Ghost Aria Read Online Free PDF

of the line went icy.
    â€œWe went out to dinner a couple of times.”
    The connection crackled.
    â€œMom?”
    â€œI don’t like him. You know that.”
    â€œI think he might be different now. He’s more mature.”
    Her mother heaved a weary sigh. “I’d tell you to stay away from him, but I know you won’t. So just . . . be careful, okay? Don’t take everything he tells you at face value.”
    Christy laughed. “So trust myself but don’t trust anyone else?”
    â€œYes.”
    And the connection was lost.

4
    M onday flew by without a pause.
    Over the weekend, the cops had cleared the lower level for staff access again. Rumors ran thick and fast, but nothing else of note had happened. And nobody had any new news—just endless rehashes of the details everyone already knew.
    With Matt’s efficient help, Christy triumphantly checked off cataloging an entire storeroom. It was a little strange to see the blinking red eyes of the video cameras now installed in every room and at most major hallway intersections. Whether due to those or the partner method, nothing strange happened all day.
    Christy felt herself relaxing.
    This she could do. Even Carla’s “emergency” request for a particular set of curtains seemed to be a challenge instead of a crisis. Make her look good . Matt scored the find on those—right before five o’clock, too—and insisted on doing a touchdown dance.
    Still laughing at his wild interpretation of an appropriate victory dance, Christy unlocked her office door and dumped the BNoD on her desk. A few more weeks and the thing would be history. She and Matt should make a little bonfire of it.
    She pulled open her drawer and jumped back a foot. Snakebit! her aunt Isadore would have said.
    Another rose. Crimson and in lush, full bloom.
    Another note.
    Meet Me Tonight.
    With no thought of preserving this one, she crumpled it in her fist, a little panicked noise escaping her.
    â€œPretty flower.” Carla leaned in the doorway, her arms folded. “Got yourself a boyfriend, huh?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Christy waved her hand, trying to look breezy. “Secret admirer, I guess. You know how it is.”
    â€œNo. I don’t, actually. That stuff only happens to the cheerleaders and prom queens.”
    The sharp edges of the vellum note pricked her palm. “Well, I’ve never been either.”
    â€œThe concept still applies.” With a close-lipped smile, Carla shrugged up from her leaning position. “Good job finding those curtains—or was that all Matt?”
    â€œMatt definitely gets the prize for that one.” A good manager always gives credit where it’s due. But the praise, faint as it might be, showed that her mom’s technique was working.
    â€œAnd the flute—who helped you with that?” Carla’s gaze dropped to the rose and she picked it up, spinning it in her fingers and inhaling the wine-dark scent that already pervaded the little office. Her eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses were hard as marbles.
    â€œN-no one.” Dammit, she never stuttered. Christy shrugged, put her hands in her pockets, and tucked the note deep inside. “Just got lucky in the Mozart room.”
    Jeez, that sounded bad.
    â€œI’ll bet you did. Find anything else interesting?”
    Strange question. “Like what?”
    â€œCall it curiosity.” Carla shrugged and held out the rose. Christy took it, not really wanting to touch it again, but she couldn’t very well tell Carla to toss it on the desk. “Have a wonderful evening.”
    Christy clenched her fists in her pockets, the note digging into her palm, while she glared at Carla’s departing swagger. That woman couldn’t possibly know anything. How could she? And how had the phantom gotten into her locked office?
    She checked the door to the adjoining room—also locked.
    It’s my