"Power tools make noise."

"Yes, but ... Oh my G.o.d. That's what this was about tonight? Coming down here to dig for ... whatever. The legend? Esmeralda's Dowry? That's ridiculous-and that has to be it."

"Then he's wasting time and effort. For Christ's sake, if there was treasure, don't you think we'd know, or have found it by now?"

"I'm not saying-"

"Sorry-sorry." He paced away. "All this wasn't done just tonight. This is weeks of work, a few hours at a time."

"Then he's been down here before. But he cut the power, jimmied the door. Hester changed the alarm code," Abra remembered. "She asked me to change the code when she got out of the hospital. She was upset, and it didn't make any sense at the time, but she insisted. A new code, and to rekey the locks. I just did it, about a week before you moved in."

"She didn't just fall." The sudden certainty of it punched like a fist. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h. Did he push her, trip her, just scare her so she lost her footing? Then he left her there. He left her on the floor."

"We need to call Vinnie."

"It can wait till morning. This isn't going anywhere. I turned the wrong way. To get the wrench. I got mixed up. It's been years since I've been down here, and I went the wrong way. We used to scare ourselves spitless in here when we were kids. It's the oldest part of the house. Listen."

When he fell silent, she heard it clearly. The grumble of wave over rock, the moan of wind.

"Sounds like people-dead people, we'd think. Pirate ghosts, and dead witches from Salem, whatever. I can't remember the last time I was back this far. Gran wouldn't come back here. She didn't keep anything back here. I just turned the wrong way, otherwise I might never have found this."

"Let's get out of here, Eli."

"Yeah." He led her out, stopped before the first turn to pluck an old adjustable wrench from a shelf.

"It's the jewels, Eli," she insisted as they picked their way back to the generator. "It's the only thing that makes sense. You don't have to believe they exist. He does. Legend deems them priceless. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds-flawless, magical, exquisite. And gold. A queen's ransom."

"A rich duke's daughter's ransom, if you want to be accurate." He fought off the gas cap with the wrench. "They existed, and would probably be worth a few million, a lot of millions at this point. They're also somewhere at the bottom of the ocean with the ship, the crew and the rest of the booty." He peered in, shining the light. "Dry as an old virgin's ... as dust," he corrected. "Sorry."

"You were about to be very vulgar."

She held the light while he filled the tank. Picked up her gla.s.s and held the light while he fiddled with switches, some kind of gauge.

He punched the power b.u.t.ton. The machine belched, farted, coughed. Eli went through the routine again, then a third time-and it caught.

"Let there be light," she announced.

"In a few well-selected locations." He took the gla.s.s she offered him, and his hand brushed hers. "Jesus, Abra, you're freezing."

"Imagine that, in a damp, unheated bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Let's get upstairs. I'll get a fire started." Instinctively he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

And instinctively, she leaned into him as they walked.

"Eli? I don't want to believe it, but could whoever did this be local? They had to know you weren't at home. They couldn't have risked cutting the power and breaking in if you were here. It was early, really. Not long after nine-thirty."

"I don't know the locals the way I used to. But I know there's a PI at one of the local B-and-Bs. It'd be his job to know I wasn't here."

"It wasn't him. I'm sure of it."

"Maybe not. But he's working for someone, isn't he?"

"Yes. Yes, he is. Or with someone. Do you really think he-or they-hurt Hester?"

"She started downstairs in the middle of the night. None of us could ever figure out why. I'm going to start looking at this, all this, from a different angle. In the morning," he added as they reached the kitchen.

He set down the flashlight, the gla.s.s, then rubbed her arms. "It's colder in the Amazon than I thought."

She laughed, shook her hair back, lifted her face.

They stood, bodies close, his hands slowing to a stroke instead of a rub.

She felt the flutter in her belly, one she'd ignored since she began her s.e.xual fast, and the lovely rise of heat behind it.

She watched his eyes change, deepen, flick down and linger on her lips before coming back to hers. And, drawn, she leaned toward him.

He stepped back, dropped his hands.

"Bad timing," he said.

"Is it?"

"Bad timing. Trauma, upset, wine. Let me get a fire started. You can warm the chill off before I take you home."

"All right, but tell me it cost you a little."

"A lot." For another moment, his eyes stayed steady on hers. "A h.e.l.l of a lot."

That was something, she supposed, as he walked away. She took another sip of wine even as she wished they'd chosen another way to warm the chill off.

CHAPTER Nine

WHEN KIRBY DUNCAN CLOSED THE DOOR AFTER THE county deputy left, he walked straight to the bottle of Stoli on the windowsill, poured two fingers.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h, he thought as he downed it.

It was a d.a.m.n good thing he'd had receipts-one for a fancy coffee a few blocks from the Landon house, and another for gas and a ham and cheese at a pit stop a few miles south of Whiskey Beach.

Once he'd determined Landon had been driving home, he pulled off to fuel up the car and himself. d.a.m.n good thing. The receipts proved he hadn't been anywhere near Bluff House at the time of the break-in. Otherwise, he was d.a.m.n near sure he'd have been explaining himself to the local cops, in-house.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h.