Whispers of Fate: The Mistresses of Fate, Book Two by Deirdre Dore

heart was racing. She rarely raised her voice when she was scared or worried—a holdover from training the dogs. They never reacted well to histrionics.
    Yarrow almost—almost—rolled her eyes, but she seemed to catch herself under the steady weight of Tavey’s stare.
    “Yeah.” The girl glanced back at Tyler. “Investigator Downs already told us we shouldn’t walk through the woods.” Her voice sounded genial enough, as if she was happy to obey, but a stubborn quirk pulled up one side of her mouth. Tavey recognized stubbornness—she had a fair share of it herself.
    “He’s right,” Tavey agreed, looking up at him, thinking briefly of her own recent walk through the woods.
    Raquel appeared in the driveway near the porte cochere at the back of the house and walked toward Tyler. He dropped his arms and turned to look behind him when he heard her footsteps. The girls moved out of his way, closer to Tavey, and Tyler shut the door to his truck.
    “Raquel,” he greeted her, and nodded.
    “Tyler. I thought you weren’t coming by.” She approached until all six of them were standing in a rough half circle next to Tyler’s truck. Raquel sent a wary glance in Tavey’s direction.
    So she had called him. Tavey grimaced and dropped her own arms to her sides.
    “The girls needed a ride over here,” Tyler explained, not bothering to look in Tavey’s direction. “They have a question for Tavey.”
    Tavey struggled with the urge to demand some answers of her own. “Well, let’s get some breakfast, shall we? Then we can all ask questions.” She gestured back the way Raquel had come.
    Raquel nodded, taking in the Triplets with the curious but slightly detached look that she wore when she was investigating something. Even as a kid, Raquel had been meticulous in her inquiry. She never rushed, always examined a topic of interest thoroughly. Tavey wondered what she found so intriguing about the three girls.
    The girls followed Raquel to the house, casting glances back to Tyler and Tavey, who hadn’t moved. However, as soon as the girls were out of sight, she stepped closer to him, touching his forearm when he didn’t look at her.
    “What were they doing there, Tyler?”
    He turned his head just enough for her to know he was listening, the sun shining on the shaggy blond strands that covered his head. She wanted to run her fingers through them, smooth the bunched muscles in his jaw with her hands.
    “Cleaning,” he muttered. “Don’t ask me why.”
    “Did you get a chance to talk to him about—”
    “No.” He shook his head. “I’ll head back over there now unless you need me to take the girls home.”
    “I can take them.” She hesitated. “But stay. Join us for breakfast. I’d like you to see what I’ve found.”
    He studied her, his eyes dropping to her mouth. “All right.”
    She waved a hand toward the back entrance, and they’d both taken a step when she heard another car in the driveway.
    An older-model Jeep, covered in mud, rust, and dents, clambered cheerfully over the ruts, bouncing on what must have been impressively bad shocks before coming to an abrupt halt just short of the house.
    Tavey waited, arms crossed over her chest, to see her visitor, but after about thirty seconds, the car still hadn’t moved. She dropped her arms and marched over, but the car rolled forward as soon as she took a step. She paused, a small tingle of fear running down her spine.
    The Jeep halted a few feet away from her this time, and she made out a large shadow moving behind the dirty window. The door opened with a sudden crack and a squeal of hinges, and a tall, muscular man unfolded himself and stepped out. The car seemed to rise several inches once he’d relieved it of his weight.
    He had an appealingly rough, worn-looking face, with a bold nose, laugh lines around eyes the color of melted chocolate. His brown hair was thinning a little on top and the sunglasses he’d pushed up onto his forehead made it more