by Peggy Gaddis
“How long has this hole under the fence been here?” She tossed the question over her shoulder before standing straight again and letting herself out the back gate. On the other side of the fence she retrieved a dog collar and tags from the underside of a bush. “Looks like we’re getting warmer.”
By the time Jackson caught up with Lacey and Jason, he found the two rummaging through a row of garbage cans lined up in the alley between his condo and the neighboring duplex. Like a triumphant lawyer before a jury, Lacey held up two empty dog food cans. “I think we have a clue.” Her face shone with excitement.
“That doesn’t mean anything.” He scowled. Why is this crazy woman trying to lead on my poor nephew? “So the neighbors have a dog.”
“Snickers! Here boy!”
While Lacey called the dog’s name Jason began whistling. And Jackson couldn’t get the two of them back inside fast enough. “Stop that! Let’s go back inside. The neighbors will…”
“Yeah, that’s your problem. Too worried about the neighbors to do a thorough search for your nephew’s dog,” Lacey cracked and shot him a disdainful look.
“That’s not what I was going to say. You don’t know me or my neighbors. Don’t judge me.” Just as he was about to seize his nephew’s hand and lead him and this irksome woman back inside, Jackson stopped. “Listen.”
The distinct sound of dog barking came from inside one of the luxury duplexes.
“Snickers! I know it’s him!” Jason bounded for the front door.
A ring of the doorbell brought a white-haired woman to the door. From behind her feet and before she could so much as say hello, the midsize Labrador mix came at Jason, lavishing dog kisses with all the enthusiasm of a long-lost Lassie. Boy and dog became one tumble of wiggly fur, denim jeans, and laughter.
There could be no mistaking the dog’s ownership, and the woman surrendered him without a fight. “I found him wandering the alley and assumed he was a stray,” she offered. “He wasn’t wearing a collar. He’s a very nice dog. You’re a lucky boy.”
Back inside his home, Jackson tried to deny the sour feelings of having been one-upped by this hometown PI. How had he missed the signs? They were right in from him. But at least Jason had his dog back and all was well as he walked Lacey to the front door.
“So about your fee,” Jackson started, reaching for his checkbook.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lacey turned wide-eyed aghast on him and held up her hands. “I never intended for Jason to pay. I just wanted to help. I have a son his age and I’d like to think if he needed extra help someone would be there to offer it.”
Jackson put his checkbook down and turned on his charm. It was something familiar and a whole lot more comfortable than the odd mix of loathing and excitement churning in his gut. “At least let me take you and your husband to dinner.” He knew it was an obvious ploy, but he wanted to know if there was a Mr. Lacey.
“I’m widowed. My husband died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He rarely blushed but he could feel warmth rising to his cheeks. “I would still like to take you to dinner.”
She ignored his offer but stood planted at the front door. Once again seemingly drawn to a point inside herself, she worked her lower lip between her teeth. “You know, I’m stymied. Did you let Snickers out the morning he disappeared?”
“I’m sure I did, but I know I let him back in. It’s my routine and I don’t vary from it.”
Lacey smiled and nodded her head. “That’s what I’m sure of.”
Jackson felt a realization light in the pit of his stomach and burn its way up to his throat. “What are you getting at?”
“I think you know. You’re a professional, big-time PI. You tell me.” Her green eyes sparkled, taunting.
He rubbed his thumb against his chin. This was something that had slipped past him and it didn’t feel good. “You think someone let him out. You think someone deliberately enticed Snickers outside.”
“Bingo.”
“No bingo. You think you’re onto something but you’re wrong. There’s nothing here. Your imagination, wild and imaginative that it is, is wrong. You’re barking up the wrong tree.” His estimation of Lacey went up a few more notches, but he was not about to let her know. Protecting his privacy was imperative, a defense he’d become skilled at long ago, for good reason.
“Very funny. Nice joke. But suit yourself. My work is done.” Lacey offered a quick handshake before grabbing the doorknob and letting herself out.
Jackson followed, about to protest further. But her brisk steps told him she hadn’t forgotten about the dinner invitation and was giving him a clear answer—no thanks. It was better this way, he thought, though he couldn’t take his eyes off her slightly swaying hips as she walked to her car.
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This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 1960 by Arcadia House; renewed 1988 by Peggy Gaddis
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-7505-3
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7505-1
eISBN 10: 1-4405-7506-1
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7506-8
Cover art © istock.com/WhitneyLewisPhotography
