she was too afraid to move, too worried that the telltale squeak of a loose floorboard might give her presence away.
“…shouldn’t have come here!”
“Oh, trust me, Nicholas, what I have to tell you warranted a special trip. Besides, I thought I’d look in on Violet while I’m here. My father’s recent passing has made me realize she won’t be around for much longer. I hope you’ve finished your latest treatise.”
A warning tingled down Ree’s spine. What did this man have to do with Miss Violet?
“Your concern for her is touching,” Dr. Farrante said sarcastically.
“As is yours. The Farrantes have always taken such good care of my aunt.”
Aunt? So she did have a living relative. Why had this man not come to see her before?
“She’s lived a long and, I believe, contented life here,” Dr. Farrante said.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
“And just what do you tell yourself, Jared? You or your father could have taken her out of here at any time. Made a place for her in the family home.”
“You never would have allowed that.”
“But you never even tried. So let’s not kid ourselves. The arrangement suited everyone involved.”
“The arrangement is why I’m here,” the man said. “I assume you’ve heard about the plans for Oak Grove Cemetery.”
Dr. Farrante’s voice sharpened. “What plans?”
“Camille Ashby wants to have the cemetery restored. She has her sights set on the National Register in time for Emerson University’s bicentennial. Of course, she’ll have to get approval from the committee. You can’t so much as paint a front porch in this town without their say-so. But you know Camille. She has a lot of influence in those circles and she won’t give up without a fight.”
“When do they put it to a vote?”
“Soon, I would imagine. Camille’s already submitted the name of a restorer, a woman named Amelia Gray. If her credentials check out and her bid is reasonable, there’s no reason the committee won’t approve her.”
Still frozen in place, Ree frowned. Amelia Gray. Where had she heard that name before?
“I don’t like this,” Dr. Farrante muttered. “A restoration could draw media interest. Some nosy reporter might decide to find out why Oak Grove was abandoned in the first place. That kind of attention could be disastrous.”
“For you, perhaps. But I’ve decided to look at it as an opportunity.”
“An opportunity? Are you mad?”
“You’re the expert in that regard, but I’ve often thought madness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.” Amusement crept into the man’s voice. “Take you, for instance. You’ve devoted your whole life to the workings of the mind and yet you clearly dwell in an alternate reality. You’re so inwardly focused, so entrenched in your own world here that you’ve failed to grasp how the dynamics of our relationship have changed since my father’s death.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t care what our families did two generations ago. I’m not the slightest bit interested in preservation, be it the Tisdale name, Oak Grove Cemetery or that dirty little secret we share. As long as the old man was alive, I was willing to honor his wishes. But he’s gone now and I find myself in the unfortunate position of owing a great deal of money to some very unsavory people.”
“How is that my concern?” Dr. Farrante snapped.
“Because you are interested in preserving secrets. If the truth about my aunt ever came to light, the great Farrante legacy would crumble like a house of cards. They’d close this place down, retract all those awards, expunge your grandfather’s name from the history books. Think of the kind of attention that would attract. You’d be shunned by your peers and maybe even imprisoned.”
“So this is a shakedown.” Beneath all that velvety smoothness, Ree heard something in Dr. Farrante’s tone that rocked her to the core.
“Such a crass term from someone of your stature.”
“How much?”
“Half a million should do nicely.” The man paused. “For starters.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Not for you. I’ll wager you still have every penny of your inheritance.”
“I certainly haven’t squandered it away on gambling as you apparently have yours, but the upkeep of this hospital is astronomical. Not to mention my research. I’m not a rich man.”
“I’m sure you can manage to scrape together half a mil. Because if you don’t…” He trailed off on a warning note. “You said it yourself. The restoration of Oak Grove Cemetery is likely to titillate the media. A name or two dropped in the right ear and you can kiss your reputation good-bye.”
A pause. “You’re bluffing. Even with your father gone, you wouldn’t dare betray the Order.”
“As secret societies go, the Order of the Coffin and the Claw has pretty well been neutered,” the man mocked. “The members are hardly the power brokers they once were. So maybe I’ll just take my chances.”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
“And you’re a megalomaniac with an Achilles heel. Just like your father and grandfather before you, Nicholas, your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness. If her name were to be made public—”
“Your aunt is an old woman. Don’t drag her into your pathetic scheme.”
The man laughed. “I’m not talking about Violet. I’m talking about her mother. Even from her grave, Ilsa Tisdale still has the power to destroy you…and you well know it.”
As he said her name, an icy hand fell on Ree’s shoulder.
Ree turned with a shudder, certain that someone must have come into the room without her knowing. She’d been caught red-handed eavesdropping on a personal conversation and for a terrifying moment, her heart actually stopped.
But the office behind her was empty.
She felt a rush of relief even as she shivered in a sudden draft. Perhaps the air-conditioning had come on and she was standing in front of a vent. That would explain the gooseflesh that popped along her arms and at the back of her neck.
Ignoring the chill, Ree told herself to get out of that office before she really was caught. But she remained frozen to the spot, petrified that she’d make some involuntary noise and alert Dr. Farrante and his companion. What she’d overheard was blackmail pure and simple—if blackmail could ever be pure or simple. The whole conversation had left her shaken and she knew that she would revisit it later, dissecting every disturbing nuance. But what could be done about it? As ugly as it was, the situation had nothing to do with her.
Still, she couldn’t dismiss a dark foreboding, and she knew the threats and innuendoes she’d heard in that office would forever change her perception of Nicholas Farrante. But…time enough later to dwell on her fallen hero. Right now she had to get out of there.
She turned to leave, then remembered the package she’d placed on the assistant’s desk. If Dr. Farrante spotted it tonight, he’d know that someone had been there. A quick word with Trudy McIntyre would reveal Ree’s name, and she had a sinking feeling that academic censure and immediate dismissal from the hospital might be the least of her troubles.
Easing back to the desk, she lifted the envelope and paused. The rumblings from the inner office reassured her that she hadn’t been made. She crept across the room, her footsteps blessedly silent on the plush rug, and was just slipping