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  the door. When he saw the crowd, he stayed at the top of the stairs. “No need to be hiding yourselves in the cellar for a snowstorm—that’s for tornados.”

  “Patrick.” Lariana’s voice shook slightly. “We found Edward.”

  “Dead,” Shelly wailed.

  At that, Patrick moved down the stairs, his lean body in coveralls, his tool belt low on his hips. He inspected the body himself, then whistled low in his throat. “Well, fuck me. He is dead. Mean old bastard.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Shelly asked tearfully. “We can’t all just stay here—we have to get out.”

  “We can’t just leave him here like this—”

  “Yes, we can,” Cooper said. When all the faces turned in his direction, he added, “Nothing gets moved.”

  Everyone started talking at once but he lifted a hand. “Look, I’m a cop. Or I used to be. Either way, I’m aware I’m out of jurisdiction, but no one is moving the body or any possible evidence until the proper authorities come.”

  “No one’s coming,” Dante said. “No one can come.”

  Patrick agreed with that. “We haven’t seen this much snow in all the years I’ve been here, and it’s still coming down. I’m telling you meself it’s going to be a while. Days.”

  “Breanne was able to get a signal on her cell outside the library a little while ago,” Cooper said. “Someone needs to go there and try again.”

  “I will,” Patrick said, rocking back on his heels. “But don’t be holding your breath.”

  Shelly sniffed quietly.

  Lariana stood still, pale.

  Breanne’s heart was still thumping.

  “Everyone needs to get out of the cellar,” Cooper said, rising, standing in front of Edward, standing for the dead. “And stay out.”

  “But—”

  “No one comes in here,” he said firmly. “No further contamination of the scene, period.”

  Dante turned to Patrick. “Let’s get the ladies out of here.”

  “Will do.” Patrick slipped an arm around Lariana, and Dante did the same for Shelly. With his free hand, he reached back for Breanne.

  She allowed herself to be led up the stairs. At the top, she took a last look over her shoulder at Cooper.

  Once again he was crouched by the body, expression grim, his big body gripped with a tension she hadn’t seen in him before as he looked Edward over with careful precision.

  He was a cop. Had been a cop. And though she had no idea why he wasn’t one right now, she would bet it hadn’t had anything to do with competence, because just watching him kneel on the floor and deal with a dead body—good God, a dead body!—with cool efficiency told her everything she needed to know.

  He’d done this before. A lot.

  It made her ache for him, not physically as she had in the library, but deeper. Odd how it felt as if she’d known him for more than just the one night. Odd how it felt as if maybe they’d known each other forever.

  In that moment, he lifted his head. For a beat in time, his eyes warmed, and he gave her a small nod. It’ll be okay.

  She only wished she believed it.

  Breanne sat in the great room, trying not to think about Edward. About her life being in the toilet. About Cooper. About anything.

  Dante had stoked the fire, then left without a word. Equally silent, Lariana brought a tray with bagels, cream cheese, and fresh fruit, and after setting the food down in front of Breanne, moved to the door.

  “Wait.” She couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. “Where’s Shelly?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She will be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Lariana let out a breath but none of her tension. “Patrick couldn’t get a signal on his cell phone. Shelly’s upset at having to be here with . . . the situation.”

  No one wanted to say it. Dead body. There was a dead body in the house. Breanne’s heart clutched as she remembered how Shelly had sobbed in the cellar. “I didn’t get the feeling that she was close to Edward.”

  “Oh, no. We all hated him,” Lariana said forcibly. “But because of the way she is—too sweet for her own good—she hated him less than the rest of us.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. She didn’t “see” anything about these crazy past two days. “What are those rooms on either side of the wine cellar?”

  “Servants’ quarters.”

  “Do any of you actually live here?”

  “Honey, we’re all living here. At least until Mother Nature decides to give us a break. Could you excuse me? I’ve got a long list of stuff I have to get to.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “Stay by the fire. No use getting cold if you don’t have to,” Lariana said, and left.

  Breanne kept her eyes on the flames rather than look around her at all the shadows and corners. She really hated shadows and corners. She’d been afraid of them before Edward had been discovered. Now she was terrified. It was only midmorning, but with the snow still coming down, the light in the windows and skylights was muted at best. It felt like perpetual gloom.

  In contrast, the fire radiated a nice, warm glow. She had nothing but those crackling flames for company as she contemplated the fact that she was entirely alone and a possible murderer walked around unencumbered.

  A murderer. Her heart started pounding, and then a sound scraped behind her and the poor organ practically stopped.

  Fourteen

  Sometimes I just want to stop the merry-go-round that is my life and take a nap.

  —Breanne Mooreland’s journal entry

  Breanne leapt to her feet and whipped around, nearly falling to the floor in a relieved pile of Jell-O when she saw Cooper standing in the doorway.

  At just the sight of him, tall and big and sure of himself, she began to shake. Delayed shock, she knew.

  He strode across the room toward her in his loose-legged stride, looking deceptively lazy and completely at ease. He always did, as if all motion was effortless.

  Somewhere deep inside, she hoped he would haul her close. Instead he lifted her chin with a finger and peered into her eyes. “You okay?”

  Since her teeth were rattling in her head, she simply nodded.

  “I need you to hang in there a little bit longer.”

  No problem. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone.

  Especially a penis-carrying human.

  “The phones are still out,” he said. “No cell service at all now, which means until I can reach the police, I’m it.”

  She stared into his set face, so determined to do the right thing, and felt something deep within her give. She was desperately afraid it was her pride, which meant that any moment now she was going to throw herself at him. “What do you have to do?”

  “For starters, I’d like to know what happened. Tell me again what you know. You left me in the library and . . .”

  “And I went running down the hallway. I made a couple of turns and got lost. I ended up in the wine cellar.”

  “You tripped over him?”

  “Yes, I had my eyes locked on the bottles. I was going to take as many as I could carry to my room for a pity party.”

  “You didn’t move him at all?”

  “No. Did he fall down the stairs?”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “The body’s positioned just far enough away from the stairs that I don’t see how that happened.”

  And then there was the hole in his chest.

  “Have you seen any guns here?” Cooper asked.

  She shivered. “Oh, my God.”

  He put his hands on her arms and pushed her to the leather chair. “Have you?” he asked more gently.

  Her chest tightened and she moved her head in the negative.

  “Have you seen or heard anything strange?”

  A harsh laugh escaped her. “Are you kidding me? Everything has been strange.”

  He was sti