Leslie wasn’t certain who was more uncomfortable: herself or Declan. One thing was sure, she thought as she passed by the newcomers—Emily Delton wasn’t uncomfortable at all. She was determined…andsatisfied.
Like the cat who’d got into thecream.
* * *
If Declan hadn’t been driving,he probably would have actually hesitated before turning up the driveway to Shenstone House. But that was a little more difficult to do when in a car on a street with other vehicles behindyou.
After all, it was Wednesday, October 15. The day with the heart on Leslie’s calendar. And the letter E next toit.
But as he was only a lowly contractor, a worker bee, a handyman, he wouldn’t know any different—right? It was a weekday at four o’clock—still during business hours (not that contractors like him really had business hours), and he really did need to take a measurement of that railing before he went any further on theproject.
It was a legitimate reason to be here. He knew that, and he sold himself on it really well as his truck rumbled up thedrive.
If he happened to be aware that Leslie Nakano had cancelled having Stephanie work that day, he could still discount that fact because he had a job to do, and he had no reason to think anything was strange because his daughter didn’t have to work. Leslie had contractors coming in and out of the house all thetime.
Still, when he pulled up into the parking area of the massive house, he got a sense of…something. Something quiet and sad and gloomy. There were only a few lights on; he recognized them as coming from Leslie’s bedroom/office suite. There was also one in thekitchen.
And her dark blue Mercedes was the only car in the lot. So if the mysterious E was there, either they were out somewhere in his car, or she’d picked him up and they were there, in thehouse.
Therewerelights on in her private suite. He didn’t really like what thatimplied.
Damn. Maybe he should justleave…
He put the truck in reverse, getting ready to do just that, when he realized he really kind of did need to get that measurement. Sure, he could have called first. Sure, he could have come over yesterday…or even Monday. But he was here now, and it would be a waste of time not to followthrough.
She didn’t have to answer the door if she was freakingbusy.
Declan climbed out of the truck, his lips flattened grimly. Either way, he supposed they at least needed to have some sort of discussion about what had happened last Friday…and since. Sure, right, she’d come over to find Emily Delton at his house, but he’d already told her he wasn’t seeing her. Wasn’t thatenough?
For his part, Declan wanted to know whether the guy she’d been with on Saturday was anyone important or not. He figured he’d find out one way or anothertonight.
He approached the back door that led into the kitchen and looked through the window. No sign of life there. Just one light on over the granite island. A few dishes on the counter and in the sink…hmm. That was unusual. He’d never seen anything out of place in theroom.
He knocked on the door and waited. Looked around to see if the butterscotch cat was lurking. No sign of him; no sign of a can of tuna leftout.
Everything was eerily quiet. And being here, at the top of this small hill surrounded by woods, it felt as if he was miles away from civilization…even though just down the hill and over a few blocks were the lights from the town. In the distance was the hum of traffic. Less than a mile away was the downtown Wicks Hollow businessdistrict.
He’d raised his hand to knock again when a figure appearedinside.
She pulled open the door. “What are you doinghere?”
Her tone wasn’t unfriendly or angry…just curious. Surprised.Confused.
“I—needed to get a measurement. Sorry to bother you. Am I botheringyou?”
He got a good look at her and saw, to his surprise, that she was in loose flannel pants and a hoodie. Her hair was in a ponytail that had seen better days, sagging, while random strands dusted her neck. Her toes were bare, and this time they had hot-pink polish on them. Her face was drawn and tight, with a sober expression that bordered onsad.
This was a completely different Leslie Nakano than he’d everseen.
Maybe she wassick?
She certainly didn’t look like she was entertaining a man, that wascertain.
“Come on in,” she said, opening the door to give himentrance.
When he got inside, he saw a bowl of popcorn (it was obviously fresh, for it smelled heavenly) and a half-eaten pizza in a carryout box. All indicators were that she was alone, and not sick. People didn’t generally eat pizza or popcorn when they weresick.
“Thanks,” he said, still feeling his way—figuratively and literally. “It’ll only take asecond.”
