High Rhymes and Misdemeanors by Diana Killian Read Free Book Online

was more undertone talk. The first man’s voice rose and was cut off by the Queen Mum’s stream of swearing.
    “—ice Fox—”
    Grace’s blood ran cold. “Ice Fox?” She’d watched enough TV to know what that meant.
    “You’re off your bloody nut! I knew this would never work. If you cross him and—”
    “Do you want to cross the man?”
    Sharp silence followed.
    The Queen Mother said scornfully, “You don’t think big enough, that’s your problem.”
    “You think we should go into business for ourselves?”
    “I think—options open.”
    The voices faded out again.
    After a while Grace gave up and returned to her nest on the mattress. An hour passed. She listened to the minutes tick by on her wristwatch as the house sank into uneasy slumber.
    There had not been a sound from downstairs in ages. Nothing to indicate her captors were not sleeping. The first hours of sleep were the deepest. If she was going to make a try at escape it should be now. Now with darkness to cover her and the drumming of rain to deaden the sound.
    Grace crossed to the window and stared down. It was about a twelve-foot drop. Far enough to break an ankle or leg, if not her neck.
    In her navy duffel coat and jeans she made a suitably dark silhouette, but the bulky coat added too many inches to squeeze through the small window frame. Grace stripped off the coat, shoved it out into the tree branches where it dangled precariously and fell to the ground.
    Agonizing seconds passed while Grace waited for signs of alarm. There was nothing. She decided to go ahead. She studied the window opening. Should she try head first or feet first?
    A nosedive out the window did not appeal, but the other way she had no way of spotting a foothold. There was no sill as such on the outside of the window, and no screens.
    Grace finally decided on headfirst. Squeezing her arms and shoulders out through the open window she groped for a branch strong enough to take her full weight. It was like trying to find an opening in a wall of brambles. Putting her eye out was a real possibility. Ducking her head Grace reached still farther till she found a limb that felt thicker than the others and grabbed on tight.
    Now what?
    Twigs poking her head, hair and shoulders already soaked, Grace pushed the rest of the way through the window. The branch she clung to dipped with her weight. Grace found herself in a vulnerable position, spread-eagled across the drop between tree and house.
    Don’t look down, she warned herself doggedly.
    The tree limb sank and sprang back, and Grace had a vivid picture of herself bucked clear over the roof of the house. She bit her lip against a hysterical laugh, but all humor fled as the branch gave an alarming crack. Grace hoped to heaven the storm howling around the house would mask the sounds of her clumsy escape.
    She pushed off from the windowsill with a silent prayer.
    Clinging monkey-style, she shinnied toward the tree trunk, shoving through the twigs catching at her hair and clothes. She balanced unsteadily on her wooden perch. Dead leaves and sticks rained to the ground.
    Grace stared down. Light from the kitchen window pooled on the ground below. Stealthily she lowered herself to the next branch, twigs snarling her hair and pulling her sweater. When she was near the ground she half fell, half dropped out of the tree, landing on her haunches in the soft mud.
    Grace picked herself up off her soggy behind and hustled into the duffel coat, fingers fumbling with cold and fright as she drew the hood down over her hair. She hoped with her head covered, the long line of the navy coat and her dark jeans would present only a shadow to any watcher.
    Creeping to the window, Grace leaned against the stone wall, panting softly. Fear warred with the knowledge that if she could get her car keys, her chances of escape would be much better. On foot out in this wilderness what chance would she stand once her flight was discovered? She didn’t even know