“Are you ready?” Davis asked.
Charles smiled dangerously. “I’ve been ready for the past twenty years.”
Olivia stepped back as she admired her handiwork. The display cabinet situated in the dining room now gleamed, the deep rosy-colored wood so glossy it almost reflected the sparkling glasses housed inside.
She’d finished wrapping and boxing the items she personally didn’t care for— those would be stored in the attic until she decided what to do with them. Now that all the furniture was clean and dusted and a slight citrus smell hung in the air, she filled a bucket, and brush in one hand and a rag in the other, she began to tackle the floor.
It was good, sweaty, mind-numbing work, and exactly what she needed after the events of the last couple of days. There were moments when she really felt like turning around and heading straight back to Providence. She could sell the house. The errant thought popped into her head, and as it did, she heard a door slam shut upstairs. She flinched at the sound.
She didn’t like the idea much either. Being away for so long, she’d forgotten how much she loved the house and the lake, even the woods.
No, she wouldn’t sell the house, no matter what. It was in her blood, and it was her home as no other had been in the twenty years she’d been absent. Besides, she thought darkly, it would just give Chief Walcott more reason to suspect her. No, she needed to bide her time and hope that the real killer was caught soon.
She turned her attention back to the floor, scrubbing in never-ending circles. It didn’t take long before she was disturbed by the sound of tires on gravel. Hauling herself to her feet, she dropped the wet rag back into the bucket with a splash and pulled back the curtain. A pickup truck was towing her car to the front of her house, and behind it followed a compact silver sports car.
Olivia headed for the front door, and stepped out onto the front porch, folding her arms across her chest defensively.
Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone?
She watched slowly as a tall guy hopped out of the truck’s cab. Slamming the door closed behind him, he walked around to unhook her car. The sports car had also parked, and as the door opened, Olivia saw a pair of long, slim legs, followed by a tall, willowy body encased in a well-fitted, no-nonsense business suit in deep blue. The woman turned toward Olivia and offered a small wave. She flipped her deep red hair as the early evening breeze caught it and whipped it back over her shoulder. The woman wobbled slightly as she crossed the gravel on four-inch heels. Finally, she climbed the steps to the porch, holding out her hand in greeting.
“Olivia West?”
Olivia had no option but to clasp the offered hand. “I’m Erica Kelly. I’m an attorney. Jake called and said you might need some assistance.”
“Miss Kelly.” Olivia shook the offered hand. “Why exactly would I need an attorney?” She asked suspiciously.
“Well, to get your car back, for one.” She raised a sculpted brow. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Jake sent you?”
“He did.” Erica clarified. “I’ll wait if you want to call him.”
Before she could answer, the guy from the tow truck jogged up the stairs, interrupting them.
“Miss West.” He held out his hand. “The name’s Brody Walker, and I own the auto shop in town. Sorry about the delay getting your car back to you. Hope it hasn’t been too much of an inconvenience.”
He dropped her keys into her outstretched hand.
“I gave it a quick once-over. It seems to be running just fine, and there is absolutely no damage to the front end, so I don’t want you to worry about that. I told Chief Walcott straight out there was no way you hit that guy with your car.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” Olivia replied.
He seemed like a nice guy. The sneakers he wore were dirty with one of the laces split and knotted in several places and his jeans were torn at the knees and covered in grease. A warm tan colored jacket swamped his lean frame and his dark blond hair hung to his collar and a slight stubble graced his face, giving him the appearance of a laid-back surfer rather than a mechanic.
“Brody.” He grinned. “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Anyway, if the car gives you any trouble at all, give me a call.”
“I appreciate it, Brody.” She offered a tentative smile. “How much do I owe you?”
“No charge.” He shook his head. “It’s on the house. Welcome back to Mercy, and I hope your luck changes soon.”
“You and me both,” Olivia murmured.
“Erica.” He nodded, acknowledging the woman standing next to her.
“Brody. How’s Cassie?”
“Good. She’s just opened her own veterinary office on Bleaker Street.”
