Colorado Bodyguard. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ being missing?”

      “I knew she wasn’t doing the news lately, but they said something about her being on vacation, and then I just kind of forgot. I don’t watch a lot of TV and I mean, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was her, and I didn’t want to look stupid—and you’re the first people to come around asking questions.”

      Rand didn’t have to look at Sophie to know she was glaring at him. Maybe she was right. Maybe they should have taken her sister’s disappearance more seriously and made it a point to ask questions before now, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do was try to do a better job going forward.

      “Had you ever seen the man before?” he asked. “Or have you seen him since?”

      Marlee shook her head so hard her earrings jangled. “I don’t think so. But like I said, he was nothing special.”

      “Was it this guy?” He pulled up a website on his phone that featured an article about Richard Prentice and turned the phone so that she could see it.

      She squinted at the photo of a man in his late forties, with thick dark hair, graying at the temples. “The guy I saw was younger, with lighter hair. That’s not him.”

      “Thanks.” He pocketed the phone once more. “You’ve been a big help. We might have more questions for you later. In the meantime, could you tell us when Ms. Starling checked out?”

      She went to the computer and began typing. “The reservation was prepaid and she did express checkout,” she said. “The next morning. So she was only here for the one night.”

      “Express checkout meaning she left the key in the room and you never saw her?” Rand asked.

      “That’s right. I wasn’t on duty the next morning, but the record shows express checkout.”

      “We’ll want to talk to whoever was on duty that morning.”

      “That would be Candy. She comes on at three today if you want to come back.”

      “Someone will stop by. Thanks.”

      He could tell Sophie wanted to say more, but he ushered her back to the car. “Maybe they have surveillance pictures,” she said. “We could ask to see them.”

      “We could—and we will. But chances are they’re on a tape loop that gets wiped every twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Otherwise the databank fills up with hours and hours of images of empty parking lots.” He started the car. “Does the man she described sound like anyone you know? A boyfriend of your sister’s? Her ex-husband?”

      “Her ex was a big blond, and she wasn’t dating anyone. She would have told me if she was.”

      “Maybe not if he was married, or she had some other reason to keep the relationship secret.”

      “She would have told me.”

      She sounded so certain. But how could she know another person so well? Then again, he was an only child. Maybe some siblings were closer. “Everybody has secrets,” he said.

      “Lauren and I don’t have secrets from each other. We’re the only family we have left, and we’ve stayed close.”

      The fervor in her voice struck a faint, almost forgotten longing within him. Growing up as an only child to older parents, he’d often wished for a brother or sister—someone who would share his background and upbringing, and always be there. “I hope if anything ever happens to me, I have someone like you fighting for me.” He meant the words. As much as he still thought they were wasting time searching for her sister, who was probably off in Cancún with her boyfriend, he admired Sophie’s determination to find and help Lauren.

      The soft strains of classical music rose from the floorboard near her feet. “That’s my phone,” she said, reaching for her purse. She fished out a pink iPhone and glanced at the screen. “I need to get this.”

      “Go right ahead.” He focused on driving the cruiser through heavy traffic near a school zone, but he couldn’t help overhearing her side of the conversation.

      “Hello?...Yes, this is she...Oh! Thank you for returning my call...Yes...Yes...Well, as I tried to explain in my message...All right...Yes...That would be fine...Yes...Goodbye.”

      She ended the call and rested the phone in her lap, her expression troubled. “Everything okay?” he asked.

      “I think so.” She turned to him, her determined expression once more in place. “That was Richard Prentice. He wants to meet with me to talk about Lauren.”

       Chapter Three

      Sophie clutched the dash to steady herself as Rand swerved the cruiser to the side of the road, tires squealing and gravel popping as they skidded to a stop. He shifted into Park and turned to face her. From the back, the dog let out a bark of protest. “Sorry, girl,” he called. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, radiating strength and more than a little anger. “You told us you didn’t know Richard Prentice,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “That you’d never heard of him.”

      “I don’t!” she protested. “I hadn’t.”

      “Then how does he have your cell number?”

      “After I found his business card in Lauren’s apartment, I called the number and left a message. When he didn’t call back after a couple of days, I figured he wasn’t interested.” She was not going to let him make her feel guilty about something anyone in her position would have done.

      “And you conveniently neglected to tell us any of this,” he said.

      “Because I didn’t think it mattered.” She retrieved her purse from the floor and stuffed the phone back into it. “Why are you upset, anyway?” she asked. “Now you don’t have to trouble yourself to talk to the guy—I’ll do it.”

      “He wants to meet you somewhere?”

      “He invited me to his house.”

      His glower was enough to make her flinch. All right, she’d had second thoughts about meeting a man she didn’t know at his home, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Rand, who seemed to think he could order her around.

      “I’ll go with you,” he said.

      “Excuse me, but you weren’t invited.”

      “It’s not a good idea for you to go to his house by yourself.”

      She sat up straighter, as if physically stiffening her spine would somehow increase her courage. “Why not? He’s rich, not a criminal—or are you the one who’s not telling me the whole story now?”

      He rubbed his hands back and forth along the steering wheel. They were big, powerful hands, the nails cut short, the skin bronzed. They looked like hands that would be equally at home punching a guy or caressing a woman.

      Okay, where had that thought come from? Obviously, all the testosterone this guy gave off was affecting her, and not СКАЧАТЬ