Читать книгу The Betrayed - Jana DeLeon - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Zach paced the tiny caretaker’s cottage, aggravated with almost everything. His original enthusiasm over scoring the LeBeau estate job was seriously compromised after meeting Danae LeBeau. The heiress had enchanting features and a stellar body, but was prickly and suspicious and was already making a mess of his carefully laid plans.

How was he supposed to dig around in the house records with her looking over his shoulder? If she were going to be at the house every day alongside him, that didn’t leave him any opportunity to snoop during that time. Now his only option was to find a way inside the house so that he could search for his answers at night.

Maybe he’d luck into a spare key lying around. If not, then he’d make sure to leave a window unlocked—a downstairs one with easy access, if such a thing existed. The swamp had almost swallowed the house, the brush and weeds pushing their way right up to the house walls.

He stopped pacing and ran one hand through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to do until tomorrow morning? Even if he could have distracted his overloaded mind with television, the caretaker didn’t own a set. No television, no radio, not even a crossword-puzzle book. What in the world did the man do for entertainment?

He glanced at his watch for the hundredth time since leaving the mansion. Four o’clock. At this rate, he’d wear out the cabin’s wooden floors before nightfall with all this pacing. Maybe Danae was still at the house. If so, he could always ask if he could take an inventory. That way, he could pick up any needed supplies in order to begin work straightaway the next morning. Surely she couldn’t find fault with that logic.

Mind made up, he grabbed his keys and headed back to the mansion. As he pulled into the drive, he saw a truck with the sheriff’s logo on the door. His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he pulled behind the truck and parked. What could be going on that warranted the sheriff?

He hopped out of his truck, and as he started toward the front door, it opened and a man stepped out. Zach studied the sheriff as he approached the entrance. This athletic man looked to be about the same age as him, the last thing he’d imagined for the sheriff of Calais. An aging, balding man with a potbelly was more what he would have guessed.

The sheriff caught his gaze immediately as he stepped outside and glanced back at Danae, who stood just inside the door. She said something to him and he nodded then made his way across the drive, meeting Zach halfway.

“Carter Trahan,” the sheriff said and extended his hand.

“Zach Sargent,” he replied and gave Carter’s hand a firm shake. “I hope there wasn’t any trouble here.”

“Not at all. I promised Alaina I’d check up on Danae.”

“Alaina?”

“Her sister.” Carter grinned. “And the woman most likely to make my life miserable if I don’t follow her instructions.”

Zach smiled. “Is Alaina as attractive as her sister?”

“Ah, now, see, I can’t answer that question without being in trouble with someone, so I’ll just say they’re both gorgeous in their own right and leave it at that.”

“You’re a wise man.”

Carter nodded. “Danae tells me William hired you to make the repairs.”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I just got a glance at the inside earlier, but it looks like my work’s cut out for me.”

“Definitely.” He studied Zach for a moment. “This seems an odd choice of jobs for someone as young as you. I figured the reconstruction in New Orleans pays better and offers the nightlife.”

The delivery of the statement was casual, but Zach knew a fishing expedition when he heard it. The sheriff’s seemingly pleasant disposition didn’t completely mask his shrewd observation skills. Zach had to be very careful, very deliberate, around this man. If he gave Carter any reason at all to suspect he wasn’t exactly who he claimed to be, he’d run him out of town on a rail.

“The rates are better, that’s true. But I’ve been in the city all my life. Sometimes a man just needs to get away from everything—slow down a bit.”

Carter nodded. “I get that. Did it myself earlier this year. Resigned my detective position with the New Orleans Police Department and came back home to run herd over a town with less people than my old apartment building.”

Zach struggled to keep the surprise and worry from his expression. A young, inquisitive sheriff with big-city experience and connections was the last person he needed looking into his background. This was no small-town sheriff that could be easily fooled. “Any regrets?”

“Not a single one.”

“Then maybe I’m on the right track.”

Carter smiled. “Did you get settled in the caretaker’s cabin?”

“Didn’t bring much with me except work clothes and some tools. To tell the truth, I was feeling kinda stir-crazy, so I came to see if Danae was still here. Thought I could put together a supply list and get it filled this evening. Save me some time getting started tomorrow morning.”

“Efficient. I like that. Well, guess I’ll leave you to it. Maybe I’ll see you in town sometime—buy you a slice of pie and coffee down at the café.”

“That sounds like the best offer I’ve had in weeks. Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Carter said as he strolled to his truck. He gave Zach a wave as he pulled away.

Zach looked over at the entry, not surprised to see Danae still standing there, observing the entire exchange. She frowned as Carter’s truck pulled away, and Zach wondered if Danae wasn’t thrilled with her sister’s choice of men. He’d seemed nice enough but a person never really knew what went on behind closed doors.

Maybe she wants him for herself.

The thought came unbidden and he felt a twinge of jealousy, which irked him. He was in Calais to find answers and then get back to his real life in New Orleans. He’d pulled major strings to manage even a few weeks away. The absolute last thing he needed to do was waste any of his precious time with amorous thoughts of a woman who seemed annoyed at his presence.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon,” Danae said as he approached the door, her tone telling him straight off she wasn’t the least bit happy to see him, either.

“I was hoping to get a quick inventory—maybe get some of the supplies this evening.”

“That’s what I heard. I’m going to be here another hour or so. Do you think you can cover enough ground by then?”

He shrugged. “It will be more than I have now.”

Danae opened the door wider and stepped back, allowing him to enter.

“So,” he said as he stepped inside, “your sister and the sheriff?”

She raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a romantic, Mr. Sargent.”

“Please call me Zach. And maybe I was just interested in your sister.”

She gave him the faintest of smiles. “Most men that have seen her are.”

“Really? Then I guess it’s a real shame she’s settled on a guy who carries a gun for a living.”

“You don’t like living dangerously?”

Surprised at the slightly teasing tone of her voice, he smiled. “Not when it comes to women.”

“Smart.”

She turned and waved a hand toward the vast open entry. Zach couldn’t help but notice how her jeans curved over her hips, how her T-shirt clung to her full chest and tiny waist.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Huh?” Her question came at the worst possible time, because at that moment, none of the things he had in mind had anything to do with the repairs.

“Well,” he drawled, hurrying to recover, “I thought I’d do a quick inventory of rooms to note the obvious items. I’m sure the list will expand as I begin work. Is there any problem in particular you’d like me to start with?”

Danae nodded. “The power is my biggest concern. I will be working through the property records for William, and the office is one of those rooms where the power is out. I can haul the files to the kitchen to work, but it would make it easier to see in there...”

Her voice trailed off and she frowned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It’s stupid.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

She stared off across the entry then finally blew out a breath before turning to face him. “It’s creepy, okay? I know that sounds foolish and girly and weak, but the room is creepy and the lack of lighting makes it worse.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“It doesn’t sound foolish or weak at all. For my own well-being, I’m not touching the ‘girly’ comment.” He scanned the cavernous room, littered with columns with various sculptures and statues—all covered with layers of dust and cobwebs. “Look, I’m sure this place was beautiful once, but I have to tell you, it wouldn’t be someplace I’d choose to stay.”

She looked up at him, a flicker of appreciation in her expression. “Really?”

He held up one hand. “Swear. This place is gloomy and depressing. Your sister’s work in the kitchen gives me an idea of what it could look like, though.”

Danae gave him an appreciative smile. “You’re right. I need to keep reminding myself that it will feel different after the repairs are made and we’ve managed a good scrubbing.”

“It’s none of my business, but why doesn’t William hire someone to do the cleaning?”

“According to café gossip, he’s tried, but none of them last more than a day.”

“Why not?”

She smiled. “Because of the ghost.”

Maybe it was the decrepit state of the house, or maybe it was the swamp that was slowly swallowing up the entire structure, but he actually gave her statement more than a moment’s passing thought.

“Ghost, huh?” he said finally.

“That’s what I hear.”

“But you haven’t seen it?”

“No, but then today is the first day I’ve been in this house since I was a toddler.”

He wanted to ask her more about her stepfather and her sisters, but as soon as she’d issued that statement, her expression had gone from somewhat relaxed to completely closed off again.

“Who’s the ghost supposed to be?” he asked instead.

She frowned. “I don’t know. I assumed it was my stepfather. Based on the description of his lifestyle from the locals, it sounds like he was agoraphobic. I guess I figured that even in death, he didn’t want to leave the house.”

“Well, then, I guess I best get to work lighting up this place before I have to add a ghost to the payroll.”

Danae gave him a small smile, but he could tell that something was bothering her. She appeared to be telling the truth when she said she hadn’t seen a ghost, but something had happened that put her on edge—something beyond just a spooky house. She was too observant, too suspicious for the average person. Either she was paranoid or she had something to worry about. Both concerned him as either could blow his cover.

“Where would you like to start?” Danae asked.

“Well, I know the electricity is a priority, but I need to test everything before I can pin down the problem. I brought my voltage equipment with me, so I’ll start that tomorrow morning. I thought I’d take a tour of the house and note the obvious needs. Then I can have supplies on hand for several jobs.”

Danae nodded. “So if you have to wait on special orders, you can keep working on other things.”

“Exactly.”

“Then I guess we can start downstairs.”

We? The last thing he needed was the cagey heiress lingering over his shoulder while he cased the house, especially now that his mind had formed a permanent imprint of her absolutely perfect rear end. But before he could formulate a logical argument, she spun around and headed to the kitchen, then came right back with a pad of paper and a pen.

“It will probably go faster if you dictate as you go,” she said. “I can make the notes. That way you don’t have to stop what you’re doing to write.”

He nodded, unable to argue with the efficiency her plan presented. “I assume you have a basic idea of the layout, so lead the way.”

She pointed to rooms that lined the south side of the house. “We can start over there and work our way around.”

He followed her into the first room and was pleased to find it only contained a table, dresser and a couple of boxes. The west window was intact, but a sheet of plywood covered the wall where he guessed a south-facing window was located. “What happened here?” he asked, pointing to the plywood.

“I haven’t asked about it yet, but I assume the guy who attacked my sister broke it to get inside. The plywood covering it looks new.”

He stared at her. “Someone attacked your sister in the house?”

“Yeah.” She frowned then shook her head. “I guess I forget it’s just hitting the news this morning. He attacked her here but she ran into the swamp and got away. He caught up with her trying to get away in her SUV, and that’s when Carter shot and killed him.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to absorb the implications of trying to keep his cover intact at a crime scene. This entire situation was becoming more complicated by the minute. “Wow! Is she all right?”

“She’s fine.” Danae cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment. “Most people would ask who was trying to kill her and why.”

“You said it just hit the news. I can catch up on the local gossip later. I have a younger cousin who’s more like a brother to me. I guess I was thinking about something happening to him.”

“Are you always this logical?”

“I try to be. It seems to make life easier.”

“Well, then, I guess we best get back to this list. I don’t want to throw you off course.”

He crossed to the intact window and studied it. “I’ll have to remove the plywood to check the dimensions, so I’ll leave off replacing the window for later. I’m going to have to special-order something to even come close to matching the others, but I know a guy in New Orleans who specializes in making windows for restoration projects. I can get some pictures tomorrow and see what he can do.”

He reached up for the latches and opened the window, then pulled it upward, but it stayed firmly in place. It only took a moment to realize the sliding pane of the window had been nailed into the frame. The oxidation on the edges of the nails let him know that wasn’t a recent addition.

“This window is nailed shut,” he said.

“Yeah. They all are. I suppose my stepfather was agoraphobic and paranoid.”

“He didn’t want out and didn’t want anyone else in.” He shook his head. “That’s no way to live. I’ll remove the nails tomorrow—test all the windows and make sure they lift properly.”

“No!”

The single word came out with such force that he spun around, surprised. She stood with her arms crossed. Her face was slightly flushed and her jaw set in a hard line.

“I can’t test the windows if they’re nailed shut.”

“Then I guess they won’t get tested—not as long as I’m working in this house. At least this way, if someone wants to get in here, I’ll hear them coming or see the results of their attempt the next morning. What I don’t want is for someone to have the element of surprise.”

He studied her for a moment. Had he misjudged her? He’d thought her suspicious and hypercautious, but could Danae be tipping into the same realm of madness that her stepfather had lived the last of his life in?

“Are you expecting trouble?” he asked.

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “It’s just that the house is full of valuable antiques and if word gets out it’s empty at night...”

She was lying. She was very, very good at it, but he’d employed too many ex-cons to recognize a snow job when he was getting one. The house was full of antiques, and he suspected a lot of them were valuable, but that wasn’t the reason she was worried about intruders.

Maybe Danae had brought trouble with her to Calais. Maybe she was afraid that trouble was about to catch up with her. Either way, in addition to tiptoeing around with his own agenda, he was going to have to constantly look over his own shoulder, watching for whatever the heiress was hiding from.

“Okay,” he said finally. “It’s your house.”

He motioned to a door in the corner behind her. “Bathroom or closet?”

“Closet, I think. I’m sorry. There’re so many rooms, I haven’t gotten everything straight yet.”

She turned and pulled the door open. As soon as she did, a stack of boxes tilted out and toppled onto her, sending her reeling backward. Mice scattered across the floor, scurrying in every direction, looking for an escape.

He rushed forward, catching her before she crashed to the ground. She’d twisted her body in anticipation of the fall, trying to reach for the floor before slamming into it. Now she was gathered in his arms, the front of her toned, curvy body pressed against him. That beautiful face looking up at him—so strong, yet vulnerable.

It was a bad idea, but before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his lips to hers.

Her lips were soft and pliant as he caressed them with his own, and he felt a surge of excitement go through him that he hadn’t felt before from a simple kiss. He pressed harder, deepening the kiss, and was almost surprised when she responded, her lips searching his.

Then suddenly, she jumped up and backed away from him, one hand over her mouth. She stared at him, her face flushed, her expression a mixture of shock and anxiety.

“You should finish this yourself.” She whirled around and practically ran out of the room.

He stared at the empty doorway, trying to decide if he’d been a genius or a fool. On one hand, he’d probably prevented her from asking more intrusive questions about his life. Clearly, she wanted to avoid anything personal.

On the other hand, he’d enjoyed that kiss entirely too much for his own comfort.

Get in gear, Sargent!

He grabbed the paper and pen and hustled out of the room, his mind suddenly latching onto the golden opportunity she’d presented. For the first time since he’d entered the property, Danae wasn’t looking over his shoulder. She was flustered enough to rush off, so with any luck, she’d remain far away until he sought her out. That gave him a window of opportunity to create an entry into the home.

The one functional window in the first room had led straight into a huge, thorny rosebush, so it wasn’t an option. He hoped his luck would be better in the second room, but it had furniture and boxes stacked to the ceiling and he could barely squeeze inside. No feasible way to reach the windows existed, so he continued to the next room. This one wasn’t quite as cluttered, but it still contained stacks of paper, boxes and small furniture. He lifted several boxes away from the wall where he guessed the window was located and was pleased to find only two nails through the frame.

He hurried back to the doorway and glanced around the entry, then pulled out his pocketknife and began working the first nail from the frame. Every time the knife blade slipped from under the nail’s head, he mentally cursed and wished for the pry bar in his truck, but no way was he risking the opportunity by leaving the house to get it.

Finally, the first nail worked out of the frame and he checked the entry again before starting on the second nail. This one was deeper, leaving creases in the hardwood where it had been pounded into the frame, and he struggled to get even a tiny piece of his knife blade underneath.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud overhead and he froze before closing the pocketknife and shoving it into his jeans pocket. Then he dashed back to the front of the room and grabbed the paper and pen. He peered out the door, but saw no sign of Danae. Then a second thud echoed across the entry from above, letting him know someone was moving around upstairs.

Surely it was Danae working upstairs. He started to run back to the window to finish up but hesitated. Seconds later, Danae rushed into the entry from the kitchen hallway, her eyes wide.