Questioning the Heiress. Delores Fossen

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      She started to shake her head but stopped. Oh, this was not good. “My parents, Kenneth and his wife were the only people at the table with me, but some of my other neighbors were there. They could have heard.”

      “Give me names,” he demanded, while he made a visual check of the area around them.

      “Your father’s boss, Link Hathaway, and his daughter, Margaret. Miles Landis was there, too. He’s my best friend’s brother. Half brother,” she corrected. Miles had dropped by to hit her up for a loan, again. Caroline had turned him down, again. “Your father even came into the restaurant for a couple of minutes to talk to Link.”

      Egan mumbled some profanity under his breath. “So, what you’re saying is that everyone in Cantara Hills knows about your appointment?”

      She silently repeated the same profanity as Egan. “Yes. But I didn’t think I had to keep it a secret. My parents and I were discussing it because my mom’s upset about me being sedated with this drug and then interrogated. She wanted to cancel her trip, and I had to talk her out of it.”

      Egan jumped right on that. “Why is she upset?”

      Caroline groaned. The adrenaline and bomb scare had obviously made her chatty. “Long story.”

      “I’m listening.”

      Of course he was. And he was scowling again. He apparently thought she was concerned about revealing something incriminating.

      Which she was.

      In a way.

      But Caroline couldn’t think about that now, and she didn’t dare voice any of it to Egan. She’d already blabbed enough tonight.

      She chose her words carefully. “My mother’s afraid I’ll say something about a personal incident, and that the information will get around to everyone,” she admitted. “The incident isn’t pertinent to this case.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that.”

      Caroline was sure her scowl matched his, and she had to speak through nearly clenched teeth. “All right. Three years ago I was involved with a jerk. Everybody knows about the broken engagement, but no one else knows that the jerk stole money from my parents. I want to keep it that way, understand?”

      Egan responded with a noncommittal grunt. “I’ll keep it that way if I decide it’s not vital information that can help me catch a killer. You’re not my priority, Ms. Stallings. And neither is your parents’ need to keep their skeletons shut away in their walk-in closet.”

      “Oh, God,” she mumbled, ignoring his last zinger. She checked her watch. “My parents. They’ll be in Cancun by now, and one of the neighbors might have called them at their hotel. They’ll be worried.” She glanced in the direction of her parents’ house. Just up the street. And even though she knew her parents weren’t home, her concerns were verified.

      The cruiser’s lights had attracted the neighbors. All of them. One of the officers was guarding the street in front of her house and preventing anyone from getting too close. Including her parents’ nearest neighbors, the Jenkins. She spotted them, a perky yellow umbrella perched over their heads. They were frantically waving at her, and Mrs. Jenkins had a cell phone pressed to her ear.

      “They say they have your parents on the line. They want to know if you’re all right,” the officer relayed to her. Because of the sirens and the rain, he had to practically shout.

      “Tell them I’m fine,” Caroline shouted back. “And that I love them. I’ll call them later.”

      If Egan had any response to her message, he didn’t show it. He looked at the approaching trio of bomb squad vehicles before turning his attention back to her. “Other than you, who had access to your car today?”

      It was something that hadn’t occurred to Caroline. Yet. But it would have once she’d caught her breath. “I was the only person in the car. My family’s business office is on San Pedro Avenue, and I parked there in my space in the building garage. I came back here to Cantara Hills for lunch around noon, and then I met with a client at his office just off Highway 281 before returning to work.”

      He glanced around them again. “I noticed your car doors were unlocked in the garage. Were they locked when you were at any of these other places?”

      Caroline really hated to admit this, but, hey, she hadn’t known that her every movement might have been watched by a killer. “I had the top down most of the day so it wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to get inside. And since it’s a vintage car and I don’t keep anything valuable inside, it doesn’t have a security alarm.”

      The bomb squad vehicles braked to a stop by the gate.

      Egan stared at her. “So anyone could have overheard your conversation at lunch, and those same anyones could have gained access to your car and planted a bomb.”

      Because he made her sound like a careless idiot, Caroline frowned. “That about sums it up.”

      But Egan was right. She hadn’t been cautious, driving with the car top down with a killer on the loose, and it could have cost others their lives. She already blamed herself for Kimberly McQuade’s death.

      She didn’t want this on her conscience as well.

      The bomb squad personnel barreled out of their vehicles, and Egan stepped away from her to speak to a burly blond man wearing dark blue-gray body armor. Caroline listened as Egan briefed the man, describing the location of the device and the size.

      The man tipped his head toward her. “Go ahead and get her out of here. I want those guards and uniforms out, too. I don’t want anyone near the place until my guys have checked out this thing.”

      Egan turned back to her. There was more displeasure in his body language and expression, probably because he had to babysit her.

      “Let’s go,” he grumbled.

      But the grumble had barely left Egan’s mouth when the sound of the blast rocketed behind them.

Chapter Three

      Well, at least no one was dead.

      That was the only good thing Egan could say about the events of the night.

      First, an intruder. The intruder’s escape. Then, an explosion. Egan was waiting for a call from the bomb squad so he’d know the extent of the damage, but he didn’t have to hear a situation report to confirm that the killer had a new target.

      Caroline Stallings.

      She was in the corner of his temporary office. Soaked to the bone. She’d gotten even wetter when they had run from his car and into the country club. Her clothes were clinging to her body, and there were drops of rain still sliding down her bare legs and into those pricey, uncomfortable-looking heels. She was shivering. And using his phone to call her parents in Cancun, Mexico. Her calm, practically lively tone didn’t go with her slumped shoulders and shellshocked expression. The rain, and possibly even a tear or two, had streaked through what was left of her makeup.

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