Nick winced. “And look where that got me. Austin’s answer to the account questions was almost believable. He’s convinced Belinda. And Wright too, I’m sure of it. He almost had me doubting myself.”
“Almost,” I repeated the word back to him. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. This isyourmother, Nick. It only matters whatyouthink. What your gut tells you. I’d trust that over Austin fucking Pattinson’s words or Detective Wright’s instincts any day of the week.”
Nick stared at me for a long moment. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and planted a fierce kiss on my lips, pulling me up on my toes and crushing me against his chest. “God, I love you,” he said roughly, his fingers tangling in my hair, tight enough to sting and bring tears to my eyes. “Thank you. Now let’s get out of here.” He grabbed my hand and began pulling me back along the path at a snappy jog.
“Where are we going?” I struggled to keep up.
“Austin and Belinda are at Chloe’s townhouse with the police keeping an eye on them, right?”
“Right,” I panted, tripping over my own feet and needing Nick to stop me falling to the gravel.
“Which means, my little buttercup, that their house is clear.” He sounded more than a little pleased with himself.
“Oooooh.” I couldn’t help but grin. “A little off-the-books snoopery before lunch. You have the best ideas.”
We checkedin with Glen on our way out and learned the search teams hadn’t found anything other than the cardigan.After grabbing a sandwich that sat like lead in our stomachs, we finally pulled into Austin’s street just after noon. With the fog still thick on the ground, the neighbourhood felt eerily quiet for the middle of the day.
Noting the number of security cameras visible on front doors and garages in the upscale neighbourhood, we quickly scuppered the idea of any actual B & E—a huge relief to me—and settled for taking a general look around the property. If caught on camera, as I was almost positive we would be, we’d say we were simply double-checking that Chloe hadn’t made her way there. No harm in being thorough, right?
That said, we didn’t want to make it easy for Austin by simply parking in his driveway, so after consulting the map, we took a less direct route, coming at his house via a thoroughfare from the street behind. The bleak, frigid weather helped. Walking with hoods up and gazes fixed on the pavement wasn’t suspicious, but rather the sensible thing to do.
Ignoring Austin’s front door, we squeezed through a break in the hedge that marked the boundary between his property and the thoroughfare and followed the garden around to the backyard, which was just as lovely as the front. A large courtyard made for entertaining was accessed by huge bifold doors that ran along the back half of the house, and a covered pool sat in the middle of the yard with a spa pool off to one side. A rose garden, pruned and bedded down for winter, framed the flagstones, and a louvred roof was retracted to allow maximum light into the interior through the cooler months.
As we peered through one of the bifold doors, Nick blew a low whistle. “Chloe was right. The inside is very, very nice.”
I agreed. The furnishings weren’t flashy, as such, but there was obvious expense in the modern country look and its attention to detail. Pillowy cushions, plush rugs, classy art, and awell fitted-out cook’s kitchen. To complete the picture, a full-size grand piano sat in pride of place in the lounge.
“Upcycled from a thrift store, my arse,” I muttered, slipping an arm around his waist as we stared through the glass. “One or two pieces, maybe. But most of this looks straight out of a showroom.”
Nick all but growled. “This fucking weasel is living way above his means, and Chloe’s money would go a long way toward supporting that.”
I stared at the expensive interior and sighed. “It’s a pretty ruthless solution, don’t you think?”
Nick scowled. “It is. Come on.” He took my hand and led me across the flagstone patio area toward the garage. “Come on. Let’s take a look at this granny flat and the renovations Chloe’s supposed to be helping finance.”
On the back wall of the garage, a set of patio doors led onto a small deck. A red light blinked above them and I groaned. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart.”
Nick snorted and we both waved at the thing before stepping onto the deck.
“He’s gonna be mad as a nest of hornets if he’s watching this.” Nick spun me around and planted a lingering kiss on my lips. “Jack off to that, you arsehole.”
I chuckled. “You’re a bad, bad man, Nick Fisher.”
We pressed our noses to the glass doors just as the heaven’s opened and the misty drizzle became pelting rain that quickly soaked the back of my jeans. “And of course it fucking rains,” I complained, zipping my coat to the chin. “Can we make it quick? My balls are lumps of ice as it is.”
“Well, whaddya know?” Nick cupped his hand around his face on the glass to see better. “Doesn’t look like much work has been done on the renovations, if anything.”
He wasn’t wrong. The small space was cluttered with boxes and all but devoid of furnishings bar some outdoor furniture that looked like it had been stored there for the winter. A tired kitchenette sat in one corner with a tiny bedroom and maybe a bathroom just visible out back. A roll of what looked like house plans sat on the kitchen countertop, but that was about it. Unlined walls met concrete floors. No drapes, no light fittings, no rugs. Nothing to indicate the space had even been touched recently, let alone that it was in the process of being prepared for the arrival of a physically challenged older woman with Parkinson’s.
“I doubt this has been touched since it was built,” I observed.
Nick’s answer was best interpreted as a snarl.
I scowled at my drenched jeans and pulled Nick under the eaves to escape the worst of the downpour. “Okay. So Austin’s stretching the truth at best about the renovations but that doesn’t prove anything. What’s next?”
Nick’s cool stare grew icy. “What’s next is I’m gonna see if I can get a look inside that garage.” Before I could ask why, he was gone, running down the side of the garage to the window at the far end. When he got there, he swore. “I fucking knew it. Take a guess what isn’t parked inside or anywhere on the property that we’ve seen?”
It wasn’t hard. “Chloe’s Toyota.”
