Page 20 of Deadly Charade

As soon as the words left his lips, he wanted to grab them back. But this rattled him. This case had taken a turn for the worse and now pointed in a direction Bryce had no intention of heading.

Back to his hometown.

They’d just received the information regarding Derek Young, but why hadn’t he seen the connection sooner? He grew up near the town where the statue was found.

He tried to wrap his mind around his past colliding with the present. “If this is a list of towns and not names, why are they crossed off? What are our neighbors searching for?”

“I’m not sure. What do you think?” Kira stared at him with expectation in her eyes, probing for information she knew all too well he had. He didn’t want her—or anyone—to know where he’d come from. The poverty, abuse, and squalor of growing up with his alcoholic and gambling-addicted father. After his grandfather had passed away, Bryce had assumed the role of the adult in the household, until his father threw him out into the cold at age seventeen.

He cleared his throat. “It seems like we both have a past that we’d like to leave behind in a trail of dust. I was born and raised in Sawyer’s Peak.”

“That’s a weird coincidence.” Kira walked to the kitchen and poured them both another cup of coffee.

He accepted the steaming mug from her. “Growing up in the area, I’d heard the legends, so I’m not surprised. Tales of buried treasure, and a secret society that guarded the hidden location. The stories grew more epic with each generation. My grandfather had a metal detector and often took me out hunting for hidden treasures.”

“Ever find anything?”

“We did. Once we found some old coins. Another time it was a Civil War–era bullet. We usually came up empty-handed, but I’ve always wondered if there was more to his stories.”

“And your family still lives in Sawyer’s Peak?”

He nodded. “My father does.” And he’d leave it at that. “I need to study this new lead.”

“What’s your gut reaction, Bryce?”

He bit back a smile. “You and your hunches. If I have to guess, I think the Dominiks are searching for something. Maybe more artifacts. They’re checking small-town antique shops in the vicinity where the original statue surfaced.”

She paused for a moment, clicking her pen as if it helped her process. “Before the security guard died, he said, ‘Follow the rabbits.’ I’m pretty sure he used the plural. What if there’s another statue out there?”

“I’ll do some research on the original. If there were more than one statue, that would make sense. Someone is scouting for more lost art from the estate sale. And if there’s more than one statue, where did the others go?”

The next day rushed by in a blur of activity. Bryce spent much of it catching up on emails and research. He’d hardly seen Kira as she used her time to study art history for her cover story. Before he knew it, he had to get ready for dinner with the Dominiks.

After getting showered and changed into his business suit, Bryce headed toward the stairs to wait for Kira, but she was already at the bottom of the steps, standing near the front door.

She wore a silky blue long-sleeved knee-length dress, complete with spiky high heels and a sparkly necklace. He loved her jet-black hair, but this auburn color had grown on him. The light bounced off her accessories, including her diamond wedding ring.

And then, like a buffoon, he stumbled, tripped on the last step. He grasped the handrail to keep from face-planting and somehow managed to stay upright.

“Are you okay?” she asked, rushing toward him with her hand extended.

“Yeah, I just missed a step.” He stared and had flashbacks to the last time he had complimented—or rather, insulted—her. “You look nice” was all he could muster. Better than his “adequate” comment, but he had some work to do in the complimenting-a-woman department.

She smiled, a radiant and genuine grin that warmed his heart. “You clean up nicely as well.” She reached out and felt the lapel of his charcoal-gray jacket. “The suit is amazing, and I like the burgundy tie.”

“Thank you.” Why did he care so much about her thoughts on his outfit? But her comment gave him an extra jolt of confidence that he’d carry through the evening. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, and he offered his arm to her as they walked to the neighbors’ house. Bryce knocked on the heavy oak door. They were two minutes early.

The housekeeper, Natalia, answered. “Please, come in.” She wore a traditional black shirt and skirt with a white apron. They followed her to a formal living room area. Unlike their unit, this one had separate rooms instead of an open concept. It gave off a dark, cold vibe.

“I like our place better,” Kira whispered, never taking her hand off his arm.

A gentleman who acted like he’d just stepped off the set of filming Downton Abbey in his finest butler attire offered them a drink.

They each took a glass and the man disappeared. Bryce swirled the white creamy liquid in the glass. “White Russian?”

Kira took a sip and scrunched up her nose. “Yep, it’s a White Russian.” She placed the glass on a coaster on the end table of an ornate cream-colored couch.