“It was a few years ago,” he allowed.
“It was.” How could she explain without offending him? “You just don’t seem as carefree right now.”
“I’m on a case. Your case, to be exact.”
And she was grateful. “Are there many cases like mine?” she asked, leading him out of the closet and her bedroom.
“You might be surprised how many people need some help getting out of trouble,” he said, following her back to the kitchen.
She prepared more coffee for each of them. “Are you big on breakfast?” she asked. “I make excellent French toast.”
“You’re such a softie,” he said, smiling. “You don’t need to treat me like a guest.”
“I don’t know how to treat anyone differently,” she admitted. “When people are in my home, I go into hostess mode.” She rested her hands on the cool countertop. “One more reason I was in shock when Ronnie—Detective Lewis—thought I could actually commit murder. He’s been here. He knows me.” She shook her head. “I will not melt down again. How are you going to get him on the right track?”
“My assistant is tracking down the woman from the kitchen. We will unravel her connection to you or Melissa. Whether or not this is an elaborate frame job, we’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure to clear your name.” Carter vowed.
His support and confidence gave her a better boost than the caffeine.
“Can you help me arrange a private meeting with your dad at some point today? I’d like to ask him about the attorney on record for your adoption.”
“Sure. I’d like to ask him about the adoption, period,” she said.
“Absolutely you should,” Carter said. “As long as you’re prepared for answers you might not like.”
That was the real risk, she supposed.
“If you’re not hungry, let’s go back to the office and see if we can learn more about the woman in that picture you found,” he said.
“The woman who is probably my mom.”
“That’s right,” he said gently. “We need names and details if we’re going to sort out why someone has decided this is the time to cause your family grief.”
Each of them carrying a cup of coffee, they headed back to the office. A cool draft touched her stockinged feet, streaming through the crack under the door. Had a door or window blown open in the night?
She opened the door and gasped. “What in the world?” Her desk had been ransacked and the boxes under the worktable had been dumped and searched as well. “When—”
“Stay put,” Carter interrupted. “Don’t touch anything.” He stepped around her, taking pictures with his phone.
“Should I call the police?”
“Give me a minute,” he said.
She noticed the lock on the door that led to the garden had been broken. “They walked right in.” The hair lifted on the back of her neck. “But how? Dad keeps the best people on the payroll, has top tech installed.”
“I’m aware.” Carter’s voice was a low growl. “Someone slipped through. Can you tell at a glance if anything’s missing?”
“Are you kidding?” The place was trashed. “They didn’t take the computer, it’s the most valuable item. I’ll need to go through the boxes to be sure. I’m glad you had me move the most sensitive originals to the safe.”
“Me, too.”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “What a mess! Why didn’t we hear anything?”
“We really should have. Unless they searched while we were with your parents last night.” He moved toward the broken door. “Still, anyone good enough to sneak past a patrol and bypass the security system probably is good enough to search quietly.” He scowled at the mess.
She started trembling and wished she could blame it on too much caffeine or the restless night. But it was terror pure and simple. Someone had been in her home.
“Paige, come on. We need to get out of here and leave it for the police.”
“I-I can’t move, Carter.” Her knees were locked and she wrapped her arms around her middle as a chill of dread rattled down her spine. Someone had been in her home, searched her office. For what? She couldn’t make sense of it.
“Paige!” Carter shouted, his eyes wide and wild. Then he rushed her, taking her to the floor, her body pinned under his.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. She heard three sharp cracks and the sound of breaking glass. Carter eased up and nudged her out of the room. A cold fog clouded her mind. She was completely out of her element.
He shoved her over the threshold and into the hallway. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Call the police.” He pressed her phone into her hand.
“Was that—was that gunfire?”
“Yes. Call the police. Paige.” He snapped out her name like a whip crack. “Can you do that? For me?”
“Yes,” she promised. She wouldn’t be helpless. Coffee had spilled over her phone but she wiped it clean with her T-shirt.
“Make the call, Paige.” Then he closed the door between them.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t possibly be confronting a shooter alone. No, not alone. The police would help. She fumbled with the phone, managed to hit the right numbers.
Carter didn’t have his weapon on him, only his phone, but he didn’t double back to the bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest as he crawled along the floor, ignoring the glass biting into his skin. When he reached the door, he shoved it open and braced for another three-round burst of gunfire.
It didn’t come. There were times in his work when silence was the worst. He bolted through the door in a low crouch. Still no more bullets.
Was someone simply trying to scare Paige away from her discovery? But who would know what she’d found? She claimed she’d only told him about it. Hiding behind a thick azalea bush he listened for any sounds and considered the possibilities.
Her father knew the truth, but he had no motivation to discuss it or to hurt the chef, a friend of the daughter he clearly adored. The friend who’d run the paternity test? That didn’t fit either.
During his years with the Guardian Agency, Carter had seen some strange things and kept his clients out of harm’s way. Teamed up with exceptional tech assistants, they found leads and solutions quickly. This case felt nothing like any he’d managed before.
It would be a long time before he purged the memory of that red dot on her chest. Finding the shooter would take the sting out of this morning’s attack. He didn’t like leaving her alone when she was scared, but if there was any chance he could get a lead, he had to try.
Staying low, he found a boot print within a few paces of the door. Too small for the average man, with a tread pattern that looked industrial or non-slip. Had the woman from the kitchen come after Paige?
He took a picture of the print and sent it on to Jenna for research. Studying the area, he tried to pinpoint where the shooter had been hiding and waiting. Trees blended with the tall marsh grasses at the edge of the Coker property and a boardwalk led to a boathouse. Still, the entire perimeter was tied into the security system. Someone should’ve noticed the intruder.