Wait Until Dark Read Free

didn't do me justice."
    "Newspaper shots rarely do anyone justice. But I'm sure you didn't ride out here for reassurance of your good looks."
    She hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh. Clearly, her curt retort startled him. His dark brows rose ever so slightly, though he seemed more puzzled than offended.
    "It's obvious we started out on the wrong foot, although I'm not sure why," he stated bluntly. "If it's because I frightened you when I walked in, I'm sorry. If it's because you resent my driving out here to talk to you, I didn't. I drove out to look over the property. I had no idea you'd be here. Actually, I'd planned on calling your hotel later and making an appointment to see you before you left for Connecticut."
    "I see." She couldn't get angry at that. It was too honest - something she hadn't expected.
    He extended his hand. "Let's try again. You must be Lindsey Hall. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Nicholas Warner."
    Lindsey acknowledged the formal introduction with a polite smile and a handshake. "What gave me away - my Connecticut plates or my key in the front door?"
    "Both. That and your striking resemblance to Harlan."
    She'd noticed that, too, if only from photos. Still, her stomach tightened at hearing the observation spoken aloud, "I'll take your word for it. Mr. Falkner and I never met." The strain was back in her voice. But she couldn't help it. This subject was her Achilles' heel.
    "I know," Nicholas Warner replied quietly. "Harlan regretted that."
    "Did he?" Skepticism laced her tone.
    "Yes."
    She averted her gaze, stared into the empty mahogany living room. "You knew him well."
    "Almost twenty years. He gave me my first break, backed the real estate investment that launched my career. He was a complex man, a brilliant businessman. He built his reputation deal by deal and dollar by dollar."
    "And his wife? His children?" Lindsey forced her gaze back to his. "Where did they factor into things?"
    Nicholas Warner studied her for a moment, that probing blue stare boring through her. "Stuart and Tracy meant everything to Harlan. They were his legacy, his reason for building an empire. As for his wife, Camille is a lovely, fragile woman, I'm sure you know about her situation. It's hardly a secret. If you've scoured the newspapers enough to spot my picture, then I'm sure you've read about Camille's difficulties."
    Slowly, Lindsey nodded. "She's confined to some estate-like psychiatric facility."
    "Rolling Hills. And, yes, she's been there for about seven years."
    "That's quite a while. Does her family visit her?" Lindsey had no idea why she was asking these questions. Each detail she learned cut through her like a knife. But somehow she had to know.
    "They visit frequently, yes." Nicholas's tone was cautious, as if he were sifting through his information and providing only those facts he felt Lindsey was entitled to. "Tracy lives in Boston. She runs a division of her father's company there. She drives down every chance she gets. Stuart goes more often, usually several times a week, since he lives right in Providence. Harlan used to go with him."
    "Mr. Falkner's death must have come as a horrible blow to his wife."
    "It did. As I said, Camille is fragile. Harlan was her world. His visits were her lifeline."
    Lindsey swallowed hard, thinking of her own mother's reaction when she'd read of Harlan Falkner's death. Her lips had trembled, and her eyes had filled with tears - tears she'd made sure were gone by the time she folded and put down the newspaper. She'd dismissed the subject and pretended to go about her business, as if what she'd just read had been any upsetting but impersonal item. Lindsey hadn't been fooled. Late that night, she'd heard her mother's muffled sobs as she'd privately mourned a man she'd never really had but never stopped loving.
    So, yes, Camille Falkner had undoubtedly been shattered by her husband's death. But at least she'd been allowed her grief. And at least she'd been bound to him,