afternoon. Sleek red-brown hair in a
stylish-looking knot, vivid, compelling face, and smoky, mysterious eyes that probably held
some interesting secrets. And a very strange taste in clothes. If he recalled his kindergarten
painting lessons properly, that shade of acid green wasn't supposed to go with that purple
color. There were rules about these things. At least there had been back in kindergarten.
Something told him that Zoe had probably never stuck to coloring between the lines. But,
then, neither had he.
He knew that he should definitely not be thinking about her in such personal terms. She was a
client, and long ago he had learned the hard way not to date clients. Besides, she would
probably clash against the pink interiors of Nightwinds.
He climbed the steps, crossed the front entry with its pastel pink stone pillars, and let himself
into the flamingo pink hallway.
In fairness, the interior of the house was not one hundred percent pink. There was a lot of gilt
work and some white wooden molding. The giant leaves of the huge, deep pink orchids woven
into the carpeting were green.
Switching on lights as he went, he made his way through the sprawling house to one of the
rooms overlooking the gardens and the shallow canyon beyond.
He wove a path through the boxes of books that he had not yet had time to unpack and sat
down at the grand gilt-and-pink desk near the window. Switching on the laptop, he opened a
drawer to retrieve the notes he had made when he had interviewed Zoe Luce that afternoon.
He started with the usual online information resources. If all went well, it would take him
about ten minutes to locate Mrs. Jennifer Mason, just as he'd told Bonnie. Easy money and
Lord knew he needed it.
All did not go well.
There was no indication that Jennifer Mason had used her credit cards or written any checks
in the past few months. Intrigued, he went deeper.
He found no evidence that Jennifer Mason was involved in the process of obtaining a divorce
from Davis Mason. There was no sign that she had hired any of the local moving companies to
assist in relocating to another town or city.
Forty-five minutes later he sat back, stretched his legs out under the desk, shoved his hands
into his pockets, and contemplated the glowing screen.
Jennifer Mason had disappeared. He had a hunch Zoe Luce had already guessed as much
before she hired him to find the woman.
Chapter Six
Zoe picked up the desk phone on the first ring.
"Enhanced Interiors."
"You lied to me," Ethan said on the other end.
He made the accusation in a stunningly casual tone, as if he was accustomed to having
people lie to him. Maybe that was true, given his line of work, Zoe thought.
She went very still in her chair, staring unseeingly at the three framed black-and-white
photographs that hung on the opposite wall.
She had taken three photos of the fanciful old house steeped in the shadows of the desert
twilight. Later, she had tried to choose the most evocative shot but each had caught some
elusive element, and she had been unable to select just one. She had wound up framing all
three.
A client had noticed the photos hanging on the wall a few days later and had informed her
that the house was known locally as Nightwinds.
"Are you there?" Ethan asked.
Don't panic yet, she thought. Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds.
"Yes, of course," she said tonelessly. How much had he learned about her in the process of
searching for Jennifer Mason? Had he somehow stumbled onto the truth? Had he found a chink
in the firewall that had been erected between her past and her present? And what about
Arcadia? Oh, Lord, what if she had blown her friend's cover as well as her own? She had been
an idiot to hire a private investigator.
Get a grip, she told herself. Breathe. Think.
The new identities that she and Arcadia had purchased had been first class. Arcadia had
insisted on paying the huge amount of cash required to get the very best
stylish-looking knot, vivid, compelling face, and smoky, mysterious eyes that probably held
some interesting secrets. And a very strange taste in clothes. If he recalled his kindergarten
painting lessons properly, that shade of acid green wasn't supposed to go with that purple
color. There were rules about these things. At least there had been back in kindergarten.
Something told him that Zoe had probably never stuck to coloring between the lines. But,
then, neither had he.
He knew that he should definitely not be thinking about her in such personal terms. She was a
client, and long ago he had learned the hard way not to date clients. Besides, she would
probably clash against the pink interiors of Nightwinds.
He climbed the steps, crossed the front entry with its pastel pink stone pillars, and let himself
into the flamingo pink hallway.
In fairness, the interior of the house was not one hundred percent pink. There was a lot of gilt
work and some white wooden molding. The giant leaves of the huge, deep pink orchids woven
into the carpeting were green.
Switching on lights as he went, he made his way through the sprawling house to one of the
rooms overlooking the gardens and the shallow canyon beyond.
He wove a path through the boxes of books that he had not yet had time to unpack and sat
down at the grand gilt-and-pink desk near the window. Switching on the laptop, he opened a
drawer to retrieve the notes he had made when he had interviewed Zoe Luce that afternoon.
He started with the usual online information resources. If all went well, it would take him
about ten minutes to locate Mrs. Jennifer Mason, just as he'd told Bonnie. Easy money and
Lord knew he needed it.
All did not go well.
There was no indication that Jennifer Mason had used her credit cards or written any checks
in the past few months. Intrigued, he went deeper.
He found no evidence that Jennifer Mason was involved in the process of obtaining a divorce
from Davis Mason. There was no sign that she had hired any of the local moving companies to
assist in relocating to another town or city.
Forty-five minutes later he sat back, stretched his legs out under the desk, shoved his hands
into his pockets, and contemplated the glowing screen.
Jennifer Mason had disappeared. He had a hunch Zoe Luce had already guessed as much
before she hired him to find the woman.
Chapter Six
Zoe picked up the desk phone on the first ring.
"Enhanced Interiors."
"You lied to me," Ethan said on the other end.
He made the accusation in a stunningly casual tone, as if he was accustomed to having
people lie to him. Maybe that was true, given his line of work, Zoe thought.
She went very still in her chair, staring unseeingly at the three framed black-and-white
photographs that hung on the opposite wall.
She had taken three photos of the fanciful old house steeped in the shadows of the desert
twilight. Later, she had tried to choose the most evocative shot but each had caught some
elusive element, and she had been unable to select just one. She had wound up framing all
three.
A client had noticed the photos hanging on the wall a few days later and had informed her
that the house was known locally as Nightwinds.
"Are you there?" Ethan asked.
Don't panic yet, she thought. Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds.
"Yes, of course," she said tonelessly. How much had he learned about her in the process of
searching for Jennifer Mason? Had he somehow stumbled onto the truth? Had he found a chink
in the firewall that had been erected between her past and her present? And what about
Arcadia? Oh, Lord, what if she had blown her friend's cover as well as her own? She had been
an idiot to hire a private investigator.
Get a grip, she told herself. Breathe. Think.
The new identities that she and Arcadia had purchased had been first class. Arcadia had
insisted on paying the huge amount of cash required to get the very best
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