if walking through sumptuous mansion halls was an everyday thing for her.
“Rob’s right hand. She’s worked with him forever,” he explained. “She takes care of things like this for him.”
“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. Would she not
As she drew closer, Mallory tried to gauge how much room there was to either side of him, just in case she had to make a run for her car.
“I heard.” Three feet on either side. Close enough for him to reach out and grab her, if that was what he had in mind.
“So you might think it’s not a good idea to go walking around alone in the dark,” he said as the distance between them narrowed. “You never know who you’re going to meet in a place like this.”
“Right. You never do,” she said as she passed him, never breaking stride, her gaze level and straight ahead. “So you be sure to be careful out there, okay?”
She unlocked the car with the remote while she was still ten feet away, but never looked back. Once she was safely behind the wheel, she glanced over to where he’d stood, but he’d already disappeared into the night. With a shiver, she started the car and drove off, vowing that first thing in the morning she’d get her handgun out of its box in the bedroom closet and apply for the license necessary to carry it as a concealed weapon. And while she was in the courthouse, she’d pick up an application for her PI license.
FIVE
T he drive to Robert Magellan’s home took Mallory down meandering roads she normally wouldn’t have cause to travel. Once outside Conroy’s city limits, beyond the deserted factories and the paper mill, all long since closed, the road widened slightly and the scenery vastly improved. Gone were the rows of brownstone houses that, once fashionable, now were home to several families on each floor. The downtown area where boarded-up storefronts were commonplace gave way to farms whose crops were just starting to come in. Fields of summer wheat and newly sprouted corn lined the road on either side. Long lanes led to farmhouses that had been standing for more than a century. Mallory opened all the windows in the car and let the warm, fresh country air blow through until she reached her destination.
She turned off the road and followed the short two-lane drive until she reached the gated entry. When she’d met with Father Burch the previous night, he’d given her a passkey that would open the gate when she arrived. She slid it into the slot and removed it once the gate began to swing open. She drove through, then stopped along the side of the road and dialed the priest’s cell phone as the gates closed behind her.
“I’m here, Father,” she told him when he answered.
“Great. Just come on up to the house. I’ll meet you outside the front door.”
Well, he sounds chipper,
she thought as she put the car in gear and continued up the driveway. Once she was past a big bend to the right, the house came into view.
“Holy shit,” she muttered.
There were bigger houses in this world, she was sure, probably some much bigger right here in Pennsylvania, but to Mallory, the Magellan home was more than impressive. Built sometime in the 1920s, she guessed, judging by its Tudor architecture, its wings sprawled both to the right and to the left from a very large rectangular center stucco and half-timber structure. She parked her car and got out, taking it all in while pretending not to in case someone was watching. Before she rang the bell, she reached out with her right hand to touch the smooth coolness of the heavy front door—at least she hoped it was the front door; she’d passed several others, but they’d looked less significant.
“Good morning.” A cheerful Father Burch opened the door almost immediately. “I forgot how short the drive is from the gate. Come in, please. Susanna is waiting for you.” He gestured for her to follow him.
“Susanna?” She tried not to appear knocked out by her surroundings, as if walking through sumptuous mansion halls was an everyday thing for her.
“Rob’s right hand. She’s worked with him forever,” he explained. “She takes care of things like this for him.”
“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. Would she not
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