“A gray cat studied her from the bottom of the bed, its long tail twitching. The great animal seemed possessive, as if he was well accustomed to claiming this bed. Had she seen a cat here before? She couldn’t remember. She stood up slowly and winced as the floor spun beneath her. With a gasp she caught the back of the wingchair, closing her eyes until the waves of dizziness passed. Still too weak. She rubbed her head, wincing at the sudden stab of pain. She had to try the inspector again. As she... walked to the desk, the door opened. “You shouldn’t be up.” A tall man with charcoal eyes and broad shoulders crossed the room. Clair recognized him from her flight at the moat. She shrank back. “No need to be frightened. You shouldn’t be on your feet. You need to rest,” he said roughly. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.” “Who—are you?” “Ian Sinclair. Metropolitan Police Service. “How do you feel, Ms…..” Clair watched him prowl the room and pull the curtains closed, his focus almost palpable.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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