On A Night Like This (The Callaways) by Barbara Freethy Page B

school. It was not her favorite shot. She'd felt uncomfortable with the purple drape falling off her shoulders, and she had a huge zit on her forehead.
    Okay, there was no way her father had risked his life to retrieve this photo. She dug a little deeper and found more school pictures. These must have been the extra shots that hadn't fit into the photo albums her mom kept.
    She let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing sinister in the basement.
    "Sara?"
    She jerked at the sound of her name. Aiden stood at the top of the stairs.
    "How did you get in?" she asked, surprised by his sudden appearance.
    "You left the front door open," he said as he jogged down the steps.
    "Right. I was going to move some of the trash outside and then I got distracted."
    "What are you doing down here?"
    "Trying to figure out what my father was after, but all I found was old tax returns and school pictures, nothing mysterious. I don’t know why I thought for a moment there would be something strange down here. My father is not a man of mystery. He goes to work every day at eight and comes home just before six. He has one martini, sometimes two, and after dinner he works in his study until bedtime, which is usually around ten."
    Aiden tilted his head and gave her a curious look. "Is that all you know about your dad?"
    "Unfortunately, yes. And I think he's happy that's all I know about him. I can't remember an occasion where we had a conversation about anything personal. If he spoke to me at all, it was usually about grades or school or planning for the future. He had absolutely no interest in who my friends were, what books I liked…" She paused, thinking how odd it was that he hadn't sent the box of photographs to her with the rest of her belongings. He must have forgotten.
    "Sara," Aiden asked.
    "What?"
    "You drifted away in the middle of a sentence."
    "Am I missing something?"
    "Uh, I don't know." He glanced around the basement. "Nothing looks out of the ordinary."
    "Exactly. So why did my dad come down here?"
    "You could just ask him."
    "Like he'd tell me."
    "Well, does your dad have a safe?"
    "Not that I know of."
    Aiden walked around the room, peering into some of the dark, shadowy corners. "I don't see any dead bodies."
    "Not funny," she said, feeling an odd chill run through her body. It was just Aiden's comment and the spooky room that were making her feel on edge. "Let's go upstairs. I'm not a big fan of closed rooms. I get claustrophobic." She grabbed the box. "I think I'll take this with me."
    Aiden grabbed it out of her hands. "I've got it."
    She didn't bother to argue. She felt an intense need to get some fresh air. Unfortunately, the kitchen was just as suffocating as the basement. "Would you carry that up to my room for me?"
    "Wherever you want it," he replied.
    When they reached her room, he dumped the box on the bed and glanced around. "Well, this is homey."
    "I told you my dad had cleared out all traces of my existence."
    "Why are you staying here? Why not just go to a hotel? It would be a lot less depressing."
    "I want to keep an eye on things, and this room is fine. I won't be here that long."
    "Did you talk to my uncle?" Aiden asked.
    "Yes." She glanced down at her watch. "He's coming over in about fifteen minutes. After I left my dad at the hospital, I was debating whether or not I shouldn't just get on a plane and go home, but then your uncle called me back and said he could come by and give me a bid, so I figured I might as well meet with him."
    "I take it your dad's mood didn't improve between last night and today."
    "No. But I'm going to do what I think is right. And he can take it or leave it." She paused. So why are you here?"
    His expression grew somber. "I need your help."
    She felt a little tingle of pleasure at the thought of Aiden coming to her for help. Their relationship had always been so one-sided growing up. She'd been the adoring one, and he'd been the adored. It was nice to turn the tables. Not that he was