Miles focused on his watch and fidgeted in the chair. This was his first face-to-face meeting with Marion O'Donnell-St. Clair. He'd worked the case hard for three months and didn't have much to report, but he was making progress. Trouble was, the more he found out about the woman the less he wanted to find the girl.
The estate oozed opulence. Outside, he'd entered through a wrought-iron gate and traveled a pebbled drive to a sprawling two-story Georgian style. The interior was just as impressive. Marble floors. Mahogany stairs curving twenty feet up to the second level. The Triple Crown molding probably cost more than he made in a year. Crystal chandeliers hung above him and in the adjoining room. If everything the former housekeeper said about the widow was true, he understood her desperation to find her step-daughter. A woman used to this lifestyle would do anything to keep it.
He'd gone back to see Stella Jackson one more time with the lame excuse of following up on a couple of points, but the truth was he liked her and was trying to figure out how to ask her for a date. He'd been out of circulation too long and she was the first female he found he didn't mind spending time with since his wife died.
"Mr. Landry?"
He looked up at the maid standing in the doorway. "Yes, ma'am."
"Mrs. St. Clair will see you now. This way, please."
She led him into a room with arched bookcases and oval windows with a panoramic view of a small lake. His current employer sat behind an ornate desk. Holy shit. Stella had mentioned the widow's beauty, but Miles wasn't prepared for just how beautiful.
Long blond curls cascaded to her shoulders while fringed bangs topped emerald eyes hooded by thick lashes. Full breasts peeked above the square neckline of her royal blue silk dress. And she smelled good, too. Something floral with a hint of cinnamon. Everything about her exuded sex and money. David St. Clair had been one lucky bastard. At least for a while.
She sat ruler straight as if on a throne. The only thing missing, a crown. Suddenly, he felt like the court jester.
She smiled and rose to her full height. Perfect hour-glass figure. "Come in, Mr. Landry." She offered her hand, and he took it. "It's so nice to finally meet you in person." She motioned for him to sit.
He released her palm and eased into one of the two dark green velvet chairs facing her.
She reclaimed her seat and shuffled through papers. "I appreciate you sending weekly reports. However, it seems you've made no new discoveries. Simply verified the prior investigator's findings. That's disappointing."
"True, but I'm on the right track. Once the cops dropped the case, nobody canvassed the website you set up when the girl disappeared. I'm in the process of tracking down every person who has visited the site. It's a tedious procedure, but I have two computer techs tracing each IP address. I think that's our best shot at finding her."
"How so?"
"Even though she's no longer in the news, there may be a visitor to the site who knows something. Maybe a friend she's made or a guy she's dated. Sooner or later, she's bound to confide in someone and they'll want to know more about her. When that happens, chances are, they'll visit the site and we'll be able to locate her."
Marion tapped her nails on the desk. "I'm impressed, but you say tedious. How long do you think it will take?"
"Of those hits we're already checking, probably another month. If we don't get a lead among those, then it's just a crap shoot. Could be weeks. Could be never. Concerning her physical route, I know she took a bus to Oklahoma, but that's where the trail goes cold."
Miles fought the urge to ask about the kid's inheritance and why Marion believed a girl would run away from such a mass of wealth, but thought better of it. No need to rile her. She was paying him damn good money. Later, he planned to visit Fiona Archer, the lady who'd been running the company since the owner died.
By the time Miles headed downtown, he'd replayed the first impression of Marion. She wasn't just beautiful; she was smart. Street smart. No doubt she'd educated herself on how to get a man's attention by stroking his ego. Beauty and manipulation was a dangerous combination. He'd known plenty of women like her. But he'd had his fill of protecting government officials and their sordid affairs.
Miles was thankful St. Clair Steel provided valet parking. Anytime he could save his knees some stress he took it. The high rise loomed over most of the surrounding landscape. Fifty stories of curved blue glass and metal reflecting light in all directions. Miles took the elevator to the twenty-ninth floor. He hated heights, especially when every angle provided a view of the altitude.
As he got off the elevator, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face getting into one across the room. He wondered what business Stella had in this building.
After introductions, Miles dropped into a chair and got right to the point. "What happens to your job once Dove St. Clair takes over?"
"I retire."
Oh, so this was how it would be. Answer questions as if on the witness stand. Say no more than necessary. "Forced or your choice?"
Fiona shouldered back in her executive chair. "My choice."
Miles leaned forward. "Look, I'm not your enemy. Just trying to do my job."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not so sure about that. You work for Marion and that puts you on the opposing team."
"So you won't help me?"
"David was like a brother. He made one mistake in his life and that was marrying her. She fooled us all. Even I thought it was a good match. The age difference bothered me, but I believed she loved him and she doted on the girl. Turned out Marion was a gold digging slut."
Miles blinked at the strong language. He had yet to find anyone who liked the woman. "Enlighten me."
"She wasn't faithful. David's long-term employees kept quiet for a while because they didn't want to hurt him, but one of them finally came to me. Once she did, I hired an investigator and gathered proof. By then, David was sick again. He wasn't up to a bitter divorce battle, so he endured it."
She rested her arms on her desk. "I promised David I'd stay until Dove came back."
Miles flipped through his notes. "According to her step-mother, the girl isn't capable of running the business."
Fiona's face reddened. "That's bullshit. With my help, she'll be fine. I'll remain on the board and be her closest advisor. Just like I was to her father."
"Sounds to me like you might know her whereabouts. Do you?"
She laughed. "Marion thinks the same thing and believe me, she's offered plenty to find out, but I can honestly say, I have no idea."
When Ms. Archer rose, Miles got the message. This meeting was over.
As he drove to Stella Jackson's house, he considered what he'd do when he found the girl. It was hard to fight the consensus as nobody but Marion wanted her brought home. He hated playing for the wrong team because he'd spent twenty-five years fighting bad guys. Now it seemed he'd joined forces with them.
He wheeled into Stella's drive and found her stooped over weeding flower beds. As he strode across the lawn, she looked up, shaded her eyes, and smiled. "Well, hello you. More questions to clear up?"
"Just two. Do you know where Dove St. Clair is?"
Stella removed her gloves and slapped them against her leg to dust the dirt away. "No."
"Would you tell me if you did?"
She thought a moment before she answered, then smiled again. "Yes. But I wouldn't tell you where."
Damn. Perfect answer. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"
For two days nobody died in Arcadia and Zoya didn't work. But all the activity at the house was too much for her to deal with, so each morning after breakfast, she packed food and art supplies, put Homer on a leash, and headed to the treehouse.
The first day, she didn't see Roman until she returned home in the evening. She figured it'd be the same today.
After blocking the doorway with her cooler to keep the puppy safe, she'd folded a towel and placed it in the corner where he'd slept for the last hour. She'd spent the morning sketching Homer and Roman. Mostly Roman. She couldn't get the image of his water splashed body out of her head. Then later, when they'd gone to the park, the way light sifted through the tree cast his strong features in an interesting way. She'd wanted to capture the memory before it faded.
She'd never used male models or drawn nudes, but something about him excited her. Well, maybe excited wasn't the right word.
When Roman came from the shower, Zoya's stomach tingled, her heart raced, and even worse, possibly tightened. That was not good.
Roman's voice echoed through the pines. He was headed her way. She closed the pad containing his sketches and put it away.
"Hey! Are you up there?"
She leaned out the opening. "Yes. What are you doing here?"
"I'm coming up."
She scooted back to let him pass.
Homer came to him. "Hey, boy." The pup rolled over and Roman scratched his belly, then looked at Zoya. "I can't believe this place is in such good shape. When you mentioned it yesterday, I wanted to see it." He inched deeper inside. "My sister and I built it. Some of my best memories were made in this house."
"I like coming here."
He pushed back with his feet, grabbed the towel from the corner, reclined, and propped it under his head. "What do you do up here?"
"Draw."
He rolled to his elbow and rested head in hand. "In this?" He reached for the tablet and she hesitantly let him have it.
He sat up again and flipped pages as she worried her bottom lip, suddenly overcome with nervousness at him seeing her drawings, especially the ones of him. She hoped momentarily he would not flip that far back. He stopped on a page halfway through of the forest, trees and limbs reaching skyward to caress the stars. "Wow. These are great. I mean, I knew you were an artist from the mural, but you're really good."
"Thanks." She grabbed for the tablet and slammed it shut, trying to slow her movements as to not make him suspicious enough to continue pursuing through the pages.
Somehow, the idea of him seeing the drawings she drew of him made her apprehensive as her heart pounded nervously in her ears. It seemed too personal.
He laid back again and Homer crawled onto his chest.
"Hey, I need to talk to you about something. The work on the house is almost finished and as soon as it is, I plan to invite Ophelia and Flynn for a visit. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Where will they sleep?"
"I'll stay where I am now, and O in the new bedroom. Flynn can bunk with me. That way, we won't disturb you."
"For how long?"
"Just a few days. I hope it works out for them to come during the Arcadia Festival."
Zoya shoved the cooler back against the opening and laid down next to Roman. She liked being close to him. "Okay."
"Good deal." He yawned. "I may take a little nap."
"You should because you're a sedulous man."
"Word of the day?"
"Yeah."
He whispered a laugh. "Let me guess. It means sexy."
"No. Hard working." She took a deep breath. "But you are sexy."
Poor Roman. He doesn't know how to respond to compliments.
TEASER: Surely he wasn't Tommy's dad. No, couldn't be.