A Fairy Tale Read Online Free Page B

both of her hands were visible, so she was apparently unarmed, unless her umbrella concealed a weapon. That didn’t make it any easier for him to open the door. Putting his hand on the knob, knowing there was a stranger on the other side, made his heart beat faster and beads of sweat break out on his forehead. Gritting his teeth, he unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.
    He instinctively made a mental note of the woman standing there, as though he was filling out a report: Caucasian female, somewhere between early twenties and mid thirties—she could have passed for eighteen physically, but there was a stillness about her that indicated greater maturity. About five foot three, slim build, red-gold hair, just past shoulder length, loose curls. Blue eyes. Wearing a flowered dress with a long, full skirt, a pale blue cardigan sweater, and flat shoes. He ran his good hand over hair that hadn’t seen a comb in days in an attempt to smooth it as he suddenly felt intensely conscious of just how awful he must look.
    “Detective Murray?” she said in a honeyed drawl. “I’m so sorry to disturb you. I’m Sophie Drake, Emily’s sister.”
    He remembered Emily talking about her sister, though from the way Emily had described her, he’d expected an armored Amazon holding a sword in one hand, a bullwhip in the other, and shooting death rays from her eyes, not this pretty little thing.
    “Emily, your downstairs neighbor?” she prompted, and he realized he’d just been standing there, staring at her.
    “I thought you’d be taller,” he said without thinking.
    “Yes, well, genes can be funny that way. I understand you have Emily’s spare key.”
    His head was gradually clearing, and that request put him instantly on high alert. “How did you get up here?” he asked suspiciously.
    She waved a casual hand down the hallway. “Oh, one of your neighbors was nice enough to let me in. He even carried my bag upstairs for me.”
    Michael gritted his teeth. He was always lecturing his neighbors about not letting strangers inside. Sophie Drake—or whoever she really was—didn’t look like a serial killer or a burglar, but you never could tell.
    “I really am Emily’s sister,” she said, as though he’d spoken out loud. “Would you like to see my ID?”
    She wasn’t what he’d expected, but she did look like a miniature version of Emily, and he recognized her umbrella as the gift Emily had bought for her sister last Christmas. When opened, it would have a painting of ballet dancers on it. Closed, there was a glimpse of a foot in a ballet shoe. “That’s not necessary,” he said. “But why do you need Emily’s key? Is she not home?”
    “No, she’s missing, and I need to make sure Beauregard’s okay.”
    “Beauregard?”
    “Her dog.”
    “Oh, Beau.” He really shouldn’t be having a conversation like this on a coffee-free day. “He’s fine. He’s here.” Responding to his name, Beau waddled up to the door and stuck his head out from behind Michael’s legs. “See, here he is.”
    “Oh, good . That’s a relief. I hope you don’t mind watching him a while longer. Again, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” She turned to go, grasping the handle of her suitcase.
    His painkiller-fogged brain finally caught up with the conversation. “Wait, you said Emily’s missing ?”
    She turned back. “She didn’t show up for the matinee today.”
    “How do you know?”
    “It’s on the Internet.”
    He had to grab the door frame to steady himself as his legs threatened to go out from under him. He was pretty sure he was awake, so this couldn’t be another nightmare. “Oh. No, she wouldn’t miss a performance,” he said numbly.
    “Definitely not,” she agreed. “I could see her becoming scarce if she’d been a flop, but girls who’ve spent years trying to get a big break on Broadway don’t run away after getting rave reviews. Something has to be wrong.”
    He felt like he was living a horrible