Helena couldn’t help but smile. Craigs was at least transparent in his feelings toward Frederick Cordell. Helena wished she could make up her mind concerning him.

She placed the note back on the table. Craigs was very adept at stitching small wounds, having been with her father for over twenty years.

Suddenly it dawned on her that she was alone in the house and would be alone for quite some time. She was not afraid of being alone. She usually enjoyed a quiet house. But the events of the previous week made her more aware of everyone’s absence.

Her father gone away in one direction, Craigs in another. What if someone had planned it all to get her alone?

A slight fear started to rise in her, and she quickly stifled it. Both things were a common enough occurrence for a doctor’s house. Chiding herself for being ridiculous, she did, however, go back to the front door and turn the lock. The click resounded through the empty house.

The parlor window was open, and a gentle breeze was blowing the curtains. Their flutter and rustle made a rather unpleasant sound in the silence. Helena walked over, closed the window, and turned the lock on top of the pane.

She walked through the house, making sure each window was closed and locked. Finally, checking the back door and finding it secure, she went upstairs.

Something creaked in her father’s bedroom. She paused to listen. The sound did not repeat. The glow from the porch light barely illuminated the upstairs rooms. Slowly, Helena walked to the landing and turned on an incandescent lamp sitting on a low table.

Hesitating a moment, she finally went into her father’s room and pressed the wall switch. The light came on to reveal another open window, the breeze rustling papers on his desk.

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