you this scarf because the color matched your eyes,” he said in a reverent tone that Rissa had never heard him use. “Have you kept it all of these years remembering, too?”
He cradled his wife’s lifeless body in his arms, heedless of the fact that her blood was spreading over the front of his custom-made suit.
“I’ve never seen Father like this before,” Rissa whispered to her sisters.
“Neither have I,” Miranda agreed. “I remember when Mother died—well, left—so long ago. I thought he was glad to be rid of her, but he must have loved her.”
The rise and fall of the siren came louder, then ceased suddenly as the police cruiser pulled to a halt in front of the manor. Portia rushed to the front door and struggled to open it. Mick Campbell entered first and Portia threw herself into his arms. Drew Lancaster stepped around them and quickly surveyed the scene.
“What’s happened? Who is this woman?” he asked.
Sensing Drew’s strength and compassion, Rissa hurried toward him, hands outstretched. “Oh, Drew, please help us. We think this is our mother.”
Drew turned his eyes from the crime scene and grasped Rissa’s hands. Portia was sobbing wildly in Mick’s tight clasp as he whispered comfortingly to her. Drew wished he had the right to comfort Rissa in the same way, but he could do nothing except squeeze her fingers gently and release her.
“I am here to help you,” he said softly. Even in the midst of this tragedy Drew experienced a sudden desire to always be at Rissa’s side when she needed him—a lofty aspiration for a penniless cop.
FOUR
Detective Mick Campbell, a ruggedly handsome, brown-haired man, released Portia and stepped farther into the room.
“Ladies, you’ll have to leave the room until we make our investigation,” he said. No one moved and he stepped closer to the grieving Ronald.
“Mr. Blanchard, you and your family need to leave the room. We’ll take care of things here.”
“No! No!” Ronald shouted. “I want to be alone with my wife! Leave me.”
Peg and the housekeeper, Sonya, crowded into the doorway, both dressed in their nightclothes, and Mick threw up his hands in exasperation.
“Don’t anyone touch anything—this is a crime scene! Will someone tell me what happened?”
Rissa expected Miranda to speak up as she usually did, but a glance at her older sister convinced her that Miranda was totally devastated by the “second” death of their mother. Miranda had been ten when their mother had “died” and she would probably mourn this death more than any of the other Blanchard daughters.
Clearing her throat, Rissa said, “Miranda and I found the body—I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Very well,” Mick said. “Wait for me in the hall, and I want the rest of you out of here so we can process the crime scene.”
Her face pale with terror, Winnie said, “Let’s go upstairs to my sitting room.”
Reluctantly the women left the room, and Rissa, noting the determined expression on Mick’s face, felt as the Christians must have felt when they’d been thrown to the lions. She didn’t want to implicate anyone in the household, but she would have to tell the truth.
Mick took Ronald’s arms and tried to help him up. “We’ll take care of things here, Mr. Blanchard.”
But Ronald clung to Trudy. Ronald, in his late fifties, was a tall, powerfully built man and Mick must have thought he needed help to evict him from the room. He took an iron grip on Ronald’s left arm and motioned to Drew, who stepped to Ronald’s side and grabbed his other arm. Ronald lashed out at them with his feet, without results, and the two detectives pulled him off of the body of his wife.
“I’ll let you see her again before we take her away,” Mick said as they steered Ronald toward the door, “but you must leave now.”
Cursing violently, in a fit of anger Ronald jerked free of their restraint and bolted down the hallway to his office.
Drew walked with Rissa to the living room.
“Sit over here, Rissa,” Drew said kindly, pointing to a leather couch. She sat down gratefully, because she wasn’t sure how much longer her legs would hold her.
She felt momentary panic as Mick walked into the room. Perhaps understanding her fear, Drew sat on the couch beside her and took her hand.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Just tell us what you saw and heard, then you can go to your family. As soon as the forensic team gets here, we’ll dust the room for fingerprints and any other evidence. We may have to cordon the room off for a day or two depending on what we find.”
In a composed voice, she explained that she couldn’t sleep and had come downstairs to get something to read.
“I’ve always been afraid of storms,” she said. “It’s always scarier upstairs, so I decided to come down to get a book to read. I heard a sound in the library when I got to the foot of the stairs. I turned my flashlight that way and I saw that the door was ajar. I thought it was one of my sisters until I realized that whoever was in the room didn’t have a light on. I went to investigate and when I pushed the door wider, somebody shot at me.”
Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice as she dropped her head into her hands. Rissa felt Drew’s comforting hand on her shoulders.
“Do we have to continue this now, Mick? She’s not able to talk any longer.”
“I’m sorry, but we need to get your account while it’s still fresh in your mind. For over three months now, we’ve had serious problems involving people at Blanchard Manor. We have to get to the bottom of this. The whole family may be in danger.”
Rissa lifted her head and sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to tell you what else I know, which isn’t much.”
Drew handed her several tissues from the box on a nearby table. She patted the tears from her eyes and blew her nose.
Rissa straightened her back and continued, “I still couldn’t see anybody, until a bright flash of lightning lit up the room. The man was heading for the door, pointing the gun at me.”
“Did you recognize who it was?” Mick said.
She shook her head. “He had on a mask.”
“But did he see you?” Drew asked anxiously.
“Yes, I’m sure of it. My face was in full view. He…”
“Are you sure it was a man?” Mick interrupted.
Surprised at his question, Rissa answered, “Why, no, I don’t know that. Whoever it was had on dark clothes and the mask hid the features, so it could have been a woman.”
Her slender fingers tensed in her lap.
“Then what happened?” Mick asked.
“I ran across the hall and into the living room and locked myself in. When I heard footsteps running down the hall toward the back door, I went to get Miranda and we entered the library together.”
Rissa was regaining her composure, and she considered how much more she should say. She didn’t want to reveal anything that might throw suspicion on any member of her family. They’d had enough trouble.
“Was the gate locked tonight?” Drew asked.
“As far as I know. Miranda disarmed the security system and opened the gate when she called you so you could get in.”
A car swung into the circular driveway, and Mick said, “That’s the forensic team. That will be all for now. Go ahead and join your family. But you can’t go back to New York until we get some answers to what happened here.”
Eager