'I… It's too complicated. I need to think. I'll call you back.' Craig slammed down the phone.

Tess was safe!

No.

A sudden fierce thought made him grip the kitchen counter. What if she didn't escape the fire? What if she died in the house? What if the investigators hadn't found her body yet?

Trembling, Craig yanked open a cupboard and grabbed for the Yellow Pages, desperate to make a reservation on the soonest flight to Washington National Airport. He'd rent a car there and drive to…

His hands faltered. Abruptly he shut the directory.

What the hell good would I do in Alexandria? I'd be useless. All I'd do is end up pacing, watching the investigators search the mansion's wreckage.

But I've got to do something.

Think! Hope! All you know for sure is that two servants and Tess's mother were shot while they tried to escape the flames.

But that doesn't mean Tess didn't manage to escape.

Please. Oh, Jesus, please, let her be all right.

If she escaped…

What would she do? Obviously she'd be frightened. She'd hide from whoever had tried to kill her.

And then?

Maybe…

Just maybe she'd call me.

Who else can she turn to? Who else does she know she can trust and depend on? I might be the only hope she's got.

THREE

Afraid, Tess felt naked. Shivering despite the morning's humidity, she rang the mansion's doorbell again. She kept glancing nervously beyond the trees and shrubs in the large front yard toward the hedge-flanked entrance to the driveway. So far she'd been lucky. Since she'd lunged to the porch, no cars had passed along the narrow quiet street, but if any did, and if the drivers noticed her, and if one of those cars belonged to the men who'd tried to kill her…!

Hurry. The next time she pressed the doorbell, Tess didn't take her thumb from the button. Another fear made her tremble. What if the mansion wasn't occupied? What if the Caudills had gone to their summer place in Maine? Desperate, she wondered if she ought to break in. No! There'll be burglar alarms!

Her childhood friend had long since moved away, first to college and then with her husband to San Francisco, but the parents still owned this mansion, and during the night, while Tess had hidden in the damp, black, constricting alcove behind the boulders in the back yard fountain, she'd ignored the increasing pain in her cramped muscles and struggled to focus her grief-filled, terror-racked thoughts in an effort to decide what to do next. Although the answer had been obvious, her confusion had been so great that it had taken her until the morning to remember that the people who owned this mansion had once been like a second set of parents to her.

As the skin beneath her thumbnail whitened from the force with which she pressed the doorbell, Tess's hope dwindled, her fear increasing. Please!

Abruptly she breathed as the door was jerked open. A rigid butler scowled, surveying her grimy jeans, torn pullover, soot-covered face, and grungy, spider-web-tangled hair.

'Mrs Caudill?' Tess said. 'Please! Is she here?'

'Mrs Caudill donates to shelters for the homeless. There are several downtown.' The butler began to shut the door.

Tess shoved her hand against the door. 'You don't understand!'

'Mrs Caudill can not be disturbed.' The butler straightened and grimaced, his nostrils twitching. Tess realized that her clothes must reek from smoke, sweat, and fear. 'I'll be forced to call the police if you don't leave.'

'No! Listen to me!' Tess said. She pushed at the door.

The butler resisted.

'My name's Tess Drake! Mrs Caudill knows me!' Heart pounding, she heard a car approach along the street and squirmed urgently to get through the narrow opening.

The butler struggled to block her way.

'I'm a friend of Mrs Caudill's daughter!' Tess said and fought to shoulder the butler aside. 'I used to come here often! Mrs Caudill knows me! Tell her it's-'

'Tess?' a puzzled woman said in the background. 'Tess? Is that you?'

'Mrs Caudill! Please! Let me in!'

On the street, the car sounded nearer.

'That's fine, Thomas. Open the door,' the unseen woman said.

'Very well, Madame.' The butler glared at Tess. 'As you wish.'

The car was close to the mansion's driveway as Tess darted through the door. The butler shut it, muffling the sound of the car.

Tess paused and breathed deeply. She clutched her purse – it felt heavy with its added burden of the photographs, the book, and the handgun – and gazed in relief at Mrs Caudill, who stood in the foyer, near the entrance to the mansion's dining room.

Mrs Caudill was fifty-five, short, somewhat stout, with pudgy cheeks that were emphasized by the circular rims of her glasses. She wore a brilliantly colored, Oriental housecoat, and blinked in surprise, apparently not only because of Tess's unexpected arrival but as well because of her disheveled appearance. 'Good Lord, Tess! Are you all right?'

'Now I am.'

'The fire! Last night, I could see the flames from my bedroom window. The sirens wakened me. Where have you been! What happened to you?'

Although her legs were stiff, Tess managed to hurry toward her. 'Thank God, you're home. Mrs Caudill, I need help. I'm sorry for barging in like this, but-'

'Help? Why, of course, dear. You know you're always welcome. I remember when you used to come to play with…' Mrs Caudill almost reached to hug Tess but restrained herself when she got a closer look at Tess's filthy clothes and smelled the smoke wafting off her. 'Your arms! Look at those bruises! And your hands! They're blistered. You've been burned. You need a doctor!'

'No!'

'What?'

'Not a doctor! Not yet! I don't think the burns are serious, Mrs Caudill. They sting, though. If you've got a first-aid kit…'

'Yes. Exactly. And we need to get you cleaned up! Quickly! Upstairs! Thomas!' Mrs Caudill spun toward the butler. 'I don't recall where… The first-aid kit! Where do we keep it? Bring it as fast as you can!'

'By all means, Madam,' the butler said dourly.

'This is my daughter's friend! Tess Drake! The fire last night!'

'Yes, Madam?'

'That was her mother's house!'

'Now I understand, Madam,' the butler said, more dour. 'Tess Drake. However, I regret… It's no doubt my fault, but Madam, she spoke so quickly… I apologize. In the haste of the moment, I failed to catch her last name.'

'Thomas, stop bowing. And for the love of the Lord, stop scraping. As my daughter used to say, get with it.'

'Of course, Madam.'

Mrs Caudill grasped the long hem on her colorful, Oriental housecoat. With unexpected agility, given the combination of her age and weight, she hurried with Tess up the mansion's front staircase. 'But you still haven't told me. Where have you been? What happened to you? Why didn't the police...? Or the firemen…? Why didn't they take you to a hospital?'

'It's all a…' Tess rubbed her knotted brow and tried to sound convincing. 'All a blur. The smoke alarms woke me. The flames. I remember being trapped. I remember jumping out my bedroom window.'

'Jumping?' Mrs Caudill looked aghast.

'But after that…? I don't know. I seem to recall hitting my head. I guess I ran. Evidently I collapsed. The next thing, I woke up in your back yard.'

'How on earth did you-?'

'I have no idea, Mrs Caudill. I must have been hysterical.'

'No wonder. In your place, I'd have fainted. It must have been horrifying. You've been through a… Tess, your mother… I hate to… Do you realize what happened to your mother?'

Tess halted on the upper landing as grief cramped her throat and sorrow squeezed her chest. Tears blurred her vision and scalded her cheeks. 'Yes. God help me, that part isn't a blur.'