money.
Hell, I might need the money if I have to run again .
‘No,’ she said, adopting the same soothing tone, taking satisfaction in watching his eyes flicker in surprise, ‘I don’t intend to build, and yes, there is a house at the end of the road. The map doesn’t show it since it doesn’t have a traditional address. It never has, as far as I know. But it’s visible on Google Earth, a big old abandoned house with a cemetery in the back yard.’
His head tilted slightly, his interest piqued. ‘Abandoned? For how long?’
‘Twenty-three years.’
‘Who owns it?’
She drew a breath. ‘I do. Now.’
‘You bought it?’
This was getting too personal. ‘I don’t see how that’s your business,’ she said coolly.
‘Humor me, then. I could find out through the public record, but you could save me some time by telling me. Time I could use to find out who brutalized that young woman and left her out here to die,’ he added, as a parent might when trying to make a child feel guilty.
It worked. Faith looked away, appropriately chastised. And aware that the deed in the public record might still list her as Faith Frye. Her attorney in Miami had filed for the name change several days ago, but had told her it could take a week or more to update. ‘My grandmother owned the house, but hadn’t lived there for twenty-three years. She died a month ago and left it to me.’
‘It’s sat empty all this time? Really? That’s hard to believe.’
‘Oh, she had people go in and tidy up from time to time, but from what I saw yesterday, it looks pretty much as it always did. The grounds are kept up by the historical society, on account of the cemetery being a landmark. Why all the questions about the house?’
‘Just getting the lay of the land,’ he said mildly. ‘You’d armed yourself with a gun when the sheriff arrived.’
She blinked, startled at the topic change and now back on her guard. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
She blinked again, this time in disbelief. ‘Why? Seriously? Maybe because I was alone, my Jeep wrecked, stranded on a deserted road with an unconscious victim of a violent assault? That girl was left there by someone, Agent Novak. If that someone had stuck around, I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to hurt her again. Or me.’
‘That’s sensible, of course. But why did you have a gun to begin with, Miss Corcoran?’
So I can shoot my sonofabitch stalker if he manages to track me here, she thought, but had the presence of mind not to say it aloud. If she ever did shoot the sonofabitch stalker, she didn’t want anyone claiming she’d done so with premeditation . ‘A lot of women carry weapons.’
‘True enough. But most of the civilian women I know carry them in their purse. You left your purse in your car, yet you had your gun handy.’
That he’d noticed shouldn’t have rattled her, but it did. ‘I don’t carry it in my purse.’
‘In a shoulder holster, then?’
‘No.’
He narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated. ‘You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you? Fine. Why did you have your gun so handy, Miss Corcoran? Did you bring it from your Jeep on purpose, expecting to need it? Did you perhaps see more than you’re admitting?’
It was her turn to blink in surprise. Holy hell. He thinks I’m lying. Which she was not. She had simply withheld personal information that he did not need to know. There was a difference.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I did not expect to need my gun. It was in my coat pocket, if you must know. I didn’t see anyone except the girl, just like I told you. I’m not lying.’
He stared at her. ‘You carry a gun in your coat pocket? Why in God’s name would you do something so dangerous?’
She glared back, irritated. ‘I’m not stupid, Agent Novak. I don’t carry it in my pocket unprotected. I have a pocket holster.’
‘Why?’ he asked again, his urgency mounting.
She feigned nonchalance, hoping to ratchet his
Hell, I might need the money if I have to run again .
‘No,’ she said, adopting the same soothing tone, taking satisfaction in watching his eyes flicker in surprise, ‘I don’t intend to build, and yes, there is a house at the end of the road. The map doesn’t show it since it doesn’t have a traditional address. It never has, as far as I know. But it’s visible on Google Earth, a big old abandoned house with a cemetery in the back yard.’
His head tilted slightly, his interest piqued. ‘Abandoned? For how long?’
‘Twenty-three years.’
‘Who owns it?’
She drew a breath. ‘I do. Now.’
‘You bought it?’
This was getting too personal. ‘I don’t see how that’s your business,’ she said coolly.
‘Humor me, then. I could find out through the public record, but you could save me some time by telling me. Time I could use to find out who brutalized that young woman and left her out here to die,’ he added, as a parent might when trying to make a child feel guilty.
It worked. Faith looked away, appropriately chastised. And aware that the deed in the public record might still list her as Faith Frye. Her attorney in Miami had filed for the name change several days ago, but had told her it could take a week or more to update. ‘My grandmother owned the house, but hadn’t lived there for twenty-three years. She died a month ago and left it to me.’
‘It’s sat empty all this time? Really? That’s hard to believe.’
‘Oh, she had people go in and tidy up from time to time, but from what I saw yesterday, it looks pretty much as it always did. The grounds are kept up by the historical society, on account of the cemetery being a landmark. Why all the questions about the house?’
‘Just getting the lay of the land,’ he said mildly. ‘You’d armed yourself with a gun when the sheriff arrived.’
She blinked, startled at the topic change and now back on her guard. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
She blinked again, this time in disbelief. ‘Why? Seriously? Maybe because I was alone, my Jeep wrecked, stranded on a deserted road with an unconscious victim of a violent assault? That girl was left there by someone, Agent Novak. If that someone had stuck around, I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to hurt her again. Or me.’
‘That’s sensible, of course. But why did you have a gun to begin with, Miss Corcoran?’
So I can shoot my sonofabitch stalker if he manages to track me here, she thought, but had the presence of mind not to say it aloud. If she ever did shoot the sonofabitch stalker, she didn’t want anyone claiming she’d done so with premeditation . ‘A lot of women carry weapons.’
‘True enough. But most of the civilian women I know carry them in their purse. You left your purse in your car, yet you had your gun handy.’
That he’d noticed shouldn’t have rattled her, but it did. ‘I don’t carry it in my purse.’
‘In a shoulder holster, then?’
‘No.’
He narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated. ‘You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you? Fine. Why did you have your gun so handy, Miss Corcoran? Did you bring it from your Jeep on purpose, expecting to need it? Did you perhaps see more than you’re admitting?’
It was her turn to blink in surprise. Holy hell. He thinks I’m lying. Which she was not. She had simply withheld personal information that he did not need to know. There was a difference.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I did not expect to need my gun. It was in my coat pocket, if you must know. I didn’t see anyone except the girl, just like I told you. I’m not lying.’
He stared at her. ‘You carry a gun in your coat pocket? Why in God’s name would you do something so dangerous?’
She glared back, irritated. ‘I’m not stupid, Agent Novak. I don’t carry it in my pocket unprotected. I have a pocket holster.’
‘Why?’ he asked again, his urgency mounting.
She feigned nonchalance, hoping to ratchet his
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