The Third Twin. Dani Sinclair
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Alexis pulled the briefcase from the car and turned around. Another good-looking, dark-haired man sauntered toward them. He held an ice-cream cone in one hand and a large paper dish of ice cream in the other.
“Sorry, Leigh. I never could tell you and your sister apart.”
Leigh must have a twin sister named Hayley. Alexis couldn’t have said why that knowledge was so frightening, but it was.
“Put the briefcase back in the car, Leigh,” Wyatt said. “I’ll take you back to town.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather walk.”
He set his jaw. “I didn’t think you were the petty type.”
Her mind supplied something he’d said to her earlier. “And I didn’t think you were like your uncle. I guess we were both wrong.”
Wyatt’s lips tightened. Before he could respond, his cell phone rang. He reached for it automatically.
“I’m really going to have to work on my timing,” the newcomer said wryly. “He isn’t, you know.”
“Like his uncle? I’ll take your word for it.”
Easy enough to do since she had no idea who Wyatt’s uncle was. Wyatt growled into his cell phone. Alexis had a hunch her luck was playing out.
“Do you think you could give me a lift back to town?”
“Uh, I’m not going back into town right now. I have to swing by Heartskeep to pick up a piece of equipment.”
Her father had tried to tell her something about Heartskeep, and Wyatt had implied Leigh lived there.
“Even better,” she told him.
The man looked to Wyatt, but Wyatt’s expression was intent as he listened to his phone.
“Uh, let me give Lucky this ice cream before it melts.” Alexis followed the stranger to a well-used pickup. An enormous black dog of questionable parentage woofed a greeting and leaped down from the bed of the truck. She’d always liked dogs, but this one was a lot bigger than the apartment-size animals she was used to seeing. Fortunately his tail wagged in a friendly fashion.
“Here you go, Lucky.”
Lucky looked from her to the ice cream. She was relieved when the ice cream won. He set to work inhaling the contents of the dish with a large pink tongue.
“I know it isn’t any of my business, but do you want to tell me what’s going on?” the man asked.
“Wyatt promised not to hound me when he brought me out here. Now all he wants to do is ask me questions.”
“Official questions?”
I could make the request official, he’d said. What was wrong with her brain? She wasn’t generally this slow on the uptake. Wyatt was a cop!
The other man was frowning at her, looking troubled. “I knew you should have told Wyatt about the hidden room. Did the police discover the entrance through the closet?”
Alexis tried not to gape at him. What was he talking about? Police and hidden rooms? She shook her head and picked what she hoped was a safe response. “I don’t see how they could have, do you?”
He shrugged. “The cops have been combing the place since Lucky found your mother’s grave. I would have thought it unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible one of them stumbled on the entrance.”
His dog had found a grave? Alexis floundered helplessly, but some sort of response seemed indicated.
“Is that likely?”
“I didn’t think so. I patched the hole on the work side of the wall, and you know how well-concealed the closet entrance is. They would have had to run their hands all over the wood paneling inside the closet to find the depression that opened the door. But maybe they noticed the hole I patched on the other side. I didn’t think anyone would notice since we’re working in that room, but—”
He broke off abruptly, staring past her. Alexis didn’t have to turn around to know Wyatt had come up behind her.
“R.J., could you give Leigh a lift back to Stony Ridge?”
She turned to face Wyatt, oddly disappointed by his change of heart.
“I have to go to Heartskeep,” he explained.
“I thought you had nothing to do all day.”
“Occasionally it pays to be related to the chief. I’ve been reinstated to active status.” He looked at the man called R.J. “Pete’s wife just went into labor. The chief had assigned him to take my place as liaison, but now I have to get out there and take over again.”
“Guess we’ll need another catcher for tomorrow’s game then,” R.J. said. “Actually, Wy, I was on my way out to Heartskeep myself. I need my portable generator. Think they’ll let me remove it?”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem. I’ll get you inside. You’ll be able to give Leigh a lift back to town?”
He looked pointedly at the briefcase in her hands.
“Uh, sure. No problem.”
“Thanks.”
Wyatt didn’t look at her again. He turned and started back to his car. Her sense of loss was totally irrational. Alexis had wanted to get away from him. Even more so now that she knew he was a cop. She should be relieved.
A dark, furry head suddenly nudged her side, knocking her off balance. Lucky stared up at her with friendly, deep chocolate eyes. At least the dog liked her.
“I’d pet you, but I have my hands full.”
“Sorry, Leigh,” R.J. said. “Let me take that and throw it in back.”
Alexis hesitated. She eyed the large dog as he sat on his haunches to lick traces of ice cream from his muzzle. “Will he eat it?”
R.J. paused as if considering that seriously. “I don’t think so, but we’ll let him ride in the back of the cab with us.”
Before she could protest, he lifted the briefcase from her hands and tossed it into the bed of the truck. It landed with a heavy thud.
“What do you have in that thing? Bricks?”
“Paper.” Hundreds of pieces of expensive paper.
“Hop in. Wyatt’s waiting.”
Lucky immediately jumped into the back. He wasn’t interested in getting inside the hot cab of the truck and Alexis couldn’t blame him. Not wanting to call any more attention to the briefcase, she assured R.J. it would be okay and crossed her fingers.
Climbing up into the high cab in her skirt wasn’t easy. She was aware of Wyatt watching from his car as R.J. had to give her a boost up.
As he started the engine, R.J. immediately clicked off the radio, but not before she realized he had it set to a classical station.
“You can leave that on. I like classical music.” R.J. raised his eyebrows.
Because the real Leigh didn’t like classical music?
“That’s okay. I like an occasional change of pace from the country-western music most of my crew listens to all day,” he said as if feeling a need to explain his choice of music.
Based on his dusty jeans, dark T-shirt, work boots and the fact that she’d noticed a hard hat on the back seat, Alexis deduced R.J. had something to do with construction. Those sinewy muscles didn’t come from pumping iron in some gym.
“How’s Gavin’s hand? Think he’ll be able to play ball tomorrow?” R.J. asked conversationally.
She wished he’d turned the radio back on instead of trying to make polite conversation.