Private Indiscretions by Susan Crosby Page B

tolerance forthe interrogation. He scooped up his jacket. “You’ll need to get Hilda out of the house tomorrow.”
    Several seconds passed before she showed signs of having heard him. Exhaustion stole over her face. Ah, Dana. Show me anything but vulnerability.
    â€œWhy?” she asked.
    â€œI need to check out the house.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œClues. I’m assuming he had an office here.”
    â€œYes. I’ve never noticed anything out of the ordinary, though.”
    â€œYou weren’t looking.”
    â€œOkay. I’ll figure out something. Sam—” She touched his arm. “Thank you.”
    â€œWe’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise you. Get some sleep. Call me when Hilda’s gone. You can stay home tomorrow, right?”
    â€œIt’ll take a little finagling, but yes.”
    â€œCan you ask Abe to come here?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI’ll need the names and addresses of your attorney and accountant.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI’ll let myself out.” He wanted to hold her, to rub her shoulders until she stopped holding them so stiffly. “Good night.”
    She tried to smile. The effort twisted his stomach into a tighter knot.
    He eyed her bed as he left the room, wishing he weren’t picturing her there with her husband. Wishing, too, that he’d asked her why she’d told Abe not to contact him about her letters. But that opportunity was gone.
    He walked down the hallway and descended the stairs, observing the house differently than when they’d climbed the stairs earlier. She fit here. Her father had been right all those years ago. Perhaps she’d achieved even more than he’d expected. The road she’d taken had led to a life ofhelping others, of doing good, of leaving a legacy when she was done.
    She truly had been destined for something better than Sam could have offered her then. Here was the proof.

Seven
    L ate the next afternoon Dana sank into a chair in front of Randall’s desk in the downstairs office. Seeing Sam seated behind the monstrosity wasn’t as odd as she’d anticipated. He was big enough to do it justice.
    She wanted to touch him, she realized with a jolt. To march over to him and kiss him senseless.
    â€œAnything new?” she asked, forcing herself to be businesslike.
    He sat back, the chair squeaking a little. “Not much. I’ve been through every file and searched all the bookshelves. I was just about to start checking out the other rooms.” He pointed to a large piece of paper spread out on a table, the curling ends weighted with books. “I even found a copy of the original house design. So, how’d it go in the attic?”
    â€œI pulled a couple of boxes you might want to look at. Mostly it’s old furniture, and clothing that would sell for plenty in the vintage market. Nate said to tell you that everything’s in order, so far.” She liked his partners. Nate Caldwell, Southern California blond and handsome, was a nice foil to Arianna Alvarado’s dark beauty. She was no dainty lady, but a no-nonsense, I-can-take-care-of-the-world woman. Sam had already interviewed Randall’s attorney and accountant, then brought boxes of paperwork to the house with him before his friends arrived that morning. They’d gone right to work in the library. Sam had settled in the office next door after lunch.
    â€œHow long have you known Nate and Arianna?” she asked.
    â€œSince just after boot camp.”
    â€œWere you in the same unit?”
    â€œWe worked the same details off and on.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “I have a feeling we’re not going to find an answer here,” he said, changing the subject. “If anything tangible existed, I doubt it was something he’d keep to be discovered later.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t have expected to die so young.”
    â€œTrue. But he would be