Lost Innocence by Freda Vasilopoulos

Author:Freda Vasilopoulos [Vasilopooulos, Freda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1994-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Lisandro opened his eyes when Damian entered his room. Checking his pulse, Damian found it steady and strong. “Will you be all right while I take Alexa to the hotel?” he asked. “I’ll be back in half an hour at the most.”

“Alexa? She’s here? This early?”

“That late,” Damian said wryly. “She came after you fell asleep.” He debated whether he should tell Lisandro how she had appeared in the storm, then decided he’d better. The incident puzzled and alarmed him, especially after Alexa’s statement a few minutes ago. And it would remind Lisandro to remain alert.

Briefly he sketched the events of the night. Lisandro nodded, his face somber. “And where is she now?”

“In the kitchen, taking care of the milk.” He searched the old man’s face. “Do you want to see her?”

Lisandro hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “No. Perhaps it would be better to wait until later. After the funeral.”

Oh, yes, the funeral. Damian swallowed the bad taste in his mouth. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly, and Vassiliki will be here to stay with you during the funeral.”

* * * *

“You say you locked your door with the bolt and put a chair in front of it,” Damian said as he and Alexa walked toward the hotel. “You don’t mind if I take a look at your room, do you?”

Alexa frowned, picking her way around a water puddle in a low spot on the path. “Go ahead. But what do you expect to find?”

The grin he threw her seemed forced, and the uneasiness that had been dogging Alexa since she got up grew. “I’ll know when I see it,” he said.

Kritikos sat in the dining room, his table covered with the remains of a substantial breakfast. He waved as he spotted Damian and Alexa, his brows lifted knowingly. Alexa’s empty stomach lurched. Although Damian had offered her breakfast, she’d felt too jittery to risk eating. Now she was glad she hadn’t.

“Good morning,” she said politely, leading Damian up the stairs. She could only be grateful that Poppy hadn’t been in sight, although she was sure the whole village would know in an hour that she had apparently spent the night at Damian’s.

As expected, her room door stood ajar, the curtain swaying in the draft from the slightly open window. Not enough of a draft to slam the door, evidently.

Without touching anything, Damian examined the frame. No marks of any kind that could indicate forced entry. However, the flimsy lock could be opened easily without a key. A hairpin or a small screwdriver could spring the simple mechanism in seconds. He should know; he’d used the method to get into abandoned buildings often enough during his childhood. Even into his own house when his mother had forgotten and shut him out.

In contrast, the sturdy bolt on the inside of the door would be difficult for an intruder to tamper with. Closing the door, Damian shot the bolt, then yanked at the handle. The bolt held, with no indication of slack in the screws holding it in place.

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