“What idea?”
“I’m still working on it. Which is why I need to talk to Zane.”
She stood. “You do that and I’m going to go get ready for the day.” She paused. “Wait. Today is Monday, isn’t it?”
“I think so. Yeah.”
“I’m supposed to eat lunch with Sarah and Brooke today. I’m going to back out. This needs to take priority right now, I think.”
He nodded. “Probably a good idea.”
She grabbed her phone. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and cinnamon rolls on the stove. Help yourself.”
“Gladly. Thank you.”
She disappeared down the hall, and Caden loaded a plate with two of the large pastries. He refilled his coffee cup and returned to his seat at the table. After allowing himself one bite of the sugary sweetness, he dialed Zane’s number.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Ava’s mind was too busy to bother enjoying the hot shower. After letting her friends know she wouldn’t be able to join them, she simply went through the motions required for getting ready for the day. When she’d awakened to see Caden asleep at her kitchen table, her heart had done some weird flip-flop thing that knocked her a bit sideways. Fortunately, he’d continued to snooze and hadn’t been witness to her struggle to ignore the sensation.
But it had been there and she didn’t like it. Okay, she did, but she . . . couldn’t. Romance had never been very high on her priority list—as an adult, not a starry-eyed teen—but she had to admit, Caden made her consider rearranging the items on the list. And want to put on mascara.
And that was just weird.
Swiping the black liquid over her lashes, she sighed. “Quit it. Stop thinking so much.”
The muttered words simply served to shift her thoughts to her father. And that blasted password. Why would he change it? The only thing she could come up with was . . . he didn’t want her to have access.
She lowered the tube of makeup. All righty, then. That possibility changed the question. Why would he make sure she had the password—and all the timed variations—memorized, only to completely change it so she couldn’t get in? Easily anyway.
She’d figure out a way around the password eventually—especially with the help of the software—but it could take a very long time to do so. The fact that the software was still running didn’t bode well.
So . . . going with the thought that he didn’t want her to access the laptop only added another why to the list. What was the point in keeping her out of the laptop . . .
. . . unless—as she’d thought more than once—he wasn’t dead? And planned to come back for it.
The hope that sprouted terrified her. If she allowed herself to believe and it turned out she was wrong and he was really dead, it would shatter her.
She could hear Caden on the phone on the other side of her closed door and took a steadying breath. First things first. She’d call John. Maybe he would know what her father had been thinking.
Ava stepped back into the living area just as Caden hung up. “You look a little more awake,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Do you mind if I . . .” He pointed to the guest room.
“Of course. Help yourself.”
“Great. I’ll fill you in on my plans for the day when I’m done. They involve you if you have the time.”
She raised a brow. “I have the time. Other than my daily visit with Mom, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.”
“Perfect. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He disappeared into the guest room, and Ava walked into the kitchen with the intention of cleaning it up and found it already spotless. She eyed the foil-covered plate, then the empty sink.
She opened the dishwasher to confirm their two plates were in there and let out a low chuckle. “My, my, Mr. Agent Man,” she murmured, “you really know how to impress a girl, don’t you?” Then again, she’d always been impressed with him. She shut the dishwasher and walked back to the puzzle.
Twenty minutes and four measly pieces later, Caden appeared in the doorway of the guest room, dressed in clean clothes and his hair still wet from the shower.
And, boy, did he look good. Ava swallowed and looked away. Her suddenly dry throat had her swigging her cold coffee. With a grimace, she pushed it away. She didn’t date. Ever. Especially not after Ryan. Remember? For some reason, it was getting harder and harder to hold to that rule.
He dropped his go-bag on the floor next to the chair opposite her and sat. “Zane said there were no real leads in this case, but the lab has all the evidence and will be going through it.”
“What about the relatives of the family?” She hoped her question was coherent. She was still reminding herself she was no longer a teen with a crush on Caden Denning. No, it looked like she was an adult with one. Great. Just fabulous. You don’t do relationships or dating. Maybe if she repeated it enough times, she’d get it through her head. And heart.
His lips quirked. “Are you sure you’re not an investigator?”
She blinked, his question slapping her back to the here and now. “Quite.”
“Before I headed to see you, we were talking to Michael’s parents via a Facetime call. We had them pull off into a rest area so we could question them. I know that sounds cold, but we had to push forward with the investigation. The more time that passes . . .”
“You don’t have to explain that to me. I understand.”
“We’re going to talk to them again. In person this time.” He rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes. “I’ve got to say that when we questioned them the first time, something was off.”
“Off how?”
“I’m not sure. He was definitely grieving. So broken up he could barely talk. His wife finally just gave up and wept. It was truly awful.”
“But?”
Caden sighed. “I’ve questioned enough people in my career to know when something doesn’t feel right. When we showed him the pictures, he held the phone close enough to see his microexpressions. He was studying them and . . .”
“And?”
“Remembering? He was especially interested in the newspaper clippings, but when we got to the pictures of you and your dad, it was subtle, but I think he was stunned, freaked. I’m not sure of the word, but I definitely got the impression that Jesse Fields wasn’t being completely straight with me from that point on.”
Ava leaned forward. “But that doesn’t even make sense. What would he have to hide about his son’s family’s murders?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. Daria did backgrounds on the family and everything checks out. No hidden bank accounts, no consorting with organized crime. Everyone at his office had nothing but good things to say about him and the whole family. The same with the other two families as well. Perfectly normal people with no run-ins with the law or . . . anything. Like there’s nothing that should be setting off any alarm bells for me about this particular family.”
But something was, and Ava wanted to know what, almost as bad as he did. “So you want me to go with you?”
He sighed. “This case has something to do with your father. It’s possible Jesse Fields might say something that has meaning only to you.” He paused. Frowned. “Wait a minute. That’s it.”