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was up here?"
    "He didn't." Cass couldn't keep the aggrieved tone out of her voice. She should have been used to Sean by now. He'd sacrifice his own mother for a good story. A disappointing daughter would be no sacrifice at all.
    He closed the refrigerator, turned around, and leaned against it, looking at her. "Interesting," he murmured. "Do you know why you're here?"
    Something in his tone of voice startled her. "That's an odd question. I'm here to visit my father," she said.
    "Just a spur of the moment thing?"
    "No. Mabry called and asked me to come. She said he hadn't been feeling well, but I assumed that wasn't true. Sean's never been sick a day in his life. Are you suggesting there's another reason I'm here?"
    "I'm not suggesting a thing." He pushed away from the refrigerator, moving past her toward the back of the kitchen. "Ask your father when he comes home."
    "I have a lot of things to ask him." He looked over his shoulder at her, and his smile was oddly, chillingly sweet. "I imagine you do." And then he left her, without another word. Cass stood alone in the kitchen, still dazed from the strange encounter. Richard Tiernan was unlike anyone she'd ever met in her life, but then, as far as she knew she'd never met a murderer before. He'd disappeared in the direction of the back of the apartment, and she could only assume he was staying in her half brother Colin's old room. That, or the study, and Sean barely allowed anyone inside the room, much less let them sleep there.
    She had a number of options. The first, and most appealing, was to put on her shoes, her coat, grab her suitcase, and walk out the door. Sean was manipulating again, and while Cass had learned to withstand all but his most masterful schemes, she wasn't sure she was up to dealing with the added complication of Richard Tiernan.
    Because she had no doubt whatsoever that he had something to do with why she was here. She'd been maneuvered by an expert, and if she had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, she'd get the hell out of there.
    Of course, that would mean not finding out what Sean wanted from her. And if Cass had one abiding weakness, it was her curiosity. She couldn't stand not knowing, even the most insignificant detail.
    She also didn't fancy rooming with a man who'd taken a butcher knife to his wife and children. His wife had been pregnant at the time, hadn't she? The thought sent chills of horror through her. Sean might like to flirt with the very edge of madness—Cass much preferred comfort and safety.
    She would wait until Mabry and Sean returned from the doctor. She'd spend the night, make a graceful escape the next morning, and leave Sean to his own devices. If Richard Tiernan decided to continue his murderous rampage, there wouldn't be anything Cass could do to stop him.
    He didn't look like a murderer. A butcher, a man who'd committed the foulest crime imaginable.
    But he didn't look like the boy next door, either. He looked like a man intimately acquainted with death and horror. A man capable of making a pact with the devil, only to find that the price was too high to pay.
    She dismissed the notion, giving herself a brisk shake. She was, after all, her father's daughter, and fully capable of letting her imagination run away with her. Richard Tiernan was another of her father's dangerous characters, in the flesh this time, but nothing to do with her.
    Mabry had redecorated recently, and Cass wasn't sure she liked the change to her old bedroom. Gone was the beautiful simplicity of the shaker furniture, which had in turn, replaced her French provincial four-poster. Mabry had gone in for early Gothic, with oversize dark furniture, a dynasty-founding bed, and a green-gilt wallpaper that looked as if it came from a Venetian palazzo. Even the tall window overlooking Park Avenue was swathed in dark green velvet drapes, and the gloom was palpable. She looked around her, knowing instinctively that she was no longer alone.
    "How do you like