Return To Stony Ridge. Dani Sinclair
once tonight and he wasn’t going to apologize for taking it away.
Who was she working for? Why keep her client’s identity a secret unless she was helping the husband? But R.J. couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was. There had been an intensity in her voiced dislike of Lester Boyington that rang true.
Unless she was a good actress, simply pretending.
After making up the couch, R.J. tidied the room, filled and set the automatic coffeepot to drip at the usual hour and added wood to the fire. He was too tired to puzzle out the mystery of his strange houseguest tonight.
Lucky sprawled outside the bathroom door waiting for her. R.J. had a hunch she wouldn’t come out until she heard him go back up the stairs.
“Guard her, Lucky,” he told the dog loudly enough for her to hear if she was listening.
Lucky’s stubby tail whomped the floor. Teri didn’t know it yet, but her biggest danger was in being licked to death.
It was going to be a very long night.
Chapter Three
Morning brought a thick layer of fog and an uneasy truce. R.J. hadn’t expected to sleep at all, let alone so deeply, but the stresses of the day before had taken their toll and he’d awoken at his normal time, surprised that Lucky wasn’t there nudging him awake.
At least she hadn’t murdered him in his bed.
Despite the early hour, she was dressed again in her own clothes when he got downstairs and Lucky was barking to be let back inside. He fed the dog while Teri poured coffee for them both. She diluted hers with plenty of milk and sugar, he noted.
“Have a seat while I make us some eggs,” he told her. “Scrambled, okay? With cheese? I’ve tried doing them over easy but they usually end up scrambled anyway.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.” Her stomach growled loudly in protest.
R.J. raised his eyebrows, noting the way her blush gave her high cheekbones a delicate pink stain. She really was quite attractive. He wondered what she’d look like in something other than black.
Though obviously embarrassed, she held his gaze. “I didn’t have dinner last night. Scrambled eggs would taste great.”
He wanted to smile but didn’t. “I’ve got precooked bacon strips, too. They aren’t as good as the real deal, but I don’t have much time most mornings.”
“That’s okay. Eggs are more than enough. What can I do to help?”
“How are you at toast?”
“Depends on the toaster.”
“Not the domestic sort, huh?”
“There are restaurants for a reason, you know.”
He didn’t want to like her, but she made it difficult. He found his guard slipping as they prepared breakfast with the deft ease of people who had done so together more than once. The domesticity of the scene unsettled him. R.J. was fully conscious of her on several levels, and that alone was disturbing. Letting himself be attracted to her wasn’t smart. He needed to keep in mind that the woman was here with an agenda.
“Where’s the army that’s going to help us eat all this?” she asked, watching him stir the grated cheese into a huge mound of eggs in the frying pan.
“I work construction. I protein and carbo-load most mornings. You should see what I have for lunch.”
Her lips quirked. “Pass.”
“You one of those women who diet all the time?”
“No.”
That had struck an unexpected nerve. Her flat tone and severe expression left him wondering, but then he should have known better than to mention the D word to a woman.
She set silverware on his small table, poured them each a glass of apple juice and, at his request, buttered several slices of toast.
“Are you always this domestic?” she asked as they sat down together.
“Not much choice if I want to eat. You’ll have noticed there aren’t a lot of restaurants nearby.”
Lucky plopped on the floor between them with his usual wistful expression.
“Your dish is over there,” R.J. reminded him. But he broke off a slice of bacon and tossed it to the dog. For a second, he thought Teri was going to scold him, but she reconsidered and started eating.
For someone who didn’t eat breakfast, she made hearty inroads on the food he’d put in front of her, including the bacon strips. She could stand to gain a few pounds, though he wouldn’t have told her so under torture.
She was a little too thin, if generously proportioned. Her dark red hair floated around a pinched face that still showed lines of strain. She’d made an effort to restrain the silken mass of her hair, but his bathroom wasn’t well equipped for unexpected guests. Probably because he rarely had any. At least the smudges beneath her impossibly green eyes weren’t as dark as they had been last night, but the sliding glances she kept sending his way were still wary.
Fine with him. R.J. didn’t trust her, either.
“Sleep okay?”
Startled, she looked up. “Yes. Thank you. But your dog licked me awake before the crack of dawn. He made it clear he wanted out, so I turned him loose. Hope that was okay.”
“Absolutely. I appreciate it. Lucky’s a dog of simple needs, but he does think people are here to serve.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if you ever run out of sandpaper, I’m sure his tongue could fill in for you in a pinch.”
R.J.’s lips curved. The persistent tug of sensual awareness annoyed him. He decided it had been too long since his last date and finished his meal quickly, anxious to clear his driveway and get her car out of the mud. He’d be glad to send her on her way. The thing was, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy.
He was right.
“Do you think we could make a fresh start this morning?” she asked over a forkful of eggs.
“In what way?”
“Tell me everything you know about the night Valerie disappeared.”
His fingers tightened around his coffee mug. He took a swallow to buy some time. He couldn’t see any reason not to share the small amount of information he had. He’d already told her most of it anyhow.
“According to Kathy Walsh—she’s the house mother, I guess you’d call her. Anyhow, according to Kathy, Valerie went to her room shortly before eleven. In the morning, she was gone. Her son and her clothes and her car were still there. Even her purse. She wasn’t.”
He found he was gripping the cup tightly enough to snap the handle and set it down. Teri’s expression was equally bleak.
“No one heard a thing. The house alarm was still armed for the night. All the doors and windows were locked. One of the kids heard her son crying that morning and Kathy went up to check on them.”
A flash of sympathy, almost pain, came and went in her expressive, too green eyes.
“The chief of police is a friend of mine. Wyatt’s wife is the founder of the shelter so he was called in right away. He discovered the broken cell phone in back by the fountain,” he went on more calmly. “Wyatt thinks it belonged to Valerie, but he’s checking to confirm that. He came to see me right after he found the phone.”
“Why?”
There was no need to tell her how Wyatt had questioned him about R.J.’s argument with Valerie the evening she disappeared. Wyatt had only been doing his job. And quite possibly that argument was responsible for her disappearance. If he hadn’t pressured her to talk to Wyatt and press