A Will and a Way

place.”
    “Better.” But he rose to pace. “If this is a setup…”
    “Then we’re prepared for it this time.”
    Michael hesitated, thought it through, then nodded. “I’ll call the police.”

Chapter Ten
    T he moment Michael left, Pandora turned the heavy bolt on the main door. Though it had taken them the better part of an hour, she was grateful he’d insisted on checking all the doors and windows with her. The house, with Pandora safely in it, was locked up tight.
    It was entirely too quiet.
    In defense, Pandora went to the kitchen and began rattling pots and pans. She had to be alone, but she didn’t have to be idle. She wanted to be with Michael, to stand by him when he faced the break-in of his apartment. Was it as frustrating for him to go on alone, she wondered, as it was for her to stay behind? It couldn’t be helped. There were two old people in the house who couldn’t be left. And they needed to eat.
    The chicken was to have been a joint effort and a respite from the haphazard meals they’d managed to date. Michael had claimed to know at least the basics of deep frying. While he’d volunteered to deal with the chicken, she’d been assigned to tryher hand at mashing potatoes. She’d thought competition if nothing else would have improved the end result.
    Pandora resigned herself to a solo and decided the effort of cooking would keep her mind off fresh trouble. Needing company, she switched on the tuner on the kitchen wall unit and fiddled with the dial until she found a country-music station. Dolly Parton bubbled out brightly. Satisfied, she pulled one of Sweeney’s cookbooks from the shelf and began to search the index. Fried chicken went on picnics, she mused. How much trouble could it be?
    She had two counters crowded and splattered, and flour up to her wrists when the phone rang. Using a dishcloth, Pandora plucked the receiver from the kitchen extension. Her foot was tapping to a catchy rendition of “On the Road Again.”
    “Hello.”
    “Pandora McVie?”
    Her mind on more immediate matters, Pandora stretched the cord to the counter and picked up a drumstick. “Yes.”
    “Listen carefully.”
    “Can you speak up?” Tongue caught between her teeth, Pandora dipped the drumstick in her flour mixture. “I can’t hear you very well.”
    “I have to warn you and there’s not much time. You’re in danger. You’re not safe in that house, not alone.”
    The cookbook slid to the floor and landed on her foot. “What? Who is this?”
    “Just listen. You’re alone because it was arranged. Someone’s going to try to break in tonight.”
    “Someone?” She shifted the phone and listened hard. It wasn’t malice she detected, but nervousness. Whoever was on the other end was as shaky as she was. She was certain—almost certain—it was a man’s voice. “If you’re trying to frighten me—”
    “I’m trying to warn you. When I found out…” Already low and indistinct, the voice became hesitant. “You shouldn’t have sent the champagne. I don’t like what’s going on, but it won’t stop. No one was going to be hurt, do you understand? But I’m afraid of what might happen next.”
    Pandora felt fear curl in her stomach. Outside the kitchen windows it was dark, pitch-dark. She was alone in the house with two old, sick servants. “If you’re afraid, tell me who you are. Help me stop what’s going on.”
    “I’m already risking everything by warning you. You don’t understand. Get out, just get out of the house.”
    It was a ploy, she told herself. A ploy to make her leave. Pandora straightened her shoulders, but her gaze shifted from blank window to blank window. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to help, tell me who I should be afraid of.”
    “Just get out,” the voice repeated before the line went dead.
    Pandora stood holding the silent receiver. The oil in the fryer had begun to sizzle, competing with the radio. Watching the windows, listening, she hung up the phone. It was a trick, she told herself. It was only a trick to get her out of the house in hopes she’d be frightened enough to stay out. She wouldn’t be shooed away by a quivering voice on the telephone.
    Besides, Michael had already called the police. They knewshe was alone in the house. At the first sign of trouble, she only had to pick up the phone.
    Her hands weren’t completely steady, but she went back to cooking with a vengeance. She slipped coated chicken into the fryer, tested the