Secret Star by Nora Roberts Page A

lip, darkly pleased when she saw his gaze jerk down. Just for an instant, but it was progress. “Bailey and M.J. I don’t give my keys to men. I’d rather open the door for them myself. Or close it.”
    â€œFine.” He dumped the keys back in her hand,looking amused when her brows drew together. “Open the door.”
    One step forward, two steps back, she mused, then stepped up on the flagstone portico and unlocked her home.
    She’d braced for it, but it was still difficult. The foyer was as it had been, largely undisturbed. But her gaze was drawn up now, helplessly, to the shattered railing.
    â€œIt’s a long way to fall,” she murmured. “I wonder if you have time to think, to understand, on the way down.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t have.”
    â€œNo.” And that was better, somehow. “I suppose not.” She stepped into the living area, forced herself to look at the chalk outline. “Well, where to begin?”
    â€œHe got to your safe down here. Emptied it. You’ll want to list what was taken out.”
    â€œThe library safe.” She moved through, under an arch and into a wide room filled with light and books. A great many of those books littered the floor now, and an art deco lamp in the shape of an elongated woman’s body—a small thing she’d loved—was cracked in two. “He wasn’t subtle, was he?”
    â€œI say he was rushed. And pissed off.”
    â€œYou’d know best.” She walked to the safe,noting the open door and the empty interior. “I had some jewelry—quite a bit, actually. A few thousand in cash.”
    â€œBonds, stock certificates?”
    â€œNo, they’re in my safe-deposit box at the bank. One doesn’t need to take out stock certificates and enjoy the way they sparkle. I bought a terrific pair of diamond earrings just last month.” She sighed, shrugged. “Gone now. I have a complete list of my jewelry, and photographs of each piece, along with the insurance papers, in my safety box. Replacing them’s just a matter of—”
    She broke off, made a small, distressed sound and rushed from the room,
    The woman could move when she wanted, Seth thought as he headed upstairs after her. And she didn’t lose any of that feline grace with speed. He turned into her bedroom, then into her walk-in closet behind her.
    â€œHe wouldn’t have found it. He couldn’t have found it.” She repeated the words like a prayer as she twisted a knob on the built-in cabinet. It swung out, revealing a safe in the wall behind.
    Quickly, her fingers not quite steady, she spun the combination, wrenched open the door. Her breath expelled in a whoosh as she knelt and took out velvet boxes and bags.
    More jewelry, he thought with a shake of hishead. How many earrings could one woman wear? But she was opening each box carefully, examining the contents.
    â€œThese were my mother’s,” she murmured, with a catch of undiluted emotion in the words. “They matter. The sapphire pin my father gave her for their fifth anniversary, the necklace he gave her when I was born. The pearls. She wore these the day they married.” She stroked the creamy white strand over her cheek as if it were a loved one’s hand. “I had this built for them, didn’t keep them with the others. Just in case.”
    She sat back on her heels, her lap filled with jewelry that meant so much more than gold and pretty stones. “Well,” she managed as her throat closed. “Well, they’re here. They’re still here.”
    â€œMs. Fontaine.”
    â€œOh, call me Grace,” she snapped. “You’re as stuffy as my Uncle Niles.” Then she pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to work away the beginnings of a tension headache. “I don’t suppose you can make coffee.”
    â€œYes, I can make coffee.”
    â€œThen why don’t you go down