The wind caught the cover as it spun, but that didn’t stop it from smacking against the spot he’d aimed for and plunking right into the trash can.
Emmitt pumped his fist. “Score. Sorry, Doctor Ross. I’m going a different route.”
He dusted off his hands, glad to be rid of the paperback and its untimely notions. He was in a pinch, after all. May as well use his charms one last time and hopefully shave a few hours off his training sentence. And hey, if all else failed and he still had to do the full course, he may as well have a fun time doing it.
* * *
Sloane spooned the last bite of ice cream covered brownie into her mouth, then closed her eyes to savor the blend of rich cocoa and sweet vanilla. She had not been bluffing when she’d told Emmitt Duran that she could stay at the inn as long as necessary, but she had no idea just how enjoyable her time there might be.
Of all the job sites she’d stayed at over the years, this had to be among the top on her list. Sure, someplace tropical might be more desirable this time of year, but if Sloane could remain here in her cabin and get room service that tasted this good, she may just be tempted to prolong the mission herself.
A rash of guilt coated her skin. There was a tormented man out there dying for answers. And if Anna Fielding reallywasin some sort of danger, they needed to narrow down the possibilities, and quick.
Of course, the lead that brought Sloane to Haven Hills seemed to rule that option out. Jack, owner of Jack’s Hardware and Office Supplies, believed Anna had come into his store and bought a high-priced printing calculator. While checking out, the woman mentioned she was an accountant. Jack also said she was with a man who, as Anna moved to pay, suggested she let The Homestead pay for her purchase. Hence, Sloane’s undercover trip to the inn.
Unfortunately, Jack couldn’t remember catching names from the couple who came into his shop. He did, however, say that the name Anna rang a bell. He could just be saying that to make his lead more valuable. After all, if his clue inevitably led them to Anna Fielding, he’d get a nice financial reward.
Jack didn’t have any video footage of the event. That would have gone a very long way. Of course, if hehadproduced footage that proved Anna was in his store, Wren would have flown out there himself, which is why Sloane and the other investigators on the case were to send any “compelling evidence” to a special inbox. If that evidence was compelling enough—like a photograph of Anna Fielding would be—Wren planned to go straight to the source.
She could just imagine how rewarding that moment might be—meeting Wren Brandler face-to-face, having him thank her for a job well done. The financial payoff wouldn’t be bad either.
Sloane pushed her dinner tray, heavy with the remains of her dinner, dessert, and dishes, to the corner of the table and reached for her folder. She opened the flap, tugged Anna’s paper from the stack, and grabbed a pen.
She scanned over her notes, setting her mind back on the man who’d come into Jack’s shop with the woman in question. Whoever he was, he likely held a position of management there. Why else would he suggest she let the inn cover her expense? The offer also suggested that the purchase was for an accounting job with The Homestead.
A warm wave of intrigue rushed through her as she thought back on the call she’d made to the inn last week. Using an American accent, Sloane had called the front desk and asked about Anna Fielding.
The woman on the line—who Sloane now knew to be Betty—said she hadn’t known or heard of anyone by that name. That in itself didn’t say much, but there was more to the call than that.
Sloane had recorded the woman’s response and run it through a voice stress analysis program. The high-tech system detected fluctuation in voice, breath, and pitch based on stress indicators. Not that Sloane had needed it in that instance; it’d been easy to catch the dramatic shift in Betty’s tone upon her inquiry. The delay in response alone was an indicator that she’d been caught off-guard. But there was something else that didn’t fit into the equation. If what Jack said was accurate, and The Homestead had, in fact, brought on a new accountant, why would Betty lie about it?
Sloane underlined Betty’s name at the corner of the page. It was good that Emmitt Duran and Betty were so close. Perhaps if Emmitt put her off over the next few days, Sloane could warm up to Betty.
A thought occurred to her, causing Sloane to snatch her phone and tap the voice memo button to record. “The description of the male with Anna at Jack’s Hardware matches Emmitt,” she said, wondering how that fact had escaped her before. It definitely wasn’t Maverick, with his longer hair and blue eyes. Jack admitted to paying more attention to Anna than he had the gentleman she was with, but he described him as tall, well built, with short dark hair. Not buzz-cut short, but trimmed and styled nicely. He hadn’t been sure about the eyes, but his best guess was that they were brown or hazel.
“Might make sense if she was with Emmitt,” Sloane continued after tapping the record button once more. “My first mission—ask about his exes.” Maybe Anna had moved on by now, if the two had been dating at all. If so, he likely knew her whereabouts. But what if the two were dating even still? A rush of excitement pulsed through her at the thought.Thatwould explain his less than warm reception where Sloane was concerned.
That thought was sidetracked when a series of startling knocks pounded against her cabin door.
Sloane froze in place, limbs tight as she glanced about her cabin. Her heart heaved out a few extra beats as her eyes settled back on the layout before her. Quickly then, she sprung into action, slapping the folder closed and tucking it inside her leather case.
She moved to the mess of dishes, napkins, and neglected vegetables on her plate, picturing a look of disgust on Mr. Duran’s face at the sight. Not that he’d be able to see into her kitchen from the door. And who was to say it was Emmitt?
The knocking came again.
It was him.No doubt.
“Two seconds,” she hollered, abandoning the cleanup effort and heading into the front room of the cabin. Yet just as she reached the door, Sloane caught sight of her reflection in the hanging mirror. A messy bun sat imbalanced on top of her head, while the strap of her silky camisole, something she’d worn beneath her dress, had slipped down one shoulder. She hiked it back into place and glanced down to see her favorite pair of baggy sweatpants and gray, matching socks.
This was a disaster. She couldnotlet Emmitt see her like this.
With that determination in mind, Sloane positioned herself carefully behind the door and creaked it open. She leaned her head over just enough to see who stood there. Tall, muscled, and even more handsome than she remembered. A whiff of cologne filtered through the crack. The spicy, masculine scent caused a whirl of warmth to stir low in her tummy.
“Can I help you?” she asked. It was a good thinghervoice wasn’t being measured for stress right now.
Emmitt’s face scrunched as he ran a slow gaze over the crack in the door. He moved it back to meet her gaze. Well, the one eye peeking through. A tiny smile pulled at one side of his lips. “Did I…catch you at a bad time, Frenchie?”
Frenchie?
