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The man was watching her, and she shifted on the chair a little. That gaze of his was intense.

“I need you to make a list of the people that were inconvenienced last year. And I’d like to see any emails or correspondence you received.”

Annabelle nodded, glad that she had something she could do. She jotted a note on her pad and took his email. “I will forward you everything I have.”

She blinked, thinking about the names that were going to go on the list. “They’re all close neighbors, directly in the cul-de-sac here.” She motioned around the house. “They’ve known Mrs. Dodd for years, and I can’t imagine any of them hurting Cookie.”

Rowdy smiled slightly and she blinked. Wow, his whole face had changed, and she wondered what he would look like with a full grin.

She knew investigators were supposed to be stalwart and cold, expressionless, and Rowdy had that part of his job down pat. She shivered a little, wishing that his shuttered hazel eyes would warm up a little. For a moment, when she’d come in, she thought there’d been a spark of something… but maybe that had been wishful thinking. Rowdy West was drool-worthy, as her sister would say, with his dark hair and lean, square-jawed face. He wasn’t especially tall, maybe just under six feet, but she didn’t need tall. She wished she’d taken time this morning to add some makeup, or maybe dress a little better. Heck, she didn’t even have her shoes on. He probably thought she was as absent-minded as Mrs. Dodd.

Story of her life. People usually took a look at her and decided she was a flutterby, as her sister used to call her. But just because she liked comfortable clothes and colors and unique things, it didn’t mean she was stupid or lacking, in any way. She prided herself on doing her very odd job well, and Mrs. Dodd seemed happy with her performance, so that was all that mattered.

For some reason, though, she wanted him to look at her differently. She didn’t normally feel insecure about what she did, but she thought maybe she wanted him to look at her as more competent. She’d never felt the need to impress a man before.

Was it just because he was really handsome, and she had no love life? Maybe.

And maybe there was nothing wrong with letting him know she was interested.

“So, how long have you been an investigator?”

Annabelle thought the question was innocent enough, but he shifted uncomfortably. “Not very long, actually.”

She cocked her head. “Have you had a case like this before?”

“Definitely not,” he barked out a laugh. “I don’t think anyone in the company has had a case like this.”

Annabelle grinned. “Well, hopefully Cookie will turn up and you can be the only one to have solved a case like this.”

He grinned at her, and Annabelle caught her breath. Yup, he was even more stupid handsome. Damn.

“So,” she said slowly, “in your limited experience, what do you think our chances are of getting Cookie back?”

The laughter faded from his expression. “I can’t say, honestly. There are too many unknowns. I will say, though, that the timing is very suspect.”

She nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to think ill of any of her neighbors, but the more time that goes by and the more dead ends I hit, the more I think someone took him to hurt her.”

Rowdy didn’t say anything, but his silence was agreement enough.

“If you can send me those emails, I can get on them.”

Annabelle nodded, pushing up from the chair. He stood with her, as well, which she thought was very sweet. “Give me a few minutes.”

* * *

The investigator nodded and she headed down the hallway to her office. It was just a tiny space near the den, and she wondered if at one point it had been a closet. There was enough room for her L-shaped desk and office chair, and a single armchair against the wall. The six-foot Ficus took up the rest of the room on the other side, and was the only true green. The rest of the space was decorated with colorful tchotchkes, figurines and lights. Annabelle loved her little space and was very thankful that Mrs. Dodd allowed her free rein in her decorating.

She also appreciated the excellent internet she had in the house, because within seconds Annabelle had logged into her email account and found the abusive emails. Each of the neighbors had expressed their extreme displeasure and she had a feeling Margaret Sneed Wanton-Klapper had led the pack. Her’s was the first email that came in, and the rest all followed a similar layout. Margaret had been the most vocal that night and there had been no way to calm her down. Even when Mrs. Dodd had walked out into the snow to personally apologize, Mrs. Wanton-Klapper, as pretentious as her name intimated, had turned her nose up at the apology. She’d seen it as a way to lord it over the older woman. That night had shown Annabelle exactly what kind of woman Mrs. Wanton-Klapper was.

“Is there any way you can print those off?”

Annabelle startled hard, her hand jerking across the keyboard. Her email page disappeared into the ether, and she glared up at the investigator, who was leaning disturbingly close against her desk. “Holy crap, you scared me,” she gasped, hand to her heart.

Rowdy grimaced, holding his hands out. “I apologize. I was just trying to save myself a few steps and thought I would see if you could help me out. If you can print them, I don’t have to go back to the office.”

Annabelle could tell he was sorry he’d scared her. Slowly, she nodded, giving him the side-eye. “Yeah, just let me pull up my email again.”

She surfed through, pulling up the date again. Then she sent them to her printer. She handed the small stack of papers to Rowdy, who was still leaning against her desk. Why did he have to be so close? She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.