Silver Linings

several deep breaths while she fumbled the gun into her elegant black and tan leather shoulder bag. She paused as she noticed the bloodstains on the strap. Cormier's blood. It had come from her hands.
    She had to move quickly. A man was dead and among his last words had been the advice to get out of the mansion in a hurry.
    She did not doubt that the danger was still hovering. Mattie could sense it as if it were a palpable presence. She took one last look at the body of the silver-haired old man. She had a fleeting vision of white—white linen suit, white buck shoes, white silk shirt, white marble tile, white walls, white furniture. White, endless, pure, unadulterated white. Except for the red blood.
    Mattie felt her stomach heave. She could not be sick now. She had to get out of here. She stumbled for the open front door, her heels clattering loudly on the marble. Her only thought was to reach the battered old rental car that she had picked up at the tiny island airport two hours earlier.
    She was nearly out the door when she remembered the sword.
    Halting, she glanced back into the room of white death. She knew she could not go back. Valor , the fourteenth-century sword she had been sent to collect, was valuable but not worth the trip back into that room. Nothing was worth going back into that room. Aunt Charlotte would understand.
    What was it Aunt Charlotte had told her about the ancient weapon? Something about there being a curse on it. Death to all who dare claim this blade until it shall be taken up by the avenger and cleansed in the blood of the betrayer .
    The terrible prophecy had apparently been fulfilled in Cormier's case, Mattie thought. Not that she believed in such things. Still, Cormier had claimed the blade and now he was dead. Mattie suddenly had no interest whatsoever in locating the medieval sword and taking it back to Seattle.
    She whirled around again and ran through the open door, scrabbling in her purse for the key to the rental car. Perhaps that was why she didn't see the man who stood on the veranda to one side of the open door.
    Nor did she notice the booted foot he stuck out in front of her until she tripped over it and went flying. She sprawled on the white planking of the veranda, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could get back enough breath to scream, she felt something cold and metallic against the nape of her neck.
    Mattie wondered with an odd, clinical detachment if there would be any small warning sound before the trigger was pulled.
    “Hell, it's you, Mattie,” said a deep male voice Mattie had not heard in nearly a year. The gun was no longer pressed against her nape but Mattie was still frozen with fear and shock. “You almost got yourself killed. I didn't know who was going to come running out that door. You all right, babe?”
    Mattie managed to nod, still fighting for breath. She opened her eyes and realized the wooden planks she was staring down at were less than three inches away. She could not seem to gather her thoughts. It was all too much. Stress .
    A big hand closed around her shoulder. “Mattie?” The dark, rough-edged voice crackled with impatience.
    “I'm okay.” A strange relief washed through her at the thought. Then came another chill. “Cormier.”
    “What about him?”
    “He's in there.”
    “Dead?”
    She closed her eyes. “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”
    “Get up.”
    “I don't think I can.”
    “Yes, you damn well can. Move it, Mattie. We can't lie around here chatting.” Strong fingers locked around her waist and hauled her to her feet.
    “You never did listen to me, did you, Hugh?” Mattie brushed aside the tendrils of tawny brown hair that had come free of the neat coil at the nape of her neck. She looked up into gray eyes that were so light they could have been chips off a glacier. “What are you doing here?”
    “That's supposed to be my line. You were due into St. Gabe at nine this morning. What the hell are you doing here on Purgatory?” But he wasn't paying attention to her, not really. He was eyeing the driveway behind her. “Come on.”
    “I'm not going back into that house.”
    Predictably enough, he ignored her. “Get inside the hall, Mattie. You're a sitting duck standing in the doorway.” Without waiting for a response he yanked her back through the wide opening.
    Mattie stumbled after him, keeping her eyes averted from the sight of Cormier's body. She clutched at the strap of her shoulder bag in a vain effort to keep her