The next morning, she changed into clothes more suitable for visiting Knight Manor. It was like stepping back a few years to the rebel girl she’d left behind, but surprisingly enough, she found the transition easy and more pleasant than expected.
She stepped from the elevator on the main level, noticed the sign for the hotel’s restaurant, and could deny her morning tummy-grumbles no longer.
As she sipped the last of her coffee, she gazed through the huge windows, feeling more relaxed than she had in two days. Even so, she still jumped at the voice that brought her back to reality.
“Miss Decanis? What a pleasant surprise.”
She stared into the liquid green eyes and felt at a loss for words.
“Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you thought you lost me in traffic last night.”
“Mr. Alexander, whatever do you mean? I’ve barely given our encounter a second thought.” She cleared the lump forming in her throat. “I suppose I assumed you lived in the city, but I gather that is not the case since you’re here, loitering in a motel this early in the day.”
“Business trip,” was all he offered.
“Likewise,” she said.
“And what business are you in?” he asked.
“Mr. Alexander, I did tell you I had a full schedule. Now that I’ve ticked breakfast off the list, I must be off.” Melanie got to her feet.
“Maybe I can give you a lift. I’ve rented some very cool wheels.”
“Tempting, but no, thanks.”
“Right. I can see life is all business for you. Perhaps I can persuade you to dine with me tonight, now that I see you actually do eat.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.” Or if I’ll ever return, she thought – but he didn’t need to know that. Checking out became difficult with this stalker breathing over her shoulder. She’d leave for the Manor and speak to Trevor about her belongings still upstairs. Hopefully, Trevor would still want her as a house guest.
She picked up her purse. “I must decline your offer for dinner.”
“You’re acting very polite and proper, Miss Decanis,” he said with a pout.
“I’m always polite, when the company I keep merits it.”
“Nice to know I’ve moved up a notch on your merit list.”
Melanie sighed from the drained energy this type of conversation required. “I don’t play these games well. I suggest you look elsewhere for your entertainment.”
The man didn’t budge as she moved to pass him. He turned abruptly, landing her face to face with him, just a breath away which frayed her nerves to the bone. When she attempted to squeeze past him, their bodies touched. Even though she was wearing high heels, he stood taller than her by three inches; his posture was straight, and every movement revealed the practice of proper upbringing. His physique was lean, and he wore his expensive suit with comfortable ease. But it was his face that had hypnotized her, and she was momentarily lost in his laughing green eyes. They awoke every magical feature he possessed, and it spread like a fire out of control to consume those caught within its blaze. His entire being screamed hot and available and his grin suggested he knew it.
Melanie shook free of the spell he had cast with such little effort, and she ducked her head to further avoid his seducing eyes. “Excuse me.”
Once at a safe distance, she glanced back. “Good day, sir,” she said, figuring the formality might deter him, but when she heard his low chuckle, she knew the man had no scruples, and hoped never to meet him again.
Outside the entrance, Melanie hailed a cab. It was a ten-minute ride to Knight’s Manor – an enormous chunk of real estate for one man to live. He’d never married, to her knowledge. Chrissy had avoided talk of family, and the Knight legacy scored close to the bottom on the list of subjects for conversation.
Melanie paid the cabbie and went up to the front door. She wondered if Trevor had notified his staff that company would be calling. She rang the bell and waited.
When the door swung open, Spencer stood there with a welcoming smile. “Good morning, Miss Braxton. We are expecting you.”
“Hello, again, Spencer. Is Mr. Knight home?” The butler ran the place with military efficiency, avoiding useless small-talk with guests. A memory of Chrissy flashed through Melanie’s mind – of her saluting and standing at attention when they’d visited only a short week ago.
Spencer ushered her inside. “Mr. Knight is finishing up a business meeting in his office. Would you prefer to get settled into your suite or wait in the parlor?” He glanced at the taxi as it disappeared down the driveway. “No bags, Miss Braxton?”
“Not at the moment.” Spencer raised an eyebrow, and Melanie well-imagined the employee pondering the ridiculous notion of a lady traveling without luggage.
Inside the parlor, he spoke again. “I will notify the kitchen to send in tea and scones while you wait.” He nodded respectfully, then exited the room.
Melanie sunk into a cushioned chair and lay her head back. The clues – or lack thereof – swam against the swelling currents in her mind, invading the peaceful moment. She wondered if the police had found her car in the river yet. Melanie glanced at her phone, but she noticed no new texts from her partner in Langley. Uncovering the truth was first and foremost, regardless of Drew’s involvement. The police force would leave no stone unturned following any leads left behind from that fatal evening at the river. Grateful for the support of her peers, Melanie realized that the life of a lone soldier – either personally or professionally – was a lonely place to dwell. People needed people, all kinds, and from all stations in life.
Her Georgia pride, having been recently tried and tested, caused Melanie to survey the turbulent waves she’d left in her wake. There would be back-peddling required to rebuild the bridges she’d burned. She sought wisdom and guidance in a quiet moment of prayer realizing even that surrender was a milestone.
The door flung open and a deep masculine voice filled the air. “Melanie – welcome. You will never know how relieved I am to see you sitting safely in my parlor.”
She scampered to find her feet and somehow tripped up in the process. Trevor caught her just before she stumbled headlong into his arms.
“Sorry. Bit clumsy lately.” Melanie’s eyes met his. He seemed to capture her hurting soul within depths of kindness, but she also saw a hint of something else, though she feared to put a name on it after the recent botched-up-encounter with Casanova.
“Please, sit.” They turned when a tap sounded on the door, and the maid brought in two cups of tea and a plate of sweet treats. Trevor waved her away, bent to pour the hot liquid into the tea cups, and passed one to Melanie. “Just as you like it: black with no sugar.”
Melanie smiled. “You have a good memory.”
“You left a good impression, and I am eager to discover all there is to know about you.”
“Well, for starters, it’s been a long time since I’ve drunk tea from such a fancy cup.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve noticed that police officers tend to drink endless cups of caffeine from large mugs.”
She chuckled. “I suppose we do.”
“Well, fill me in – what’s happened since we met in South Carolina?”
“I filled out a report, the local detectives are hot on the case, and my partner promises to send me updates so we can stay informed.”
While Trevor Knight’s outward appearance matched the magnitude of the earlier Casanova, no sign of deceit marred the man’s penetrating scrutiny. No feelings of intimidation swept over the distraught woman, and the gift of his smile was intoxicating.
He reached out his hand to touch hers, and she flinched involuntarily.
“Where are you – a million miles away?”
“Daydreaming, I suppose.”
Melanie scolded herself silently. What was it with her and men today? Trevor was her friend’s uncle, pure and simple. She admired and respected him for his unselfish act of stepping in to take responsibility for his family, un
like her father. The senior Mr. Braxton, had gladly abandoned his family responsibilities the moment they’d buried her mother six feet under. The rejection had driven Drew to an extravagant, superficial lifestyle and Melanie to an understated one.
“Young enough to dream yet old enough to know your mind. Women like you pose a challenge for men like myself. Did I ever tell you that I love a challenge?” He touched her hand again. This time, his intention was unmistakable.
Confusion swept over her as she cast him a back-to-business smile. “When was the last time you spoke to Chrissy? I mean really connected,” Melanie asked.”
“Not for a long time. She isn’t easy to approach on subjects that matter. I could ask you the same question. You lived with her.”
“Touché, Mr. Knight. Chrissy had an uncanny ability to construct walls to keep others out. We did talk about her discontent with wealth and power, mostly because we had that issue in common, but she never voiced anything that would lead me to believe she was involved in this deadly state of affairs.”
“The letter is all I have,” Trevor said, “and she didn’t even leave it propped on my desk so I’d see it, but hid it in a drawer. It’s like she wanted me to know, but not.”
“And the note spoke of…” she encouraged him to continue.
“Chrissy feared for her life. She mentioned stalkers becoming aggressive, even suggested that her father’s shady past might have something to do with it. I was thrilled when she asked me to see if I could find out who they were. Chrissy also reminded me of her upcoming birthday, that I’d soon be free of my obligation toward her.”
“What happens on her twenty-first birthday?” Melanie asked.
“She gains control of her trust fund. But she was so adamant about taking even the monthly allowance her father’s estate allowed these past three years, I can’t see that she cares about the bulk of it.”
“Does she have a relative or old boyfriend who might be interested in taking the money off her hands?”
“Doesn’t everyone have someone who covets the easy life?”
“Not me, anymore. Although, I am starting to build a retirement fund.” Melanie laughed. “I suppose I’d only attract long range stalkers.”
“This is also of your own choosing.” Melanie noted the reprimand in his tone, and she straightened her spine to appear more self-confident. He grinned at her obvious discomfort, and continued. “Before last week, I hadn’t spoken to Chrissy since she left Georgia. She does have a sister, Chelsea. Actually, she visited the Manor shortly after you and Chrissy left last week, voicing all kinds of questions about Chrissy, and why I hadn’t invited the poor estranged girl to dinner while you were here. I supposed that to be odd behavior – Chrissy and Chelsea aren’t exactly what you would call loving sisters.” He laughed as if that were the norm. “This month is the most I’ve seen of Chelsea in ages. Her dropping in and out, playing the neglected niece and sister, did make me suspicious, but until the letter, their relationship seemed pretty normal for the lives they both led. I gave up trying to figure Chelsea out – you never know what that girl is up to – but she is twenty-five and not my responsibility. She resides not twenty minutes away and only calls in when she wants to torment me or disrupt my household.” Trevor studied Melanie closely over the rim of his cup. “A question for you: do you think that I somehow offend your generation?”
“Do you assume I am in my early twenties, Trevor?” When he raised his eyebrows, she continued, “I assure you I got a late start in life. I tried to fill the shoes my parents expected of me far too long, and after mother’s death I struck out on my own. Went back to school and started a career in law enforcement.”
“Thank you for your service,” Trevor said. “Not enough appreciation is shown to the courageous numbers which keep our streets safe.”
“To be honest, I’m having trouble readjusting after the bad guys landed on my doorstep,” Melanie admitted.
“I suppose a certain detachment at work helps to keep the emotions and mind clear of becoming too personally involved,” Trevor said. “Of course, a direct attack on you, such as this case involves, puts you right in the center, like it or not. Have you notified your father of the situation?”
“Not yet. I’d rather do it after the fact, but at the same time, I wouldn’t want him to read about it in my obituary.”
“I believe you said you had a brother – are you close?”
“Not anymore,” Melanie said. “He lives not too far from here.”
“Will you be contacting either of them while under the protection of my home?” The man was full of uncomfortable questions.
“This past week has caused me to consider making amends. A person only has one family, the good and bad of it.”
“Have you thought about joining the family of God? Seems to me you could use the Almighty to walk this road with.”
Melanie jumped at the change of subject. “Do you go to church?”
“I attend a small gospel work. They have a strong mission emphasis, and the pastor usually has new prospects for my monthly freebie.”
“Freebie?”
“Once a month: one case from the church, and one from the lower-classes who can’t afford good representation.”
“Nice to see you live your faith. Perhaps there is hope for me yet.”
“If you’d like to accompany me, I attend a weekly Bible study on Tuesday nights.”
“Tonight? You don’t waste any time.” She bit her lip. “I left my bags, packed but still on my bed in the Chanter Hotel this morning. A man was giving me the run-around, and I wanted to lose him. He will be watching for my return tonight. He doesn’t understand the meaning of get lost.”
Trevor immediately reached for a silent bell, and Spencer appeared shortly after. “Yes, sir?”
“Send the car around to the Chanter.” He looked at Melanie. “Do you have a key to your room?” Melanie rummaged through her purse and passed the key fob to him. “Secure Miss Braxton’s items from her room, check out and pay the final bill,” Trevor instructed. “In the process, do not give anyone a forwarding address and make sure you’re not followed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, then. Be off.” He focused on Melanie again. “When your bags arrive, Spencer will show you to your suite. Lunch today will be served on the south terrace. Meanwhile, would you care for a stroll through the gardens?”
Melanie stood. Even with her heels she had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. He was a man of authority with gentle eyes and a heart of gold – what more could a woman want?
“I would love to see the gardens again. It was such a peaceful retreat, even when stomping through it with impatient Chrissy.”
He reached for her hand. “I shall try not to interrupt your tranquil escape, my dear.”
“Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world”.
Chapter 11
Tilly was the one assigned to deliver Melanie upstairs. The woman appeared to be on-call, for one ring from her employer brought her running to do his bidding.
“Tilly, bring our guest to Chrissy’s suite in the east wing. It has been made up since the previous visit, right?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I thought you might like to spend some time reminiscing there. Thank you for joining me in the gardens. Your bags should arrive shortly. Enjoy a brief rest, and I will see you at one for lunch.” His lips brushed a slight kiss across her hand before he spun around and headed toward his office.
Tilly spoke: “This way, Miss Braxton.”
Melanie followed the maid up the ornate winding staircase. The loud click of her heels on the marble stairway seemed to amplify the only sign of activity within the manor. At the top, they turned to the left, then sidestepped into an inner-hallway. A plush carpet-runner stretched as far as she could see, centering the wide expanse with colors complementing the veins of blue-grey in the stone edges extending halfway up the wall. Melanie loved
the blue hues, which always managed to calm her spirit.
They stopped. Tilly opened the door to Chrissy’s childhood room and stepped aside to allow Melanie first entry. Memories of her roommate and friend assaulted her with a force she could not control. Her knees felt weak under their impact, and tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. Melanie blinked hard, glanced sideways, and noticed the maid studying her.
Tilly cleared her throat and said, “Shall I open the drapes and windows for you, Miss?”
“That won’t be necessary, Tilly. I’m going to lie down until my bags arrive.”
“Very well.” She pivoted and closed the door behind her on the way out.
Suddenly alone with her grief and breathing the same air Chrissy had, became too much. Melanie sat on the edge of the bed to catch her breath. Memories of Chrissy streamed from every corner of the room. She hadn’t expected the overwhelming anguish, and it left her vulnerable and weak. She allowed the dammed tears to break loose without bothering to wipe them away.
Eventually, she laid against the mountain of decorative pillows and curled into a ball. The room appeared as dark as her heart. Before long, she slipped into a fitful sleep of anguish.
Unsure if the nightmare or tap on the door wakened her, Melanie shot from the bed a little too hastily, causing her to sway. She needed to start eating properly and drinking more water. Melanie slowly ambled across the room, opened the door a crack and discovered her bags had arrived. Silence filled the abandoned hallway. No one lingered within eyesight.
Grabbing the handles of the bags, she wheeled her belongings inside and tossed one case on the bed. She went to the patio exit, swung open the heavy drapery, and after the initial blast of sun, opened the white, glass-paneled door wide. Melanie stepped onto the balcony and breathed in the salty air the seashore estate offered. Leaning over the rail, she scanned the perfectly-manicured landscape of Trevor Knight’s property.
The grounds keeper was clipping and shaping a hedge that, to her untrained eye, did not need a haircut. No one swam in the huge pool, which looked rather inviting to her sleep-drenched body. She eagerly glanced at the clock: eleven thirty. Plenty of time to swim.
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