Don't Be Scared by Lisa Jackson

Author:Lisa Jackson [Jackson, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

The color drained from Tiffany’s face. “You . . . you think that Devil’s Gambit might be alive?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re not serious. . . .”

But she could tell by Zane’s expression that he was dead serious.

“Dear God,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She wanted to dismiss what he was saying as idle conjecture, but he just didn’t seem the type of man who would fabricate anything so bizarre. “I don’t know if I can deal with this right now. . . .” Devil’s Gambit alive? But how? She’d been to the site of the accident, witnessed the gruesome truth for herself. Both the horse and the driver of the truck had been killed. Only Dustin had survived.

It was difficult to speak or to think rationally. Tiffany forced herself to look into Zane’s brooding gaze and managed to clear her throat. “Look, I really do have an interview that I can’t get out of. Please wait.... I . . . I want to talk to you. Alone.” She extracted her arm from his grasp and made her way to the door. Her mind was running in crazy circles. What did he mean? Devil’s Gambit couldn’t possibly be alive. And Ellery—what about Ellery? Dear Lord, if what Zane was suggesting was true, there might be a chance that Ellery was still alive. But how? Don’t think like this, she told herself. What this man is suggesting can’t possibly be true.

Her knees were weak, and she leaned against the door for several seconds, trying to recover her lost equilibrium before the bell chimed for the fourth time. “Get hold of yourself,” she murmured, but she was unable to disguise the clouds of despair in her eyes. Why now? Why did Zane Sheridan pick this time when everything at the breeding farm was in turmoil to enter her life with rash statements about the past? Forcing her worried thoughts to a dark corner of her mind, she straightened and braced herself for the interview.

With a jerk, she tugged on the brass handle and the door swung inward. Despite the storm of emotions raging within her, she forced what she hoped would appear a sincere and pleasant smile. Only the slightest trembling of her full lips hinted at her ravaged emotions.

“Mr. Crawford?” Tiffany asked the agitated young man slouching against a white pillar supporting the roof. “Please accept my apologies for the delay. My housekeeper isn’t in yet and I had an unexpected visitor this morning.” Her voice was surprisingly calm, her gaze direct, and she disguised the trembling in her fingers by hiding her hands in the deep pockets of her wool skirt.

The bearded, blond man eyed her skeptically, motioned to someone in the car and then handed her a card that stated that he was Rod Crawford of the Santa Rosa Clarion.

A petite, dark-haired woman climbed out of the car and slung a camera over one shoulder. Tiffany stepped away from the door to let the two people enter her home.

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