“What about the victim?” he asked. “Maybe the person who owned the stolen paintings would be willing to talk to us about the details of the case.”
“You know what, Zander?” she said slowly. “That’s actually sort of genius.” She rushed to her computer, sliding a little in her socked feet. “I found an article the other night that talked about the theft, and I think it mentioned the owners by name.” She brought up the website she’d bookmarked and skimmed the article. “There,” she said triumphantly, pointing to the screen. “Grant and Callista Mayberry.”
He smiled at her and, for the love of chocolate, desire zinged through her.
She called Nora while Zander scrubbed her counters and table. Within minutes, Nora produced a phone number for the Mayberrys.
“Do you want to call them or do you want me to?” Zander asked Britt.
“I’ll do it. I’m less threatening and more charming.”
Grant Mayberry—who sounded like a gregarious grandfather—responded to Britt’s call as though she were a long-lost friend instead of a cold-calling stranger.
“My wife and I are in Europe at the moment,” he told her, as casually as if he’d just said,We’re at the grocery store. “We’ll be back in five days. I’m looking at my phone calendar, and I see ... yes ... that I’m free a week from now. Do you and your friend want to make the trip out to Whidbey Island around four o’clock?”
“Yes! Absolutely.”
“Wonderful!”
After a few more minutes of conversation, they disconnected. She extended her fist, and Zander bumped it.
“Congrats,” he said.
“Congrats to you. You’re the one who thought to call the victim.” She padded to the living area and picked up the remote. “Movie?”
“Nah.”
“More episodes ofOnce Upon a Time?”
“Actually...” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “My flight to St. Louis is leaving pretty early tomorrow. I’m going to head back to the inn, pack, and get some sleep.”
She tried not to look disappointed. It was preciselybecauseshe knew he was leaving for the weekend that she’d been looking forward to spending time with him tonight. “That sounds like a very responsible choice.”
“I like to be responsible every now and then.”
“Not me.”
One dimple dug into his cheek. “I know.”
Britt opened her front door for him, holding it steady as wind riffled the inky strands of Zander’s hair.
Why are you leaving? You’re acting weird. That’s what she wanted to say and didn’t. It no longer seemed advisable to say thefirst thing that came to mind. “I hope you have a great trip. Say hi to Daniel for me.”
“I will.” He looked down, frowned a little, then looked up. “Don’t go kayaking alone while I’m gone.”
Her lips rounded upward. “Okay.”
The seconds spun out, each one elongating.
She said nothing.
He said nothing.
Finally, he gave her an extraordinarily stiff hug. The contact was as impersonal as if she were someone he’d never met who’d just handed him a congratulatory plaque at work.
He walked into the forbidding weather of a tumultuous night. Almost immediately, the darkness stole him from view.
She shut the door, groaned, then picked up a pillow and threw it irritably onto the floor. Another throw pillow. Hurl. Another. Fling.
