“It’s not moving fast enough.” He went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “Melissa!”
“Do you know how little studying she’s been able to get done since she got here?”
“She’s bright enough to make it up. Hell, she’s bright enough to run rings around most of us.” He started up the stairs. “She didn’t hear me. I forgot about those solid oak doors. Come on. We’ll go to her.”
“And do what?” She followed him. “We’re making progress. You heard Mellie last night.”
“Yeah, bubbling with enthusiasm.” He knocked on the door of the blue room. “See how polite I’m being?”
Melissa opened the door. “I’m studying.”
“Later.” He went inside and sat down in a chair. “Will you go get all the stuff you told me Andreas sent with Cassie, Jessica?”
“I’m surprised you couched that as a request. But you forgot to say please.” Jessica left the room.
“Jessica doesn’t like orders.” Melissa sat down on the bed and crossed her legs. “You’re lucky she’s going along with you. What are you up to, Travis?”
“Cassie. We need to do some brainstorming. We’re moving too slow.”
Her gaze narrowed on his face. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t you want Cassie well as soon as possible?”
“What’s happening?”
He smiled. “Let’s just say I can’t wait years for Cassie to come back to us, and you told me I had to stay until she was well.”
“Something’s going on with you.”
“And something’s going on with you. Last night it was clear you were hiding something.”
She stiffened. “Jessica didn’t notice.”
“Because she wants to believe you. Do you want to talk to me about it?”
She didn’t answer.
“Then don’t give me the third degree, Melissa.”
“Here they are.” Jessica carried four photo albums and several notebooks into the room. “But I’ve gone through all of these before.”
“I’ve no intention of covering old ground.” He was flipping through one album. “Tell me what you’ve done with these.”
“Nothing much. I selected certain photographs to show her and test responses.”
“The result?”
“Nothing from any family members. One photograph . . .” She turned the pages until she found the picture. “Cassie and the statue of the Wind Dancer. I thought there was some . . . flicker.”
“I found her with the Wind Dancer at Vasaro. That’s the only photograph she recognized?”
“I don’t know. It’s the only one I sensed. . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Then you could have been mistaken,” Melissa said. “How could anyone tell what Cassie’s feeling? Was there a muscle response or any change in expression?”
“Maybe. A little. It’s just . . . an impression.”
“But you could have been wrong.” She reached over and turned the page. “What other pictures did you show her?”
Travis flipped the page back. “Let’s stay with the Wind Dancer for a while, shall we?”
Melissa’s lips tightened. “Why? It’s only a statue.”
“But a remarkable piece of art. It’s recognized as one of the most valuable treasures in the world. The Andreas family claims there were historical references that indicate the statue was in the hands of Alexander the Great during his first campaign in Persia, that it once belonged to Charlemagne and was passed down to several famous historical figures through the ages. There are legends that men and nations rose and fell because of the statue’s presence on the scene.”
“ Idiotic.”
“Most legends are.” He smiled. “But that doesn’t stop them from being fascinating, and I’m sure the stories increased the value of the statue. We’re a culture intrigued by fairy tales.”
“I’m not. What’s your point?”
“I don’t know if there is one. I know only that Cassie must have run from her bedroom straight to the Wind Dancer that night.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Melissa got up from the bed. “Everyone knows she ran to her nanny for protection. ” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “It’s stupid to assume she’d run to an inanimate object at a moment like that.”
“I’m not sure.” Jessica frowned. “Her father said she was terribly fond of it. She’d make up stories about the statue and play in the library where he kept it.”