“I can understand that,” Lucas said. “Do your parents live nearby?”
“No. They were both killed in a car accident when I was eighteen.”
Lucas got up and moved to sit beside her on the couch. “I’m sorry to hear—” he started to say when the doorbell rang. Then, “Do you want me to get that?”
“I’ll do it, thanks. I’m feeling better.” She went to the door and opened it. “Michael! What are you doing here?” Had he been that serious about tracking down Caldwell and Lucas?
“I called Mr. Smith,” he said as he stepped into the living room, “but he said you’d gone home.” He stopped at the sight of Lucas sprawled on the sofa, the blanket in a heap beside him. “Am I interrupting something?”
I wish. She felt herself blush, even though nothing had been going on other than in her mind. “No. I just got ill at lunch and Lucas drove me home.”
Lucas came forward and extended his hand. “Lucas Ramsey. And you are?”
“Michael McCain,” the warlock answered as they shook hands, but his dark eyes scrutinized Lucas.
“He runs the agency for me,” Sara said quickly as the two men stared into each other. “So what brings you here? Trouble with one of the temps?”
He shook his head. “Nothing wrong there, but I’ve got bad news.”
“What?”
“Maybe you’d better sit down,” Michael answered and took her arm to steer her toward the sofa, where he sat down with her, only to find Lucas already in place on the other side of Sara. His eyes widened a little.
Even Sara wondered how Lucas had moved so fast. But Michael’s serious expression took precedent. “What?” she asked again.
“It’s Professor MacDonald. He’s dead.”
Sara gasped. The poor old man had been in rather frail health, but he had seemed okay when she left him on Friday. “How? Did he fall? Have a heart attack?”
Michael fidgeted and looked away. Then he took a deep breath and turned back. “He was shot. Multiple times.”
She felt the blood draining from her face as the room swirled, and then Lucas was holding her head down, a steady hand on her neck.
“Breathe deep,” he said.
She struggled not to hyperventilate and slowly sat up. Lucas’s fingers lightly massaged her shoulder and, for once, she felt only comforted by his touch.
With a slight glare at him, Michael picked up her hand. “The place was ransacked. Whoever did it was looking for something.”
A slow dread began to build, like a piece of molten lava in her stomach. She whispered, “The papers?”
“I think so,” Michael answered. “Nothing seemed to be missing. All his antiques were still there. His wallet was on the floor, the money still in it.”
The lump hardened in her stomach. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t taken the papers to him, he’d still be alive. Or if I’d let him keep a copy—he was so thrilled to read the manuscript—now I’ve killed him.”
“Ye dinna,” Lucas said, smoothing her hair back from her face. “The person who did this would have killed him anyway.”
“You know who did this?” Sara asked as tears welled in her eyes.
“I think I know who ordered it.”
“Maybe someone who doesn’t want anyone else to know what the document said,” Michael replied. “Just where were you Friday night?”
Lucas’ eyes deepened to whiskey-color as he regarded the warlock. “I’ve no alibi, if that’s what you’re asking. I went for a drive to familiarize myself with the surroundings. And how did you find out that the professor was dead?”
Sara felt the electrical charges flow through her as Michael probed Lucas’s mind.“I will not be a conduit!”She flashed the message to Michael mentally.“You must ask permission before—” To her surprise, she felt the surge of energy reverse itself and flow back to Michael. Did he withdraw the force or had Lucas returned it?
Michael arched a dark eyebrow. “I drove out there this morning. Since I talked with Sara Friday night, I had a few questions of my own to ask. Robert filled me in on what happened.”
