Page 9 of Lost and Found
“Uh-huh,” she managed, still hot-cheeked and so furious with herself that she could barely string two words together.
“Was breakfast better than dinner?” he asked.
“What?”
“Foie gras for dinner. Was breakfast better?”
“Oh, right.” This was Wes acting like an investigator. Making her feel more comfortable as he poked and prodded for details she skipped. Bailey used the same interview tactics and should have had her game face on, but instead she was mentally undressing Wes Wilder. “We had crepes. They were delicious.” She fidgeted with her skirt, praying that she could look up again without her cheeks flaming. Bailey cleared her throat and refocused like she was the queen of concentration. “Do you know what I’ve been wondering?”
“What?”
Concentrate. Focus. Ask the question that has been bothering you. “Why make the trash outside a mess but then lock my back door again?”
Wes nodded. “I had the same question.”
Of course he did. This was why she liked the way he worked. Not just the way he looked, but his brain. Wes was always wondering and willing to share his thoughts, when so many investigators she’d worked with over the years liked to hoard information. “Do you want to compare my thoughts to yours?”
He almost grinned as if recalling they used to ask each other that, but then remembered he didn’t care for her. Didn’t care for her was a polite version of his true thoughts, and remembering that would hopefully help her avoid accidentally mentally undressing him again. Not to mention, Bailey considered herself a professional. She needed to buckle down and act like it.
“Go for it,” he said.
“Whoever it was wanted to make sure I knew they were looking for something but also wanted to prove they could enter and leave without a problem.”
“Interesting take.”
“What’s yours?” she asked.
“I don’t have enough information for a fully formed opinion yet, but I agree. They can follow you, find you, be there, and disappear. Do you know if Dean’s working on the security code failure?”
“He already looked into it. And it wasn’t hacked or anything. Much simpler. They used the entry code. Disarmed and engaged the system through the same door.” Wes nodded and let the silence hang until she continued, “Nothing out of the ordinary was picked up on the front door camera.”
“Which means the person who broke in left on foot through the trees. Is that your take also?”
She nodded. “The police checked with my neighbors, but no one picked up anything on their front door cameras either.”
“Have you received any other similar threats?”
“Nothing that said, ‘stop asking questions.’”
“Then you have?”
Why did it feel like he was testing her, and she was failing? “Just bot messages and random internet warriors demanding that I leave the family alone. Ironic, since I am the family.”
“Is your inbox still as crazy as it was?” he asked.
She nodded and reached for a folder from the far end of the table. “As soon as I announced this was my next project, tips flooded in.”
“Anything helpful?”
She shoved the folder toward him. “No, but it hasn’t been very long. A few weeks. And I’m still going through them.”
His long fingers paged through the printouts of possible tips she’d received. “That’s a lot.”
“A cursory read says most of it is garbage, but I’ll delve in later.”
“I’d like a copy.”
She nodded. “Of course. Hopefully something will send us in the right direction.”
