Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

whole thing looked as if a strong breeze might send it crashing to the floor. She was no fan of antiques but even she could see that it was beautiful. She supposed there were some who'd say that of the entire building.
    Well, perhaps there was hope. The house stood in an absolutely magnificent location. The view from the foyer alone was impressive. And the old man was right about the furniture. Kathryn pulled the sheet from the nearest piece, revealing a small, delicately inlaid table. Some of it, perhaps most of it, might be pretty good.
    Charon's Crossing had possibilities. It needed scrubbing from top to bottom, the furniture needed polishing, and she supposed it would be wise to make some basic repairs. Re-hang the doors, maybe, and replace the missing woodwork.
    And then she'd put the house on the market. There had to be a buyer somewhere who'd want it. An eccentric millionaire, maybe, seeking privacy. Or one of those spas that were cropping up in the most unexpected corners of the globe and catered to the rich...
    "I am sorry that you are disappointed, Miss Russell."
    Kathryn turned around. Amos Carter had spoken politely, but she knew his words were empty of meaning.
    "Disappointed?" Kathryn's smile was as polite as his tone. "Don't be silly, Mr. Carter. The house is pretty much what I expected. You said it needed work, and it does." She unbuttoned the jacket of her yellow linen suit. "Now it's time to do something about it. You've arranged for me to meet with some contractors, I hope?"
    "We have only one, Miss Russell. I told him you'd be flying down and asked him to get in touch, yes."
    "That's fine. And the realtor... What did you say her name was?"
    "Olive Potter. Yes, she will contact you, too." Amos hesitated. "I hope you're aware that it may not be easy to find a buyer for a house such as this. Elizabeth Island is not a name on everyone's lips."
    "And you like it that way, Mr. Carter. Yes, I understand." Kathryn smiled. "Well, maybe that's for the best. Any investor with enough money to buy this property would want privacy."
    Amos smiled. That was twice this young woman had surprised him.
    "That's true enough."
    "We'll just have to make the most of Charon Crossing's strong points." Kathryn scuffed her toe across the floor. A swath of flecked white appeared in the dirt. "Marble?" she asked.
    Carter nodded. "I should think so."
    "And the upstairs? What's it like?"
    "No better and no worse than what you see here."
    Kathryn walked to the foot of the wide staircase that rose towards the second floor. The banisters and newel posts were handsome. Mahogany, she thought, and reached out to touch the old wood...
    Cold. Cold so deep that it was almost painful, played across her fingers.
    Kathryn snatched back her hand. "Is there an open window upstairs?"
    "I don't know, Miss Russell. I didn't notice any, from outside."
    "Neither did I, but there must be. Don't you feel that chill?"
    Amos's brows lifted. "Chill?"
    "Yes. And—"
    Kathryn.
    "Did you hear that?"
    "Did I hear what?"
    That voice, she almost said. But that would have been silly. It was the wind, just as the attorney had said, rustling through the palms and blowing in through an open window somewhere in the house.
    "Never mind," she said briskly. "Let's see the rest of the downstairs, shall we? Does the electricity work?"
    "I assume so." Amos touched the light switch. A pair of wall sconces near the front door flickered, then blazed to life. "Yes, Miss Russell. It works."
    "The heating?"
    "I assume that works, as well."
    "And the plumbing?"
    "I assume—"
    "Are we playing some sort of game here, Mr. Carter?"
    "No game, Miss Russell. I offered to find out what needed doing at Charon's Crossing but you said you would see to it all yourself." He smiled coolly. "And so you shall."
    Kathryn sighed. Enough was enough. "Mr. Carter," she said, "why don't you tell me the problem?"
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "Come on, don't be coy. You don't like me and I'd like to know the