Pretend You’re Safe Page 7

  It was tempting. Not only because she was a little itchy at the thought of remaining in such an isolated spot on her own. But because no lunatic would dare to try and get to her while she was in the protective custody of the sheriff.

  Only the knowledge that she couldn’t hide in Mike’s house forever made her stiffen her backbone.

  She had a life. And this was her home.

  She wasn’t going to let the mysterious jerk steal either of them from her.

  “Thanks, but I need to stay here,” she said.

  He frowned. “Jaci.”

  “I have Riff and Raff.” She overrode his protest. “I’ll make sure they stay in the house with me.”

  Having dated Jaci, if only for a short time, Mike knew better than to argue.

  “You have your grandfather’s shotgun?” he instead asked.

  She nodded toward the narrow door across the room. “It’s in the coat closet.”

  She didn’t like guns, but her grandfather had insisted she learn to shoot. If only to scare off stray animals.

  “Keep it loaded,” Mike ordered, tucking away his notebook before he reached for his hat.

  “I will,” she promised.

  Mike stood, placing his hat on his head as he glanced toward the doorway leading to the back of the house.

  “Do you want me to get rid of Cooper for you?”

  She shook her head even as she wondered at the strange animosity between the two men.

  Weird.

  She would never understand the opposite sex.

  “I can handle Rylan,” she said.

  Her confidence didn’t come from any hope she could actually control her aggravating neighbor, but the knowledge he would soon walk out of her house. There was a good chance she wouldn’t see him again for months. Maybe years.

  She pretended she didn’t notice the odd pang of disappointment.

  Mike crossed the short distance to the front door. Jaci assumed that meant they were done collecting any evidence.

  “You’re sure he’s not the one who left the locket?” he abruptly demanded.

  “You mean Rylan?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yeah.” The sheriff shrugged. “They stopped showing up when he left town and now he’s back.”

  “They stopped when I left town,” she corrected, not believing for a second that Rylan had anything to do with the necklaces.

  “Just keep your eyes open,” he warned.

  Jaci made a sound of annoyance. Seriously, what was going on between the two men?

  “I will.”

  Mike was stepping out of the house when he paused to glance over his shoulder.

  “One last question,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t happen to see Anne Dixon today, did you?”

  It took Jaci a minute to place the name.

  “My mother’s housekeeper?”

  “Yes.”

  She tried to think back. Most of the morning was a blur. She’d not only been rushed, but she had been distracted by the news of the dead body.

  Still, she was fairly certain she hadn’t seen the woman who’d been a steadfast fixture in her mother’s house for years.

  “No,” she said. “Why?”

  “Just wondering.” His expression was unreadable. “Call me if you see or hear anything that bothers you. I’ll have Sid do drive-bys as often as he can.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  Waiting until he’d stepped off the porch and headed for his pickup, Jaci impulsively rose from the couch and moved to lock the door. It ticked her off that she no longer felt safe in her own home, but she wasn’t going to take foolish risks just to prove a point.

  Until they found out who left the locket, she intended to take every precaution.

  With a last glance out the window, she turned to walk into the kitchen. She found Rylan leaning against the counter, his phone in his hand as if he’d just finished a call.

  A strange sensation swirled through the pit of her stomach. When they were young Rylan had occasionally stopped by to help her grandfather with changing the tire on a tractor, or repairing a fence. Just because that was the sort of boy he was. But she couldn’t remember him ever lingering in the house for more than a few minutes.

  Now she felt as if he’d sucked all the oxygen out of the kitchen.

  Like a black hole.

  Regarding her with a piercing gaze, he jerked his chin toward the doorway behind her.

  “Is O’Brien gone?”

  “Yes.” She ignored the edge in his voice. Whatever beef he had with Mike was none of her business. She glanced around the small space. “Where’s Elmer?”

  Rylan pointed toward a window overlooking the backyard. “He’s in the barn hosing off your two monsters. He claimed they knew him well enough not to take off a limb.”

  A portion of the tension eased as a smile touched her lips. She adored her goofy dogs. Even when they were turning over her trash, or digging up her garden, or chasing the neighbor’s cows.

  “They love your father,” she said. “He sneaks them table scraps when he comes to visit.”

  “He misses Truman,” Rylan said, referring to their old golden retriever who’d died the year before.

  Without thinking, Jaci stepped toward him. Almost as if she intended to wrap him in her arms to comfort him for the loss of his family pet.

  Yeesh. She really was rattled.

  Coming to a halt, she forced a smile to her lips. “I appreciate you carrying me into the house and sticking around until Mike could get here, but I—”

  “Where’s your purse?” he rudely interrupted.

  She frowned. “What?”

  He straightened, shoving his phone in his front pocket.

  “I’ve discovered that women always feel the need to carry around half their belongings whenever they leave the house.”

  She grimaced. She really didn’t need him to point out he was an expert on women.

  “You do realize you’re not making any sense?”

  “We need to do some shopping,” he said, as if that clarified everything.

  She started to give a shake of her head, only to abruptly remember that she’d gone shopping just before she’d returned home.

  “Oh, I forgot my groceries.”

  He held up a slender hand. “I got them off the porch while you were talking to O’Brien and put them away.” A boyish smile curled his lips. “Although it’s possible you might have to do a scavenger hunt to find them.”

  She refused to be charmed. “Thanks. I need them to get started on my baking.”

  “Nope.” He folded his arms over his chest. “The baking will have to wait. We have things to do.”

  She made a sound of frustration. Couldn’t the man take a hint?

  “What things?”

  “We’ll start with buying an electronic surveillance system.”

  “I . . .” Her words trailed away. Her instinct was to argue, but thankfully she wasn’t so stubborn she was willing to cut off her nose to spite her face. She’d just told herself that she was going to do everything possible to keep herself safe. And besides, she’d been planning on getting a security system since she’d started her small craft business. The only problem had been finding someone who was competent in setting it up for her. “Do you know how to install one?” she demanded.

  His lips twitched. Had she said something funny?

  “I can make this house as secure as the Pentagon,” he assured her.

  “I don’t need anything that fancy, but it would be nice to know when a customer is waiting at the shop.”

  “Trust me, I can do better than that,” he said dryly.

  Hmm. A part of her wanted to say no. She’d spent a lot of time and emotional energy eleven years ago trying to convince this male she was being stalked by some pervert. Now she wanted to tell him that he could take his offer of help and shove it.

  Then she gave a mental shrug. Her pride wasn’t worth being in dan
ger. Besides, Rylan would soon be headed back to California. Why not take advantage of his expertise?

  “I need to shower and change my clothes.”

  “I’ll go get my dad’s truck and pick you up in half an hour,” he said, already moving toward the mudroom.

  Chapter Seven

  Mike had intended to return to his office. He needed to log in the evidence they’d collected at Jaci’s house and drive it down to the lab in Jefferson City.

  Instead, he’d handed the duty over to his deputies, warning them to return as quickly as possible. Then, ignoring the turnoff that would take him to Heron, he instead drove toward the high bluff where a large mansion loomed like a monument to the excess of the ruling class.

  Reaching the ornate gates, he rolled down his window to push a button on the intercom. Minutes passed before the barrier slid open and he could continue up the winding drive to pull to a halt in front of the plantation-style home.

  Mike climbed out of his truck with a wry grimace.

  He’d lived in the area most of his life, and even dated Payton, but he’d been invited to the mansion fewer than a dozen times.

  Which would explain why he was still overwhelmed by the sight of the grand veranda that was framed by white, fluted columns and an upper balcony. The house itself was made of red brick with two long wings that ran along the ridge of the bluff. The high windows were designed to offer a view of the nearby river, as well as the manicured grounds.

  It was stately and imposing and a tangible reminder that the Hamiltons lived in a different world. Wealth and privilege made sure that they didn’t have to follow the same rules as others.

  Locking his truck, he climbed the steps to the wide veranda, not surprised when one of the double doors was yanked open to reveal Payton.

  She was the only one who would have buzzed him through the gates without demanding to know why he was there.

  He strolled toward her, absently noting that she’d changed since he’d last seen her. Now she was wearing a pair of jeans and a soft cashmere sweater.

  Unfortunately, the casual style did nothing to distract from her luminous beauty. In fact, it took every ounce of willpower not to let his gaze linger on the gentle swell of her breasts.

  He clearly needed to find a woman.

  A damned shame Jaci wasn’t interested.

  Watching his approach, Payton lifted a hand to her lips. “Oh my God. It was Anne, wasn’t it?”

  He blinked, caught off guard by her dramatic reaction. “Excuse me?”

  “I just heard about the woman you found floating in the field,” she breathed in a shaky voice. “You came here to tell me it was Anne.”

  He reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. She wasn’t acting. She truly was distressed at the thought the housekeeper was dead.

  “No, Payton, it wasn’t Anne,” he said.

  She bit her bottom lip, her eyes damp with tears. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Her hand lowered, but her troubled expression remained. “Then who was it?”

  He’d spent the morning trying to scrub away the image of the poor female. She’d been ravaged, although he didn’t have the expertise to know if it was from natural decomposition, from being in the water, or from the fish.

  Still, there’d been enough of her left to come to a few conclusions.

  “She hasn’t been identified, but she was much younger than Anne and I’m guessing she wasn’t local,” he said, not adding the sight was going to give him more than one nightmare.

  His hope now was that the unknown woman had drowned during the flood, and that she had no connection to the locket that’d been left on Jaci’s door.

  Or the missing housekeeper.

  “Oh.” She released a small sigh before her brows drew together. “Then why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see if Anne was still missing.” He grimaced. “Obviously she is.”

  Payton nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll take a look around.”

  “Wait,” she commanded as he started to turn around. “I want to go with you.”

  His lips parted to tell her to stay inside. Not just because a chilled drizzle continued to fall from the clouds, but because he intended to look for more than a missing housekeeper.

  But he swallowed his protest, waiting for her to grab her coat and join him on the porch. If he was on his own, one of the Hamilton family might see him and demand he leave the property. It wasn’t like he had a search warrant. And besides, Payton would be able to answer any questions he might have.

  With brisk steps, Payton led him down the stairs and toward the high hedge that ran along one wing of the house.

  “She usually walks through the gardens,” she said, her shoes crunching against the graveled drive.

  At least she’d changed out of her ridiculously high heels.

  “Do you have any other servants?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the house. He counted three side doors, a set of French doors, and a dozen windows. It would be a simple matter to enter or leave the house without being noticed.

  “None that live on the property since our gardener retired a couple years ago.”

  They entered the sunken garden between a break in the hedge. Walking down the pathway, Mike gave a cursory glance around the flower beds that were covered with layers of mulch and the fountains that had been drained to endure the harsh winter months. There was nowhere a person could be hidden. Instead he studied the hedge that surrounded them. It was high enough that only someone from the second floor of the house could see into the garden.

  “Who takes care of your grounds?” he asked.

  “Jarrod Walker, who comes three days a week,” she said. “He’s in charge of the gardens and the pool, as well as doing any handiwork in the house.”

  Mike felt a stab of surprise. Jarrod Walker was the uncle of his deputy, Sid. He hadn’t realized the older man had started working for the Hamiltons.

  “Is it his day to work?”

  “No.” They passed a trellised grotto before entering the formal rose garden. “He comes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

  Mike studied the ground, searching for any hint of a struggle.

  “What about a security system?”

  Payton slowed her pace as they reached the back of the garden. “There are cameras at the front gate and in my father’s office where he keeps most of the valuables.”

  He sent her a puzzled glance. “That’s it?”

  She shrugged. “My father hates the thought of the family being constantly monitored.”

  Hmm. Mike didn’t believe for a minute there were only two cameras guarding an estate this size. What insurance company would write a policy without insisting they have a thorough security system?

  So either Blake kept the other cameras hidden from his family, or Payton was lying to him.

  Something he’d deal with if he concluded Anne’s disappearance had anything to do with the dead woman in the field.

  For now, he concentrated on the tall fence that surrounded the back of the gardens. It wasn’t as ornate as the front of the house, but it was sturdy. It would take an effort to climb over it. And there was no way someone could get over the top with a body.

  Anne didn’t leave from the gardens.

  So where was she?

  “Let’s check the outbuildings,” he said.

  She nodded, moving to lead him out a side gate that opened directly to the large pool that was still covered for the winter. A quick glance into the pool house proved it was empty, as was the outdoor kitchen area.

  Together they moved to enter the long garage that had been converted from what had once been the stables.

  Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he caught sight of the cars that were parked in a perfect line. There was room for at least eight vehicles, although there were only seven currently inside the building.

  He moved to the first car, peering inside before checking the trunk. On
ce assured that Anne wasn’t hidden inside, he moved to the next car and did the same.

  His brows rose as he moved to the third car. A blue sedan.

  And not just any blue sedan. It was the same one he’d seen driving past Jaci’s house less than two hours ago. He’d bet money on it.

  “Who drives this?” he demanded, covertly moving to lay his hand on the hood.

  Still warm.

  “It’s my father’s, but anyone in the house can use it,” Payton said.

  Mike opened the car door, noting the mud on the floor mat on the driver’s side. Not that it told him anything. There weren’t many places in the Midwest that weren’t coated in mud.

  “Christopher?” he asked, reaching next to the steering wheel to press the button that opened the trunk.

  Payton looked confused as he strolled to the back of the car and peered into the empty compartment.

  “He could, but he has his own car,” she said, nodding toward the black Jaguar.

  Mike glanced toward the automobile. Sleek. Fast. And outrageously noticeable in this area of pickups and SUVs.

  “What’s your interest in my brother?” Payton demanded, her expression suddenly wary.

  He slammed the hood down, ignoring her question as he took a step back.

  “Which one is Anne’s?”

  “The white compact.”

  Doing a quick check of the remaining automobiles, he moved to do a more thorough inspection of Anne’s car. He looked under the seats and rifled through the glove compartment. Then he checked the trunk.

  Nothing suspicious.

  He stepped back, his gaze scanning the open area of the garage. There was a workbench that looked as if it’d never been used. Tall, metal shelves. And a rack with two carbon fiber road bikes that Mike suspected belonged to Payton. It was her preferred method of exercise.

  His attention was captured by a narrow door. “Where does that lead?”

  Payton moved forward to pull it open. “The wine cellars.”

  Mike followed her down the spiral staircase, making a choked sound as he stepped into the wood-lined room that ran the entire length of the garage.

  “This is bigger than my house,” he said, strolling past the long shelves filled with countless bottles of wine.

  He didn’t add that it was probably worth more as well.