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“Whatcha doing in here?” he growled when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table like it was dinnertime.
“Waiting for you.”
“You don’t think someone else is here?”
“Nope. They’d have come out by now,” she rationalized, ignoring the glare he sent her.
“Well, stay put.” He pointed at the chair, then reconsidered. “Better yet, go sit in my squad car.” He re-aimed his index finger at the door. “Lock the car until I come back out.”
“I’m fine right here.” The person who’d run had been in Grandpa’s house for a reason, and she wanted to know who they were and what they’d been after.
Sam just turned on his booted heel and started looking through the house. She could keep track of him by the sound of his footsteps and the echo of doors and cupboards opening and closing. He was very methodical in his search.
“You’re right. I don’t see anyone,” he finally said as he returned to the kitchen. “But the bedroom window upstairs is open. You open it?”
She shook her head. “Which room?”
“The master. That one’s pert near the full two stories up.” He frowned. “Still one treacherous jump.” He stared at the stairs as if trying to figure something out. “I closed it, but I’d like one of the guys to come out and dust for fingerprints.”
That explained why it had been so cold in the room. “They didn’t go out that window.”
He stared at her then, his thick brows gathered in a frown.
“The living room window. I heard glass break and when I looked out, I saw someone in the yard.” How had he missed the broken window?
Glowering, Sam turned on his heel again and spent several minutes in the living room.
He walked slowly back into the kitchen, his gaze trained on the floor. Finally, he stopped and looked up. “Did they run back in here?”
“I—” Why did he think that? Then she followed his gaze.
She gasped. “Is that—?” There was a faint trail of something dark across the tile that she hadn’t noticed. “Oh, God. Sam—” Her voice broke, and her mind filled with every horrible possibility. “Is that blood?”
“I ain’t sure.” He shook his head. “I’ll have a deputy come check it out.” He walked over and grasped her elbow. “Let’s head outside.”
Gently, Lisa pulled away, trying to stand her ground, even though she was trembling hard. “Don’t lie to me, Sam. Please.” She tried to tamp down the worry that threatened to choke her. “If that’s Grandpa’s blood, do—” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Now, don’t go jumping to conclusions.” His words didn’t match the worry in his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried again, still unsuccessfully, to guide her to the door.
“Do you notice anything missing?” he asked, clearly trying to distract her.
And, even though she knew what he was doing, it worked. Maybe there was a clue in the house. Lisa looked around but had no idea what to even search for. “I—I don’t think so.” She shrugged. Suddenly, the weight of the last few hours settled hard on her shoulders.
The morning had started out so bright. Marco’s pronouncement about the business closing seemed ages ago. Lunch with Trudy... The drive up here... Now this. It was almost too much.
Should she have called Sam earlier, when Grandpa hadn’t answered her mother’s calls? Should she have come to visit sooner? More often?
She’d been so busy the past few months with the job, she hadn’t been up here much, nor had she spoken to her grandfather in a while.
Guilt raced through her. Would it have made a difference if she had?
Would he still be here? Would something have happened to her, too? Her stomach churned.
“Sam, when did you see him last?”
“See who? Win? Oh, now, don’t go fretting, Lisa. He had drinks with Hap and me yesterday over at The Thirsty Eagle.” Their favorite bar.
Lisa shot to her feet and paced. “But Sam, look at this place.” She waved her arms around. “He seems to have been gone longer than one day.” She ran her finger over the counter where a layer of dust dulled the dark tone of the marble.
“Lisa.” The older man stepped closer. “Your grandma’s been gone almost two years,” he unnecessarily reminded her. “Your grandpa would never be accused of being a housekeeper.”
“But—” She looked around, more closely this time. She stalked over to the refrigerator and yanked it open. The light came on, washing over the room, reassuringly normal. A gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice and several other normal items sat inside.
She didn’t want to, but she opened the milk and sniffed. Not spoiled. Thank goodness.
Maybe he hadn’t been gone long. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Still... “Then where is he? It’s getting late.” Another glance at the clock told her it wasn’t that late by her city standards. But here? For her grandfather? It was very late.
“Don’t go borrowin’ trouble.” Sam put his big, rough hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. We’ll find him,” he reassured her, and she wasn’t sure if he believed what he was saying or not.
Sam pulled out his phone and was soon talking to someone about securing the house. “Bring a sheet of plywood.” He paused and listened. “There’s a couple of sheets out in the shed. Got a broken window here, and Win ain’t around to fix it. Yeah.”
Once he’d hung up, he turned back to her again. “Okay, let’s get you settled at the hotel.”
“What?”
“It’s too late for you to drive to Denver tonight. And you’re not staying here by yourself.”
“Sam, I’m a grown adult. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know that.” He put his hands on his hips. “Someone broke in here for a reason. If they didn’t get what they want, they could come back. Nope, you’re not staying here.” He shook his head, and she saw his familiar stubbornness flash in his eyes.
Sam wasn’t going to let her stay in the house. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to stay here by herself, she wasn’t admitting that to him. She let her stubborn glare speak for her.
“No.” The big man strode toward the screen door and held it open for her. “Not only no, but hell, no.” He shook his head.
“I can’t go to a hotel.” She hadn’t had time to tell him she couldn’t afford it. She had lost her job today. She glanced at her watch. Yeah, still today. She followed him outside and watched as he closed and locked the door.
“Win would kill me if anything happened to you.” He finally stopped next to her car and crossed his arms over his chest. Stubborn never looked so human. Or immovable. “Evelyn down at The Guest House always has a room for dignitaries. We’ll set you up there.”
“I can’t—”
“Gonna make me tell Win on you?” His left eyebrow lifted, and she recognized that he’d stay here all night long and argue. And she wouldn’t win.
“Oh, fine.” She huffed to her car. “But only for tonight.”
“We’ll see.” He waited while she climbed in and closed the door behind her. Walking back to his car, he waited until she started her own vehicle and headed toward the small downtown hotel. He followed close behind.
The Guest House was one of the oldest buildings in Telluride. The two-story building, with an old-fashioned false front and big glass windows all across the street side, was a landmark. Built during the original mining boom back in the 1890s with new mining money, it’d been meant to impress.
And it still did.
She’d always wanted to stay here. Why did she feel like she was taking advantage of a bad situation?
As if she had any choice? Sam sat in his car outside and waited until she walked through the big glass door. Glancing at him and waving, she hoped he investigated crimes in this town with as much tenacity as he used keeping track of her.
She looked around the vast lobby in awe. It had seemed silly to stay here when her grandparents had always had a perfectly good guest room. That guest room was still there—just not an option right now. She shivered at Sam’s earlier warning that the intruder could return and she continued farther inside.
She had to force her feet to keep moving. It was so beautiful. Two huge antique crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Light fell in prisms over the old-fashioned wingback chairs and Chippendale couches, and in pools on the lush gray carpet.
Brass handrails edged the steps she descended into the sunken lobby area. But what caught her eye was the staircase. It curved upward, over the heads of diners in the small bar, and continued to create the ceiling over the check-in desk. Gleaming brass rails followed the same curve and nestled in the crease of the carpet on each stair.
It was beautiful. Too pretty to actually use, and too expensive for her to afford, she was sure.
Straight ahead, a tall counter made of dark wood dominated most of the far wall. Two staff members in formal tuxedo-type attire waited for her to step up.
“Oh, hello.” An older woman came out from behind the desk. Her neatly-cropped silver hair bounced, and her eyes smiled behind the dark cat-eye glasses she wore. “You must be Lisa. I’m so sorry to hear about the break-in.”
Sam wasn’t much for keeping secrets.
“Sam told me about Win. I’m sure he’s just off in the hills.” She put an arm around Lisa’s shoulders, comforting and warm. Lisa almost let herself believe the woman’s reassurances.
And she might have if she hadn’t seen that trail of dark blood on her grandfather’s kitchen floor.
“Th-thank you,” she whispered and let the woman lead her to the check-in desk.
Half an hour later, Lisa was settled in a room on the second floor. While the furniture was new and almost modern, the building made it all look antique. Where there had been renovations, the old brick wall was left exposed.
The windows were old, or seemed to be, and thick drapes were pulled back so she could look out. She did that as she sat down on the edge of the bed. What was she supposed to do now?
After a few minutes, she grabbed her phone and checked, just in case she’d missed a call from Grandpa.
Nothing.
No one. Not Trudy. Not Marco. Not Sam. Not her mom, nor her grandfather. She suddenly felt very lost. And alone.
Standing, Lisa made herself break out of her pity party. This was ridiculous. One bad day—okay, a really bad day—did not define her life.
She walked over to the windows, intent on pulling the shades. She might as well try to get some sleep. But as she reached up, she saw a movement in the alley below.
Leaning close enough to feel the cold coming from the glass, she watched a man go to the Dumpster. Curiosity made her lean closer, her forehead bumping the window pane.
Was that Sam? What was he looking for?
He was using a piece of wood to rummage around in the Dumpster. From here, Lisa couldn’t even make out his face, but saw him shake his head. Finally, he stood back and put his hands on his hips, much like he had at Grandpa’s house just a short while ago.
The star on his chest glinted as he moved in and out of the moonlight.
Did Sam’s odd search have anything to do with the break-in at Grandpa’s house? She leaned closer.
After several long minutes, she watched as he threw his hands up in defeat, an all-too-familiar gesture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. What was he saying?
Slowly, carefully, because she really wasn’t eavesdropping—really—she turned the lock to open the window. Thank God this wasn’t like the hotels in Denver where the windows were sealed.
A cold breeze slipped in between the wood frame as she lifted the window. She heard the echo of Sam’s deep, time-worn voice. “Nah, it ain’t here.” Silence. “I know we told him to throw it away. Doesn’t mean he did,” Sam snapped at the person on the other end of the phone before there was more silence.
What had someone supposedly thrown away? Something relating to Grandpa? Or something else? Surely the break-in wasn’t Sam’s only case.
“I am not climbing into the damned Dumpster for a piece of paper.” Sam turned to leave. “You shoulda made a copy.” The sound of his bootheels was loud, like they had been when he’d been walking around the house, only this time, it was against the stone of the alley instead of ancient wood floors. “Or taken a picture with your phone. You do know how to use it, right?”
The other person must have said something loud as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear. “I heard you. So did half the city. Just calm down, Hap. Don’t worry. We’ll find it. I’ll check with him tomorrow. Maybe by then Win’ll show up and you can ask him!” Finally, Sam let the lid of the container slam down and slowly walked away. The echo of his footsteps faded as he headed down the alley and disappeared into the night.
It did have something to do with her grandfather! Not only had Sam mentioned him by name, but Hap was the third leg of their troublesome trio. Those three always knew each other’s business. Always.
Lisa resisted the urge to run after him but ultimately gave up. What the heck? She pulled open the door, making sure she had her key card before stepping out into the deserted hall and pulling the door closed.
She took the stairs, nearly falling on her face when she hit the bottom too quickly. She slammed the crash bar on the door, the sound exceedingly loud in the night. Immediately, the cold bit into her skin, and she realized she’d left her coat in her room. Stupid.
Okay, this had better be a quick trip. She hustled across the alley and peered over the edge of the Dumpster. The thing was nearly half full. And the aroma... She stepped back and covered her nose. Eww...
Dishes clattered nearby, and she turned to look through a battered screen door in the old brick wall. A kitchen was on the other side, the white fluorescent light barely reaching through the shadows. Ah, food scraps—to the extreme—made that odor.
More prepared this time, she turned back to the Dumpster. Sam had mentioned a paper. She grimaced. Paper wasn’t going to survive that mess. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to look any closer.
* * *
“GREAT. JUST GREAT,” Trey grumbled as he slammed the receiver down. Nothing like an old-fashioned landline to vent his frustration with. The one waitress scheduled for tonight had just called in sick. She’d probably gone to the same party his cook Gabe had gone to last night. At least he’d toughed out the hangover and shown up.
Trey headed to the kitchen to strategize with the cook. “Hey, Gabe,” he called as he stepped through the swinging metal door. He walked around the corner, into the big industrial kitchen. The long metal tables were bare, and there wasn’t any heat coming from the gigantic stove. The vent fan was silent. “Hey, Gabe,” he called again. Still no answer. Where had the idiot gone?
Trey could make the burgers, but dang it, he couldn’t run the bar, the kitchen and wait tables by himself all night. He cursed and flipped on the grill.
Heading to the big walk-in freezer, he yanked the door open and tossed a box of burgers up onto one of the tables. He pulled everything else to make the burgers as well as a packet of the frozen fries that landed on the same table with a thunk. Maybe if he served enough drinks, they wouldn’t care how long it took to get their food. Happy Hour, it was.
A sound came from the back doorway. “Gabe, I hope you’re out there.” He stalked to the door and shoved the worn screen open. “I need your—”
A young woman was leaning into the Dumpster. Long, shapely legs led up to a nicely curved waist. The rest of her was in the shadow between the lid and the metal wall.
“Hey!” Trey yelled, not sure why he was so surprised. Homeless people came here to Telluride, too. They drifted through the Dumpsters, hoping to find something to eat or sell. “Get out of there. If you get hurt, it’s not our fault.” He hustled over toward her.
She yelped as the plastic lid came down and smacked her in the head. She shoved it aside and stood up. A pair of angry green eyes glared at him. “You scared me,” she accused him.
“Better than shooting you.”
She frowned and tilted her head just a bit sideways. “You’d shoot me for getting into your Dumpster?”
He almost laughed. “No. But I’m nicer than most people.”
She turned back to what she’d been doing. Leaning over again, she stood on her tiptoes. He reached out and grabbed the belt loop at her waist and pulled her back. “I said—”
“You said you weren’t going to shoot me.”
“I’m rethinking that.” He glared down at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m—uhm—looking for my—uh, bracelet.”
“For what?”
She didn’t meet his eyes, which told him she was lying. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to answer.
She stood there, her hands on her hips, glaring at him. She actually tapped her foot. “You know—a piece of jewelry that fits around your wrist?”
“Not funny.” He leaned toward her, hoping his glare intensified enough to make her take him seriously. “Ever hear of asking if someone found it? Maybe it’s inside and not in some smelly Dumpster.”
The lie flashed in her eyes. “Oh, did you find it?” she asked, gripping his arms. She was laying it on a little thick.
“Well, no, but—” Of course he hadn’t.
“Why did you get my hopes up?”
“I just suggested it.” What was wrong with this woman? “But you didn’t even ask.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the Dumpster. “Don’t let me bother you.” She waved toward the still-open door. “I’m sure you have customers.”
He did, but leaving her out here to get hurt wasn’t a good idea.
Maybe his cynicism was clouding his judgment. Maybe she was telling the truth. Why was a bracelet so important to her? Was it valuable? Sentimental value? “Surely you can get another bracelet.”
She spun on her heel, glaring at him. “Spoken like a person who has money to burn.”
“I don’t have money to burn. But it’s just a bracelet.”
“Just a bracelet?” Her voice went up a good octave. “It’s the only one I have, and the only one I’m likely to have. I need it.”
“Why?”
She hesitated. “Because—” She swallowed and didn’t meet his gaze again. “I planned to, uh, pawn it. Yeah, that’s it.”
He looked a little closer and even in the shadows of the alley he saw the stress in her eyes. “You an addict?”
She glared at him.
“You drink?” He thought about the waitress who’d just called in “sick.” Which reminded him that he needed to get back in and start making orders.
“No,” she denied. “Though a glass of wine now and then with dinner is awfully nice.” There was a wistful note in her voice.
“If it’s money you want, maybe I can help you out. You know how to waitress? Cook?”
He’d startled her, he could tell. “What do you mean?”
“I run this bar. My cook is missing, and my waitress just called in sick. I can’t do it all by myself. You want a job? I’ll give you a shot.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Sometimes, I seriously think so.” He sighed. “I need the help. You in?” He waited while she thought about it. He wanted to push her, wanted to just grab her and drag her into the kitchen. But he just waited.
“I can cook. How hard is it to be a waitress?”
He reached out and curled his hand around her wrist. “You’re hired. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FOUR
WHO WAS THIS GUY? Lisa looked at him first, and then around the bar with interest. She hadn’t been here in a while. It was old, with pictures of skiers up on the walls, along with beer signs and advertisements for local events. Wood covered the walls, the floor, and a long, polished hunk of it made up the bar top. Only a couple of tables were occupied, and none of the people seemed interested in anything but their own conversations.
“So, if I’m working for you, who are you?” she asked, coming to a stop at the outer side of the bar.
“Guess it would be fair to introduce myself.” He smiled and extended a hand to her. “Trey Haymaker, bartender and manager here.” She took his hand. She noticed the calluses on his palms and the firm grip of his hand.
He was tall, though part of that was the raised floor behind the bar. Like everyone else here, where ski slopes dominated the town, his face had a windburned hue to it, and his dark blond hair was tousled from that same wind. When he smiled, it was warm enough, but his eyes didn’t hold that same warmth. Welcome, but distant.
“I should let you know,” she continued. “I’ve never waitressed before. Not really. I’ve worked events, but nothing like this.” She needed to be honest with him, and herself.
“I didn’t think you had.” One of the customers at a table across the room waved at him and he moved to talk to them. Nodding, he returned and started fixing drinks. “All I need is someone to do just what I did. Go to the table, ask what they want and give me the information. I’ll fill the order and you can carry it back out. Simple.”
She could do that. “Do you want me to take payment?”
He nodded. “If you can.”
“I can.” She’d done plenty of that in both her college days working retail and definitely working with invoices for Marco.
“Good.” He nodded. “Here’s an apron. Sink’s in back to wash up. Then you can deliver that to the table on the left.” He slid a round tray with three drinks made and ready to taste toward her.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” She laughed, and smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t frown, either. That was a good sign, right?
For the next two hours, they developed a rhythm. Orders, making drinks or food, serving. She couldn’t say she loved it, but the tips were nice, and it was a job. A temporary job, she reminded herself, that would give her money while she waited for her grandfather to return, or she found something else.
“I’ll show you how to close down tomorrow night, if you’re planning to come back,” Trey said once the last customer had gone and the door was locked.
“Why wouldn’t I come back?”
He laughed, and it was the first time she’d heard him do that. “Not everyone does.” He walked behind the bar and hit a button on the cash register. He started counting the money. “You got a place to stay?” He asked it nonchalantly, not even looking up from his task.
“Uh, yeah.” That seemed like a strange question. “Why would you think I didn’t?”
This time he did look up. “Well, I did meet you rummaging around in the trash.”
True. She frowned. “No. I’ve got a place to stay.” Two to be specific. She almost told him that, then remembered her earlier decision to be more like Trudy. To be less open and trusting.
He wasn’t local, since she didn’t know him, and there was a hint of a Southern accent in his voice. “You’re not originally from here, are you?” she asked before she thought twice about it.
He glanced up again. “Nope, but I’m here now.”
That wasn’t much of an answer, and it didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t going to get much more. He was clearly a private man. Every other time she’d tried to chat with him tonight, he’d answered just as succinctly. No elaboration, no explanation and no effort to get to know her.
The red flags that filled her mind were worth paying attention to. She’d had enough experience already with people who weren’t open and honest with her. She’d do well to remember that.
The next morning when her phone alarm went off, Lisa smacked it to silence the noise. She’d forgotten to turn it off last night. For half an instant, she panicked that she’d be late for work if she didn’t get moving.
Then reality hit her. She didn’t have a job to get to. Wait... Had she dreamt last night? The Dumpster? The way Trey Haymaker, her new boss, had grabbed her arm, and before she could think straight, hired her to waitress? Until two in the morning?
She’d been too stunned to say no, and because of that, she did indeed have a new job.
Groaning, she rolled over. Might as well sleep in since she now apparently worked the night shift. She closed her eyes, putting the pillow over her head to block out the morning light. But returning to sleep was out of the question. She’d been getting up early too long to break the habit in a day.