The Gift Read Online Free Page B

walked slowly through the entryway. The sensation she’d detected at the door returned for a fleeting moment, then passed. It definitely hadn’t been strong enough for her to call it one of her empathic experiences. She breathed a tentative sigh of relief, though niggling doubts still lurked in the back of her mind. Sucking in her breath, she faced Ty Malone, pinning him with her gaze.
    “What is it?” He took a step toward her, his expression a tentative blend of wariness and concern. “You look kinda puny.”
    “Mr. Malone…,” Beth began, hoping her worries were unfounded. “Has anyone ever…died in this house?”
    The investigator swayed and Ty reached out to grab her arm. All the color had drained from her face. “You okay?”
    “No. I’m not.” Beth Dearborn shivered and looked up to meet his gaze, her expressive hazel eyes wide.Pleading. “Just answer me. Please? Has anyone ever died in this house?”
    The woman looked downright terrified. “It’s an old house.” He shrugged, struggling to remember this woman wasn’t an ordinary damsel in distress. She was—could be—the enemy. “No telling what happened here in the hundred years before we got here.”
    She shook her head and drew a deep breath, her efforts to regain control visible in her eyes and the set of her mouth. “It’s gone.”
    It? “What’s gone?”
    She managed a weak smile and shrugged off his supporting hand, then shoved hers through her thick mane of dark curls, freeing them completely from the elastic band that had tried and failed to restrain them. “Nothing.” Swinging toward a painting near the archway that led to the parlor, Dearborn made it clear the subject was closed.
    What the hell? This woman’s problems were none of his business. All he cared about was putting an end to a nightmare that had festered far too long.
    “Nice painting.”
    “Lorilee’s work.” Ty stepped closer to the watercolor his wife had painted of this house and the valley surrounding it. “She liked to paint.”
    “It’s good.” Dearborn tilted her head to one side as if memorizing the texture and colors of the painting. After a moment, she removed a pad and pencil from her backpack and scratched a few lines.
    Ty studied the woman’s profile. What the hell was she thinking now? “Something wrong with the fact that Lorilee liked to paint?” What significance couldan insurance investigator find in a simple watercolor a woman had painted of a home she’d loved?
    “Wrong?” The investigator shoved her hair back from her face again, the expression in her eyes unreadable. “Just making notes, Malone. Investigating. It’s my job. Remember?”
    “How could I forget?” At least she was back to her normal prickly self now. He released a slow breath. “Where do you want to start?”
    “One room at a time.” She paused, then jabbed her pencil toward the back of the house. “Kitchen that way?”
    “Yeah.” The back door slammed, and he inclined his head toward the sound. “But based on that, I suspect Pearl’s in there and fixin’ supper.”
    “Pearl?”
    “Housekeeper, nanny, cook, lifesaver.”
    “Ah.” Beth smiled—really smiled—and the transformation from suspicious hard-ass to open beauty was like a sharp right hook. Damn. Don’t notice, Malone. Insurance investigators aren’t supposed to be pretty.
    The kitchen door swung open. “Cecil James Montgomery, if that’s your sorry hide sneakin’ back here for another one of them quickies, I’ve got a news bulletin for—”
    Pearl froze, her short plump body framed in the doorway, her mouth gaping in a perfect circle. “Ty, well…” She patted her kinky white hair and groaned. “And you have company, too. Now, don’t that just beat all? Pardon me, ma’am.”
    Beth stepped forward and thrust out her hand. “Beth Dearborn. Avery Mutual.”
    Pearl’s momentary embarrassment fled as rapidlyas it had appeared. “You’re from the insurance company about Lorilee.” It