“Well,” Hanna said as she came back into the dining room, “I suppose we haven’t met properly. I’m Hanna. It’s nice to meet you, Adriane.”
I looked away from the door and tried to focus on her. “Nice to meet you.”
She continued clearing the table. “Alec had me leave some books in your room, or there’s the TV in the great room…” Her sentence trailed off as I began to help gathering the dishes.
She followed me into the kitchen. “I’ve got this. You don’t—”
I set my load in the sink and turned to smile at her. “Where do you keep the dish soap?” I refused to show my frustration in front of Hanna, partially not to upset her and partially so she didn’t report back to Alec. If he wanted to know what I was thinking, he’d have to deal with me straight-on.
She paused. “Under the sink.”
She allowed me to wash the dishes, while she scraped the leftovers into plastic containers and then wiped the counters and stove. She glanced once over the growing pile of clean dishes as she set a pot next to the sink. Apparently, I passed inspection.
I thought for sure she would ask me why I was here, who in the world this strange girl was in her house—I knew she lived here by how particular she was about how leftovers were arranged in the refrigerator—but she didn’t ask anything. Interesting.
“So,” I said, “you’re the cook around here, I see. Do you handle anything else?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I pretty much run the household for Alec. He’s too busy to handle all those little details.”
But by the ease of her manner with Alec and how possessive she was of this kitchen, I had the feeling she wasn’t merely hired help.
I tried to sound casual. “What does he do for a living exactly, anyway?”
“He has offices downtown, but to be honest, I don’t totally understand what he does. I think he does a lot of different things, which would explain why he’s so busy all the time.” She opened the refrigerator and arranged a couple of containers of leftovers on one of the middle shelves.
I’d hoped I could glean some information from her. I couldn’t think of any more questions to ask without starting to come off as pushy, which might make her clam up completely.
As we dried and put away the last of the dishes, she mentioned again about the books upstairs or the TV in the great room.
“Um, actually,” I said, “would you mind if I took a walk around outside?”
I expected her to come up with some excuse for me to stay inside, but she said, “Sure. Out back has the prettiest view of the ocean, and out front are the flower gardens.”
I smiled. “I bet the daffodils are blooming.” Part of me actually did want to see the flower gardens.
“It’s warm out. I don’t think you’ll need a jacket today.” She started gathering towels and dishrags and putting them in a pile on the kitchen table.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked.
“I’ve got to get a couple loads of laundry done. Alec had me busy all day yesterday.”
Good. That’s what I hoped. She struck me as the type to finish something once she started, so I figured she would want to do her laundry rather than waste time on a walk. And this way, I’d made the offer and avoided raising her suspicion as to why I wanted to go outside.
A few minutes later, I walked out the door, and glanced down the drive. I couldn’t see the gate from here, with all the bends in the drive and trees and shrubbery. To the right, a few trees dotted the edge of the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. That direction was out. Straight ahead stretched patches of grass framed by curving beds of flowers. It wasn’t one of those structured, architectural-type gardens. It looked like the heavens had opened and spilled splotches of color all over the lawn.
I walked across the drive and meandered through the grassy areas. I half looked at the flowers and half looked around at everything else. Trees bordered the property all around, except where the ocean was to the right. The forest was thickest straight ahead, and I noticed a man walk down the drive toward the garage on my left and then disappear into the trees there. More security. I continued meandering forward, toward the thicker branches.
At the edge of the grass, a fir tree leaned over, shading the garden. With a quick glance around, I slipped by the soft needles and into the woods. It was like jumping down the rabbit hole. Everything was ten shades darker. I glanced back at the house again to make sure no one was around and then continued farther into the woods.
The ocean washed ashore somewhere on my right. I kept track of the sound so I wouldn’t get lost.
I trudged through the ferns covering the moist ground. Without the sun to warm me, I started to wish I had a jacket.
A sound from my right.
I knelt down behind some brush. I could barely see as a man, a different man, passed by about ten feet in front of me. He absentmindedly manipulated a butterfly knife as he walked, the way a normal man might flick cigarette ashes. Why did Alec have so many men like this? Who was he?
Once I was sure the man was gone, I crept forward. My steps made almost no sound. As I crossed the makeshift path the man had followed, I was careful to leave no trace of my footsteps.
I walked, and then I walked some more.
About fifteen minutes later, I started to think about turning around. My plan was to assess my surroundings, not to run, at least not yet.
I stopped at a chain-link fence partially obscured by the brush. I walked along it to the right, to a spot where the brush cleared. The fence was tall, about ten feet, and barbed wire lined the top. There was no way I could climb it.
Close to the beach now, I looked over the cliffs. The fence continued all the way down to the beach, and before it hit the water, it changed to tall blocks of concrete connected by what looked like wire or maybe rebar that let the water wash through. The barricade cut through the waves for a good twenty feet. I took a breath and exhaled a defeated sigh. Unless I swam, which I stank at, especially in the turbulent ocean, there was no way around.
“Hi there,” a voice said from behind me.
Crap. I fixed my expression and turned. “Hi.”
It was a woman this time. She walked toward me with long, steady strides. She held her shoulders square just like the men, but she also smiled—it seemed to make her short, blond hair seem even brighter. Her white teeth contrasted prettily with her tan skin. I used to wish I was tan, until my father told me once how he’d loved my mother’s peaches-and-cream skin. My coloring was just like hers.
“You must be Miss Graham,” she said.
“Adriane.” Did everyone know my name? “I was just out for a walk. Hanna said the view from here was pretty.” Hopefully, she wouldn’t check that with Hanna.
She stood next to me and looked out to the waves. “Yeah, I like it here, but the view from out back is prettier. And I hear the view from the room Mr. Kaden gave you is better than anything else.” She looked at me and smiled.
Was she trying to hint that I shouldn’t be out here? I returned her smile and looked back to the ocean. I felt kind of puny next to her. I had enough muscle not to be super-tiny, but nothing like her. She carried it well, too, still curvy, like the way beach volleyball players were.
Her voice was gentler. “So, is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “As good as can be expected.”
“I hear ya.”
Then we were quiet again. She didn’t try to get me to move on. She just stood with me and looked out over the waves, as if she really did enjoy the view.
“Well,” I said, “I suppose I should head back before Hanna worries.”
“I hear she does tend to do that. I’ll walk with you.”
I appreciated that she didn’t make me feel like she was escorting me back to where I was “supposed” to be. We followed the cliffs and came back to the garden.
“I’m Zoe, by the way,” she said. “Let any of us know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Zoe.” I walked away, toward the house, and she headed along the trees away from the cliffs. I watched her disappear down the curves of the drive.
As I started up the front steps, I noticed the man with the blond mustache coming out of the garage carrying a tool box…
I couldn’t climb or go around the fence. Maybe there was another way.