“Look, something is wrong at my sister’s place. She was supposed to call me on Sunday to firm up our plans. She never called.”
Concern clouded her features. Lucan tried to determine if it was real. He had the impression of genuine emotion, but how could he tell?
“I haven’t been able to reach Casey all week. I wanted to come sooner but I had to finish a case before I could leave. You have my gun permits.”
“Permits, plural?”
“Yes.”
From inside her purse he pulled out an envelope he’d shifted while looking for her wallet. Kyra Wolfstead was licensed to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Massachusetts and two neighboring states.
He opened her bulging leather wallet and studied her driver’s license. The names matched. Her photo was crisp and clear. Lucan had a feeling cameras of any sort liked Kyra Wolfstead. He could understand their approval. If they’d met under different circumstances, he might approve as well.
“I have business cards in there too,” she added.
And a thick wad of cash that brought his head up sharply.
“I didn’t want to waste time going to an ATM after I got here,” she explained before he could ask.
Her tone was calm and brisk, but annoyance flashed once more. “We’re wasting time, Off—Detective. Casey has an ex-husband with a court injunction against him.”
Which could easily be checked out and just might explain the arsenal and the passport. Lucan lifted one of the business cards and scowled. “This says you’re an insurance investigator.”
She sighed. “I work for Dowlings Limited, as you can see. They are similar to Lloyds of London.”
“I’ve heard of Dowlings. So are you an investigator or a lawyer?”
“I’m both. I worked in international law for a time, which comes in handy with my current job. Many of our clients have places outside of the United States. Art objects and jewelry are often fenced in other countries. I know the laws and restrictions in many of those jurisdictions. Look, could we have this discussion later? I have an unusual job and it’s nice that you’re interested, but I’d like to go to my sister’s place and make sure Casey is okay. I’m deeply concerned.”
Headlights speared them as an approaching car slowed. In the time they’d been talking, dusk had settled over the neighborhood. The driver of the oncoming car swung into the opposite lane on the narrow street to pass Kyra’s car, which was still sitting there with its engine running. A woman and two children stared curiously at them as they drove by. Lucan’s car was parked half a block away, and he’d left his radio inside.
“Have a seat on the lawn under that tree.” He indicated an old elm with a wave of his hand. Kyra Wolfstead glared daggers. He raised a hand to forestall her next protest. “I need to move your car out of the middle of the street.”
“For pity’s sake. The ground is freezing.”
“I’ll hurry.”
“You’d better.” She strode to the tree without waiting for assistance and folded gracefully onto the yellowed grass. Lucan thought she might be trembling the slightest bit, but he read that as anger rather than fear.
Unloading her gun, he tucked the weapon in the back of his waistband, pocketing the shells. He removed the pepper spray and put that in his pocket as well. Then he drove her car to the side of the road.
In the back seat was a rich-looking, long leather coat that would no doubt match the boots and gloves. There was also an overnight-sized suitcase, a brown soft leather briefcase, what appeared to be a computer bag and two plastic sacks of brightly wrapped packages. An expensive GPS system sat on the dashboard displaying the car’s location. A set of printed directions from the Internet lay on the passenger’s seat beside a thermos.
Lucan opened the thermos and sniffed the contents. Some sort of spiced tea if he wasn’t mistaken, still warm. A sealed plastic drinking bottle was half full of what appeared to be water. This was a woman who obviously liked backup plans.
He checked the destination on the GPS device against the printed directions. They matched. The address was one block over. In the glove compartment, her registration was in order. The address matched the one on her driver’s license and the gun permits.
It appeared she was telling the truth. Still, that wad of cash and the weapon were a cause for concern. While this might be nothing more than a domestic dispute, there was a little boy running around with his own wad of cash.
Locking the car, Lucan went to where she sat and reached down to help her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch, but flowed up easily despite the skirt and heels.
“My car’s down the street,” he told her.
“Are you going to undo the cuffs?”
“No.”
“You’re really going to arrest me?” Despite her high-heeled boots, she kept pace with him easily. She had an athlete’s body. Lean and trim. He wondered if she was a runner.
“That remains to be seen,” he answered frankly.
He had her sit on the back seat of his car with her legs out while he ran her information. She seethed with impatience, but clamped her lips tightly against the complaint he could read so easily in her expressive features.
Unsurprised when she checked out clean, Lucan still hesitated before pulling her out of the car and releasing the cuffs. He handed her back her purse.
“I’ll follow you to your sister’s place.”
“You aren’t going to arrest me?” She all but vibrated with anger.
“I’ve had my quota of paperwork for the day, but push me and I’ll make an exception.”
She extended her hand. “And my gun?”
“Is illegal in Maryland.” He didn’t add that he didn’t like civilians with guns. “By all rights I should be taking you in for possession.”
“But you won’t?”
Lucan shook his head. “The jury’s still out on that, counselor. Let’s go see what your sister has to say.”
She pursed her lips. Turning on her sexy high heels she returned to her car, anger in every stride. He watched the tight sway of her body in that nicely fitted skirt, and his lips curved. Angry or not, Kyra Wolfstead was a very sexy, intriguing package. Too bad they hadn’t met socially.
She drove to the next block and pulled into the driveway of a small stone-and-vinyl-sided two-story house. An ancient Chinese elm covered most of the front yard. A tattered swing and several beat-up lawn chairs graced a wide front porch. A child’s bike with a flat rear tire leaned drunkenly against the side of the house.
There was nothing out of the ordinary in the setting. Lucan had passed this house several times on his morning runs. Only now did he notice that the drapes were pulled tight. And while the majority of the neighbors’ houses sported brightly colored Christmas lights and door decorations, this house was dark and forlorn-looking by comparison.
Kyra pulled into the driveway. She didn’t wait, but hurried to the front porch. Her large purse flopped against her side. He caught up with her as she pressed the doorbell. When there was no response, she rapped loudly and tried the doorknob.
“Locked.” She looked affronted.
“Your sister may be out.”
“No. Something’s wrong. I tried calling her cell phone again from the car. She always carries her cell phone and keeps it on because of the children, but my calls are going straight to voice mail.”
“Maybe