Danger in a Red Dress Read Online Free PDF Page B

father . . . didn’t stick around.”
    “My God. Another bastard. Like the bastards my husband fathered.” Melinda Manly gave a hard crack of laughter. “Carrick, you fool, you brought me a bastard ?”
    Before Carrick could answer, Hannah stepped between them, blocking Melinda Manly’s view of her son. “My parents weren’t married, but I don’t put up with that kind of insult, and if you had the slightest iota of courtesy, you’d know better than to spew forth venom like some twisted old snake.”
    “Do you imagine you can teach me manners?” Melinda Manly asked.
    “No. I doubt if anyone could.” Hannah turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

FIVE
    “And don’t bother me again,” Melinda Manly said as Carrick slammed the door on his way out. She rubbed her eyes and blew her nose; then wearily, she wheeled herself over to her desk.
    God, she was tired. Tired of being in pain, of being afraid, of seeing her world change and knowing she could do nothing to stop it. Tired of the intrigue . . . She retrieved the intercom speaker from the drawer, set it in her lap, and turned it on.
    And there it was. The tap of footsteps, the shuffling of paper, and a low muttered curse.
    Since Torres’s death, when Carrick visited, he always riffled through the butler’s office in the basement, looking for whatever secrets Torres had held in trust for Melinda.
    So far, Carrick had found nothing.
    At the same time, she wondered why her son, an obviously intelligent lad, never thought to wonder how his mother had communicated with Torres about the thousand and one details involved in running a household of this size.
    This intercom, of course.
    Perhaps Carrick didn’t have as much intelligence as she gave him credit for. Or perhaps he gave her credit for none.
    As she expected, she heard a knock on the door of Torres’s office. Carrick called, “Come in.” And, “Hannah! It’s you.”
    Hannah Grey. She was infatuated with Carrick. Stupid girl. She would be better off away from him, away from this place. Melinda ran her gaze around her room. They would all be better when Balfour House washed into the sea.
    Through the speaker, Carrick sounded cheerful, confident. “What do you think about my mother’s condition? Can you help her?”
    That girl answered, “Not unless she cooperates. She’s overweight, which exacerbates her arthritis. Her color is not good. She’s obviously not monitoring her blood sugar, and a stroke is imminent.”
    That was exactly what Dr. Thalmann said. Melinda’s respect for the girl’s competence took a big leap. Maybe she wasn’t merely a spy. Maybe she really was a nurse.
    Melinda pulled her laptop close, tapped in a search for Hannah Grey.
    That girl continued. “She’s intent on killing herself, so I’m doomed to failure.” That girl’s brisk voice sounded nurselike and practical. Yet beneath that matter-of-fact tone, Melinda heard an undercurrent of worry.
    What was she worried about?
    Even as the question formed in her mind, the computer gave her the information: the case before the New Hampshire commission . . . and an unusually long delay in coming to a decision. As Melinda read the details of Hannah’s dilemma, she listened to Carrick’s voice, so much like his father’s—smooth, deep, oh so interested in the woman before him.
    “With you here, at least I’ll have the security of knowing that if something happens to her, there’s a trained person on-site.”
    There were times when Melinda hated her son. Hated him, and loved him, and wished . . . but no. No wishes. Once she’d had a wish come true. Her wish had brought nothing but guilt and anguish, death and destruction. Ever since, she had feared the power of her wishes.
    “You . . . still want me to stay?” Hannah sounded both flabbergasted and relieved.
    “Absolutely. The important thing is that you’ll listen in on Mother’s conversations and watch her for any surreptitious movements.”
    Melinda leaned