“Any luck with the other Russells?” he asked.
“Nothing but dead ends. Your cabin full of papers and photos is sounding better and better. Have I come at a bad time?”
“I have to get all the supplies ready for a camping party that’s set to show up any minute.”
“Need some help?” she asked. “I can tote and lift.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “I can handle it, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”
“Please, go ahead. I noticed a historical museum on the next block. That looks interesting. The curators at small museums are often a wealth of information. Maybe I’ll just run over there-”
“No.” He said it, so emphatically she jumped. “I mean, the guy who takes care of the museum will talk your ear off about everything you don’t want to know about and it’s hard to get away from him. If you’ll just wait a few minutes, I’ll be done here and I can devote my full attention to you.”
“Well, okay.” But she still thought the museum sounded interesting. And talkative people were lifeblood for a private investigator like herself. She’d never had any problems with people who talked too much, only with people, like Russ, who kept their mouths shut. Fortunately, there were a lot more talkers in the world than silent types.
She found a perch on the edge of a concrete planter and watched him work.
He disappeared into the storeroom and returned with a tent, a lantern and some other items Sydney didn’t recognize.
After his third trip, a battered pickup truck bearing four boisterous college kids whipped into the parking lot.
Sydney waited patiently while Russ dealt with them, answering yet another call from her father, who couldn’t resist checking up on her every few hours. Ever since her mother’s death, her father relied on daily pep talks from Sydney to keep him going.
“I wish you’d tell me what you’re up to down there,” he huffed.
“I told you, I’m following a lead. It could mean a good commission. I’ll tell you more about it when I know more.” Lowell would freak out if he knew she had a lead on the Oberlin case. It might be just the thing to blast him out of his depression, but her likely failure might make things worse. “Aunt Carol is doing well.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Lowell Baines concluded.
Darn it, even in his depressed state, his instincts were sharp. It was almost impossible to fool him. “I have to go, Dad. I’ll be home soon. Love you.”
“But, Sydney-”
She disconnected. Otherwise he would keep her on the phone forever, pestering her.
Russ was piling gear into the bed of the pickup and answering questions about terrain and the weather forecast, which was apparently of some concern. Although the sun was shining now, rain was due to move into the area that evening and Russ gave careful instructions for preventing the tents from washing away.
During one of his trips between the storeroom and truck, a sleeping bag toppled from his arms. She retrieved it for him and carried it to the pickup while the college boys eyed her breasts. Russ shot them a look that ended the ogling.
His display of primitive protectiveness made Sydney’s blood sing through her veins. She was looking forward to getting his “full attention.”
Chapter Four
Russ hurried to get the college kids on their way. So far he’d lucked out. The Milhaus sisters hadn’t revealed anything pertinent. But he had trouble on another front. His mother had heard about his date with Sydney last night, not to mention that several people had seen them yesterday around the square.
“If she’s your new girlfriend, I want to meet her!” Winnie had insisted when she’d called that morning. He probably should have seen this one coming.
“She’s not a girlfriend,” Russ had assured his mom. “She stopped by the store and we struck up a conversation. It’s just a casual thing and she’s leaving in a day or two. I’ll probably never see her again. You wouldn’t like her, anyway.” Which was blatantly untrue. His mother liked everybody. She’d always gotten on well with Russ’s girlfriends.
But in this case, the ends justified the means. Winnie had wasted too much of her life focused on money, had practically ruined her life in the pursuit of it. The one time she’d had money of her own, after Sammy paid her off to disappear, she’d blown it all on every unhealthy pursuit imaginable.
She was happy now, doing a job she loved and living close to people who cared about her. But that would change, he knew, if she saw a chance to get her hands on more of Sammy’s cash. The mere whisper of millions of dollars would send her into a tailspin he didn’t care to witness or deal with.
He glanced at Sydney; she was sitting on the edge of a planter with her face to the sun, enjoying the gorgeous afternoon. What had started out as a simple decision on his part to refuse an inheritance had turned into a big pile of deceit, and he didn’t like that, or himself for that matter, one bit.
Still, he only had to keep the two women apart for another day or so and his problems would be over.
He approached Sydney, who had her eyes closed. “Hello?”
She jumped. “Oh. Sorry. I was about to doze off. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
He hadn’t, either. He kept thinking about Sydney in his arms, how she’d felt, how she’d smelled, and he’d lain awake for hours. He wondered if her sleeplessness had a similar source and couldn’t help hoping so. “Was there a problem?”
“It was too quiet,” she admitted. “I’m used to traffic noises at night and all I could hear were my own ears ringing from the loud music at the club.”
So much for his fantasy that she’d been desperate for his touch.
“You actually like the city noise? I guess you can get used to anything.” He remembered what it was like to sleep in their Vegas apartment. Though he and his mother had lived in a pricey complex, the walls were paper thin. All night long, he’d hear people coming and going, cars and sirens, drunk pedestrians outside and his mother’s partying friends inside. He couldn’t imagine how anyone found that preferable to peace and quiet.
He looked down at Sydney’s feet. “We’ll have to do something about your shoes.”
“Why?” She looked down at her black, pointy-toed heels. “I won’t actually have to hike into the woods, will I? I have a policy never to walk on dirt.” She laughed, but Russ didn’t join her. They would, in fact, have to hike to get to the cabin, but he didn’t want to scare her off.
“What size do you wear?” he asked.
“Six-and-a-half,” she answered. “But-”
He went inside and Sydney followed, looking troubled. He scanned the shelves of shoeboxes until he found what he wanted, then grabbed a pair of socks. “Try these on.”
With a shrug, she slipped out of her heels and put the socks and hiking boots over her stockings.
Russ watched, appreciating the curve of her calf and her dainty ankles. She must really want to get at those papers, because she wasn’t built for outdoor adventures.
Nor did she dress for them. Today’s hat was some high-fashion take on a pith helmet. But as he watched her stretching to lace the hiking boots, he had to revise his initial impression. Beneath the olive skirt and zebra jacket she was no city-girl softie. He saw muscles in those legs.
Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he grabbed a couple of backpacks from the storeroom and quickly filled them with a couple of days’ food-easy stuff that wouldn’t require a lot of preparation. The cabin had a pantry full of canned and dry goods, so she wouldn’t starve. He included some bottled water.
While he worked, Sydney tried out the shoes in the main area of the store, pacing along one aisle and down another, her hips swaying gently with each step. Not that he was watching.
“These are really comfortable,” she said when she returned to the storeroom. “I’ll take them.”
“Consider them a gift,” he said. A guilty gift. Not that an expensive pair of hiking boots would make up for the hoax he was about to perpetrate. “Are you ready?”
She grabbed her purse and briefcase. “Sure.” He didn’t deserve the warm smile she gave him.
