“Are you staying at the house?”
“No, a local inn. The thought of spending the night here, knowing there had been a body concealed downstairs all these years, was just too creepy. Got to go, Mom. Love you. Bye.”
“Good-bye, dear. I love you, too.”
It was true, Lucy thought, ending the call. She loved her mother, and her mother loved her. The same was true of her relationship with her father. Their version of family would never be the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting, but still, it was a family.
She wanted something different for herself, though, something more glued-together. But she was not a romantic at heart. She knew the risks and the lousy statistics all too well. She was commitment-shy for a reason.
She went to the bed and dropped the phone into her tote. She had not discussed her suspicions about Sara’s and Mary’s death with her mother or her father for a very good reason. Both would have been seriously alarmed. There would have been long lectures on the phone. She could hear her father now: Leave that sort of thing to the police.
One thing you learned as an adult was that it was not necessary to tell your parents every little detail of your life.
She opened a few more drawers, assessing the contents. When she was finished, she walked out into the hall and entered the second bedroom, the one that she had used when she had stayed with Sara.
She opened another closet door. The sight of the jumbled pile of storage boxes and old clothes told her all she needed to know. It was not her imagination.
Her phone chirped.
She went back into the other room and got her cell out of the tote. She was in the process of deleting two more messages from the matchmaking agency when the device rang. She glanced at the screen. Mason.
“Good timing,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”
“Why?” he asked.
Just like that he had gone into cop mode, she realized.
“We really need to work on your phone etiquette,” she said. “For the record, it’s best not to treat a perfectly normal conversation as an interrogation.”
“What the hell is wrong?”
She abandoned the attempt to instruct him in proper phone manners. “I’m at Sara’s house.” She heard a car pull into the driveway. “Hang on, there’s someone here.”
“Try to focus, damn it.”
“I’m focusing on whoever just arrived.” She went to the window and watched a black luxury sedan glide to a halt in front of the house. A familiar figure climbed out. He had a computer case in one hand. “It’s Nolan Kelly. Got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Wait,” Mason ordered. “Do not hang up on me. Why were you trying to get hold of me?”
“Please do not hang up on me,” she said.
“Lucy, I swear—”
Lucy went out into the hall and started down the stairs.
“I came here today to get a better idea of how much stuff I’m going to have to pack up before I put the house on the market,” she said. She reached the foot of the stairs and walked quickly toward the front door. “First, you should know that although Aunt Sara rarely threw anything away, she was a very orderly person. She did not just toss things into the closets or drawers.
“What are you getting at?” Mason said.
“I spent my first night in town here at the house. I opened a few closets and drawers. Everything inside was neatly arranged in typical Sara style. But today the clothes and the storage boxes look like someone went through them in a hurry.”
“You’re saying you think someone searched the house?” Mason’s voice went dangerously flat.
“Yes. It must have happened last night while we were at the winery party.”
“What the hell would the intruder be looking for?”
“I have no idea. All I can tell you is that it doesn’t look like anything was stolen. I’ll get back to you when I finish talking to Nolan.”
She ended the call before Mason could order her not to hang up again. Nolan was crossing the porch, preparing to ring the bell. She opened the front door.
“Hi, Lucy.” Nolan’s smile was warm and friendly, but it did not quite cancel out the slight sheen of anxiety in his eyes. “I thought we could take a look at some comps.”
“Come on in, Nolan,” she said. “We can talk in the kitchen.”
19
Mason clipped the phone to his belt and moved out from behind the counter. He went down an aisle framed by ranks of gleaming nails and screws on one side and an assortment of plumbing fixtures on the opposite side, heading for the front door.
“Got to go, Deke,” he called over his shoulder.
Deke emerged from the back room. “Where the hell are you off to in such a damn rush?”
“Sara’s house. Lucy says she thinks someone searched the place last night.”
“Son of a—” Deke stopped. He looked more puzzled than alarmed. “Why would anyone do that?”
“An interesting question, in light of the theory that the Scorecard Rapist may have had an accomplice who would now have some concerns about a reopened investigation.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.” Mason opened the door. “All I know is that I don’t want Lucy alone with anyone who is even remotely connected to this case, and right now she’s alone with Nolan Kelly.”
“Kelly’s a realtor. All he’ll want is the listing.”
“Let me rephrase that. I don’t want Lucy alone with anyone who was at the party at the Harper Ranch thirteen years ago. Kelly was there that night. He was one of the regulars in Brinker’s circle.”
Mason went through the doorway into the warm sunlight. He didn’t realize that Joe had followed him until he was halfway down the street. He looked down at the dog trotting close at his heels.
“You want to come along?” he said. “Fine. But don’t go for Kelly’s throat unless I give the okay. Understood?”
Joe looked at him briefly as if to say, Give me a break. I know my job.
A middle-aged woman came toward them on the sidewalk. She had a small, fluffy white dog on a pink leash. Her eyes widened in horror when she spotted Joe. She snatched up her little dog and tucked it under her arm out of harm’s way.
Safe on its high perch, the small dog yapped at Joe, who paid no attention.
“Summer River has a leash ordinance,” the woman announced to Mason. “All dogs in town are supposed to be on a leash.”
She pointed to a nearby sign emblazoned with the silhouette of a dog on a leash.