“No. If he knew about Erin, he never told me. He’ll be delighted to see her. I know.”
“Miss O’Shea.” Erin jumped when Lance addressed her. “In this quest for your family, did you make any progress toward finding your parents?”
Coming from someone else, she would have considered that a reasonable question. But she knew that Lance Barrett was only baiting a trap he hoped she’d fall into.
“Unfortunately, no. The nun who told me about Ken remembered only that my mother brought us in together. She didn’t remember anything about her or why she… why she…” As usual when she talked on this subject, her vocal cords tightened, making it difficult for her to add the last words, “abandoned us.”
There was a noticeable cessation of dining sounds. No silverware clattered against china, no ice cubes rattled in glasses, no one said a word. Finally Melanie broke the period of suspended animation when she said as sweetly as a child comforting a playmate, “She probably had a very good reason, Erin.”
Erin composed her face and looked up at Melanie. Smiling, she said, “Yes, probably.”
Conversation during the remainder of the meal was more subdued. Only once did Lance make Melanie laugh when he regaled her with an adventure that he swore was true, but which Erin considered to be highly implausible. He had probably taken a mundane incident and embroidered it to make it seem more intriguing.
Erin conceded him a small amount of her admiration for entertaining Melanie and taking her mind off the problem that had toppled her world. She even grudgingly forgave him for going out for Chinese food which Melanie had eaten with gusto.
“Mike, if you’re finished, why don’t you go across the street and relieve one of the boys so he can go get them something to eat. Then when they’re settled in for the night, come back and check in with me.”
“Sure, Lance. Ladies.” Mike excused himself with his characteristic economy of words.
“What’s across the street?” Erin’s curiosity had gotten the best of her and she couldn’t help but ask what she thought was a harmless question.
“Mr. Barrett’s team has headquarters over there. They can watch this house, trace all the telephone calls, things like that. We mustn’t ever answer the red telephone. All our calls on the regular house phone are being taped. Wasn’t it lucky that the house was vacant just when they needed to rent it?”
Melanie’s eyes were wide with excitement, but Erin saw a flash of irritation in Mr. Barrett’s. He was less than happy with Melanie’s loquacious explanation.
“It’s time for you to go back to the study, Miss O’Shea,” he said peremptorily as he grasped her upper arm and virtually dragged her out of her chair.
“I think I should help Melanie with the dishes,” Erin protested, as she tried to extricate her arm from his hand. It was a futile attempt.
“I’ll help her,” he said.
She stumbled down the hall after him, barely able to keep up with his long stride. When they reached the door of the study, she jerked her arm free and faced him belligerently. “Do you have to manhandle me that way?”
“Did I hurt you?” he asked quickly. Was that a touch of genuine concern she heard in his voice? His hand came back to her arm, but this time when he touched her, it was almost a caress, as if he were soothing the place that may have been bruised by his fingers only moments before.
She could feel the warmth of his hand through her silk sleeve as he stroked her arm. Tentacles of sensation radiated from his fingers and ran up her arm and curled around her heart, swelling it, expanding her chest. His hand was so comforting as he continued to gently rub her arm, that Erin had the strange impulse to lean against that hard, strong chest and seek even more comfort.
Wasn’t there some study on the extraordinary relationship that developed between captives and captors? Didn’t captives often come to depend upon their captors to the point of love?
That possibility seared her brain and shook the foundations of her soul. She stepped away from him, suddenly afraid of the very real physical threat he posed. She must have imagined that momentary gentleness on his part, for when she looked into his face, it was hard and set in the grim lines she had come to recognize.
She heard him mutter a curse as he turned around and stalked down the hall.
Chapter Four
Erin was leafing through photograph albums when Lance came back into the room several hours later. It was not quite eleven o’clock, but her body was working on Houston time, and in light of the events of the day, she was exhausted. Somehow though, she couldn’t lie down on the sofa and seek the oblivion of sleep.
She pored over the pictures in the albums, searching each one for revealing traits of her brother’s personality. Melanie had brought her the albums when she had carried in an armload of blankets and pillows.
“Mr. Barrett asked me to bring these things to you. I offered to let you sleep in the guest bedroom upstairs, but he said no.”
“That figures,” Erin grumbled.
“I remembered these albums were stored in our bedroom closet. Would you like to look through them?”
“Thank you, Melanie. I can’t tell you how boring these four walls have become. Besides, I want to learn all I can about Ken.”
Displaying an understanding that surprised Erin, Melanie said, “I’d love to stay and talk to you, but I think I should leave you alone. There are over thirty years of Ken