Page 64 of Maverick Detective Dad
First room, her old room, was clear. Like the main living space, the room had been searched with no care for the value of anything or where it landed. Same in her grandparents’ bedroom and the third bedroom—the one her parents had used. Her gran had insisted on keeping the room exactly as it was when Olivia’s mother died. She hadn’t been in the room in years. Once she’d surveyed the space, she closed the door and moved on. Even the single bathroom had been scoured for whatever the intruder had hoped to find.
Olivia relaxed the tiniest bit.
Weapon still held in a firing position, she moved back into the main living area and headed for the mudroom. Still no sound or abrupt movement. If anyone had still been in the house, she’d given him opportunity to flee by starting with the bedrooms. At this point, she felt fairly confident the house was empty. But she wasn’t letting down her guard until she was certain.
The small mudroom was empty, but the back door was open.
Arms shaking from the extended tension, she lowered the shotgun. She started to reach for the door to close and lock it but stopped herself. There could be finger prints. She needed to call the police.
Olivia blinked, steadied herself. Whoever had ransacked the rest of the house had searched this room too.
She leaned against the shelves of canned goods and dug her cell phone from her pocket. Rather than tie up a 911 dispatcher, she called the sheriff’s office directly. The woman who took Olivia’s call assured her she would let the sheriff know and someone would be out shortly.
Deep breath. She tucked the phone into the hip pocket of her jeans and dared to close her eyes for a moment to gather herself. Willy was dead. Someone had come into his home and searched for something. But what?
Olivia opened her eyes and pushed away from the shelf-lined wall. She had no idea, but she damned well intended to find out. She marched over to the front door, her steps full of new purpose. There were a number of outbuildings, a barn and big old shed Willy had turned into a darkroom for himself and a studio for Gran. While she waited for the sheriff or one of his deputies, she should check those places too. What kind of person took advantage of a death to ransack a man’s home? The question sent a new surge of outrage roaring through her.
Focus on what needs to be done.
Willy had taught Olivia how to search for lost things. How to take an area and divide it into a grid and cover those individual sections without missing a single square foot of the overall area. There were no footprints to be found. Apparently, it hadn’t rained in several days. Moving on, she searched the barn first. The big old structure was basically untouched. The garden tools and tractor were just exactly as they were the last time Olivia had reason to go into the rambling space. The shed was a different story. The place had been turned upside down.
What in the world had the intruder been searching for?
Money? Willy certainly hadn’t kept much money lying around the house, but even a small amount might seem like a lot to someone desperate enough to do this.
However, Olivia suspected the perpetrator had left utterly dissatisfied if the goal had been cash or items easily converted to cash.
The one thing she hadn’t spotted so far was Willy’s camera. Not just any camera either. It was a rare vintage Nikon. More important to Olivia than the monetary value was the sentimental value. The camera had been like an extension of Willy. Wherever he was, the Nikon was. He went absolutely nowhere without it. Though it was likely worth several thousand dollars, selling it would be a problem. The thief would need to find someone with a keen interest in photography to land anywhere near what the camera was worth. Otherwise, it would go for very little. She walked back to the house and propped the shotgun behind the front door. She stared at the mess and, despite her best efforts, cried again.
By the time an SUV bearing the sheriff’s department logo arrived, Olivia had pulled herself together once more and gone through the house again in search of the camera. It was not there, which made sense since Willy would not have left the house without it. Why hadn’t the Nikon been found with him? If he’d had it with him, and he most assuredly would have, then it had to be in the vicinity of where he had been found. Seemed like a very good question to ask the deputy climbing out of the SUV. It wasn’t the sheriff, which was fine by her. She wasn’t ready to see anyone who had been that close to Willy.
Olivia braced herself. So far she’d gotten through the search without falling completely apart, but she’d been on a mission. Adrenaline and anger had been fueling her. The anger had fizzled out at this point, and the adrenaline had faded. Her bravado was sinking fast.
Hold it together a little while longer.
As the deputy walked toward the porch, he removed his cap and gave her a nod. “Liv.” When he reached the steps, he glanced down, gave his head a shake. “I am so sorry about Willy.”
Maybe it was her mind’s decision to zero in on the neatly pressed button-down shirt that seemed to barely contain broad shoulders and the faded jeans hugging long legs that threw her off. Or the baseball cap with the gold star emblazoned on it that he held in his hands—hands she knew as well as her own—that caused her to suddenly lose the ability to speak. No. It was none of those things. It washim.
Huck Monroe.
What was he doing here? Had he heard about Willy’s death already? Had he driven all the way up from Miami? Wasn’t he a sheriff’s deputy there? Despite the circumstances, she almost laughed out loud. Huck Monroe had never visited. Not once that she was aware of in ten damned years. Why would he bother now?
“What’re you doing here?” she demanded.
Her brain was playing tricks on her, obviously. She hadn’t been able to read the identifying letters on the cap as it hung from his hands. But the Hamilton County SUV was sitting in the driveway, the lettering large and easily readable. Yet that made no sense. Huck had taken off for sun and sand and whatever else in south Florida that had attracted him forever ago.
He offered a sad smile. “I live here now.” Hitched his head toward the SUV. “I’m a detective with the sheriff’s department.”
Wait. What? “When?” It was the only word she could force past her lips.
Why hadn’t Willy told her about Huck coming back home? Maybe because she had made it clear she did not want to hear that name ever again.
She blinked away the memory of shouting those words at Willy.
What did it matter and why would she care? Particularly at the moment. The fissure in her heart widened. Her grandfather was dead.
Maybe she swayed the slightest bit, or her face paled. Whatever the case, Huck reached for her.
