Free The Power of Love by Elizabeth Chandler

and finally began “Liebestraum.” She was pleased by her playing, her fingers flying over the keys, caught up completely in the vibrant cadenza. Just before she returned to the opening theme, in the moment she paused to turn the page, she heard a noise.
    Immediately she thought of glass shattering. Her flesh turned to goose bumps, but she fought against her fear. She reminded herself that breaking glass was a sound from her nightmares. If anyone really wanted to get in, all the person had to do was open the back door. The noise wasn’t a window breaking, she told herself. A tree branch fell against the house, or something had blown over downstairs.
    Still, Ivy felt uneasy. She glanced around the room and saw that Ella was gone. Maybe the cat had knocked over something. The best thing to do would be to investigate and prove to herself that it was nothing. Ivy went to the top of the attic stairs and listened.
    She thought the noise had come from the west wing, by Andrew’s office. Maybe it was Andrew, out of his meeting early, stopping by the house to pick up something.
    Ivy crept down the steps to her bedroom and stopped just inside the door that led to the hall. She wished Ella were with her; the cat could warn her with a prick of her ears or a twitch of her tail.
    The house seemed suddenly huge, twice its real size, pocked with a hundred hiding places and far away from anyone who could hear her scream. Ivy stepped back and picked up the telephone in her room, then put it down.
    Get ahold of yourself, she thought. You can’t drag the police all the way out here for nothing.
    “Andrew?” she called. “Andrew, is that you?”
    No answer.
    “Ella, come here. Where are you, Ella?”
    The house was deafeningly silent.
    Ivy tiptoed into the hall and decided to go down the center stairway rather than the narrower one that led into the west wing. There was a phone on the table in the lower hall. If she noticed that anything had been disturbed, she’d immediately make a call from there.
    At the bottom of the stairs Ivy looked quickly left and right. Maybe she should just run out the front door, she thought.
    And then what? Let someone take what he wanted? Or better yet, let him find a snug spot to lie in wait for her?
    Don’t let your imagination run away with you, she chided herself.
    The rooms on the east side of the house—the living room, library, and solarium—were closed up, still shuttered against the early sunlight. Ivy turned the other way, peeking around the corner into the dining room. She walked through it, tensing at the creak of old boards, and pushed open the door to the kitchen. Across from her was the door she had left unlocked, still closed. After quickly checking two closets, she locked the outside door.
    But what about the basement? She bolted the door on the kitchen side. She could check the outside entrance to it later, she thought, then headed into the family room. Nothing had been disturbed.
    Just as she stepped into the gallery that led to Andrew’s office, Ella came trotting toward her.
    “Ella!” Ivy breathed out with relief. “What have you been up to?”
    Ella swished her tail fiercely back and forth.
    “First it was his chair,” Ivy said, shaking her finger at the cat, though she was gasping with relief. “Now what, a Waterford vase?”
    She marched into the room and stopped.
    A windowpane was smashed in, the door next to it ajar. Ivy stepped back.
    She stepped into him. “Wha—?”
    Before she could turn around, a sack was pulled over her head. Ivy screamed and fought to get free, ripping at the sack with her hands, clawing it like a cat. The more she yanked at the cloth, the tighter it was pulled around her. She felt as if she were suffocating.
    She fought to keep herself from panicking, struggling against someone much stronger than she. Think! Think! she told herself.
    Her feet were still free. But she knew that if she kicked and lost her balance, he’d have her. She began to use