When a Stranger Calls. Kathleen Long

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СКАЧАТЬ in direct opposition to the rapid beating of her heart. What was he doing? Could it be the man who’d left the envelope?

      The figure tensed then waved, keeping his head low as he turned away from her. Close-cropped silver hair hugged the lower half of his skull, as if his baldness hadn’t quite yet won the battle. His shoulders remained hunched, the result of either years of poor posture or the ravages of time.

      Loose papers fluttered in his hand as he continued down the block, turning up the next-door neighbor’s front walk.

      A harmless, elderly man passing out flyers.

      Embarrassment and relief flooded through Lindsey. She couldn’t take any more excitement today. Thank goodness her case count was low right now. The agency had been hired to find a few birth parents and one long-lost heir. Nothing more. Surely she could clear her head enough to manage that.

      She plucked her briefcase from the floor behind her seat then slammed the car door. A sheet of paper sat tucked in the screen door handle, catching her eye as she crossed the front yard. She yanked it free, letting her gaze drop to the simple wording touting affordable lawn care. Glancing around at her overgrown garden and shrubs, she could understand why he’d picked her house.

      She folded the flyer in half and slipped it into her briefcase. Professional help wasn’t such a bad idea, actually. Her mother had always loved working in the garden. Somehow, Lindsey could never quite muster the same enthusiasm.

      She jammed the key in the lock, twisting the doorknob open. A small white envelope sat wedged against the door frame. She pushed the inner door open, yet her feet remained glued in place, her eyes locked on the mysterious object. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

      Maybe it was from someone else—someone other than whoever had left the copy last night. She squatted, reaching for the envelope. Heavier than last night’s, it appeared to be similar, a plain number ten, this one unsealed.

      Lindsey stood, easing the flap of the envelope open by the edge, doing her best not to leave her own prints. Gold glimmered inside the envelope. A ring, delicate and old, small gems set in the shape of a heart. She flashed on an image of a family picnic, sitting holding hands with her mother, lovingly touching the heirloom ruby ring.

      This ring.

      Lindsey’s heart squeezed. Someone knew. Somewhere out there, someone knew exactly what had happened to her mother and was reaching out. Perhaps that same someone knew where her body had been dumped.

      Matt Alessandro had been correct. Lindsey had spent her entire adult life wondering why her mother had been murdered. The trial had yielded nothing but professions of innocence from Matt’s father, even though the jury had found him guilty.

      Lindsey needed more. She yearned to find out exactly what had happened, and why. To do that, she had to find out who had left this ring and the photocopied license last night.

      She stepped through the door, determined to find a suitable plastic bag to protect the ring and any prints. Focused on the envelope in her hand and the glimmer of gold inside, she thought her mind was playing tricks when a shadow fell across her own on the threshold.

      A pair of hands shoved her forward before she could react, before the reality of what was happening could register. She toppled over, striking the side of her skull against the marble top of a table. Pain exploded as she fell to the cool floor. Everything faded—sound, light, thought.

      Lindsey’s world turned to black.

      Chapter Two

      Matt had always had a bit of a temper. He could admit it. Hell, he came by it honestly, yet not from his dad. From his mother. The woman was a hothead the likes of which South Philly would probably never see again.

      Be that as it may, right now every deep breathing trick he knew did nothing to calm the frustration ignited by his visit to Lindsey Tarlington.

      How could she stare at him like an ice princess and pretend she didn’t care about the package she’d been left? She had to care. Had to.

      How could she not?

      By all accounts, Lindsey had dedicated her life to helping others solve mysteries. Her mother’s disappearance had been one of the biggest mysteries to ever hit the region.

      Of course, Lindsey believed his father had been the murderer. Matt believed anything but. Now, he had only to convince her to listen to him.

      The light at the intersection ahead changed from yellow to red. He slowed his SUV to a stop and glared at the notes tossed on the seat beside him.

      He knew where the woman lived. That’s probably where she’d gone. The little blond guard at the office hadn’t offered any information when he’d called back other than that Lindsey had left shortly after their meeting.

      He knew he’d gotten to her. The facts plain didn’t add up. He was no detective, but he wasn’t stupid. And, neither was Lindsey Tarlington.

      He pulled a U-turn when the light turned green, headed back toward the other side of town.

      Matt glanced down at the address scribbled on a scrap of paper. Fifty-two Elm. How very suburban.

      His father’s conviction had shattered his mother’s dream of escaping the city to move across the river to New Jersey.

      Bitter anger rekindled in Matt’s gut, like a slow-burning ember he could never quite put out. He blinked, willing the heat to go away. It wasn’t Lindsey Tarlington’s fault he and his family had lost everything trying to defend his father. It was the system’s fault. The system he now worked to keep fair.

      Fifteen minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of the house. A bright blue compact car sat in the drive.

      He eased out of his truck, straightening to his full height. His father had not killed Camille Tarlington. The killer had gone free and, for some reason, had chosen to wait seventeen years to resurface. Matt intended to find out why—and who.

      He climbed the center steps, rapping the brass knocker loudly against the weathered wooden door.

      Something sounded inside, and he pressed his ear to the cool surface, trying to make out the noise.

      Not a voice, but a moan. A whimper.

      “Ms. Tarlington.”

      The noise sounded again, this time even more faint.

      Matt tried the doorknob and it turned, unlocked. He pushed open the door, stepping inside as he did so.

      Lindsey lay facedown, her black hair splayed across the marble foyer.

      He dropped to his knees, sliding to a stop next to her motionless body. He checked for a pulse. Solid.

      “Ms. Tarlington.” He brushed several silken strands from her colorless face.

      Matt’s gut caught, twisting hard. Had the killer done this? He glanced around the foyer, from archway to archway, all leading to other areas of the large house where the attacker might still lurk.

      He should search. He should get Lindsey out of the house. He should do more than just hold her, but at the СКАЧАТЬ