She noticed Debbie’s stunned glance and correctly interpreted it.
“This is a mansion,” Emma said, waving her hand in a circular “look at reality” gesture. “There has to be another washer and dryer here. Probably a couple.”
“You can’t just wander around this house!”
“We’re out of clean linen,” Emma said firmly. That said it all for her. How could anyone do adequate nursing without clean bedding, cloths, and towels? “You’re here early tonight. Start your shift a little early, I’ll go a little late, and you’ll have clean laundry before I leave,” she said reasonably.
“No, we’ll wait. I remember when I started, Mrs. Ring said that Mr. Montand had provided everything we needed in the suite,” she said, referring to their nurse supervisor. “He specified there was absolutely no reason for us to leave this level.”
“Did he?” Emma asked as she walked away, heaving the sealed red plastic bag over her shoulder. “It looks as if he was wrong.”
Chapter Two
She descended another flight of stairs, feeling a little unnerved despite her earlier show of confidence with Debbie. She glanced around uneasily, but there was no one to ask for assistance. Hadn’t Margie mentioned several house staff worked here aside from Mrs. Shaw? Perhaps they were all day employees?
Being unlike any house she’d ever been in, the Breakers defied intuitive navigation. There weren’t really hallways, Emma realized, only stairs that led from one cascading floor to another. So far she’d encountered a fantastical futuristic workout facility featuring a gym, racket ball court, an indoor lap pool, and a landscaped outdoor terrace. She could make out the steam rising on the large outdoor whirlpool through the glass doors as she tiptoed through the silent, sleek facility. There had been no washer or dryer in the locker room that she could find, but she had located a chute that appeared to be for soiled linen. She just needed to locate where that chute ended.
It certainly wasn’t on the next level, which opened to a stunning suite that featured a gleaming bar, a waterfall fountain, an elaborate entertainment center, and deep upholstered chairs and couches. She spotted yet another outdoor space through a wall made completely of glass panes. Several examples of graceful, sensual marble sculpture caught Emma’s eye in the room. One made her do a double take and draw nearer to study it. Heat rose in her cheeks when she recognized the sexual act being portrayed. She guiltily recalled her mundane task and resumed her mission.
The straps on the heavy laundry bag were starting to dig painfully into her shoulder. She arrived on another floor and hesitated. Unlike most of the spaces she’d seen, this one opened to a wide hallway that led to a partially open, carved wood door. A possibility, she thought, shifting the bag to her other shoulder and grimacing, although probably just wishful thinking on her part. She peered around the door and sagged in disappointment. No laundry facilities here or anything remotely potentially useful to her. Unlike the rest of the minimalist, airy décor in the mansion, this room was decorated in dark woods, leathers, and rich fabrics in shades of burgundy and dark green. A large Oriental carpet covered the wood floor. She started to back out of what appeared to be a luxurious, masculine office.
She halted.
A television monitor sat on the carved desk, a slight flickering in the turned black-and-white screening capturing her attention. She glanced around cautiously and eased into the room. An appealing scent tickled her nose: leather and the hint of men’s cologne—sandalwood and citrus. She leaned over the desk in order to fully view the screen. She saw the image of her patient, Cristina, her mouth a black, jagged slash against her white face, rising from a nightmare as she would from the depths of sucking water. Emma almost heard her scream, although the monitor was silent. Debbie’s shoulder and dark ponytail blocked the view of Cristina a moment later as she bent to assist. Margie’s voice echoed in Emma’s head.
He might have one of those screens set up in his bedroom or office or private plane, for all we know. He may be glorying in every second of his stepmother’s death.
Apparently not every second, Emma thought, frowning at the empty chair behind the desk. She glanced curiously around the office one more time. There was something odd in this scenario. She watched as Debbie settled Cristina and moved to the periphery of the screen. The stark fear and pain still lingered on Cristina’s sagging face.
“. . . how pleased I was when you called earlier. Why didn’t I hear from you sooner?”
Emma started in shock at the woman’s distant voice. For a confused second, she thought the sound came from the video feed.
“You called me,” a man replied. “And I was away. I told you that.”
Footsteps.
Adrenaline poured into Emma’s blood, making her limbs tingle. Someone was coming down the stairs from the upper level.
Her heart stalled. Shit. She was in a private suite. Not at the threshold, but in the middle of the room. The hospice staff had specifically been told to remain on Cristina’s floor. She imagined fumbling a lame excuse to two total strangers about why she was lurking about next to this desk.
My ass is so going to get fired!
Her heart resumed beating with an uncomfortable leap. Emma lurched with it, her gaze traveling wildly across the large office. There was a massive closed door that she considered entering, but what if that led her into deeper trouble?
“Of course,” she heard the woman say. “France and Italy this time. Isn’t that what you said at dinner?”
“You know I said France and Monaco,” the man replied, sounding too distracted or impatient to be sardonic at full strength. The woman’s laughter made hot blood flood into Emma’s brain and her skin prickle with a need to flee.
“I suppose you were on that floating playground of Niki’s with all of his floatable playthings?”
“I told you that Niki is here in the States, testing the new car and helping me with plans for the Grand Prix. Oh, I see,” he said coolly. “You did hear me. You’re just testing me.”
Any second now they’ll walk in and see me standing here like an idiot.
Emma transformed into a wild thing, her single objective not to get caught. Her gaze landed on a tall, regal armoire with drawers at the bottom and a large, deep cupboard at the top. She opened the door, wincing at the uncontrollable clicking sound, and carefully placed the knotted plastic laundry bag into the bottom. Fully in the clutch of fear and panic, she sat on the bottom of the cupboard and pulled her legs in, knees against her chest. The sleeves and legs of some sort of garments brushed across her face before she plunged into the depths of them. Using the latch at the bottom of the door, she swung it shut just in time.
“What, exactly, do you think you’ll accomplish b