Page 3 of Lost Cause
From his pocket, he handed her a large ring filled with jingling keys. “You’ll need these, along with the blueprint of the house and drawing of the property waiting for you in the library.”
She pocketed them and followed him into the lighted room.
Regal looking, he flicked a hand at a nearby loveseat as he settled in a high-backed chair. “Sit.”
She hung her soggy jacket on the back of a chair before taking a seat. His deep-set eyes followed and evaluated her. Something about the intense study said he was weighing her very character. She didn’t appreciate how he behaved like an aristocrat, and she was beneath him, here to do his bidding and then be discarded.But the team needed him as a client, and she kept her mouth shut.
He tapped a rolled set of documents sitting on the nearby table then poured a full snifter of brandy. He took a long sip and pointed at the table, no offer of something to drink for her. “The blueprint and property layout as I promised.”
She swallowed away her irritation and smiled her acknowledgment. “Thank you for calling our team, Mr. Lemoine. You were very cryptic on the phone. So what exactly do you need our help with?”
“Call me Victor.” He set the glass down and ran a hand over his head. Wispy and messy silver hair was cinched tight with a tie in the back. “I?—”
A long, low creak echoed in the hallway and took his attention. “The front door.”
Abby froze. Listened. Heard the rusty hinges. Her heart galloped into high gear, and she shot to her feet. “Probably just the wind. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”
She rested her hand on her sidearm before starting for the shadowy hallway.
As she’d crossed the bay, a storm had been brewing, but there was no wind in the hallway. No draft. Just the front door inching open into the dim foyer, and she braced herself for whoever would come through.
The Lemoine Mansion hadn’t seen many visitors in years, and it showed in the serious disrepair, cobwebs, and dirt surrounding the main entrance. But it welcomed Detective Burke Ulrich with an unlocked door.
Not a good sign after Victor Lemoine’s frantic call to 911 about a theft. Not good at all.
He drew his weapon and carefully pressed on the splintered wood. Light spilling into the space to his left illuminated the dark, shadowed foyer and outlined a petite woman facing the door, feet planted, weapon drawn.
“Police!” he shouted as he tried to make out her facial details. “Lower your weapon to the floor.”
“You have no worries with me.” She dropped her arms, revealing her face.
Say what? Couldn’t be!
He knew her—former sheriff Abby Day. The one woman who’d managed to break through the wall he’d built since his fiancée left him at the altar a little over a year ago. What in the world was she doing here?
“I’m Lost Lake Locator, Abby Day. I’m going to holster my gun.” Her movements were exaggerated, likely for his benefit.
This county was Burke’s jurisdiction, but they’d once worked a murder investigation together when she was a nearby sheriff. The last one she handled before leaving the job to join the new firm of investigators who specialized in finding missing people and things. They’d recently been praised in newspapers and on TV for their good work.
Of all the people!
They hadn’t seen eye-to-eye before, and now she was a nosy private investigator.If Lemoine hired her to find his thief, she was bound to be a thorn in his side. Not only as far as the investigation went, but also by raising old feelings he’d worked very hard to banish from his life. Just what he didn’t need.
“Detective Burke Ulrich,” he said in case she’d forgotten him.
“I remember you, Detective.” Her unfavorable memories of their time together came through loud and clear.
He got it. They’d had a love-hate relationship, disagreeing on most investigative steps, yet finding themselves attracted to each other and fighting it all the way. Could she have left the job because he’d questioned her all the time?
Nah. She didn’t seem overly bothered by his behavior. More likely, she left because they’d investigated three young children who’d been abducted on their way home from school and brutally murdered. The horrific details nearly caused him to leave his job. Why wouldn’t it do the same to her?
Old news, but her change of careers was important news. Still, now wasn’t the time to bring it up—he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in memories or his feelings for her. “I assume Mr. Lemoine called your team to investigate the theft.”
“I did,” an older man said from the doorway, the light behind him accenting his age-diminished build.
“Detective Burke Ulrich.” He offered his hand to the gentleman. “You must be Mr. Lemoine.”
“Victor.” His dry, papery skin rasped against Burke’s as he latched on with a surprisingly strong grip. “It’s about time law enforcement showed.”
