Face of Danger by Roxanne St. Claire

garage; it was empty. “He’s gone to the guesthouse.” She turned and got right in Vivi’s face. “This would be a good opportunity for us to talk privately. About Cara.”
    Maybe
she
could tell Vivi where Cara was, something she wouldn’t do with Lang on their heels. And if Vivi got that information, it might make up for not following his orders. “Okay. Let’s go.”
    They walked out into a wide hallway, heading to the right, away from a large kitchen in the other direction.
    “This is the main living area,” the other woman said, indicating the back of the house, giving Vivi a glimpse of luxury, all decorated in the ubiquitous shades of yellow. “My quarters are downstairs, below the kitchen and utility room. The first floor is for living and lounging, with several guest suites, and upstairs is your exclusive domain. The pool is private and completely inaccessible from the outside, so if you want to be seen from a distance, I suggest the balcony from your upstairs living room or take a drive.”
    Mercedes was obviously in the know on the whole deal. And no doubt every word she overheard Vivi say would go straight to her boss.
    In a vestibule at the top of the stairs, an oil painting of a fog-shrouded landscape dominated one wall across from a set of mahogany double doors. They opened to a dreamy sort of paradise, with a bank of windows looking out toward the ocean. The sprawling living area was decorated in the usual color, but pale in this room, more buttery than lemon.
    “There’s a small kitchen over there, with an office andcomplete gym, and this way is your bedroom.” Mercedes took her under an arched threshold, to a plush room with a massive California king bed at the center. Across from it, a fireplace took up most of the wall.
    All lovely, but not important to Vivi. “What did you want to tell me about Cara?”
    “That is a closet,” she said, opening another door that led to a room the size of a small country, completely stocked with clothes and more nightmarish shoes, a chaise longue, and a three-way dressing mirror. “And here is the bathroom.”
    Dropped down from Mount Olympus by the Goddess of Decadence.
    “I could get used to that tub,” Vivi said, eyeing the Jacuzzi that took up a third of the room, a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall mirror behind it. A flash of Lang in that tub tortured her for a second.
    “There’s a steam room and sauna, of course.”
    Of course. “What did you want to tell me about Cara?”
    She just gave her a blank look. “I wanted to show you her rooms.”
    “That’s not…” Vivi shook her head, knowing a brick wall when she saw one. “Do you know where she is?”
    “No.”
    “Mercedes,” she said softly. “This whole thing”—she waved a hand at her face to indicate the disguise—“is not about avoiding a curse or folklore or media speculation anymore.”
    “It never was,” the woman said simply.
    “There is evidence.” She had to be very careful, because even if the walls didn’t have eyes and ears, this woman did. Everything she said could go right back toCara. “Additional evidence that there could be a connection between the deaths of Isobel DeSoto and Adrienne Dwight.”
    Still an expressionless stare was the only response.
    “That means,” Vivi said slowly, “Cara is in genuine danger.”
    She blinked. “I thought that’s why you’re here.”
    “It is, but the authorities… will need to know where she is. Soon.” Like at one minute after noon today.
    “They don’t need to know. You’re here and you’ve obviously fooled at least one FBI agent. I have no intention of letting out the truth about who you are.”
    “I need to talk to her, Mercedes. Please.”
    “Contact Marissa Hunter. That’s the only way to speak with Karen—er, Cara.”
    She wasn’t going to get anywhere badgering this woman. Not yet, anyway. “If you hear from her, will you tell me? Immediately?”
    She barely nodded. “Now you just get situated and