Dead Ringer (22 page)

She'd done it.

A tremor of pride grazed her, and she smiled.

Twice in one night, a record for her.

Yeah.

And deserving of a medal. Or at least a week's worth of sleep. She crossed to the bed and collapsed backward on it.

She was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Sunlight was pouring into the room when Angelina woke. She moaned and rolled over. Who the hell had turned on the searchlights?

Ohmygod. She'd fallen asleep. In her clothes. With Victor's things still on her.

With a high-speed surge upward, she felt around for the journal underneath her sweater and the PalmPilot in her pocket, then remembered she'd taken care of them the night before. That's when the hammer went off in her head. She groaned and clapped a hand to her temples.

For God's sake, this made two days in a row. Was it a migraine or just tension? She'd never had a migraine before, but who knew what the stress of her situation might cause?

Satisfied that Victor's things were back in place, she clawed open her purse, which she'd left hanging over one of the bedposts, dug around for the bottle of aspirin, and shook out two. She washed them down with a swig from the bedside bottle of water, then looked at the aspirin bottle again.

What the hell. She swallowed two more. Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what time it was and feeling too tired to lift her wrist and look.

Instead, she stared at the back of the door, her heart sinking. Another outfit waited for her.

If wearing them brought her closer to her mother, she wouldn't have minded. But the clothes only made Angelina feel used and manipulated. And somehow ashamed. As if she knew Carol wouldn't approve.

But Angelina didn't have much choice. She stumbled off the bed, took a shower that didn't do much to ease the throb in her head, then put on the soft black skirt and pink sweater that Victor had left for her.

By the time she made it downstairs it was almost noon. She hadn't intended to sleep that long, but she hadn't intended to spend all day yesterday outside with a pile driver in her head either. Too much fresh air could put anyone to sleep. Not to mention be a real pain in the ass.

Or in her case, the head.

A maid told her Victor was in the stables. Angelina peeked out the window and saw the stable door open. Someone was cleaning out the stalls; hay, a water hose, and buckets were strewn around outside.

She bit her lip. She'd promised Finn she would scout the north wing. Would she have time now?

Life is risk, party girl.

Don't I know it.

It was also a bore without a little excitement.

Before she could change her mind, she
turned around and made her way north.

After twisting and turning down meandering hallways, she found herself in a long, glass-lined corridor with a fine view of the trees, foothills, and the wide blue sky.

And a clear view of herself for anyone outside.

Luckily, no one appeared on this side of the house, and she continued undisturbed. The hallway led to a smaller passage with two rooms off it. One was a media screening room with rows of theater seats, the other a game room with pool table and dart boards. She searched both rooms, but found no safes or secret hideaways, and no lead-lined box of plutonium.

Back out in the corridor, she noticed it dead-ended a few feet away and was about to retrace her steps when a crook in the wall caught her attention. She continued on and discovered a narrow corner to the left. Tucked into the corner was a door.

She hesitated, looked around, saw she was alone, and peered in.

Darkness greeted her. A basement? An underground vault? Whatever it was, it looked isolated enough to be a good hiding place.

Her pulse picked up speed. She had no reason to be poking around here. Pausing outside the entrance, she looked right, then left. Victor was outside. No maids, no Grisha. No one watching. She ducked through.

She'd expected a staircase of some kind, but a switch on the wall turned on a dim light that revealed a small, stone-lined corridor slanting downward. Stepping warily, she followed it. Empty of doors or other rooms, the walk narrowed as it went, trailing into little more than a slim passageway. Halfway down, a sound caught her attention, and she stopped dead still. Was someone following her? She looked over her shoulder. No one.

She swallowed and continued down the tapering passage. When it ended, she found herself facing a metal door, a door with a bulky keypad embedded in its surface instead of a knob.

She pushed against the door; as expected, it was locked. Did the keypad open it? Frowning, she stared at the numbers. So far, she'd seen nothing overtly suspicious in the house. Now suddenly she'd found a door that looked like it belonged on a military installation. What was Borian hiding that required a locked door, and a complicated one at that?

A chill ran up her back. If she'd stolen contraband nuclear material, she'd hide it behind a steel door, too, wouldn't she?

Heart beating fast enough to fly, she shoved against the door again. It didn't budge.

"What are you doing there?"

The sharp voice sent her heart leaping into her throat. She whirled to see Marian scurrying down the passageway.

"Marian!" She laughed nervously, which wasn't hard to fake. "My goodness, you scared me."

Marian eyed her, waiting for an explanation.

"But I'm glad to see you. I... I was looking for the dining room and somehow ended up here." A lame excuse, but the best one she could come up with, given the fact that her heart was thudding so loud she couldn't hear herself think. "I have a terrible sense of direction."

Marian studied her closely. "You passed the dining room to get here."

Panic surged, but she tamped it down. "Did I?" She shook her head as though helpless. "What a ninny. I could get lost in my own room."

Marian stepped back, gesturing for Angelina to precede her. "I'll be glad to show you the way back."

"Thank you." She exhaled a low sigh of relief and started up the narrow hall, butterflies playing tag in her stomach.

"What's down here anyway?"

"Victor's private space. It's off-limits to everyone." Marian's voice was tight, almost curt.

"Really? That's mysterious. I'll have to ask him why."

"I wouldn't advise it." Marian's mouth pressed into a thin line. Clearly, she didn't want to talk about the locked room.

Why? Did she know what was in there?

She looked at Marian, wishing they could be friends. But of course, friends tell each other everything and there was so much she couldn't tell her aunt.

And vice versa?

God, she wished she knew. She didn't want Marian to be part of Victor's dirty dealings. Then when this was all over, they could have a real family reunion. She and Marian could get to know each other without lies and deception between them.

"Did you have a nice day in town yesterday?" She put as much interest into her voice and face as possible. It wasn't difficult, as she really wanted to know.

Marian shot her a surprised look, as though attention to her life was the last thing she expected.

"Victor told me you had business in town yesterday. I was sorry you couldn't come with us on the ranch tour."

Marian looked at the floor and then back up again, a tight smile cm her face. "Maybe another time," she said, but they both knew Victor hadn't wanted her there, and another time probably would never come.

They emerged out of the passageway and Marian led her down the hallway to the dining room. In the stronger light, she noticed Angelina's clothes for the first time, and her face paled.

"What's the matter?" Angelina asked, though she knew damn well what the matter was.

"Those clothes. They ... they were-"

Angelina looked down at herself, then back up to the shocked face of the other woman. "Oh, God. Were these your sister's, too?"

"Yes. It's.. ." She swallowed. "It's amazing how much you look like her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She made herself sound appalled without working too hard. She didn't like lying to Marian, and she especially didn't like hurting her. "I only put them on because Victor asked me to. I'll change if it makes you uncomfortable."

"V-Victor asked you to wear that?"

A wave of annoyance at Victor flashed through Angelina. It was cruel of him to parade constant reminders of his sister-in-law's loss in front of her. And using Angelina to do it made her even angrier. "I'd be happy to change, if it upsets you..."

Marian stiffened. "No, of course not..." She continued down the hallway. "Victor insisted on saving everything and Carol's clothes are in perfect condition. No reason why they shouldn't be used." Another taut smile flashed across Marian's face, but she was clearly upset.

They entered the dining room and Marian pulled out a chair. "Here, sit down. Let me pour you some coffee."

Angelina felt genuinely terrible. "Please. You don't have to wait on me."

"It would be my pleasure. I always waited on Carol. It will be like having her back again." She looked so apologetic and eager to please that Angelina couldn't think of a way to refuse without arousing suspicion.

"All right. But please, pour yourself a cup and sit down. You make me feel like a guest and I'd rather feel..."

"At home?" Marian threw her a sideways glance, then looked quickly away.

Angelina understood. She could see why having her there on a permanent basis would upset Marian. She still hadn't adjusted to the resemblance to Carol; just looking at Angelina seemed to disturb her almost as much as it enchanted Victor. Not that Angelina could blame Marian. What a shock to see someone you love come back from the dead, but in the guise of a whole different person.

"It's such a beautiful home. I can see why Carol loved it. Why you all love it."

Marian placed the coffee in front of Angelina, but the smell almost turned her stomach. She pushed the cup away a bit, the pulse in her head pounding out the questions she was dying to ask. Should she risk them?

"Would you ... tell me about her?" The words were there before she'd decided to speak.

"About Carol?" Marian started, and Angelina wondered if talking about her sister would upset her again. But Angelina was so desperate to know, she plunged on anyway, no better than Victor.

"What was she like?"

Marian poured a cup for herself before answering. "Carol was the kind of woman everyone loved to love," she said at last.

A twinge of disappointment hit Angelina.
Everything you're not, party girl
"Gracious, kind, warm?"

"Oh, yes. You have it exactly." She hadn't added cream or sugar, but she stirred her cup anyway, as though needing something to do.

"Were you close?"

She took a sip. "Not really. Not until the last few years. She was five years older, so we didn't share school or many activities. And when I was ten my parents sent her to boarding school. I didn't see her much after that."

Angelina's breath quickened. If Carol was five years older, she would have been fifteen. Boarding school. That's what they told everyone.

Another thought occurred to her. If Marian believed her sister had gone to boarding school, she wouldn't know who the father of her child was.
Who my father was.

Another dead end.

Can't think about that.
"Victor seems to have loved your sister very much."

Marian laid down her cup and it clattered on the saucer. "Oh, he doted on her."

Sorry, Marian. Please understand. Just a few more minutes, a few more questions.
"How did they meet?"

"I introduced them."

An emotion Angelina couldn't identify flickered into Marian's face. With the pinched look of her eyes, she was hard to read, but something had affected her. Angelina was feeling worse by the minute.

"I was working for Victor by then, and we were in Paris. She flew over on a vacation and we all met for dinner." She smiled ruefully. "She never left."

'They have no children." Angelina looked down at the coffee to hide her face when the subject of children came up. The dark black liquid stared back at her, blank and inscrutable.

"No. Carol was unable to conceive. They tried for a while and then, well, she got sick."

Well, she'd conceived once, that was for sure. Did Angelina's birth leave her mother with some permanent damage? She'd never know.

"You don't like your coffee?" Marian was changing the subject, and Angelina let her. She'd put Marian through enough that morning.

"I... I have a bit of an upset stomach. I think I'll pass on coffee this morning."

Marian peered at her with mild concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry. What can I get you? Some broth, perhaps?"

"No, really. I'm fine. I think I'll just skip breakfast."

"All right. We'll have lunch soon. Maybe you'll feel better by then." She started to clear away the cups, then stopped, holding them in her hand. "Please, if you wouldn't mind..." She hesitated, then sighed. "Don't mention it to Victor. He's a bit obsessive about illness."

"I've noticed." If he brought up her essence one more time she'd scream.

"Carol's death nearly killed him," Marian said. "He can get quite panicky when anyone is ill. If you need anything, come to me."

"Of course."

"Thank you." She smiled, and the expression nearly transformed her plain face, making her seem younger; warmer. All at once the gap between their ages narrowed, and the possibility of friendship bloomed.

Angelina ducked her head to hide the hope flaring in her eyes. "My pleasure."

One day soon, Marian, I'll tell you everything.
One day soon.

* * *

"What have you got?" As he spoke into the phone, Finn kept a wary eye on the open ground around him. He didn't like being outside the mine during the day, but Jack wouldn't have buzzed him if it weren't important.

"We have preliminary analysis of the journal and PalmPilot," Jack said. "I'm downloading visuals and data."

While the information was sent, Finn gave the rocky canyon another fast sweep. No one in sight.