"Hey, you came tomyhouse, not the other way around."
"But I'mnotat your house," she said. "I'moutsideyour house. And you won't even let me in!"
I waited a beat. But then Ihadto say it. "So?"
She glared at me. "Well, this is just great. I come all this way to do you a favor, and you treat it like one big joke."
She was wrong.This was no joke. I'd been in the kitchen talking with Jack when a beep on the control panel had alerted me that someone at the gate wanted in.
A short conversation over the intercom – with the driver, not Felicity – had let me know exactly who that person was. When I'd told the driver to forget it, he'd relayed the information back to his passenger.
Ten seconds later, it washervoice on the intercom, yelling, "Let me in or you'll be sorry!"
I was already sorry.But that didn't mean I was letting her in. Through the gaps in the iron gate, I gave the house a quick glance. It was still dark.
Good.
Before coming out here, I'd asked Jack to watch for Anna and, more to the point, to keep her inside if she woke up.
I'd also cut the lights to make sure that no one got a free show out of the deal. Knowing Felicity, she wasn't above dragging a boat-load of reporters in her wake.
She was good at that sort of thing, making sure the paparazzi knew exactly when and where something would be happening, as long as it made Felicity look good, that is.
When I made no reply, she demanded, "Well?"
"Well what?"
She pointed to the gate. "Aren't you gonna let me in?"
"You already asked, and you got your answer."
"But I have something to tell you."
"So say it and go."
I just prayed it would be quick. The longer Felicity stuck around, the higher the odds were of Anna waking up to find one more thing to stress about.
She didn't need the grief, and neither did I.
"Oh, fine," Felicity said. "It's about your little townie.Iknow something you don't."
"I doubt it."
"Just listen," she said. "That little townie of yours. She's a total freak. And I've got proof."
