now knew Marcus had misappropriated more than six hundred thousand dollars from the Heartskeep estate, yet he had died broke. On the surface it appeared he’d stolen the money to pay blackmail demands. But Wyatt was still leery of the obvious. If the auditors that attorney Gavin Jarret had hired were able to match the blackmail demands to the amounts on the forged bills Marcus had submitted on behalf of the estate, maybe Wyatt would be able to tell if Marcus was the one being blackmailed—or the one doing the blackmailing.
Not for the first time Wyatt wished those notes hadn’t been so ambiguous. Not only didn’t they tell him who was being blackmailed, they didn’t give him a clue as to why that someone was being blackmailed.
Wyatt itched to be back at Heartskeep right now, supervising the search of the enormous mansion instead of driving into town looking for Gavin. But he’d already been reprimanded for going back out to Heartskeep the day after shooting Ducort.
Since the estate was off-limits, he’d driven out to the Walken estate this morning. Being their closest neighbors, and Gavin’s former foster parents, Emily and George Walken had opened their home to the twins and Gavin. Unfortunately, Wyatt had made the trek out there for nothing. Only the Walkens’ housekeeper had been present. Nan had informed him that everyone had left, planning to stay elsewhere until the media frenzy died down.
The day had been a fruitless waste of time so far. With any luck Gavin had gone to his office to supervise the audit. Otherwise, Wyatt was going to find himself twiddling his thumbs most of the afternoon.
Parking was at a premium in town. The only spot open was in front of the remains of the dry-cleaning shop and what had once been Gavin’s rented apartment above. The burned-out shell of a building was a silent reminder of how far a person would go to keep a secret. Wyatt wondered how far Eden would go.
He climbed out of his car into the hot, muggy air and wiped at the beads of sweat that immediately formed on his forehead. June was setting records, both for high temperatures and an unusual number of fierce summer storms. Stony Ridge had been fairly lucky so far. Located far enough north of New York City to sit high over the Hudson River, temperatures were generally milder here and the storms tended to give them more of a glancing blow.
Striding down the street, he exchanged greetings with several people without slowing down. The Hart family and Heartskeep had been a source of conversation for the locals since the day the first Hart had set foot in Stony Ridge. The town already hummed with gossip and speculation about the body and recent events at the estate. Wyatt wasn’t about to add to the fodder.
As he neared the narrow brick building that housed the law offices of Rosencroft and Associates, luck finally beamed a smile his way. Leigh—or Hayley?—Thomas stood on the sidewalk out front clutching an oversize briefcase to her chest.
Having met the twins several times now, he was surprised by an unexpected twist of physical awareness when he first caught sight of her. They were attractive young women, but neither of them had ever sent his pulses leaping in anticipation before. Of course, he’d never really seen one of them alone before. Hayley was rarely without Bram Myers at her side. She’d staked a clear claim on the rugged blacksmith and he seemed perfectly content to be claimed—even if her wealth was still an issue between them.
Wyatt decided this must be Leigh. She and Gavin had seemed pretty tight, and he certainly couldn’t blame his friend. Wyatt was struck by the way her chin-length hair shimmered more gold than brown beneath the unrelenting noon sun. The twins were slender, attractive women with identical heart-shaped faces and delicate bone structures. But exhaustion tugged at her expressive features, bowing the graceful arch of her neck.
He shouldn’t be noticing his buddy’s lady this way, but it was hard not to. She had surprisingly long, graceful legs for such a petite woman. And there was definitely something appealing about the way she stood there in her wilted, bright green-and-white blouse and trim navy skirt. The outfit was hardly provocative, but it did show her figure to good advantage.
She turned away from the building and caught him staring. His chagrin was forgotten when haunted blue eyes regarded him with no trace of recognition. Wyatt took a chance on the name.
“Leigh? Is something wrong?”
A stupid question given the current circumstances. No purse, he noticed, but she clutched the large, scuffed briefcase against her chest. Stained and battered, the case wasn’t the sort of accessory he’d associate with a Hart. He set that thought aside as his attention was drawn back to those wide, crystal-blue eyes. Fatigue mixed with sorrow dulled them—a painful reminder that his “case” was her mother’s death.
Wyatt closed the distance between them. “Is Gavin inside?” He nodded toward the door at her back.
Her forlorn expression changed to one of confusion. Her gaze flicked toward the building and back to his face, sliding away quickly.
“The office is closed.”
Her soft voice came out flat and empty. He barely controlled the impulse that started his hand in the direction of her slim, bare arm.
“Has something else happened?”
A flash of fear came and went so fast he wasn’t positive it was what he’d seen.
“Excuse me,” she said more firmly. “I have to go.”
Her reaction was all wrong. So was her appearance. Where was Gavin? Or her sister, for that matter? Leigh shouldn’t be out here alone. She looked like someone running on empty.
Wyatt blocked her path and nodded at the case. “Are those your grandfather’s files?”
Her knuckles whitened as she hugged the awkward case more tightly to her chest.
“I have to go,” she repeated.
He touched her shoulder, stopping her. She raised startled eyes to his. The tip of her tongue touched her lips. The nervous gesture was not the least bit erotic yet it made him sharply aware of her as a woman.
She took a quick step back. Wyatt let his hand fall to his side. Her wary expression made him frown.
She raised her face. “What is it you want?” she demanded.
Several totally inappropriate answers sprang to mind. What the devil was wrong with him? This was Leigh. He was almost positive it was Leigh. While he barely knew the twins, Hayley’s ability to put a man in his place was legendary.
“I’m not your enemy.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Can we talk?”
“Another time. I have to go.”
“Where?”
The question stopped her. For an instant she stared at him in consternation. He would have sworn there was a hint of desperation, even fear, in those expressive eyes. Something was wrong here.
“Let me pass.”
Her voice was still firm.
“I could make the request official.”
Definitely a lick of fear.
“What do you mean?”
His conscience gave a guilty twist. Her vulnerable expression was getting to him. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid.
“I know we haven’t met under the best of circumstances, but I’m not my uncle, Leigh. I’m on your side.”
She inhaled visibly. Watching her marshal her mental defenses took only a split second, but it revealed quite a bit about her. Leigh would face whatever life tossed at her. He should have known that from the way she’d handled herself when Ducort had threatened to kill her. Still, his admiration went up another notch as she raised her chin another notch and held his gaze.
“What side would that be, exactly?”
Mentally he applauded the challenge. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we