Glass Slipper Bride

Zach was unmoved by the flash of compact curves that he got before she whirled away, so much so that he didn’t even bother to react. Instead, he grabbed Jillian’s hand, keeping her from tucking in that shirttail as she’d been instructed, and all but dragged her out of the room. Rebellious teenager, indeed. Somebody ought to take Camille down a peg or two, but it wouldn’t be him. Nosinee, Bob. Not in this life. She wasn’t his sister, after all. He found himself wanting to say something about it to Jillian, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t any of his business. None whatsoever. And that was just the way he wanted it to stay.

They were halfway down the hallway before he realized that he was still holding her hand.

She kept expecting him to drop her hand at any moment, and yet when he did, she felt an unexpectedly intense disappointment. Or was that guilt? She hadn’t expected to be quite so torn about telling him the whole story. Camille had only agreed to speak with him on the condition that Jillian go along with her version of events, and Jillian knew all too well that any deviation from the plan would bring down censure and blame on her head, from Camille. as well as Gerry. Still, it seemed unfair to keep anything back. Not that it would make any difference in this case. Camille and Janzen had broken up, and he seemed bent on punishing Camille. Why, didn’t really matter. Did it?

They reached the back door, and Jillian turned the knob unminkingly. A wave of heat engulfed them as she pulled the door open, and as usual she couldn’t help thinking that it had been a sizzling Texas summer that had driven her parents onto that sailboat off the coast of Galveston Island and to their deaths.

“Is the door always left open like this?” Zach asked incredulously, catching it as she stepped back to let it swing inside.

She stopped in her tracks. “Well, yeah, I guess so, whenever anyone’s home, anyway.”

He elbowed past her to examine the locking mechanism. “I was right This has to be replaced. Get a dead bolt and chain installed, too. And from now on keep it locked, bolted and chained whenever anyone’s home.”

“All right.”

He turned to examine the security system component mounted on the wall. “This is a dual system. You understand, don’t you, that once it’s activated you’ll have to key in a security code every time you come in to keep the alarm from sounding?”

She hadn’t actually, but she nodded anyway. “What, exactly, is a dual system?”

“It means there are two alarms, one here that’s meant to scare off an intruder and warn the occupants, another to alert the police. This particular setup gives you about a minute and two tries to key in the code.”

“I see.”

He ushered her through the door and pulled it closed behind him. “Let’s take a look at that window.”

She led him away from the carport, across the patio and through the gate in the fence around the pool, then along the back of the house to the broken window. The double-wide window was set in the wall at about shoulder height A board had been nailed over it, and broken glass littered the ground, none of the pieces larger than a man’s hand. Zach went down on his haunches and gingerly stirred and studied the shards, some of them streaked and speckled with bright-red spray paint. After a few moments, he looked up at the three-letter word sprayed onto the brick.

“When did this happen?”

“Last night about 1:00 a.m.”

“Did anyone hear or see anything?”

She nodded. “I was asleep in this room, and the shattering of the glass woke me up.”

“This is your room?”

“Uh, no. It’s, um, more private than my room sometimes, though.”

He lifted an eyebrow at that but made no comment. “What happened after the window broke?”

“I called for Camille because the glass was all over the floor inside and I couldn’t get to my slippers without cutting my feet. She phoned the police, but he was long gone by the time the call was made.”

“But you’re sure it was Eibersen?”

“Who else could it be?”

He didn’t answer that, just stood and turned in a slow circle, surveying the area. He pointed back toward the pool gate. “He must have come from that direction. The fence is too tall on the other side, and I assume the pool gate is left open all the time?”

Jillian shrugged apologetically. “Yes, sorry.”

“Get a chain and lock for it,” he said dismissively. She nodded, adding that to her growing mental list. He turned back to the house, muttering, “Wonder why he chose this window. Why not Camille’s bedroom window? I assume he knows which that would be.”

Jillian felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, but she managed to keep her voice and tone level. “Oh, yes, he knows.”

“Probably he was afraid of being seen through the larger windows,” Zach mused. “What room is this room anyway?”

Jillian. bit her lip. “Well, it’s supposed to be a maid’s room, but we don’t have a live-in maid. Since my own room is right next to Camille’s, I thought this one might be more private, but the broken window changed my mind about the desirability of that.”

Zach nodded and made no further comment, and Jillian let herself relax again.

“Well, I guess that’s it for now,” he said, starting back the way they’d come. “You’ll see to the locks and the security system?”

“Yes, first thing tomorrow.”

“Good.”

He led the way back across the pool yard and the patio, then held open the door beneath the carport as she passed through it into the hallway and blessed coolness. He followed her down the hall to the kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house, with its bright-yellow walls and clean white cabinets, stainless-steel appliances, pale, natural woods and terra cotta dishes. “Want another cool drink before you go?” she asked hopefully.

“Glass of water would be nice,” he mumbled distractedly. He stood at the bar, arms folded and one hand rubbing his chin, obviously deep in thought, while she took down two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice water through the refrigerator door. She placed them on the bar and pulled out a stool, then perched on top of it.

“Have a seat.”

Instead, he turned and leaned forward, bracing his upper body weight on both elbows. “It doesn’t make sense that he chose to paint that particular window. I mean, it’s behind the fence. Someone would have to go swimming in order to see it.”

Jilly felt a hard knot form in the center of her chest. “Well, um, C-Camille swims every morning, year-round. The pool’s heated.” She didn’t bother saying that she, too, liked to get in twenty or thirty laps before breakfast most mornings.

Zach nodded. “Okay. That kind of makes sense.” Straightening, he picked up the glass left for him and drained it in one long gulp, the ice clinking and tinkling. “Ah-h-h. Nothing like a Texas summer to make you appreciate cold water.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jillian said softly, her thoughts returning once more to her parents.

“Why’s that?”

She stroked her fingertip through the condensation forming on the side of her glass. “Oh, it’s just that my parents said something very like that before they left on the last impulsive jaunt that got them killed.”

Zach swirled the ice in his glass thoughtfully. “I think you said that it was a boating accident?”

She nodded. “That’s right. Dad always said that the Gulf of Mexico was a poor excuse for an ocean, but it was so hot that week, and it didn’t seem worthwhile to fly all the way to the West Coast just for the weekend, so they flew to Houston, drove down to Galveston and rented a boat.”

“And you never saw them again,” he concluded.

She sighed. “The bodies were never even recovered.”

He seemed to be searching for the right words to say, and finally came out with, “Man, that’s tough. How old were you again?”

“Eleven.”

He shook his head. “So young. How come you weren’t with them?”