Free Dead Even by Mariah Stewart Page A

through over the years, Genna was more than a little eager to see that he paid the price. The kidnapping charges could turn out to be the least of Jules Douglas’s worries.
    In the meantime, Genna had already confirmed the presence of Julianne Douglas within the compound, and she laid the groundwork for her escape. This week, knowing she’d be carefully watched, she’d take a girl other than Julianne into town. Next week, to avoid any lingering suspicions Reverend Prescott might have, she’d take a second girl. But the following week, she’d take Julianne.
    Genna wished only that she could be there to see the expression on the face of Reverend Prescott—and Jules Douglas—when it was discovered that the conscientious Miss Ruth had left the Valley of the Angels for good, and had taken young “Rebecca” with her.

CHAPTER
FIVE
    Miranda stood on the top step of the inn’s front porch, one hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare of the early-morning sun, searching from one end of the street to the other for Will’s familiar form. He had to be out here somewhere. She’d knocked on his door at seven—certainly loudly enough to awaken a light sleeper, as she knew Will to be—but he hadn’t answered. Since then, she’d had breakfast and made several phone calls, but he hadn’t shown up.
    Oh, well. Will’s the proverbial bad penny, she reminded herself. He’ll turn up sooner or later.
    And sure enough, just as she was about to go back inside, there he was, crossing the street, jogging toward the inn.
    “Waiting for me?” he called.
    “You wish.”
    He was barely breathing hard. How annoying.
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just came out to see what the weather was like.”
    “Hey. Navy pinstripes today. I like it.” Before she could respond, he said, “Did you know that Fleming had its own tea party of sorts back in the days of the Revolution? Only they didn’t throw the tea into the harbor—because, hey, no harbor—but they dumped it into the gorge on the outskirts of town. Pretty neat, huh?”
    “Ummm, neat.”
    “There’s a statue down in the center of town commemorating the event. Right across the street from the tattoo parlor.”
    “Sounds like Fleming has a little something for everyone.”
    “Though you’d have thought the town fathers might have been a little more selective in what type of business moved into that part of town, but then again, when you have a lot of empty storefronts, I guess you have to take what you can get.”
    “I guess.” She backed up as he approached, as if consciously or unconsciously keeping space between them. “Did you finish reading the file?”
    “Yes. We’ll talk about it over coffee, if that’s all right with you. Let me take a quick shower, and I’ll meet you in the dining room. Ten minutes. I have an idea.”
    He went into the inn before she could respond.
    She muttered under her breath and followed him inside to the lobby, watching—despite her attempts not to—as he jogged up the steps to the second floor.
    It doesn’t hurt to look, she reminded herself, as long as she wasn’t tempted to touch.
    And I am not tempted. I am not, am not, am not. . . .
    She helped herself to a cup of coffee from the breakfast buffet and sat down at a sunny table. It was a perfect autumn day, perfect for . . . what?
    What would she do, if she had the day to herself? Walk in the woods, maybe, fallen leaves crunching underfoot, the smell of autumn in the air, geese honking overhead. Or maybe stroll along the shore, breathing in cool salt air and listening to the crash of waves upon the sand. Or visit one of those old churchyards she’d passed on the way into Fleming, and take some rubbings off the old battered grave markers . . .
    Her mind wandered back through pictures in her mind, and she was startled when she realized she’d done all of those things, but not alone. She’d done them with Will.
    Walking along the paths in Rock Creek Park, in D.C.,