Free Of Saints and Shadows (1994) by Christopher Golden Page B

but I’ve already bared my soul and all my secrets to you, so if there’s something you’d like to talk about?” She left it at that.
    Peter saw the concern, the slight annoyance, and the discomfort in her face. “A friend of mine, an old and dear friend, died today,” he said.
    “I’m sorry,” Meaghan said slowly, feeling very selfish. “Do you want to . . .”
    “ No ,” he said a little too firmly, and quickly added, “I’m fine, really. Sorry I’m so quiet.”
    He gave her a reassuring though weak smile and a pat on the knee and she felt slightly better, though still uneasy.
    “Let’s get back to work,” he said, and they bent again to the piles.
    “Do you think we’ll find her?” Meaghan asked after a while. “You don’t have much hope at all, do you?”
    “Of finding the answers, yes, I do. Of finding Janet. No. To be honest with you I don’t have much hope at all.”
    They worked in silence for a while, scanning every scrap of paper in Janet’s files. To Meaghan’s surprise, Peter made several casual inquiries as to her interests in music and the arts. Though neither mentioned it, they both noticed a careful avoidance of any extended discussion of Janet. By the time they finished, it was after midnight and they had found nothing. As Meaghan got up to make a pot of coffee, Peter noticed a stack of files he hadn’t seen earlier.
    “What are those files?”
    “Oh, those are nonprofits. Mostly tax shelters.”
    “We should go through them.”
    “I guess I figured they wouldn’t have too many secrets to hide,” she said, and paused a moment before a goofy grin spread across her face. “Probably just the opposite, right? I guess Dr. Watson must have made some pretty stupid assumptions in the beginning, too. Right Holmes?”
    “Watson made some stupid assumptions at the end as well, but he was always there to cover Holmes’s ass,” Peter said with a reassuring smile.
    “And what an ass!” she said before she could stop herself. But it didn’t matter; Peter only laughed.
    “Back to work.”
    Ignoring the call of caffeine coming from the kitchen, she sat down beside him once again, and together they began to read each file. The manila folders were in reverse chronological order, and Peter picked up the third from the top. Something he saw there made him tense up, visibly.
    “Peter,” Meaghan said loudly, and he looked up, suddenly angry. She shrank back, but the look was gone so fast she had to wonder if she’d imagined it. “I asked you if you’d found something,” she said quietly.
    “Maybe,” he offered, but she could see there was much he wasn’t telling her.
    “These corporations would still have to be recognized and approved by the secretary of state’s office?”
    “Of course.”
    “Janet took care of that stuff herself—the contracts and forms, I mean?”
    “Yeah, why? Have you got something or not?”
    He looked at the file, then shook his head. “I’ll let you know.” His expression was intense. “Listen, do you mind finishing up here? I just remembered some things I’ve got to take care of.”
    “At midnight?” Meaghan asked.
    “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
    Suddenly he looked at her so benignly that she didn’t want him to leave. He was again the art and music lover who enjoyed hot tea and friendly chatter. But she’d been exposed to a somewhat volatile side as well, and though she found him increasingly intriguing, his mood swings had left a chill in the air. She was trying to understand this man, and he did not seem willing to make it any easier.
    When they said good night, he apologized for his rudeness, turned, and left. She was glad he was gone, but after a few minutes, she changed her mind. Peter Octavian was having a strange effect on her, and Meaghan found it frustrating. He was surrounded by an atmosphere of danger, which excited, even aroused her. She turned on the television set, knowing it would be useless at the moment to attempt to