Now You See Him Read Online Free PDF Page B

through a car crash. That must have been doubly awful for you. I'm so sorry…"
    "Not your fault. You saved our lives," he said with a brave grin. Just the sort to melt a woman's heart, and this woman looked the sort whose heart melted easily. He drained his glass, despising himself for one brief instant. "Still, I'm not used to so much excitement. In my line of work we consider things to be quite thrilling if we have a bat fly into the house."
    "We have bats here," Francey said, taking an impressively big gulp of her drink. He was beginning to wonder whether she'd become a lush in the past six months, but her shudder and grimace of distaste told him otherwise. She was using it for medicinal purposes, to dull the pain and terror. He could have told her that would only work for a while. "What is your line of work?" she asked brightly, and if he were any other man he would have believed her interest.
    "Math and soccer master at a boy's public school in Somerset. A place called Willingborough. Have been for twelve years."
    She blinked, staring at him. "Somehow I wouldn't have pictured you as a schoolteacher," she said slowly.
    Sharper than he'd expected, particularly since he knew he was putting up a good front. All gangling limbs and innocent smile and curly red hair. He could even have managed to drum up a few freckles for her if they'd let him out into the sunshine sooner. "Why not?"
    "Your face," she said. "And there's something about your eyes. Something almost…ageless. Ancient. Dangerous." She gave herself a little shake, and he was reminded of a silky cocker spaniel shaking water from its thick coat. "I think I've had too much whiskey. Sorry."
    She'd only had three drinks. If she finished that glass she would be flat on her bum, and while that would solve the problem of where she slept, he wasn't in the mood to haul her dead weight around the huge old house. Assuming he had enough strength left after the last few harrowing hours.
    "It must be the young hellions I'm in charge of," he said easily. "They age a man before his time."
    She laughed at that, as she was supposed to, and he hoped she'd forgotten her sudden astuteness. He knew the expression that lurked in the depths of his blue eyes. It wasn't ancient. It was dead.
    Most people didn't look that closely. He wondered whether Frances Neeley was particularly intuitive. Or whether she had reason to doubt.
    She was yawning, and he knew he was going to have to work fast, before she shunted him off to the wrong bedroom. "Where were you planning to put me?" he asked, wishing he dared ask for another Scotch, knowing it wouldn't be a wise idea. In his weakened condition he couldn't drink as much as usual, and he'd already learned he had to keep his wits about him.
    "There's a nice bedroom at the east end of the house, with stairs leading down to the beach. I thought that would be perfect for you."
    He shook his head. He'd guessed she would try to put him there. He could wind up with his throat cut by dawn, and the tide would wash away any trace of footprints in the sand. "Would it be too much trouble if I slept on the west side of the house? That is, if there are bedrooms there? I have a thing about sunsets."
    He could see the doubt in her eyes, but she was unfailingly polite. "Of course. The rooms there aren't as nice, and you can't get to the beach very easily, but the balconies overlook the water. I'll just make up the bed…"
    He reached out and caught her wrist just as she was about to dash away. It was a slender wrist, with its own strength. He had enough strength to hold her, but he did so lightly, deceptively. He didn't want her realizing that his limits weren't that overwhelming. "I'll take care of it," he said.
    She made one faint, futile tug on her wrist, and then let it rest in his hand. "You're dead on your feet."
    "So are you. I can manage. Where are you sleeping?"
    That startled her, and he let her go, not wanting to encourage any conclusion jumping. "In the