The Accused. Jana DeLeon

at all.

      He’d expected to be annoyed and he was, but he hadn’t expected to find her attractive, and that annoyed him even more.

      Peering into the last bedroom along the hallway, he blew out a breath. There was no indication that anyone had traveled down this hall besides him, but he knew he’d seen something. Or maybe Alaina was right and the weather and glass ceiling had conspired to create a shadow he had taken for a person.

      He started around the balcony that circled the entry, checking the rooms that shot off in every direction. None of them appeared disturbed until he reached the last. Trenton Purcell’s office, he thought as he stepped inside. A huge ornate desk stood in the center of the room. Bookcases, stuffed with leather-bound texts, formed every square inch of the walls, even framing the doorway.

      The layer of dust here wasn’t as thick as it was in the rest of the rooms, which made sense assuming Purcell had spent a lot of time in here. He took a step toward the desk and realized that a narrow doorway sat in the back corner of the room, barely visible because it was stained the same color as the bookcases.

      He pushed the door open to find a bedroom with another entry off the balcony. The bed was still covered with navy sheets and spread, and several bottles of medicine stood on the nightstand. He picked one up and checked to make sure it belonged to Purcell, then placed it back on the table.

      Three doors occupied the far wall of the bedroom, one standing open, exposing the master bath. He opened the second door and found a musty walk-in closet, still full of tattered suits. He expected the third door was more storage but found another servant’s staircase instead.

      It made sense, he supposed, that the servants would have a private entry into the master bedroom. That way, they couldn’t be seen going about their work by any household guests. At least, it made sense as much as having people living in your home and waiting on you did to Carter. He wasn’t convinced the convenience was worth the loss of privacy.

      He followed the staircase down and pushed open the door at the bottom. It opened easily and without a sound and he stepped out into a laundry room at the back of the house. A door leading into the backyard was positioned at the rear of the room. A quick check showed it to be locked, but he pulled it open and studied the ground outside, trying to make out footprints. Unfortunately, ground cover of cracked stones, dirt and vines wasn’t the kind of material that was easily imprinted.

      He stepped back inside and closed and locked the door. There was absolutely no indication that anyone had been in the house except him and Alaina. The fact that he’d found nothing to suggest the presence of an intruder should make him happy, but he couldn’t work himself up to that point.

      The reality was, for the first time in his life, Carter knew exactly what his mother meant when she said she “felt” something was wrong but couldn’t put her finger on it. Something was very wrong in this house.

      Whatever it was, he didn’t think it would remain hidden for long.

       Chapter Four

      Alaina felt as though she’d waited forever, but finally Carter emerged from one of the back hallways and into the massive entry room. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and felt the tightness in her chest release. Then she realized that he’d just entered the room from the first floor but hadn’t used either of the stairwells to get down from the second floor.

      “How did you get downstairs?” she asked as he approached.

      He frowned. “A servant’s stairwell in the master bedroom. It led to the laundry room off the back of the house.”

      “How many hidden passages are in this house?”

      “More than I’ve found so far, I’d guess.” He didn’t look happy about it.

      “Did you see anyone …? I mean, I guess you didn’t, but did you see any sign that someone had been up there?”

      “No.”

      “But?”

      He sighed. “But I don’t believe in fanciful things like ghosts and I have perfect vision. I saw something on that landing.”

      “An animal maybe?”

      “It was too large to be any animal that would be in the house and I couldn’t find tracks on the landing.”

      She swallowed. “Then maybe it was a shadow. With that enormous glass ceiling and the storm brewing, couldn’t it have created a moving shadow that looked like a person?”

      “I suppose,” he said, but didn’t seem convinced. “Look, maybe you shouldn’t stay here just yet.”

      His suggestion was tempting, especially given that she was completely creeped out, but it wasn’t conducive to the reason she was there.

      “Is there a hotel in town?” she asked, wondering if spending the night in a hotel and milling among the locals the rest of the day would give whoever was lurking in the house the notice to clear out—assuming it was a human in the first place. Rats, raccoons and storm clouds probably wouldn’t care about the local gossip.

      “No hotel. No rental property either. Calais is a small spot on the map and a dead end at that. People don’t come here unless they intend to, so there’s not much call for hotels and such. New Orleans is only a little over an hour’s drive, though.” He looked hopeful as he delivered that last statement.

      She could do it—probably should do it—but the thought of packing everything back in her SUV and spending another hour plus on the road didn’t sound even remotely appealing. If she thought it would change something, she might consider it, but staying in New Orleans wouldn’t create any local gossip at all. It would only be delaying the inevitable.

      She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but if you saw something tangible, my staying in New Orleans for a night isn’t going to make it clear out. And it’s just one more day I’ll have to make up staying here.”

      “It would give me a chance to poke around some more.”

      “You’re welcome to do that while I’m here. In fact, as I’ll be the one living here for two weeks, I’d prefer it if I did it with you.”

      She could tell by the way his jaw flexed that he didn’t like it. The attorney had already warned her that the sheriff who’d agreed to the terms of the will had long since passed. While the new sheriff had agreed to meet the terms of the will, he was neither under any legal obligation to do so, nor was he being paid for his time.

      His babysitting comment earlier had left her no doubt as to how he felt about his assignment. She sympathized with his position, but ultimately it wasn’t her problem. If he didn’t want to deal with it any longer, Alaina was certain Mr. Duhon would find someone else.

      Finally, he blew out a breath. “Okay, then the first thing we should do is locate a bedroom for you that is easily secured. No servants’ passages and a good, sturdy lock.”

      “One with a connecting bath would be best.”

      “I agree. The master bedroom has a connecting bath but also several ways in and out.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to ward off the unease she felt at the thought of sleeping in the same bed that her dead stepfather had slept in. “I wouldn’t want to sleep in there anyway.”

      “I don’t blame you. Let’s check downstairs first.”

      Alaina nodded and walked to the left side of the entry as Carter took the right. A careful inspection of the downstairs rooms did not reveal any equipped as a bedroom.

      “We could move some bedroom furniture downstairs,” Carter suggested as they met at the back of the entry.

      She shook her head. “There’s no connecting bath for any of the rooms. There’s a half bath off the kitchen, but that’s the only one I’ve seen downstairs so far.”