Medium Well (9781101599648) Read Free Page B

It’s okay, really. There’s nothing here. I don’t feel anything.”
    Danny took a deep breath, willing himself not to snatch his hand away again. The stove top felt cold. There were no electric sparks. “I must have touched something else. Something hot.”
    â€œUp here?” She glanced around the room. “But it’s not hot here at all. I mean, actually it’s cold. I wish I’d brought a sweater.” She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders.
    Danny stared around the room again. Dust. Trash. Two dirt-stained windows. He stared down at his hands, but they looked perfectly normal. No burned skin. Nothing.
    His jaw clenched. Too much coffee. Too little sleep. Nothing freaky going on. “Anything else to see? Any other rooms?”
    She shook her head, watching him with narrowed eyes. “Just the downstairs. The garage part.”
    â€œOkay.” He blew out a breath. Time to head back to the real world. “Let’s go down there and check it out.”
    He took the key from her fingers, feeling a quick brush of warmth as their hands touched, then shooed her out the front door, leaning back to lock it. His fingers still tingled slightly. He glanced down.
    His hand was stained crimson, his fingers dripping blood.
    Danny stood frozen in the doorway, staring. He didn’t feel any pain. How could he be bleeding?
    â€œMr. Ramos?” Biddy called to him from the bottom of the stairs. “Okay?”
    He glanced down at her, then back at his hand again.
    His clean, dry hand.
    He closed his eyes.
Trick of the light. Just a trick of the light. Nothing to worry about here. Nothing at all.
    Right. Time to go downstairs and finish the goddamn walk-through. The story behind this house must be a real beaut. Assuming he could find it.

Chapter 2
    Fortunately, the downstairs part of the carriage house looked routine, meaning large, empty, and dirty. The fireplace matching the one upstairs had been bricked up but could probably be restored. The room had several dark wood support posts that should make a decorator either salivate or tear his hair out. Under the grime, the floor looked like paving stones, although some of them were cracked and crumbling.
    Danny folded his arms across his chest, taking his mental temperature. He felt back on track again. His hands weren’t tingling, and the chill was gone. “Good space,” he commented. “Original floor.” He thought his voice sounded normal. Good for him.
    Or not.
    Biddy peered at him from behind a post, her forehead furrowed. “Are you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine.” Danny gritted his teeth. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    Not a good question to ask, actually. She frowned. “Because you were acting sort of . . . well . . .
weird
upstairs. I thought you might still be upset.”
    Danny looked away. The concerned expression in those very blue eyes was disconcerting. “I’m not upset, and I’m sure as hell not weird. Has the listing already gone up for this place?”
    â€œNext week, as I recall. But I think Araceli wanted you to show it before that. She said Herman might be interested.”
    Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a sinus headache. “You mean Herman Zucker?”
    She nodded, her silvery hair bobbing. “Araceli told him about it going on the market.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you mention that before, Biddy?”
    She looked slightly confused. “Well, he didn’t actually say he’d look at it. Just that he might be interested.”
    Danny’s jaw locked. “The fact that he’s interested is information you need to pass along to me. Zucker’s just the kind of customer who’d be interested in this place. It’s perfect for a speculator like him. This place and the big house both. Is that what’s happening here, Biddy? Is your sister trying to go around me to