Back at home, Jean-Luc paced the hallway outside the kitchen. Never again. No matter how much Heather pleaded with her pretty green eyes, he was not taking her on another hunt. Not when Lui was leaving dead bodies behind.
Merde. There’d been too much blood on the wall. The smell of it had been so powerful, he hadn’t sensed the dead body on the floor.
Heather rushed down the backstairs. Her face was still pale, and her gaze flitted about nervously.
“Are they all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Bethany’s asleep, and Fidelia’s reading. She could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Heather strode into the kitchen, and Jean-Luc followed her. “I don’t even want to think about it.” She washed her hands in the sink, then wrung them dry with a towel. “It was so awful.”
“I shouldn’t have let you go.” He poured her a glass of water. “Here.
Unless you want something stronger.”
“This is fine.” She gulped down half the glass. “Fidelia was right. Louie was hiding there in the cellar.”
“Oui. But he’s moved on now, and we don’t know where.”
“Poor Mrs. Bolton.” Heather shuddered. “I don’t understand. Why would she let a creepy killer stay in her basement? Was he threatening her or tricking her somehow?”
Jean-Luc frowned. He would have to divulge some information. “Lui was probably controlling her. He’s adept at manipulating minds.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Then Fidelia was right again. He’s psychic.” “Yes. He uses people and then discards them.” With a gulp, Jean-Luc
realized it was time to tell her more. If he wanted their relationship to develop and last, and he did, then he needed to be honest with her. His heart raced. What if she rejected him? He would have to be very careful. He couldn’t let her run away and face Lui alone.
She sighed. “I know Robby has already called Billy, but I dread talking to him. I don’t want to relive that horrible scene all over again.” She turned on the faucet and rinsed her hands once more.
“Heather.” He turned the water off. “You can’t wash it away.”
Her eyes glistened with tears, and her hands shook as she dried them. “I’m trying to be brave, but I keep remembering her body. I just want it all to go away.”
The kitchen door cracked open, and Robby peered inside. “The sheriff’s outside.”
Heather waited on the front steps, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Billy was still in his squad car, taking his time. He thumbed through a notepad.
Then he selected a new toothpick from a plastic dispenser.
She groaned, closing her eyes briefly.
“It’s all right,” Jean-Luc whispered beside her. “The sheriff is claiming control of the situation by making us wait.”
She clenched her fists to keep her hands from fidgeting. She could no longer doubt that Louie was a killer. He had no regard for human life whatsoever.
Robby positioned himself on the other side of her. “We’ll no’ let any harm come to you, lass.”
She was actually very fortunate. She had two macho men who would fight to the death to keep her safe. Not to mention the other guards and Fidelia. She wasn’t alone like poor Mrs. Bolton. The memory of her dead body sent another tremor down Heather’s spine.
Billy finally set his hat on his head and exited the car. “Good evening, folks.” He slammed the car door shut, then circled the squad car to stand in the middle of the driveway. “Now which one of you called about a dead
body?”
“That was me, Robby MacKay.”
Billy looked him over. “You’re a foreigner, too?”
“Aye, from Scotland. Have ye looked at the body yet?”
“I’ll ask the questions around here.” Billy removed his notepad and pencil from his pocket. “Now, where exactly is this dead body?” He glanced at Jean-Luc. “It’s not another squirrel, is it?”
“It’s Mrs. Bolton.” Heather glared at Billy. “She’s the curator at the Chicken Ranch Museum. You’ll find her…in the cellar.” Tears crowded her eyes as the gruesome image filled her mind.
“What were you doing at the Chicken Ranch, Heather?” Billy demanded.
She took a deep breath, willing the tears and the image away. “Fidelia sent us there. She had a vision.”
“We’ve been looking for the man who set fire to Heather’s house,”
Jean-Luc explained. “Fidelia thought he was hiding at the Chicken Ranch, so—”
“You went there?” Billy interrupted, his nostrils flaring. “You should have called me!”
“There was no way of knowing if Fidelia’s vision was correct,” Heather said.
“That doesn’t matter.” Billy stepped toward her, jabbing a finger in the air. “You don’t do your own investigation. You call me.” He glared at the two men flanking her. “If anything had happened to Heather, I’d hold you two accountable.”
“We are protecting her,” Jean-Luc said through gritted teeth. “That’s not your job.” Billy tossed his toothpick to the ground. “So
you’re saying the same guy who set Heather’s house on fire just killed Mrs. Bolton?”
“Aye,” Robby answered.
Billy made some notes on his pad. “Any idea who this guy is?”
“I don’t know his name, but he’s killed before,” Jean-Luc said. “In France.”
“Shit. Another foreigner.” Billy scowled at him. “How come the French police let this guy get away?”
Jean-Luc sighed. “No one knows who he is. He has threatened Heather, and we have sworn to pro—”
“Whoa!” Billy held up a hand. “Heather, if you’re on his hit list, I need to take you immediately into protective custody.”
“And where would you put me and Bethany?” Heather asked. “You’re not equipped for this sort of thing.”
“I’ll think of something,” Billy said. “There’s always the jailhouse.” “No!” Heather grimaced. “I’m not putting Bethany in jail. We’re safe
here.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about that? Looks to me like your problems started when you met Mr. Sharp.”
“I have five guards, including Robby, and an excellent alarm system,” Jean-Luc declared. “I can keep Heather and her family safe.”
Billy glowered at him, then turned to Heather. “Is that what you want?
You want to trust this foreigner with your life?”
“Yes.” Heather felt amazed that she’d answered so easily. Even though there were things she didn’t know about Jean-Luc, she really did trust him. She glanced at him and saw the relief on his face.
“I need to talk to you alone.” Billy retreated to his squad car and waited for her to join him.
She descended the steps and crossed the driveway. “What is it?”
He glanced back at Robby and Jean-Luc and lowered his voice. “You’ve only known them a few days. Are you sure you can trust them?”
“Yes.”
Billy gave her a dubious look. “I’m not sure you’re thinking clearly. Are you here of your own free will? You’re not being coerced in any way?”
“No. I truly believe this is the safest place for Bethany and me.” Billy frowned. “Well, that Frog is watching you like a hawk.”
Heather glanced back. Jean-Luc was watching them intently. “He cares about me.”
“There’s something about him I don’t trust.”
“Billy, you don’t trust any foreigners. In fact, you don’t like anyone who isn’t a native-born Texan.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true.” He turned to a fresh sheet of paper in his notepad. “I’m gonna give you my private cell phone number. You can call anytime night or day, and I’ll come running.”
“Okay.” She accepted the paper.
“I’m serious, Heather. I let you down before. I won’t do it again.” Tears returned to her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I’ve gotta go check out this dead body, but I’ll come back later with more questions.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy.”
“Thanks.” Heather turned back to the house while Billy circled his squad car. By the time she reached the porch, his car was peeling away.
“Are you all right?” Jean-Luc touched her elbow as he escorted her back into the foyer.
“I’m tired.” Heather rubbed her eyes. “But I’m too nervous to sleep, and Billy might come back with more questions.”
“Would you like to see my office? We could be alone there to talk.”
Talk? He’d end up kissing her again, and as lovely as that sounded, she didn’t want to throw herself at him to take her mind off a dead body. “No,
not tonight. I—I’d like to be alone for a while. I think I’ll get some work done.” She headed for the design studio.
“I’ll let you in.” He walked beside her. “Heather, I don’t want you to feel…trapped here. I know this is the safest place for you, but if you wish to leave…”
She touched his arm. “I’m staying here.” “Good.”
She wondered if he’d overheard her conversation with Billy. If so, he had excellent hearing.
He punched the keypad and opened the door for her. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. And Robby’s in the security office.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you.”
With a sad look, he touched her cheek, then walked away.
Heather meandered to the worktable and looked over her sketches. She took a few deep breaths and tried to push all the wretched memories away. For just a little while, she needed to escape. She needed to create something beautiful.
She selected the design she wanted to make first and the fabric, a royal- blue silk chiffon. Then she went to work making the pattern. After a few hours, she had one she was happy with. She cut out the material.
“Mrs. Westfield?” Robby peeked in the door. “Yer daughter just came down the stairs. Jean-Luc took her into the kitchen. I thought ye’d like to know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Heather rushed into the hallway and accompanied Robby across the showroom.
“I saw her pass by the camera outside Jean-Luc’s office,” Robby explained. “I called him, and he helped her down the stairs and into the
kitchen. I hope ye doona mind.”
“No, not at all. I’m glad someone was awake to take care of her.” “If ye need me, I’ll be in here.” Robby let himself into the security
office.
“Good night.” Heather continued on to the kitchen and eased open the door silently. She heard Bethany’s voice.
“I’ll be Barbie, and you can be the crocodile.” “Very well,” Jean-Luc answered quietly. “What’s he doing?” Bethany asked.
“He’s bowing. ‘Good day, milady.’” Bethany giggled. “Crocodiles don’t bow.” “They should when they meet a princess.”
Bethany laughed some more. “You bow like that when you see me.”
“Because you’re a princess. This house didn’t have a princess till you came.”
Heather’s heart expanded. What a sweet thing to say.
“I know!” Bethany sounded excited. “Let’s pretend I’m the princess, and the crocodile is a frog.”
“Ribbit,” Jean-Luc croaked.
Bethany burst into giggles. Heather smiled to herself.
“And then the princess kisses the frog.” Bethany made a loud smacking noise. “And he turns into a prince. And now, they’re in love forever.”
There was a pause, and Heather waited to hear what Jean-Luc would say next.
His voice sounded low and tense. “Can the fair maiden love him when he’s…an ugly creature?”
Heather almost yelled yes. But surely Jean-Luc wasn’t referring to himself? He wasn’t a creature. He was gorgeous and sweet. The most
perfect man she’d ever met. There was no point in denying it any longer. She was falling in love with him.
“I think so,” Bethany answered seriously. “Princess Fiona fell in love with Shrek, and he’s a green ogre.”
Heather beamed with pride over her brilliant daughter. “I haven’t heard of this Shrek,” Jean-Luc said.
“You don’t know Shrek?” Bethany sounded amazed. “I have it at home.
You can watch it with me.”
“I would like that,” Jean-Luc replied.
Heather closed the door with a thud. “Hello?” She walked through the sitting area and spotted them at the kitchen table.
“Mama!” Bethany leaped toward her. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed with me.”
“I’m sorry.” She knelt to hug her daughter. “I was working late.”
Jean-Luc stood. “I gave her some milk and cookies. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No.” She smiled at him. “You’re a sweetheart.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glimmered with emotion.
And yet he seemed to be at a loss for words. Heather’s heart filled with love and longing.
The door opened behind them, and Robby spoke, “The sheriff is back.
He wants to interview us each separately.”
“I’ll go first.” Jean-Luc headed for the door.
“Come, sweetie.” Heather ushered her daughter to the door, too. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
She led Bethany to their bedroom and read a book to her until she fell asleep. Heather glanced at the clock. A little after three A.M. Good Lord, this night was endless. Yawning, she descended the stairs and found Billy waiting for her. After thirty minutes of questioning, he was done, and Robby escorted him from the building.
With a sigh, Heather headed back to the stairs. Finally, she’d get some sleep.
She heard music and stopped to listen. Classical music. She eased toward the cellar door and pressed her ear against it. A piano and harpsichord.
“Can I help you?” Robby sauntered toward her.
“I was just going to bed. Good night.” She dashed up the backstairs to her bedroom.
Why were so many people in the cellar, when she and her family were locked out? What was Jean-Luc hiding? A spurt of anger gripped her. She was trusting him with her life and with the lives of Bethany and Fidelia.
Why couldn’t he trust her?
She knew she was falling in love with him. If they were going to have a successful relationship, there couldn’t be secrets between them. And if he wasn’t going to divulge his secrets, she would discover them on her own.
Nothing would stop her. Especially not fear.
