Bannon Brothers by Janet Dailey Page B

“Yes. I think so. There was a photo something like it in the files.”
    She studied the painting, then backed away. “It’s strange to see her. It’s like she’s still here. Waiting.”
    Bannon wanted to say that he knew exactly how she felt. But he didn’t.
    â€œShould we go upstairs? Mrs. Meriweather said the bedrooms are just the way they were when the family still lived here. Not on the official tour, of course. Stairs are a liability.”
    He looked at her curiously. The same wistfulness he’d seen in her at the restaurant shone in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to?”
    â€œIf you’re investigating, you should.”
    â€œI could do that on my own. Go upstairs, I mean.”
    Erin gave the slightest shake of her head. “I’ll go with you.”
    â€œBut—”
    She held up a hand before he could form a question. “Don’t ask why. I just want to.”
    In silence, they went back the way they’d come and stopped at an inner staircase that led to the second floor, not the grand one of the front hall. She went ahead of Bannon, unclipping the velvet rope that kept visitors on the first floor of the mansion and handing the brass end back to him. He clipped the rope again where it fastened when he’d gone up a couple of steps. Just in case someone came in, like the caretaker. Or someone else. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though he had yet to spot a surveillance device. A little noise, a few seconds of warning—he wanted both.
    She was already on the landing, looking through another massive door. Bannon joined her. He peered over her shoulder. A baronial bed decked out with fringed scarlet hangings took up the center of the room. Had to have been Hugh’s. The room was entirely masculine, with heavy side furniture and dark wood. Bannon guessed that the wife had been summoned to it. He hoped it hadn’t been too often, for her sake.
    â€œNow this is some serious furniture,” Erin said, looking around and adding with a smile, “but those hangings would be great for a kid playing hide-and-seek, don’t you think?” She closed the door without making a move to go in. Like the great front door below, it shut almost without a sound.
    The bedroom adjoining was more feminine. He took in the lace runner on the dresser, and the ornate silver-backed brush and comb set in front of the mirror. Its patina told him that it was the real deal. There had to be security, very good security. Anyone could slip that into a pocket and walk off with it. Then he reminded himself that tourists weren’t allowed up here.
    Even so.
    Erin continued down the hall, stopping at a door with a painted cut-out of a bright-eyed bunny attached to it. Below it was Ann’s name.
    Bannon exchanged a long look with Erin, who didn’t say anything as she slowly turned the knob. He was right behind her when she walked in.
    The room was decorated in pastels. Even the antique crazy quilt on top of the dresser was made out of pink and yellow scraps from long ago. It was piled high with stuffed toys that didn’t look like props on a set. They looked like a real little girl had played with them a lot.
    Bannon realized that he was looking for the bear—the pink bear in the photo of Ann. It wasn’t there. Maybe the kidnapper had let her take her favorite toy. To keep her quiet. The idea sickened him.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Erin asked.
    â€œHuh? Oh—just thinking. There was a toy bear in one of the photos of Ann. Pink. Flowered tummy. It’s not here.”
    She turned around to study the heap of toys. “I had a bear like that,” she said.
    He thought. “It would have been about the same time period. They probably sold about a million of them.”
    â€œNo, my mother said she made it. I always thought my bear was the only one.” She seemed lost in the memory for a