Golden Threads

by Kay Hooper

  Even as the puzzled words left her lips, Lara blinked, and a sudden chill snapped her out of the memories. “His collar,” she whispered. “I haven’t thought about it since…”

  Devon took her hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. Devon, the collar!”

  “Ching,” Devon called, leading Lara to the bottom of the stairs. The cat bounded down to meet them, bright-eyed and proud of himself for having flawlessly followed his idol’s stage directions.

  “Wauur?” he asked Devon.

  “You’re a smart cat,” Devon told him, bending to unfasten the leather collar. “But I wish you’d been smart enough to tell us where to look all this time.”

  Ching gently bit his wrist.

  “Sorry,” Devon murmured. “We just didn’t know the right question to ask, did we, boy?”

  “Yah,” Ching said.

  Lara sat down on the third step, trying not to hope too much. “But it’s such a little thing! Devon, I might not even have noticed it. In fact, I hardly did. How on earth did you know?”

  “I didn’t.” He sat on the step beside her and began examining the collar carefully. “But I had a hunch. The way you frowned when you remembered Ching from that night. You seemed to be bothered by more than the fact that he was upset. I thought it was worth a try.”

  Lara watched as he examined the silver bell and then detached it from the collar and set it aside. “But what could Dad have hidden in a collar? A message?”

  “We’ll find out.” Devon studied the collar, which was made of two strips of leather stitched together, then produced a pocket knife and began prying gently at the stitches. He started at the pointed end of the collar, revealing the rough inner surface of the strips. He carefully cut more stitches. Then, just past the notch worn by the buckle of the collar, they both saw the edge of a strip of paper.

  “I don’t believe it!” Lara mumbled.

  The other two agents had returned to the foyer, and both stood watching Devon work.

  “You mean the cat had it all this time?” one of them exclaimed.

  “Yah!” Ching said from his position on the fifth stair, disliking the term of address.

  “Sorry, Ching,” the man said absently.

  She was so tense, she could hardly think; but Lara couldn’t help smiling. Her cat made his feelings known so plainly that it no longer surprised her to hear even strangers react to him as if they understood him completely.

  “It’s a tight fit,” Devon murmured, working very carefully to cut the stitches without disturbing what lay between them. “He must have had this already done that night, just in case.”

  Lara was watching intently. “There’s something else. The paper’s wrapped around something.”

  Devon cut the last stitch and gently removed the paper and what it enclosed. “A key.” It was a tiny key, very narrow and flexible. He unfolded the strip of paper, and they could all see the neatly typed words.

  The top of the safe, Lara.

  Within seconds, they were all in her father’s study. Devon lifted down the painting that hid the safe; it had been mended, but the hinges were ruined, and so the painting had simply been hung on a hook.

  “Wasn’t this safe checked out?” Devon demanded of one of the agents.

  “Of course it was. Some of them have false bottoms or backs, and we checked. Nothing.”

  “ ‘The top of the safe,’ ” Lara read from the message.

  “You don’t know what it means?” Devon asked her.

  “No. I thought it was just a very obvious safe.”

  “What’s the combination?”

  Lara gave it to him and watched while he twisted the dial and opened the heavy door. The safe was empty, smooth walls giving nothing away. Devon began probing the inner surface with a careful, sensitive touch. Then he searched the facing where the door rested when it was closed. He closed it, examined the front minutely.

  “Nothing.” He stepped back and let his gaze roam slowly over the area. Above the safe was heavy pine paneling, the only wall in the room that was paneled. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward again to study the wall.

  “Damn,” he muttered softly.

  “What is it? Have you found it?” Lara spoke tensely.

  “This knot in the paneling. Wait a minute.” He produced the tiny key and carefully inserted it in an all but invisible slot that, if noticed, would have looked like a simple and natural crack in the wood. And when he gave the key a quarter-turn clockwise, they heard the soft hum.

  The paneling didn’t open. Instead, the “very obvious” safe slid down out of sight behind the paneling, and another safe descended from inside the wall and took its place.

  “We ought to be taking notes,” one of the agents muttered. “Eliminate a false bottom or back, and who’d think there was another safe sitting on top of this one?”

  Devon looked at the combination dial, then at Lara. “Your birthday. Month, day, year.”

  She gave him the numbers quickly, and the safe opened. Inside was the evidence. And it was more than any of them had expected. Notes, documents, diagrams. Some items were wrapped in plastic and marked clearly to indicate they bore important fingerprints—and those included two complete sets of stolen classified designs.

  “We’ve got them,” Devon said.

  —

  The following day, the newspapers carried hasty stories about a series of unexpected arrests by the FBI. Little information was available, they stated unhappily, but a number of highly influential people who worked on the cutting edge of technology and the inner circles of government were involved…

  “They don’t know what’s going on,” Lara said, pushing the newspaper off the bed.

  “They will when the cartel goes to trial.”

  Lara turned to cuddle closer to Devon, folding her hands on his chest and smiling down at him. “Ching will get his feelings hurt if nobody happens to mention that he literally carried the key all this time.”

  They both heard newspaper being fiercely shredded on the floor by the bed.

  “Can he read?” Devon asked.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “No.”

  “Neither do I. But I do want to know why he was so hostile to Luke. Melanie is understandable, but—”

  Devon kissed her. “Darling, that’s the easiest answer of all. Let’s get married quickly.”

  Lara allowed herself to be momentarily distracted. “I’d like that. But you and I are going to have trouble establishing residency for a license. Or will we?”

  He grinned at her. “You and your cat have just aided the Federal Bureau of Investigation in toppling a criminal cartel that had infiltrated the highest levels of technology, to say nothing of a few scared government circles. Do you really think anybody’s going to balk at waiving a simple little thing like establishing residency or a waiting period?”

  Solemnly, she said, “You know, I never thought about it quite that way.”

  “I knew you were modest.”

  She kissed him, then said, “But I think we should go back to Pinewood after, and get on with the play. Nick would go to pieces if he had to replace us this late.”

  Devon sighed. “I was afraid you were going to suggest that. Well, since I don’t have to wear tights, I suppose we can. Odd way to spend a honeymoon, though.”

  “I think it’s perfect. After all, how many people get to spend their honeymoon in a fairy tale?”

  “That is true.”

  Lara frowned at him. “And you distracted me. Why was Ching hostile to Luke?”

  “He was also hostile to a couple of the other men in the stage crew, remember?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “What did they all have in common, Lara?”

  She thought about it for a minute, then slowly began to smile. “Young. And handsome. Charming.”

  “Exactly. You said yourself that Ching’s an excellent judge of character; he decided I was perfect f
or you and didn’t want another man getting in the way. I’ll bet when we go back to the theater, he’ll be completely polite to Luke and the others.”

  —

  And it turned out that Devon was right. When they showed up at the theater a few days later wearing matching wedding bands, with a quite truthful tale of a whirlwind ceremony to explain their absence, Ching greeted Luke as an old and sincerely valued friend.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Luke said in total bafflement, “but it isn’t a cat!”

  Epilogue

  He studied several newspaper articles with a satisfied smile, then chuckled at a photocopy of a marriage certificate, before closing the file and setting it aside. He’d burn it later, since he no longer had any use for it, but for now he simply put it out of his way.

  He reached out to the tidy stack of files and lifted the topmost one, opening it on the desk before him. In the golden circle of light provided by a shaded lamp, he studied the papers in the file thoughtfully. Difficult, he decided, but not impossible.

  Impossible was a word he hadn’t used in many years.

  The personalities were fascinating, he thought. Not so many shadows this time, but some pain and a great deal of wariness. These two would no doubt fight each other all the way. That didn’t disturb him; two flints would make a fire that would warm all the way to the soul.

  If it didn’t burn the house down first.

  His long, elegant fingers searched through the papers, setting some aside and holding several for a close inspection. Slowly, a plan began to take shape in his keen brain.

  The ball, of course. The man would be there, and so would the woman—the children would see to that. They’d been planning it for months, after all. They were an accomplished pair, and no mistake; one would think they’d been at this as long as he had. They had been very thorough in their schemes.

  So was he.

  He chuckled deep in his chest, a sound of utter delight. Drawing forward a lined pad, he made swift notes of observations to be made and answers to be found once he was on the scene, and arrangements to be dealt with.

  “Now, then,” he said softly to himself.

  “Cy? Come to bed, darling.”

  Her voice evoked the response in him that was still wondrous and exhilarating even after all these decades; he could feel the warmth and joy spread through him, and he basked in it for a timeless moment of sheer enchantment. Was there, he wondered happily, anything more precious than a shared love so deep it enfolded the spirit in ageless delight? No. Nothing.

  “Cyrus?”

  “Coming, my sweet,” he called.

  The old man with an eternal spark of youth in his heart rose from the desk and left the comfortable library with the confident, eager steps of a man in love.

  For Carolyn,

  Who’s never daunted me by saying,

  “You want to do what?”

  Thanks.

  BY KAY HOOPER

  The Bishop Trilogies

  Stealing Shadows

  Hiding in the Shadows

  Out of the Shadows

  Touching Evil

  Whisper of Evil

  Sense of Evil

  Hunting Fear

  Chill of Fear

  Sleeping with Fear

  Blood Dreams

  Blood Sins

  Blood Ties

  The Quinn Novels

  Once a Thief

  Always a Thief

  Romantic Suspense

  The Haunting of Josie

  Amanda

  After Caroline

  Finding Laura

  Haunting Rachel

  Classic Fantasy and Romance

  On Wings of Magic

  C.J.’s Fate

  Something Different

  Pepper’s Way

  If There Be Dragons

  Illegal Possession

  Rebel Waltz

  Larger than Life

  Time after Time

  In Serena’s Web

  Raven on the Wing

  Rafferty’s Wife

  Zach’s Law

  The Fall of Lucas Kendrick

  Unmasking Kelsey

  Outlaw Derek

  Shades of Gray

  Captain’s Paradise

  It Takes a Thief

  Aces High

  Golden Threads

  The Glass Shoe

  What Dreams May Come

  The Wizard of Seattle

  The Delaney Christmas Carol

  PHOTO: © SIGRID ESTRADA

  KAY HOOPER is the award-winning author of Sleeping with Fear, Hunting Fear, Chill of Fear, Touching Evil, Whisper of Evil, Sense of Evil, Once a Thief, Always a Thief, the Shadows trilogy, and other novels. She lives in North Carolina, where she is at work on her next book.

  Kayhooper.com

  Facebook.com/​BishopPage

  Read on for an excerpt from

  The Glass Shoe

  by Kay Hooper

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  “This is the most absurd idea either of you has had. Ever.” The only reason the statement wasn’t wailed was that Amanda Wilderman hadn’t been heard to wail since her infant days, some twenty-odd years before.

  “It’s an excellent idea,” Amanda’s seventeen-year-old cousin Samantha countered, “if only to get you out of your jeans and off your horses. Dammit, Manda, put your foot in!”

  Amanda obeyed, but when she stepped into the other shoe and looked down at what was adorning her small, narrow feet, she really came close again to wailing. “You’re out of your minds!”

  Her other cousin, sixteen-year-old Leslie, giggled as she stood back, observing the effect of the costume Amanda wore. “This is going to be great!”

  “It won’t work,” Amanda said, her voice taut as steel. “I’ve seen the guest list for this damned masquerade, and I know for a fact there are at least fifty women attending who can, and no doubt will, knock the socks off even so jaded a man as Mr. Ryder Duncan Foxx. So what makes you think I’m going to bowl him over?”

  Samantha and Leslie exchanged glances, and the former said dryly, “Don’t tell her; it’ll only make her head swell.”

  Amanda gave both her cousins a disgusted look. “Funny. That’s funny.”

  “Look, Manda,” Sam said gravely but with a twinkle lurking in her eye, “you gave your word, remember? Any favor short of breaking the law, which this isn’t. We’ve been collecting IOUs from you since last Christmas, and tonight’s your night to pay up—in full.”

  If Amanda gnashed her teeth, at least it wasn’t audible. “I should have known you two were up to something when you taught me to play poker. Why can’t I just pay up in cash like any normal person?”

  “Because we play for favors. You agreed.”

  “I agreed to too damned many things, it seems.” Amanda frowned suddenly. “I have an awful hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. Have you two been planning this for six months? No…not even you—”

  “Guilty.” Leslie grinned. “That’s when the masquerade was announced.”

  In a reasonable tone Sam said, “Ryder Duncan Foxx is absolutely perfect for you, but you’d shy away in a minute if he knew who you were. This way he won’t know anything about you. All he’ll see is a mysterious, beautiful young woman who’ll steal his heart.”

  Amanda made a choked little sound, a sound that was an odd mixture of anguish and horror. “You two aren’t safe. You aren’t sane. And I hereby revoke any deals made with you on the grounds of insanity. Yours. Not mine. Also on the grounds that neither of you is of legal age yet. God help the men of America when you do come of age, but that’s their problem, not mine. Get me out of this costume.”

  Sam frowned. “No. A deal’s a deal. Come on, Manda, what’s one lousy night? You can leave on the stroke of midnight. In fact, we insist you leave before the stroke of midnight, otherwise it won’t work.”

  “Otherwise it won’t work,” Amanda repeated dazedly. “I never re
alized that when I was reading fairy tales to you ten years ago they would corrupt you. Uncle Ed has to have you committed. Immediately.”

  Briskly Leslie said, “Manda, if you’re so convinced it won’t work, why are you protesting this much?”

  Amanda pulled herself together. “You’re right. Absolutely. What do I have to be upset about? I’m going to a costume ball, where I shall find at least a score of Cinderellas and an equal number of Prince Charmings. I shall dance and have my glass slippers trod upon. I shall drink champagne and promptly flee before the stroke of midnight. The man you two demons have decided is my Prince Charming will never even know I was there.”

  Sam started to examine her fingernails. “Well, not exactly. Only one Prince Charming, you see. And only one Cinderella.”

  Amanda felt that hollow feeling again. “What?”

  “Hmm,” Les muttered, “we could hardly let anyone steal your limelight, could we? Ryder Duncan Foxx is coming as Prince Charming because he was asked to by the committee. Of course we couldn’t have other Cinderellas there, so we booked up all the Cinderella costumes in town months ago.”

  “That,” Amanda said, “must have cost you two a bundle.”

  Cheerfully Sam said, “Our allowance is in hock until the turn of the century anyway. Besides, one must expect a considerable cash outlay in any investment. You’re ours.”

  “You sound like Uncle Ed.” Amanda got a grip on herself again.

  Samantha was pleased. “Thank you.”

  “Except that he’s the sanest man I know.” Amanda drew a deep breath. “Okay, fine. If your prince manages to find me in a crowd of two hundred people, he can have his dance—if he wants one—and I’ll do my best to gladden your sweet little hearts and vivid imaginations. And that’s all.”

  “He’ll find you. You’re going to make an entrance,” Les intoned dramatically.

  Amanda closed her eyes briefly. “I knew you were going to say something like that, you little monster.” She was, by this time, resigned. Sighing, she said, “At least I can wear pink tonight.”