They both knew the Hamiltons were way out of his financial league.
Quickly able to determine that Anne wasn’t in the cellar, they climbed the stairs and headed out of the garage.
“Are there any other places in the house you haven’t looked?” he asked. “A basement or safe room?”
Payton gave a shake of her head, shivering as the raindrops ran down her pale face.
“I looked everywhere. The pantry, all the bathrooms.” She gave a helpless lift of her hands. “Even the gym.”
Mike nodded. He didn’t doubt that Payton had done a thorough search. But he had an important task to accomplish before he was ready to leave.
“I’d like to see her rooms.”
For the first time since his arrival Payton hesitated, glancing toward the house with an unreadable expression. Then, she visibly squared her shoulders.
“Okay, we’ll use the servant’s entrance,” she told him, heading toward the door next to the back veranda.
He released a harsh laugh. “Ashamed to be seen with me, darling?”
She said something beneath her breath. It contained the word “ass,” but he didn’t think it was a compliment on his very fine backside.
“Mother didn’t want me to contact the authorities,” she said loud enough for him to hear.
“Why not?”
Payton pulled open the door and entered the small foyer. To the left was the old-fashioned butler’s pantry and to the right was a narrow flight of stairs.
“She doesn’t want any gossip until we’re sure Anne is missing.”
“Predictable,” Mike growled as he climbed the steps.
He made no pretense that he was fond of Loreen Hamilton. In fact, he’d called her a cold, selfish bitch more than once.
What sort of mother allowed her oldest daughter to be raised by her former in-laws just so she could marry a rich businessman and start a new family?
And Mike didn’t doubt for a minute that Loreen had put pressure on Payton to dump Mike so she could find a more suitable partner.
Reaching the second-floor landing, Payton pushed open the closest door and Mike stepped into a small sitting room.
He walked past the brocade love seat and the matching chair that were set near the window that had a view of the pool. The only other furniture was a wooden bookshelf filled with worn paperbacks.
There was an austerity to the room that he sensed came from the woman who lived there rather than any rules or regulations from her employers. He would guess that Anne Dixon was a woman who disliked clutter.
He moved into the bedroom, taking note of the black dress lying on the handmade quilt and the shoes set neatly near the door. He glanced into the small closet. There were two more black uniforms and a half-dozen velour jogging suits. He grimaced. He didn’t know women still wore those things.
Turning away, he walked toward the small chair in the corner. A purse. It was possible, of course, that Anne had more than one, but she was too tidy to leave the spare one sitting around. It would be neatly tucked in the closet with her other belongings.
He continued into the attached bathroom, once again struck by the lack of clutter. The woman lived like a nun. After he pulled open the medicine cabinet above the sink, his lips tightened. There was a long, narrow, plastic container with the days of the week marked on top. A medicine organizer. And today’s dose hadn’t been taken.
The woman might have left without a note. And maybe even without her purse.
But she wouldn’t take off without her medicine.
Reaching beneath his jacket, he pulled out a clear bag so he could collect Anne’s brush, which had several strands of hair caught in the bristles.
“What are you doing?” Payton asked, watching as he tucked the bag in his pocket.
“I want her DNA.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You think something’s happened to her,” she said. “Something bad.”
He held her gaze. “Don’t you?”
There was a brief hesitation before she gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
Mike barely resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. It wasn’t his duty to comfort this woman. She’d made that painfully clear.
Abruptly pivoting on his heel, he walked quickly out of Anne’s rooms. He didn’t have time to be distracted.
Once Payton joined him in the hallway, he nodded toward the door she was pulling shut.
“I want the rooms kept locked,” he said. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah.” Her expression was grim. “There’s a spare key in the kitchen.”
About to head down the stairs, he glanced back at his companion.
“Is your father home?”
She looked predictably confused. “No, he’s in St. Louis today. He’ll fly home tonight.”
“The six o’clock flight?”
“Yes. Why?”
He shrugged. He wasn’t about to share the fact that Jaci had seen him on the isolated road to her house.
“I might have a few questions for him,” he said, making a mental note to drive to the small airport north of Baldwin that provided commuter flights to St. Louis.
He intended to see for himself if Blake Hamilton got off the plane.
“I can have him give you a call when he gets home,” Payton said, remaining close behind him as they climbed down the stairs.
“I can wait,” he assured her. “At least for now.”
He moved across the foyer. He needed to get back to his office and start calling in a few favors.
“You’ll let me know if you find Anne?” Payton asked, halting at the door as he stepped onto the veranda.
“Of course,” he promised. “Call me if you see or hear anything unusual.”
“I will.”
He paused to send her a warning glance. “And, Payton.”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Eagerness blasted through him as he made his way to his hidden cabin deep in the woods. Not a normal eagerness. He’d understood from a very early age that his excitement was different from others’. It wasn’t just a sense of anticipation. But a living, breathing force that curled through him and consumed his every thought.
He’d barely been able to contain his impatience as he’d gone about his business throughout the afternoon. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to be in this private hideout, he couldn’t just drop everything. Especially not when his every movement was under constant scrutiny.
Small towns could be a pain in the ass. Everyone had to shove their noses into everyone else’s business.
Then again, they did have their advantages.
Most citizens of Heron were blessedly gullible.
Not one of them could imagine that an upstanding citizen in their community might be a cold-blooded killer. It made it far easier to hide in plain sight.
Simpleminded yokels.
Pausing to enter the code into the keypad, he shoved open the door and stepped into the pathologically clean room.
At a glance it looked like a small hunting lodge. Paneled walls, a flagstone floor, and open-beam ceiling. There was a small kitchenette in one corner and a leather couch and chair set near a stone fireplace in the opposite corner. Nothing to make anyone look twice. Which was, of course, the point.
Ensuring the door was locked, he did a thorough sweep, including the tiny bedroom. He went to his knees to look under the bed despite the knowledge no one could fit beneath the narrow cot. And then behind the door of the bathroom, which was nothing more than a toilet and sink.
Even then he wasn’t satisfied. He made several circles through the cabin, checking the tiny pieces of tape that were attached to the windows. If someone had entered, they would be broken.
Meticulous care. Attention to detail. Self-discipline.
Those were the keys to every success.
At last convinced that no one had been snooping around, he pulled a small remote from his pocket and aimed it at what looked like
a blank wall. With smooth efficiency a section of the paneling parted, revealing three flat-screen monitors.
Anticipation licked through him. Still he forced himself to wait until he was settled on the couch before he once again lifted his remote. With a faint click the monitors powered on.
Chapter Eight
It was late afternoon before Rylan returned Jaci to her farm.
They’d driven thirty miles to Quincy, Illinois, a town across the river that was large enough to provide stores that carried the equipment he needed to set up a security system. Not that he could find the sort of sophisticated electronics that he was used to working with, but he could at least get the cameras up and running until his partner in California could send the upgrades he’d requested while Jaci had been showering.
He’d also insisted they stop to eat lunch. She’d chosen a chain establishment, insisting that she couldn’t waste time at one of the fancier restaurants. Rylan wasn’t convinced that was the reason.
He had a feeling that she was trying to keep him at a firm distance.
He understood why. He’d hurt her in the past. But he didn’t like it.
Once they’d returned to her home, Rylan shoved aside his annoyance and concentrated on setting up the small wireless cameras. He placed the first one to monitor the front porch. No one would be able to climb the steps without being caught on camera. The second he placed at the back door. And the third he attached to the side of the house to capture anyone who pulled into the driveway.
He was currently installing the fourth camera inside the garage Jaci used as a workroom.
Finished adjusting the bracket, he climbed down the ladder and stood back. From his angle it was impossible to see the camera. Which was precisely what he wanted.
Jaci moved to stand at his side, giving a shake of her head.
“When you said security system, I thought you meant a camera, not an entire production studio.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t mention the fact that he had a box of cameras coming from his partner. The local stores didn’t carry wireless equipment that was capable of monitoring from more than a few hundred feet. Once he had the long-range cameras he intended to install them around the entire farm.
“Trust me.”
“You keep saying that.”
He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over her pale face.
In the gathering dusk he could make out the tension in her delicate features and the shadows beneath her eyes. She’d endured a severe shock, but she was facing her fears squarely. Just as she’d done all those years ago, although he’d been too selfish at the time to realize her courage.
Now he felt a near overwhelming urge to wrap her in his arms and assure her that everything was going to be okay.
“You create art with pastry,” he forced himself to say in light tones. She was clearly wary of him. He wasn’t going to risk pushing her away when she needed him the most. He nodded his head toward the hidden camera. “This is my area of expertise.”
She arched a brow. “You install security systems?”
“I did when I was in college. My job at the sheriff’s office was only part-time, so I made some extra bucks by doing local installations for a security firm out of Kansas City. That’s how Griff and I met,” he said, not ashamed of their humble beginnings. After college he’d expected to work for the FBI. That had been his plan from the time he was very young. But instead, he’d met Griffin Archer, who’d convinced him to take a chance and start their own business. “I would install the system while Griff took care of all the technical aspects.”
She moved to straighten a shelf filled with bolts of fabric that didn’t need to be straightened.
“What do you do now?” she asked in overly casual tones.
He studied her very fine backside, a small smile playing about his lips. She didn’t want him to think she was actually curious about him.
“We’ve created new software that helps DHS and the FBI anticipate cyber-attacks before they happen.”
“Wow,” she breathed, although she continued her unnecessary work.
“That’s nothing,” Rylan continued, unable to resist the urge to brag. Weird, considering that he never, ever discussed his business outside the office. “We’ve just become consultants with a company that’s designing a method to use DNA to create a facial composite that the police can use to identify the perp.”
She slowly turned, her expression difficult to read. “Elmer said you had a successful career, although he never shared any details. He said it was top secret.”
“Did he make me sound mysterious and dashing like James Bond?” he asked.
“I’ve never been a James Bond fan.” She wrinkled her nose. “Give me Mr. Darcy any day.”
Rylan pressed a hand to his heart in mock horror. “Sacrilege.”
They shared a brief moment of humor before she was abruptly moving to the long, wooden table in the center of the garage.
“He’s very proud of you,” she said.
Rylan had never doubted for a second that his father was proud of him. The older man had been Rylan’s most loyal supporter, never once trying to make him feel guilty for choosing a different path than becoming a farmer.
In fact, Elmer had only had one complaint over the years.
“All he does is whine that I’m never home,” he said in teasing tones.
“He misses you,” she said.
“I miss him too,” he admitted. He hadn’t realized how much until he’d returned home for more than a weekend visit. His gaze rested on her profile. “I miss a lot of things.”
She sent him an incredulous gaze. “Really?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I remember you telling me you couldn’t wait to shake the dirt of Heron from your feet.”
He grimaced as she threw his words back in his face. Christ. Did she remember every stupid thing he’d said?
“I was young.”
“And arrogant,” she helpfully added.
“We’ve already established that.”
There was a short pause before she at last asked the question that he’d suspected was trembling on her lips.
“So why were you so anxious to leave?”
He leaned his hip against the table, watching as she aimlessly stroked a finger over a frame made from weathered wood.
“A part of me was afraid that I would be trapped into taking over the farm,” he slowly admitted.
She sent him a puzzled glance. “Trapped?”
He shrugged. Looking back, it was easy to see that his own sense of guilt had made him act like a jerk. It hadn’t been easy to break a family tradition that’d lasted four generations.
“It was expected from the day I was born. My great-great-grandfather bought the land here over a hundred years ago. It’s been passed down through the family ever since.” He gave a short laugh. “A part of me wasn’t sure it was possible for a Cooper to actually walk away.”
She rolled her eyes. “I doubt your father would have locked you in the barn.”
“No, but he was subtly putting pressure on me to start taking more of an interest in the family business.”
She frowned. Was she surprised by his honesty?
“You said that was part of the reason,” she at last reminded him. “What was the other part?”
“Like any young man, I wanted to see the world,” he said, feeling a pang of wistfulness as he recalled the hours he spent glancing through travel brochures at the local library. “Meet new people.”
“Ah yes.” Her lips twisted. “I’ve seen the people you’ve met.”
He didn’t miss the hint of mockery in her voice. “What’s that mean?”
“Your father showed me pictures of you in your fancy condo with a pretty bauble hanging on your arm.”
His brows arched. He knew what picture his father had been showing around town. It’d been taken for a life and style magazine. The photographer had insisted that Rylan’
s current girlfriend be included in the photo shoot. He hadn’t blamed the man. Jillian was a stunning woman who added a gloss of glamour that he was lacking.
“Bauble?” he teased. “Are you referring to a woman?”
Her eyes widened, a blush touching her cheeks. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice. I’m sure she’s a lovely person,” she said, her voice sincere. “And your condo is gorgeous. I can’t imagine how wonderful it must be to own a home with such a fabulous view of the beach. You’ve created a remarkable life for yourself.”
Her words weren’t profound. Except they were.
When he’d been young, he hadn’t entirely known why he kept Jaci at a distance. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to hurt her.
Now he knew why.
This was the sort of woman who urged a man to put down roots. She was warmth and kindness and solid earthiness that spoke of home.
Jaci was a woman whom a man wanted as a wife and a mother of his children.
So he’d pushed her away and fled to what he thought he wanted.
“As my father recently told me, paradise can sometimes be tedious,” he said.
“Hmm.”
He didn’t try to press the point. He was still trying to figure out why the need to return to California wasn’t nearly as pressing as it should be.
“What about you?” He deliberately turned the attention away from himself.
“Me?”
“You left for, what?” He did a quick calculation. “Six or seven years?”
She wrinkled her nose. “My grandfather insisted. He was afraid I would stay to help with the farm because I felt obligated to take care of him.”
Lloyd Patterson had been a wise man.
And he’d known his granddaughter’s sense of loyalty all too well.
“Isn’t that exactly what you would have done?” he asked.
She hunched a shoulder. “Of course. They didn’t have to take me in. I would have done anything to make life easier for them, especially when it was obvious my grandfather could no longer continue to keep up this place.”
“They took you in because they loved you,” he reminded her. “And they always wanted what was best for you.”
“I know.” An unexpected smile curved her lips. “And I’ll admit that I enjoyed college. Sometimes more than I should have.”
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