Chapter 4

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               The murder was complete, and possibly the first perfect one ever committed. On paper, at least. Shane sat back in his desk chair, hands clasped behind his head, satisfied with the night’s work as he stared at the computer monitor, backlit by the green shaded desk lamp. Glancing at the wall clock opposite him, Shane registered the time as one in the morning, high time to hit the sack. Tapping the Save button and logging off his computer, the author sat a moment, basking in the contentment of finishing a major scene in his new thriller. Too pumped to go to bed yet, Shane decided to raid the refrigerator while he had the downstairs living area to himself.

                Just past the landing on the floor below his, Shane noticed the dim glow of a lamp emanating from one of the guest suites, which he assumed was now being used as a kid’s room. Curious, Shane padded to the doorway in bare feet. He spied Emily in a robe, leaning over the edge of the guest bed, which sported a safety rail along its side. She was smoothing the boy twin’s fair hair from his eyes, while the other twin lay sprawled on the other side of the double bed. Shane frowned at the thought of the two children sharing a bed, but pushed the thought away when his gaze met Emily’s. She shook her head at him slightly, glanced down at her little boy, then tip-toed over to the door and flipped the light switch off, allowing just the Buzz Lightyear nightlight to warm the room. Shane stepped aside while Emily pulled the bedroom door to, and then followed her to the top of the stairs.

                “Why are you here?” Emily Wakeland whispered, pulling her blue terrycloth robe closer about herself while looking up into Shane’s amused face.

                “Because I live here?” he retorted simply, watching her rock her head irritably. “And, I was heading downstairs for a snack when I saw the light. Care to join me?”

                Emily started to say no, but suddenly changed her mind on a whim. Nodding agreeably, she led the way down the stairs to the family room, where uncovered windows displayed the ocean as far as the eye could see. The moon rode low in the sky, reflecting on the waves. Emily paused, gazing out at the million dollar view until a click and a whooshing noise brought her head around.

                With a fire now burning in the fireplace, Shane placed the electronic lighter on the bar as he headed to the kitchen. Emily stared at the cheerful blaze, amazed at what money could buy.

                “What d’ya fancy?” her boss asked, his voice muffled from within the fridge.

                “Chocolate milk,” she replied automatically.

                “One chocolate milk, coming right up,” and he poured a glass for his housekeeper, as well as for himself. Emily sat down, feeling more at ease with Mr. McNeal than she thought she would at this time of night. Shane came around the counter, holding two glasses of chocolate milk while gripping a baggie of Emily’s homemade chocolate chip cookies between his teeth. Unable to control herself, Emily grinned at the sight he made, looking more like a college kid than a blockbuster mystery novelist in his too-tight T-shirt and bare feet. Without glasses Shane’s face boasted high cheekbones and full lips. Emily wrenched her thoughts away from that observation, reaching out for her glass of chocolate milk.

               Shane sat on the other end of Emily’s couch, placing the bag of cookies between them while propping his feet on the glass and wood coffee table. They sat companionably for several minutes, his munching the only sound in the room.    

              When Shane had downed four cookies and a gulp of milk he asked Emily,  “Did your son have a nightmare?” He stared at the dark ocean, seemingly mesmerized.

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