Chapter 10 - Midnight Visitors
I dropped the phone into my pocket, shoved the ledger back into the safe, and swung the heavy steel door shut just as the door handle clicked downward. The latch held—Miller had locked it electronically from his master panel upstairs, but the mechanical deadbolt wasn't thrown.
I slipped behind the heavy velvet drapes masking the floor-to-ceiling windows just as the office door swung open with a soft groan.
"I thought I heard something down here," a gravelly voice murmured. It was Miller.
The estate manager stepped into the pale circle of the desk lamp, his silhouette long and angular against the mahogany shelves. He wore his gray wool waistcoat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked around the room, his sharp eyes scanning the desk, the painting, and the floor. He frowned, walking slowly toward the desk. I held my breath, pressing my back flat against the cold glass of the windowpane, the white cowl-neck gown bunched up in my hand to avoid any rustling sound.
Miller reached out and touched the green lampshade. It was warm. He looked down at the blotter, noticing a stray slip of paper that had fallen from the ledger when I hurried. He picked it up, his thick eyebrows drawing together in a sharp line.
"Who's there?" Miller called out, his voice echoing flatly in the small room. "Show yourself. I know the security sensors tripped."
He reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulling out a small black radio handset. I couldn't wait. If he called security or locked down the perimeter gates, I would be trapped inside the estate with no way to reach the city before morning.
I lunged out from behind the velvet drapes, hitting the corner of the heavy oak desk and sending a stack of ceramic coasters crashing to the floor. Miller spun around, cursing, but I was already moving toward the side door that led directly out to the sunken garden.
"Hey! Stop right there!" Miller shouted, lunging forward with surprising speed for a man his age.
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I threw my weight against the brass panic bar of the side exit. The door burst open into the cool night air, the scent of damp earth and clipped boxwood rushing over me. I sprinted across the gravel path, gravel biting into the thin soles of my evening shoes, hearing Miller's heavy footsteps pounding behind me in the dark.
I cut hard toward the old greenhouse, the glass panes catching the moonlight like shattered ice.
