Native Vitality drinks slotted next to bottled waters, milk, cold brew coffee, beer, eggs, bagged veggies, and fruit.
Eleanor faced them, spine straight. “I will handle this boat as I did crime scenes back when I was on the force. I’ll gather as many samples as possible. I . . .” She peered at Jeremiah and suddenly appeared to lose her train of thought. Pink bloomed on her cheeks.
Oh, Eleanor. Not you, too. If sensible Eleanor wasn’t immune to Jeremiah, then what chance did the rest of them have?
How Remy wished she was the one woman in the world immune to him. Why? Why couldn’t she be that one? Everything would be so much easier for her and better for him seeing as how the effect he had on womankind wasn’t doing his humility any favors.
Eleanor cleared her throat. “As I told you over the phone, the fact that the boat was exposed to the sun, water, and wind for such a long time will make things difficult above deck, where weather conditions have had their way. Below deck, we may have a greater opportunity for success.”
“When will I receive the report of your findings?”
“Once I’m done here, I’ll return with the samples to my lab in Phoenix. I’m just one person, and I have other jobs in the queue before you so my report will take anywhere from four to six weeks.”
“I’m not an expert in forensics,” he told her. “Will you interpret your findings for me?”
“I will.”
“We’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. “Thank you.”
Two days later in the late afternoon, Remy sat beside Jeremiah as he drove them up his drive toward Appleton. This was the first time she’d ridden in this particular car. He’d said it was something called a Shelby Cobra. She could tell it was old, which hopefully meant this was more modest and less stupidly expensive than his other cars.
Project Wendell was done and at least five times, she’d picked up the phone or surfed to a website to buy her ticket home to Islehaven. Each time, she’d hesitated for reasons she couldn’t fully explain to herself.
Jeremiah had stopped by Wendell’s unannounced just now with a fragrant bag full of chicken tikka masala. Wendell had been overjoyed. Jeremiah had ignored her scolding regarding feeding Wendell rich food and asked if she’d come to Appleton to look over the spreadsheet on which he’d been recording the data coming in from the conversations his mother, brother, and Anton were having with the people Alexis had seen before her death.
Remy had heard herself say yes because thisreally wasthe last thing she’d have the chance to do for him.
As they neared the house, she noticed a white Lexus SUV parked outside.
“Who’s this?” she asked.
“I have no idea.” They exited the Cobra and Remy followed Jeremiah along the path toward the front door.
A brunette came into view. She sat, legs crossed gracefully, on one of the porch chairs.
Alexis?
That fanciful thought sent ice water whistling down her spine before rationality returned. This was a lovely brunette. But not all lovely brunettes in the world were Alexis. This was someone else entirely. The stranger had a heart-shaped face, makeup that highlighted her dramatic eyes, clothing that flattered her curves, expertly styled long hair.
The woman came down the porch steps toward them, distrust and anger overcoming her features. Halting, she slanted one foot and knee to the side.
Jeremiah and Remy stopped, too.
“Do we know each other?” Jeremiah asked.
Her gaze homed in on him. Then Remy. Then back to him. “Is this a joke?”
“No,” Jeremiah said calmly. “I’d genuinely like to know. Do we know each other?”
“I’m Gigi,” the woman said. “Your girlfriend.”
ChapterSeventeen
Outwardly, Remy froze. Inwardly, her heart plummeted.
His girlfriend.
He’d moved on to a new woman after Alexis?
