Intrigue is not a passion, a hobby, or even an interest of mine. For this reason, it is with great reluctance that I agree to meet with you... 

My reply to the email played over and over in my head as I made my way through the streets of London to the spot that had been indicated by the mysterious contact. The message had been from someone who knew me. They had mentioned to meet them while "still in town" and "to be sure not to conflict with the true purpose of my visit."

In my mind, my adoptive mother Maria lectured, "Most attackers of young women are friends and acquaintances. Close friends in fact."

I pushed these thoughts out of my head and ducked into an alleyway at the back of the pub where we had arranged a meeting. Puddles of rainwater covered most streets in London this April. The weather wouldn't seem as damp to the locals as it did to me, but ten long years had passed since I had been a local in this city. The sun had been hidden by clouds hours before it had set. Now, at eight in the evening, the sky seemed darker than usual despite the meager attempts of the occasional street light.

Trying not to be a perfect victim if this person proved hostile, I chose the rear entrance to the pub. A dark hall took me toward the voices and clang of cutlery in the main dining room, past the swinging doors of the kitchen. Most of the kitchen staff ignored me, busy at work. Despite a few odd glances, I feigned confidence and made my way to the dining room.

"Sit by the window, back and to the left." That had been the extent of my instructions.

Taking in the half filled dinning room, I noted a man sitting at a table in the promised section of the restaurant. He had dark hair with flecks of grey, broad shoulders, and something familiar in his manner. Not rushing to my demise, I approached the table slowly, fixing my raincoat across my waist with a determined tug at its belt.

"Excuse me?" I had tried for confidence in my voice but achieved a tone of worried hesitation instead. The man turned, his blue eyes flashing with amusement. "Garrett!" I nearly shouted. "You scarred me to death! Why are we meeting like this?"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Harper, but subtlety is best." He glanced at me and gestured toward the seat opposite him.

Maria's words came flooding back to me. I sat before I had the chance to reconsider.

"This couldn't wait until Monday once we're back in the US? We could meet for dinner after work sometime." I looked sternly at him. We'd had a tumultuous relationship since our college days, but over the years, I'd come to appreciate the openness we shared.

"Ok, I understand your confusion, but this could not wait. Now listen..." It was then that I noted his attire. Impeccably dressed in a suit and patent leathers, he must have been heading to the opera. Unless...

"I swear, Gar. If you propose to me again..."

He sat up in surprise, straightening his black tie with a modicum of indignation. "No, c'mon. I'm not an idiot, Harper."

My shoulders relaxed. Three proposals in one year may seem flattering, but it was rather exhausting emotionally.

Suspicious, I eyed him. "Well, are you going to tell me why I'm here? There's a manuscript sitting on my nightstand at the hotel that needs to be looked at. Not to mention, I'm not exactly free tonight."

I let my jacket open a little, revealing a navy dinner gown, far too nice for a restaurant in the seedy alleyways of London.

"Yes, yes, I know you are a workaholic, and that you have an event tonight." Garrett played with the corner of the pages he held and continued, "You know I'm in Europe right now right? Looking at real estate."

I nodded at this, failing to see the point of stating the obvious.

"I left an exclusive real estate auction early to make it here tonight. I found this place, Harper. Look at it."

His conspiratorial manner heightened my curiosity despite my distaste for intrigue. I leaned forward and looked at the brochure he held toward me. A black and white photo of a manor house was visible, with a brief description under it.

I shrugged. "Looks nice. You couldn't show me this at another time?"

"Gosh Harper. Look at it!"

I obliged with the ever so faint roll of my eyes. The description was generic. What was I missing? Perhaps the picture had some hidden meaning, shadow, or even a water mark that could give me a clue as to my friend's excitement. Suddenly, I saw it. Bold and black across the top, the obvious had eluded me.

"Harper Manner: Rare Sale."

I started. Disliking my given name, I had taken to calling myself by my surname as an adolescent.

"You don't think...? There has to be many Harpers in England."

"I called the real estate office. They say it's the real deal. It is supposedly owned by one Gideon Harper. I have an appointment to see the place on Monday. I suppose I'll be attending this wedding after all." His smirk alluded to the true purpose of his visit before he even said it. "If you want to come along, I wouldn't be opposed. After all, you're the one always pondering your origins."

He leaned back in his chair, allowing the warped wood to groan a little under his weight. "I know this seems ridiculous, Harper. All those letters over the past six years from this odd guy, saying he's your father? And now suddenly he's dead?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice, "This agent of mine believes the place has been vacant for some time now. Woman was convinced old Gideon had been dead for months if not years. When's the last time you heard from him? A few weeks, right? So you suppose he had been sending his daughter letters from the other side perhaps? Seems highly suspect."

Despite the mild curiosity his words evoked, I refused to make a decision. Not here. Not now. Garrett was far more interested in my past than I had realized. I wouldn't give in to the excitement that was evident in his tone and mannerisms, so typical of the investigative journalist at work.

"So what if we do have ourselves a look? Best case, we scare the poor lady with stories of how he has been writing to me all these years." I dropped my voice, my tone serious, "Garrett, I don't know if I would have wanted to know this man. He was a warped, unsavory sort of fellow. It's lucky I ended up with Maria even with the years in the orphan home. Don't you see that? It's best to leave it in the past now."

There was disappointment on his face and guilt washed over me. I touched his arm. "Let me think about it. Ok?"

My standing signaled the end of the discussion. If allowed, Garrett would dive further and further into my past. The discussion was closed now, especially with Maria's rehearsal dinner starting within the hour.

To my surprise he stood as well, collecting his papers and dropping a few coins on the wooden table. He turned and helped me adjust my coat. As he did, his eyes darted to the left and right of main entrance.

"I'm sorry, Harper. I know I have been followed over the past few days. That's why I wanted to meet you out a bit. Nowhere around the hotel where Maria and the party could get caught up in all this. But you had to know..."

"You are being followed! Right now?" My voice was low but gasping. I had no interest in being trailed back to Maria's rehearsal dinner by an evil character.

"Perhaps. I can't say for sure. Just stay with me. We'll get a cab and head back. I'll manage to secure a room somewhere."

The last thing I wanted was to spend a cab ride with Garrett and further revisit his suspicions and unwarranted sense of nobility at having dragged me into this.

"No. I will go back the way I came and be just fine."

He tried to interject but I continued shortly, "Maria had some last-minute cancelations from wedding guests. No excuses, Gar. There will be room for you. The wedding is at 4:30 tomorrow. Try not to be late."

I offered a smile then pushed past him toward the back entrance. He would watch me go, so there was no stopping until back in the alley, where I had come from not half an hour earlier.

Followed? What a bunch of nonsense. Garrett imagined himself quite the action hero. Before walking far, curiosity got the better of me. At the side of the building, his exit could be watched undetected. Of course, no one would be following him, but I couldn't help but check. My friend exited the building, thoughts a million miles away. He would be an easier target than even I would to a stalker. I grinned to myself. Watching him climb into a cab, I felt a measure of regret at my decision not go with him and instead walk back alone.

Once the cab pulled away, I moved to begin my own exit. Just as I started to walk into the light and make my way back down the alley, there was movement across from me in the alley. I froze. To my horror, a tall dark figure emerged, a hat and scarf hiding most of his face. His hand was tucked into his coat in the formidable fashion usually reserved for a man hiding a weapon. The burly man let out a hoarse grunt as he started toward me. I shifted my weight, deciding if fight or flight was the better choice in my approximately four inch heels. The right option seemed obvious even as I pondered the choices. I ran.

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First chapter!!! I'd love to hear your thoughts and thanks for reading :)

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