One of the evidence technicians came out onto the porch. “We’re finished downstairs, if you want to come inside where it’s cool,” he said to Aubrey.
She was grateful he’d been kind enough to think of her, but her gratitude ended abruptly when she saw the condition of her living room. Fine black fingerprint powder coated everything.
Lyle followed her inside. “I know a cleaning service that’s pretty good at straightening up after our guys trash a place. I’ll write it down for you.”
“Thanks.”
The phone rang. Aubrey didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but she couldn’t just let it ring. She went to the kitchen and picked up the wall phone, getting black powder on her hand. “Hello?”
“Aubrey. Oh, my God, are you okay?”
“Patti!”
Lyle looked up sharply.
“Where are you?” Aubrey demanded, relief warring with irritation. As usual, Patti had managed to create some drama. “What’s going on?”
“I’m okay. I got out before—”
“Well, I didn’t! Someone broke into the house and attacked me. You knew, and you just let me walk right into it!” The tears Aubrey had been holding at bay came on full force.
“Are you hurt?” Patti asked in a small voice.
“Not seriously.” Aubrey swallowed, getting the tears under control. “Why did you call me home if—”
“I don’t understand. He was after me, not you. Why would he hurt you?”
“Who? Damn it, Patti, who are we talking about?”
“You’ll just get mad if I tell you.”
“I’m already mad. He could have killed me. Is it Charlie?”
Patti hesitated. “I’ll tell you all about it later, okay? I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I might not come home for a couple of days. Oh, damn, my batteries are going.”
“Patti, don’t hang up. Tell me who! I won’t get mad, I promise,” Aubrey tried in a last-ditch effort to get Patti to talk. But the connection went dead.
Lyle was listening intently. “Did she say?”
“No.” Aubrey hung up. “But at least I know she’s safe for now, anyway. But this wasn’t just a random crime. Patti said someone was after her.”
“Sounds like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Aubrey swallowed down her irritation with Lyle. She waited until the cops left, then unearthed her phone book so she could look up the number for First Strike Bounty Hunters, a gesture which turned out to be wholly unnecessary. Beau was at her front door.
She let him in. “How did you know I was trying to call you?”
His eyebrows rose as he entered her filthy living room. “You were calling me?”
“I want you to find Patti and Sara for me. You could probably do it in your sleep.”
He looked around her house, his attentive gaze missing nothing, but he didn’t reply right away to her request. “They sure did a number on your house. The cops, I mean.”
“They were just doing their job. Now, how about if you do your job? Will you take the case or not? I think Patti’s in trouble. She called, but she sounded really strange and she wouldn’t tell me—”
“She called?”
“Just a few minutes ago. She said she was safe, but—”
“Aubrey, I’m sure she’s fine. You know Patti. She’s a drama queen. Whatever’s going on with her, she’s blowing it out of proportion and creating a mystery so you’ll worry.”
“Maybe,” Aubrey said grudgingly. “But she’s changed a lot since Sara came along. She’s more responsible, more considerate. She even has a job at an insurance company. Couldn’t you try to find her? There’s an innocent baby involved.”
“If she hasn’t turned up by tomorrow, let me know.”
Aubrey narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I get it. There’s no huge bounty on Patti’s head, so it’s not worth your time.”
“It’s not that—”
“Of course it is. Big payoffs are all that motivate you anymore. And since I don’t have anything to offer you—” She broke off when she saw the appraising look in Beau’s eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said in a lazy drawl. “I think you might have something I want.”
Aubrey felt the air rush out of her lungs in a swoosh as her every hair follicle wiggled with awareness. He’d never shown the slightest interest in her before. But the way he was looking at her now, practically…what was that old cliché? Undressing her with his eyes?
She felt a little thrill at the idea that he might want her, but quickly squelched it. The very idea was hideous—trading sex for his professional services.
The corner of his mouth twitched up in what passed for a smile with Beau. “Not that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
She shook herself. What was she thinking? “What, then?” The question came out a breathy whisper.
“I want you to put the past behind us. Admit that maybe you don’t understand what happened between me and Gavin, and give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“It’s hard to misinterpret a bullet in the leg.”
“It could have been through his heart. He was pointing a weapon at me first.”
“So you say. Forget it, Beau. I can’t forgive you for what you did to Gavin. Not now, not ever.”
“Then I guess there’s nothing more to talk about. I stopped to see if you were really okay, but it appears you are. So I’m out of here.”
As he sauntered away, Aubrey had to bite her lip to keep from calling him back.
Chapter Two
Aubrey couldn’t wait to take a shower, to get the intruder’s feel and smell off of her, to wash the blood out of her hair—and to wash that insane exchange with Beau out of her system. She carefully locked her doors, checked that the windows were secure, then headed for the upstairs bathroom.
A few minutes later, feeling much better, Aubrey decided to tackle the mess the police had made. She could have called the cleaning service Lyle recommended, but the idea of letting more strangers into her house bothered her. This cozy frame house, once her grandmother’s, had always been her haven, her cocoon, in which she could shut out the rest of the world and focus for hours at a time on an obscure chemical equation, or grade papers, or read nineteenth-century chemistry texts, her favorite hobby.
Now she preferred to set things right herself, restoring each object to its correct place, buffing the old mahogany coffee table to a mirrorlike shine.
When she moved into the dining room, which had been converted to her home office, she immediately spotted something odd. A fat white envelope sat in the exact middle of her desk with her name on it. It was in Patti’s writing. How had she not noticed it before?
The envelope wasn’t sealed, and Aubrey opened it and withdrew the contents. The moment she read the first words on the first page, her breath caught in her throat. It was Patti’s last will and testament, drawn up by her father’s law firm and dated only a week previous.
That in itself was weird. Patti had been estranged from her wealthy father for many years. Why had she suddenly felt