Zinnia by Jayne Castle Page A

seemed so certain of his conclusions. The evidence of a frantic search was all around them. “There’s an old saying that things hidden in plain view are less likely to be discovered.”
    His mouth twisted with polite disdain. “No matrix would subscribe to that dumb theory.”
    She thought about it. “You’re right. Matrix-talents are too secretive by nature to trust the plain view concept.” She looked around. “Morris had other valuable books in his collection besides the journal. Two original North monographs, for example. Perhaps the murderer was after them.”
    Nick studied the ransacked room and then shook his head once. “I doubt it. This place was torn apart in a random fashion. Whoever did it wasn’t searching for valuable books.”
    “How can you be certain of that?”
    He shrugged. “I can see at least two volumes of the third edition of the Founders’ Encyclopedia on the floor. Each of them is worth at least five hundred dollars to a collector. No one who knew anything about the antiquarian book trade would have left them behind.”
    “Oh.” Impressed, Zinnia switched her gaze back to Nick’s face. He was watching her intently. Their eyes locked and for a moment she could not summon the will to look away.
    The world grew very still around her. She felt the hair stir on the back of her neck. A prickling sensation coursed down her spine. It was as though every sense she possessed, physical and psychic, was poised on the cusp of acute awareness. The feeling was just a hairsbreadth shy of painful.
    “What is it?” Nick asked in his soft heart-of-a-cavern voice.
    “I hadn’t realized that you knew so much about rare books.”
    “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Miss Spring.” He smiled faintly. “And there’s a great deal that I don’t know about you. That makes us even.”
    She shivered. The small whispers of awareness continued to make her uneasy. She’d never experienced a reaction quite like this around any man. Then again, she had never been in a situation quite like this, she reminded herself. For some reason, her life had been so humdrum that she had never before found herself in a room with a dead client and a mysterious man who put on gloves before he walked into the middle of a murder scene.
    She was relieved to hear a siren in the distance. “Why did you follow me?”
    “I didn’t. I had Feather follow you. He called me on the car phone when he realized what you were about to do.”
    That bit of information incensed her. “What business was it of yours, Mr. Chastain?”
    “I think that, under the circumstances, my concern was reasonable. After all, you took the risk of confronting me in order to accuse me of kidnapping. There are very few people who would have done that. It indicated a certain degree of unpredictability and recklessness on your part. How could I know what you might do next?”
    “Why should you care what I did next?”
    “You’re involved with the journal. I’m interested in anyone who’s connected to it in any way.”
    “Did you follow me because you thought I might lead you to it?”
    “No.” He looked mildly surprised. “It never crossed my mind that you would know its whereabouts. Fenwick made it clear that he had it stashed safely away and that he was the only one who knew where it was. Since he was a matrix, it would probably take another matrix to find it.”
    “So you had me followed just to see what I would do next?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Of all the nerve.” The wail of a siren was louder now. It made her feel increasingly bold. “I suppose you realize that was an invasion of my privacy?”
    “Would you rather be standing here all by yourself with Fenwick’s body while you wait for the cops?”
    He had a point. It would have been a lonely vigil. “No, not really.”
    She decided there was no point mentioning that there were a number of other people besides himself who would have made more comfortable companions