Читать книгу Faith, Hope and Family - GINA WILKINS - Страница 12

In Dylan’s job, it was necessary for him to hide his emotions when he was caught off-guard. It took him a bit longer than usual to conceal his reaction to finding Deborah McCloud at his door.

His brief delay in greeting her caused her to speak impatiently. “Has the sight of my face turned you to stone or are you just trying to tick me off?”

Confident now that she could read nothing but lazy amusement in his expression, he leaned against the door frame. “I was trying to imagine what could have brought you to my home. I’ve got to admit, no credible explanation is coming to me.”

“Just let me make it clear that this visit has nothing to do with anything that happened in the past. Between you and me, I mean. I’m here strictly because I need to ask your advice in your capacity as a police officer.”

That drained the humor out of him. “Come in.”

Though she held her head high when she walked past him, the stiffness in her shoulders told him she would rather be just about anywhere else but here. The fact that she was here was what had him concerned. Something must be seriously wrong for her to come to him for help.

She crossed straight to the glass doors at the back of his living room, looking past the small wooden deck to the glittering lake beyond. “Nice view.”

“Thanks. That’s why I bought the place.”

She turned then to glance around the room, and he saw his home through her eyes. Clean, yes, but a bit shabby—few decorations, fewer luxuries. He just hadn’t bothered. It was certainly not what the daughter of a prominent businessman and a dedicated socialite was accustomed to. The difference in their social status had always been an issue between them, more on his part than hers, he had to admit.

But she wasn’t here about the past, he reminded himself.

“You want a soda or something? Coffee, maybe?”

“No.” And then she made herself add, “Thank you.”

“At least have a seat.”

After hesitating only a moment, she perched on the edge of a nubby green armchair—a hand-me-down from his aunt Myra. Dylan settled on the green plaid sofa. “Tell me what happened.”

“Someone has been threatening my mother.”

That brought him sharply upright. “What the hell?”

Digging in the soft leather bag she’d brought in with her, she pulled out a sheet of paper. “This came in today’s mail. She said she’s received a few others prior to this one, but she threw them away.”

He scanned the unsigned letter rapidly. “Were the other letters identical to this one?”

“She said this one was more unpleasant, to use her word.”

“So you believe the sender’s outrage is escalating.”