7

“Two great big lummoxes,” Robbie muttered. “I hope they don’t get lost on their way out of the foyer.”

Lindsey turned to study him in the porch light. “What exactly are you jealous of? Their youth? Good looks? Bulging muscles? Or is it the fact that they have a history that predates your arrival in Briar Creek and that most of the women in town are at least half in love with them?”

“Check, check, and checkmate,” he said.

“You are more shallow than that puddle,” she said. She pointed to a tiny pool of water on the gravel driveway. “Honestly, you’re not even that deep.”

“I’m not shallow,” he argued. “I’m vain, egocentric, and self-absorbed. There’s a difference.”

Lindsey shook her head.

The door was pulled open but instead of the twins, it was Larry Milstein who appeared. He was looking much more composed than he had that afternoon. Lindsey imagined having Theresa safe in his house with the Norrgard brothers as bodyguards had calmed him down considerably. He peered at Robbie as if he couldn’t believe it. Then he beamed.

“Robbie Vine, come in,” he said. He reached out a hand to Robbie and all but yanked him into the house as if he was afraid he might get away. “A pleasure to meet you, truly. I’m Larry Milstein and I’m a huge fan. Super huge, in fact. This is amazing. Robbie Vine in my house!”

Robbie’s chest puffed up as he shook Larry’s hand in return. “No, no, the pleasure’s all mine. Always happy to meet a fan.”

Lindsey trudged through the door without either of the men acknowledging her. She closed it behind her and stood to the side, waiting for the bromance to subside.

“Say, you don’t drink whiskey by any chance, do you?” Larry asked.

“Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”

Larry blinked and then barked a laugh. “Excellent, I was just about to pour myself a glass of twenty-five-year-old Macallan.”

“And we’re still standing here?” Robbie asked. “Lead the way, mate.”

“Ahem.” Lindsey cleared her throat. Both men ignored her. She reached up and yanked the bag of materials off Robbie’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Milstein, would it be all right if I popped in and visited with Theresa?” Lindsey asked.

At this, Larry spun around and studied her as if just noticing she was there. “You, how do I know you?”

“She’s Lindsey Norris, the town librarian,” Liza said as she joined them in the entryway. “She was there this afternoon, Dad. She was with me when I went to check on Theresa. We like her.”

“Oh, right, absolutely,” Larry said. “Sorry, I never forget a face, usually, but I was a bit undone this afternoon.”

“It’s fine,” Lindsey said. She held up the tote bag. “Liza, you left the books you’d checked out for Theresa at the library. Robbie gave me a ride over so I could deliver them and check on the patient to see how she’s doing.”

“Oh, thank you. I forgot all about the books on CD.” Liza took the bag. “Come on up and say hello. We’ve got her settled into the guest bedroom next to Dad’s.”

Larry looked like he was about to object, but Robbie clapped him on the shoulder. “How about that whiskey?”

“Yes, of course,” Larry said. “Did I mention it was twenty-five-year-old Macallan?”

“You did,” Robbie said. “Might I ask where you acquired such a find?”

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared into the study.

Liza rolled her eyes at Lindsey and led the way to a winding staircase on the opposite side of the foyer. “Dad and his whiskey, I swear it’s an obsession.”

She led the way up the stairs, and Lindsey tried for a casual tone when she said, “I’m surprised Chief Plewicki isn’t still here.”

“She just left a half hour ago,” Liza said. “She was headed over to Kayla Manning’s to talk to her.”

“Have they found her car yet?”

“No, but the one on the video was definitely hers—even my dad said so when Chief Plewicki showed him the clip,” Liza said. “Too bad there wasn’t a clear shot of the driver. I bet it was her.”

“Really?” Lindsey asked. “I have a hard time picturing her doing a hit-and-run.”

“People do crazy things for love,” Liza said. She paused on the landing and waited for Lindsey to catch up. “Or in her case, they do crazy things for their love of money.”

“Do you really think she wanted your father’s fortune that much?”

“Yes,” Liza said. “I didn’t know her very well, as she and Dad only dated for a few months, but she was definitely driven, and I got the feeling she wouldn’t put up with anyone standing in between her and her goals.”

Given that Lindsey didn’t know Kayla as well as Liza did, she couldn’t argue the point.

“This way,” Liza said. She led Lindsey down the wide hallway to a room at the end. She rapped her knuckles on the door, and when they heard a muffled greeting, she opened the door and entered.

The bedroom was enormous, with vaulted ceilings and plush area rugs tossed over the hardwood floor. A California king–size bed with a canopy commanded the largest portion of the room, but there was also a dressing screen in the corner, an entertainment armoire, and two large dressers. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows looked out over the bay, and a divan and two armchairs were arranged in front of the windows. Theresa reclined on the divan while Stefan stood by the window, scanning the backyard for any sign of a bad guy, no doubt.

“Lindsey, I heard you were here.” Theresa smiled. She gave it her best effort, but it was wan, as if she just didn’t have the reserves for her usual bright smile.

“I had to check on you,” Lindsey said. “It was such a stressful afternoon, plus Liza left some materials for you at the library.”

“The library director giving door-to-door service,” Liza said as she put the bag down beside Theresa’s chair. “You can’t beat that, now can you?”

“No, I can’t,” Theresa agreed. “Stefan, you can take a break while Lindsey is here. She won’t let anything happen to me. Liza, Stefan and his brother must be starving. Will you take them down to the kitchen and have Mrs. Armand heat up something for them?”

Stefan looked ready to argue, but Theresa shook her head.

“You may as well give in,” Liza said. “Once Theresa starts nagging, she doesn’t stop until she gets what she wants.”

Lindsey glanced at Theresa, who gave Stefan a tight smile. “She’s right.”

“All right, since you put it that way,” he said. He glanced at Theresa. “Shout if you need me. Better yet, use your radio.”

“If she doesn’t, I will,” Lindsey said. They all looked at her, and she felt her face get warm. “For help—I would shout for help if we needed it.”

Stefan grinned, appreciating her fit of the flusters. Lindsey felt her face get even hotter.

Liza laughed and walked to the door, gesturing for Stefan to follow. When the door shut behind them, Lindsey turned to Theresa and gave her a rueful look.

“Well, that was mortifying,” she said.

“Please, we’ve all been there,” she said. “I don’t know what Larry was thinking, hiring the two of them to watch over me. They cause most of the female staff in the house to be tongue-tied, even Mrs. Armand, the cook, and she hates everyone.”

“I suspect he was thinking they both look strong enough to play catch with spare tires and bend steel beams with their bare hands,” Lindsey said. “Anyone who comes after you is going to have to get through them. That ought to make you feel safe.”

“I suppose,” Theresa agreed. “It’s certainly better than being home alone.”

“Even though Liza seems to be a bit prickly?” Lindsey asked.

“You noticed,” Theresa said. She gestured for Lindsey to sit in the chair beside the divan. Lindsey sat on the edge of the seat and patted Theresa’s knee.

“She never struck me as being moody before. Do you think it’s a bad reaction to everything that’s happened?”

“I wish it was, but no, she’s been like this since Larry and I got engaged,” Theresa said. “I think because she and I had a relationship—a friendship—around tennis, and obviously she is close to her father, so when her father and I got together, she felt left out. I can’t blame her, but I really hoped that in time, she would adjust.”

“She will,” Lindsey said. “You’re right—she likely just needs time to figure out the new dynamic. So, how are you feeling? Really?”

Theresa visibly swallowed, and her eyes grew damp. “I’m fine.”

Lindsey nodded. The standard answer for a woman who was trying to be brave or not pissed off. Fine.

“Save the canned answer for the menfolk,” Lindsey said. “Fine is never really fine. You can tell me how you really feel.”

“No, I can’t, because if I do, I’ll cry,” Theresa said.

“That’s okay. Maybe you need a good cry.”

“Maybe.” Theresa covered her face with her hands. “As long as I live, I don’t think I will ever forget the terror of having a pillow held over my face while I was trapped and unable to fight back.”

She dropped her hands with a shiver and then swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Lindsey reached out and took her free hand in hers.

“I can’t imagine,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here, safe, with bodyguards, until Emma figures this out.”

“I suppose,” Theresa said. “My only consolation is that if something horrible does happen to me, Larry will be compensated with a huge life insurance policy.”

Lindsey sat up straight and tipped her head to the side. “You’ve made him the beneficiary of your life insurance?”

“When we got engaged, Larry insisted, although I did specify that it go to Liza, since Larry doesn’t need the money and she is like a daughter to me, despite her present attitude—or maybe because of it,” she said. “When he hired the Norrgard brothers, he told me it was to ensure that he never had to collect on the policy. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Yeah, sweet,” Lindsey said. Or was it? Lindsey decided to keep this thought to herself for the moment.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Theresa said. She didn’t seem to notice the concern in Lindsey’s voice. “Who would want to do me harm? I haven’t competed professionally in years. I am no threat to anyone.”

“Maybe this isn’t about tennis,” Lindsey said.

“Kayla? Are you trying to say it’s Kayla attacking me in a jealous rage?” Theresa asked. “I can’t believe that. ”

Lindsey squeezed her fingers and let go. She sat back in her chair and studied her friend. Theresa was a pretty woman with long, dark hair and a heart-shaped face who looked younger and more innocent than her years. She was always happy and smiling and seemed to make the best out of any given situation. It was no wonder that Larry Milstein, who had known such personal tragedy in his life, was drawn to her.

This situation, however, was not the sort of thing in which Theresa could find a sunny side up. Someone was out to do her harm at the very least or to kill her at the very worst.

“Larry is one of the richest men in the country,” Lindsey said. “Is it really inconceivable that a woman who wants him for his money sees you as a threat? I mean, with you out of the picture, Larry is back on the market.”

“No, it isn’t inconceivable, but Kayla Manning? I know she can be pushy and abrupt, but I just don’t see her as a violent sort.”

“Liza said you tried to talk to her before, but she was having none of it,” Lindsey said.

“She was hurt and angry. I didn’t hold it against her. Larry did treat her very badly. But I never got the feeling that she wanted to do me harm over it—Larry, sure, but not me.”

“Is there anyone else that you know of who isn’t happy about you marrying Larry?” Lindsey asked. “Any ex-boyfriends? Lovers? Friends with boundary issues?”

Theresa smiled, which was what Lindsey had intended. “No, and if there are, they haven’t said it to my face.”

“I’m sure Emma already said this, but if you think of anyone—”

“Who is furious enough with me to try and run me over or suffocate me,” Theresa said. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to mention it. There is one . . . no, that’s just me being silly.”

“There’s no such thing as silly when it comes to your well-being,” Lindsey said. “What were you going to say? Do you have someone in mind besides Kayla?”

“No.” Theresa’s gaze slid away from hers, and Lindsey noticed that it lingered for just a moment on a small framed photograph on the mantel over the fireplace.

“If you do think of someone, anyone—” Lindsey began, but Theresa interrupted her.

“I’ll be sure to let the police know—I promise.”

It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Excellent,” Lindsey said. It was an effort not to press Theresa for more information, but she managed it. “Now let’s take your mind off of all of that. Look at what Liza and I picked out for you.”

Lindsey opened the bag, and together they looked at the audiobooks they had picked out. Theresa was delighted, and Lindsey put the latest Jill Shalvis novel into the CD player in the entertainment armoire so Theresa could listen and enjoy a few laughs while she rested.

When Theresa looked relaxed and involved in the story, Lindsey slipped from her chair. She crossed the room and pretended to warm her hands by the fire. With her back to Theresa, she took the opportunity to use her phone to snap a picture of the framed photograph on the mantel. Maybe it was nothing, but she wanted to know who it was and why the picture had seemed to disturb Theresa.

She pocketed her phone, and with a wave to her friend, she left the room. She found Stieg waiting outside, and he nodded to her as he entered, letting her know he was on duty. Lindsey was halfway down the hallway when she heard Stieg chuckling at the story along with Theresa, proving Lindsey’s personal theory that there really wasn’t any funky mood swing in life that a solid romantic comedy couldn’t cure.

Robbie and Larry were still in the study. They were sitting in matching wing chairs in front of a roaring fire, enjoying their whiskey. All they needed were smoking jackets and cigars, and they’d look like two characters out of a BBC Masterpiece Mystery! episode.

Liza was seated at the desk in the corner with a stack of textbooks in front of her. One was open, and she was poring over it with her chin resting on her hand, as if forcing herself to stay awake while she read. Stefan appeared right behind Lindsey and exchanged a nod with Larry before moving on.

“Are they constantly surveying the house?” she asked.

Robbie half rose from his seat, indicating that she should take it, but Lindsey declined with a smile. She still felt cold from her drenching that afternoon, so she happily sat on the hearth and let the warmth from the fire wash over her.

“That’s what I hired them for,” Larry said. “It was really quite lucky. I had ordered some chowder from the Anchor for Theresa after her scare, and there they were at the bar, asking Ian Murphy if he knew of any work in the area. I remembered them from when they were working with that salvage company and hired them on the spot to be Theresa’s bodyguards.”

“That is lucky,” Robbie said. He sent Lindsey a concerned glance.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “That it’s too coincidental, but I know Stieg and Stefan, and I trust them.”

“Are you sure that’s not just blind loyalty to their good looks talking?” he asked.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Mr. Milstein trusts them, too, obviously.”

“Call me Larry,” he said. “Can I offer you some whiskey or wine?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Larry glanced back at Robbie. “She’s right. I do trust the Norrgards. Those two Goliaths are my first line of defense in keeping Theresa safe. She is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I will not let anyone harm her—ever.”

Lindsey glanced at Liza to see what she made of her father’s words. She was still engrossed in her studies, and Lindsey doubted she’d heard him. It was clear that both Liza and her father had fully embraced Theresa into their family. Lindsey wondered whether there was anyone else in the furniture giant’s life who might consider Theresa a threat.

“Mr. Milstein, er, Larry, do you have any other family besides your daughter?” she asked. “Parents, siblings, cousins?”

“No,” he said. He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “It’s just me and Liza. I was an only child, and my parents passed five and seven years ago. Whatever family they had, they never kept in touch with, so it’s just me and the kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Liza piped up from the desk. “I’m twenty.”

“Not legally allowed to drink yet and still living under my roof,” Larry said. “That makes you still my kid.” He winked at her, and it was full of affection.

“I’m only still under your roof because you won’t let me move out.” Liza shook her head at him. Lindsey sensed this was an old argument between them.

“You’re not moving in with that loser boyfriend of yours,” Larry said. “He doesn’t even have a job. How would he provide for you?”

“Provide for me?” Liza asked. “What century is this? I have my own money. I don’t need anyone to provide for me.”

“Yeah, your money, as you call it, is my money,” Larry said. “As long as I’m footing your bills, you’ll live where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe.”

Liza looked at Lindsey and Robbie. “The paranoia runs deep in this one.”

“It’s not paranoid to accept that having money makes you a target. It does. All sorts of hustlers, crooks, and criminals will come after you, and if they think they can rob you blind, they will. And that includes unemployed boyfriends.”

Lindsey noticed that Liza was frowning down at the top of the desk. She wondered how Liza felt about her father having so much say over her life. While she understood that Larry wanted to protect his daughter, she wondered whether Liza didn’t chafe a bit at the digs to her boyfriend and his refusal to let her move out on her own.

“Sounds like the voice of experience,” Robbie observed.

“I’ve been bitten a few times,” Larry conceded. He drained his glass.

“As have we all,” Robbie said. He polished off his whiskey as well.

Lindsey took a moment to study Larry. The firelight highlighted his rugged features, and Lindsey got a glimpse at what he had looked like as a young man. There was an optimism beneath the surface that she hadn’t expected. She wondered how he had managed to retain that, given the loss of his wife and the ups and downs of a life spent in retail. She glanced at Liza—perhaps she was the person who kept Larry hopeful.

“Dinner is served, Mr. Milstein,” a woman in a chef’s coat announced from the door.

She was short but slender, with her gray-streaked hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Lindsey guessed her to be in her fifties.

“Thank you, Mrs. Armand,” Larry said. He glanced at Lindsey and Sully. “Would you care to join us? Mrs. Armand is an amazing chef.”

Lindsey glanced at Mrs. Armand to see whether the sudden possibility of two additional people at the dinner table caused her any stress. She didn’t bat an eye. Lindsey was impressed.

“You’re very kind,” Robbie said. “But we are otherwise engaged.”

“Too bad,” Milstein said. “I have a Rémy Martin XO cognac that I was hoping to share with a discerning palate.”

“Another time.” Robbie set his glass down on a coaster on the coffee table and rose to his feet. Lindsey followed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Larry said.

“Bye, Liza,” Lindsey said.

“Good night.” Liza waved good-bye from the desk while Larry walked them to the door.

“If Theresa needs anything from the library, please don’t hesitate to call me,” Lindsey said. “And I’d be happy to come and sit with her if she would like some company.”

“Thank you,” Larry said. “That’s very kind of you. I didn’t know the library offered such door-to-door service.”

“We don’t usually, but I consider Theresa a friend,” Lindsey said.

“That’s Theresa for you,” he said. “She makes friends wherever she goes.”

Lindsey followed Robbie to his car. It was now fully dark, and the evening’s chill reminded her that spring wasn’t here just yet. The occasional April snowstorm did happen, and if today’s temperatures had dropped any lower, all the crocuses and daffodils that had just begun to sprout would have been suffering from some frostbite.

Robbie opened her door for her, and Lindsey slid in. She glanced back at the house as Robbie climbed into the driver’s seat, and she saw a face watching them from a second-story window. She thought it was Theresa, and she lifted her hand to wave. But how could Theresa be in the window? Her cast made standing difficult at best, and Lindsey was sure her room had been on the other side of the house, overlooking the water.

Lindsey squinted, trying to get a better look at the dark-haired woman. Her face was pale, and she was too far away for Lindsey to make out her features clearly, but she looked an awful lot like an older version of Liza. Lindsey felt her heart beat hard in her chest while the hair on the back of her neck prickled. The woman also bore a striking resemblance to the woman in the photograph in Theresa’s room.

“Robbie.” Lindsey reached over and grabbed his arm. “Look at the second-story window all the way on the left side of the house. Do you see what I see?”

Robbie had to lean across the console to be able to see. Before he could get there, the woman with the closed-lip smile stared hard at Lindsey and then disappeared with a twitch of a thick lace curtain.

“Um, am I supposed to see something?” he asked.

“There was a woman standing in the window,” Lindsey said. “I thought it was Theresa, but how could she be standing there when her room is on the other side of the house?”

“There’s no one there now,” Robbie said. “Maybe it was just a reflection.”

Lindsey turned to glare at him, and he backed up into his own seat. “Just throwing out theories.”

“Well, you can throw that one all the way out,” Lindsey said. “There was a woman standing there. I saw her. She was as real as you or me.”

“All right, don’t have a wobbler on me,” he said. He started the car and proceeded down the driveway a bit slower than Lindsey would have liked. She was ready to put some distance between her and the Milstein house. “Maybe it was Liza. From a distance, she could appear to be a grown-up.”

“It wasn’t Liza,” she said.

“They have staff,” he replied. “Could it have been a cook or a maid? Or maybe Theresa has a private nurse staying with her.”

“A nurse,” Lindsey said. She hadn’t considered that. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“Of course it does,” Robbie said. “I mean, who did you think it was? The ghost of the late Mrs. Milstein?”