“You’re really thinking about going?” TJ asked.

  “You have to come, too. It’s been so long since we’ve been together. Christmas is the perfect time to patch things up between the three of us.”

  “I don’t know. I have a book out then. My publisher wants me to do a book tour.” But TJ was balking at the idea and now that Chloe mentioned it, she was definitely considering Christmas in Montana. Not for the reasons Chloe would have liked, though. “I’ll think about it. I have to go.” She took another look out the window as she disconnected.

  Just the thought of whatever they’d heard upstairs in their grandmother’s house—footsteps, the creaking of floorboards, what sounded like their grandmother’s walker... The memory made her shudder and she let the curtain drop back again. Frannie’s ghost? she thought with a laugh.

  Unfortunately there were worse things than ghosts, she thought, as she checked her apartment door to make sure all the locks were engaged.

  * * *

  ONE LOOK AT Annabelle and Dawson could see she’d been crying. He hated that her tears could still affect him the way they did. How had he not seen how hurt and alone she was?

  Annabelle leaned against the doorjamb, eyes narrowing. “If you came to get your money back...”

  His earlier moment of weakness vanished. He reached over and flicked at her shoulder, making her flinch. “Just trying to knock that chip off your shoulder. I told you. I’m not worried about the money.”

  “I’ll pay you back when I sell the house.”

  “Fine.” He wished he hadn’t come here, but the sooner she got the house ready to sell, the sooner it would be bought, even if he had to buy it himself, and then she’d be out of here and things could get back to normal.

  Annabelle sighed. “What are you doing here?”

  He wished he knew. It had seemed so simple when his mother had suggested it. Help get Annie out of town. But being around her messed with more than his mind or his money. “I’m going to help you pack up the house and take what you don’t want to the dump—unless you want to argue about that, too?”

  “I know you think I’m a charity case that you have to—”

  “You never were graceful when it came to taking help from anyone,” he interrupted with a sigh. “Just say thank-you and let’s leave it at that.”

  She clamped her jaw shut for a moment. “I’m also not graceful when people pity me.”

  He let out a bark of a laugh. “You think that’s what this is? Sorry, sister, but you are the last person I feel sorry for. You need to get your grandmother’s house ready to sell. You want to sell this house and clear out of town? Fine with me. I have some things to take to the dump. I thought I’d take some of yours.” He gave her a challenging look. “But if you don’t want my help—”

  “Thank you.”

  He felt his expression soften. She looked dead on her feet already this morning—and even more beautiful even after having been crying. There was something vulnerable about her that he’d only seen a few times. Too bad the cameras had never been able to capture it. She would have been even more famous.

  “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, his gaze still on her. It was hard not to touch her. To run his thumb over those full lips. To brush that errant lock of blond hair back from her soft cheek.

  At a low rumble of a growl, his gaze was dragged away. He looked past her to where Sadie had entered the house and now stood just inside the kitchen, the hair standing up on the back of the puppy’s neck. From where he stood, though, he couldn’t see what the growling was about.

  He stepped past Annabelle, worried that the dog had gotten into something she wasn’t supposed to. As he entered the kitchen, he found Sadie hunkered down, a low snarl in her throat. What he couldn’t see was whatever had her scared. She appeared to simply be growling at the wall.

  “Your dog is freaking me out,” Annabelle said as she came up behind him.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE SHIVERED AT the eerie, spine-tingling noise the dog was making. “What is wrong with her?”

  “Good question. Any reason she would be growling at your kitchen wall?”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked Dawson in a hushed voice.

  “Ghosts?” He turned to look at her. “Seriously?”

  Annabelle shook off the crazy thought, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “Of course not, but there’s a wall that shouldn’t be there.” She explained about what Mary Sue had told her.

  “The plans must be wrong.”

  “That’s what I thought, too, but now...” She glanced at his dog. “Your dog seems to think there’s something behind that wall.”

  “Sadie?” The dog jumped in surprise and, whining, ran to him to cower behind his boots.

  Annabelle raised a brow. “I feel like your dog right now.”

  Dawson was staring at the wall. “I’ve never seen her act like that before,” he said frowning. “Why would your grandmother wall up an alcove?”

  “That seems to be the question of the week.” She shrugged. “Makes no sense, huh?” She could feel his gaze on her. When she met his eyes, she saw something that made her soften dangerously inside. “I should get to work.” Turning, she headed for the third bedroom that was nearly full of her grandmother’s collectibles. She grabbed a couple of empty boxes on the way. Behind her, she heard Dawson talking to his pup. It made her smile since he was asking Sadie what was wrong with her as if he expected an answer.

  * * *

  DAWSON LOADED SADIE into his pickup, cracking the windows enough that he could hear her if she needed to get out. It was a crisp, cool November day, the air scented with dried leaves.

  It didn’t take him long to load all the boxes Annabelle had stacked at the edge of the porch into the back of his pickup. He stretched, thinking of her doing the same. She came out with more boxes full of what could only be considered junk.

  “I’ll take a load of boxes to the dump, then pick up more boxes,” Dawson called up to the porch.

  She put down the box and stretched. “Thanks. I was just going to make some coffee. You want a cup before you leave?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t be long.” She nodded. He could feel her watching him as he drove away. What had made him think this would be easy?

  By two in the afternoon, Annabelle had loaded all the empty boxes he’d picked up up on his way back from the dump. He’d helped with the last few and was glad to see his brother Luke arrive with some friends in the ranch flatbed truck.

  It didn’t take them long to load everything she had packed up. At the dump, he helped discard the contents of the boxes before Luke cut out with his friends. Dawson knew he could have called it a day, as well. There were plenty of boxes for Annabelle to continue packing—if she felt like it. He didn’t know about her, but it had been a long, tiring day.

  But instead of going home, he drove back to her house, using the empty boxes as an excuse. Along with thoughts of Annabelle, he couldn’t get the hidden alcove off his mind. After he’d parked and unloaded the empty boxes in the spot she’d cleared out in the living room, he went back outside.

  Annabelle was busy working in one of the upstairs rooms. She’d only given him a tired wave when she’d seen him. He’d seen her surprise. She’d thought he wouldn’t be back.

  “Let me know when you have those boxes loaded,” he’d called up. “I’ll bring them down for you.”

  He wandered into the kitchen, the wall still bothering him. He tried to imagine why anyone would wall up an alcove. Especially Frannie Clementine. It had to have been the owner before her.

  Behind him, he heard Annabelle come into the kitchen and pour herself a cup of coffee. She motioned to him. He declined. He had enough trouble sleeping as it was. The last thing he needed was coffee this late in the day.

  “Still confused over the wall?” she asked with a chuckle. “I remembered that my grandmother had a hutch there when I was going up. There was definitely an alcove.

  “So the plans are right. Why would my grandmother do that?”

  He shook his head, but he suspected whatever was in that small space had enough of a smell that his pup was picking up on it. “Aren’t you curious at all about what’s in there?”

  “No and I have no desire to tear into that wall, if that’s what’s on your mind. I just want to get this house ready to sell.”

  “There was only one other time that my dog acted like that, now that I think about it,” he said, turning to look at her. “We stumbled onto a calf that had been torn apart by wolves.”

  “There is no dead calf killed by wolves in my wall.”

  He raised a brow. “There’s something in there. Why else close off the alcove?”

  “Why is everyone trying to scare me?” She put down her coffee cup. “It’s late. We should probably call it a day.”

  “If I were you, I’d have to know what’s in there.”

  “You aren’t me,” she snapped. “As you pointed out years ago, we are nothing alike.”

  His stomach knotted. It was the first time either of them had brought up that part of the past. “So true. You and I have never wanted the same things. And now you just want to get the house sold and get out of town.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I won’t do anything to slow you up.” He stepped past her and started toward the front door.

  “It’s not that I didn’t appreciate your help today,” she said, following him out. “Thanks for taking boxes to the dump for me and for getting me more boxes.”

  “No problem.”

  “I just don’t have time to remodel the kitchen,” she said.

  He nodded, wanting to take her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right. But he didn’t think that was the case. Something was wrong at this house. Maybe there wasn’t anything behind that wall. He hoped not. But he could see in her expression that she was running scared and had been for a while.

  But he was the last person she wanted trying to comfort her.

  He tipped the brim of his Stetson and headed for his truck, all the time mentally kicking himself for the emotions that had his heart aching.

  * * *

  ROB WALKED PAST the house as the last pickup pulled away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young woman standing in the doorway. She pulled off the bandanna that had been covering her long blond hair. Her hair fell to below her shoulders as she turned back inside the house. He could hear her phone ringing as he continued on past.

  At the corner, he turned and walked back toward the house. What he’d been able to find out about Francesca Clementine had left him shaken. Maybe it was a coincidence, but the woman had bought the house right after his uncle’s Baby Doll had taken off with his loot from the heist.

  Now Rob watched the woman inside the house on the phone. From what he could tell, she was alone. He was thinking of circling around to the back of the house when a neighbor came out onto her porch. She squinted in his direction. Small towns. This one was the worst. Everyone seemed to know each other, which meant he stood out like he was wearing a neon sign.

  He gave a short nod at the woman and continued walking. He could feel her watching him all the way to the end of the block before the busybody finally went back. It was the same woman who’d seen him last night around the Clementine house. He couldn’t let her scare him off again. That his uncle might be right about this one had him excited. He would get into that house, one way or another. But what to do about the granddaughter?

  * * *

  INEZ GILBERT WAS a confirmed busybody. Anyone who didn’t like it could just stuff it. At eighty-nine, she had no patience. Not that she’d had much when she was younger. But now she felt as if she didn’t have a minute to waste on ignorant fools. And it seemed to her that the number of those people grew in relation to her advancing years.

  She prided herself on being more observant than most people. When she was dead and gone, no one would be able to say that she’d let anyone pull the wool over her eyes. She believed that her advanced years had made her a student of the human condition. One look at a person, and she could size him or her up in a minute. She was hardly ever wrong.

  That’s why, when she’d seen the man walking down the street, looking hard at the Clementine place, she’d known. Something about the way he was walking, something about the way he was looking, something about the way he was dressed. Not to mention, she’d never seen him before last night and doubted he was from these parts.

  Picking up the phone, she called the sheriff’s office. The dispatcher tried to put her off, then tried to hand her off to one of the deputies.

  “I want to speak to the sheriff,” Inez said. “Don’t make me come down there.”

  Finally she was put through to Sheriff McCall Crawford. Now there was a sharp woman. McCall had started out as a deputy, but bypassed several men on her way to sheriff. She was respected in the county and had won each election handily. Inez had made sure that everyone at the senior center voted for her. She’d also canvassed the neighborhood to make sure everyone got out and voted for the woman.

  “Hi, Inez,” McCall said when she came on the line. “I heard there was a problem in your neighborhood.” She sounded friendly and not in the least upset that Inez hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone but her.

  “I saw a man walking past on the other side of the street. He was obviously a stranger, dressed all wrong, and he was staring at the Clementine place in a way that was suspicious.”

  “Was it possible he was interested in the house because it’s for sale?”

  Inez appreciated the diplomatic way the sheriff had put the question and smiled. “That stuffy little Mary Sue Linton put a For Sale sign out in the yard, so, yes, I’m aware. But he wasn’t looking at the place like he was thinking what it might go for or if he might want to buy it.”

  “How was he looking at it?” McCall asked.

  “Like he was looking for someone. And tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him sneaking around.”

  * * *

  MCCALL HAD BEEN dealing with Inez Gilbert for years. Most of the department staff found her to be a pain in the neck. But Inez was smarter than they gave her credit for. The elderly woman noticed things, things that often were worth checking out.

  “I’ll tell you what, Inez. If you see him again, you call me right away. I’ll tell the dispatchers to put you right through.”

  The woman let out a satisfied harrumph. “He’s up to no good. Mark my words. I can tell just by looking at people.”

  “I know.” McCall listened to Inez talk about fools for a while and then got off the line. One of the new deputies was passing by. “Martin,” she said, motioning him in. “Do me a favor. When you’re on duty could you keep an eye on the Clementine place?”

  “On Millionaire’s Row?”

  She smiled, wondering how that area had gotten the name. Apparently a lot of people didn’t know what a million would buy. “Let me know if you see anyone loitering around there.”

  After he left, she decided to call it a day. Her husband was making dinner tonight since it was his day off as a local game warden. Their daughter, Tracey, would have spent the day playing hard since she was on holiday until Monday.

  McCall was looking forward to that time after dinner when Tracey was tucked away in bed for the night and she and her husband could just curl up on the couch together.

  But as she was leaving, she couldn’t help thinking about the man Inez had seen. The county had been quiet for a long while now. There were the usual disturbances that went with any community. But there had been little crime lately. Most of the calls her department got were barking dogs, kids misbehaving, speeding, car wrecks, underage drinking and minor thievery.

  It was one of the joys of living here, she thought as she climbed into her patrol car. Her home was in the country, but she made a point of driving the couple of blocks to go down Millionaire’s Row. She’d always liked the large houses with their wide porches, though most of them looked as if they could use a little work.

  Still, the trees were huge and beautiful when grown out in the spring and summer. In the fall, the yards would be full of fallen leaves. Only a month ago, she’d seen some of the children playing in them and had thought of her own daughter. There was nothing more fun than piles of leaves. But while the leaves were gone now and the trees were stark against the November sky, the branches were so thick and full that they still provided privacy from the street.

  She slowed as she neared the Clementine place. A sports car was parked in the driveway. She’d heard that one of Frannie’s granddaughters have returned to town to get the house ready to sell. Maybe that’s all the stranger was interested in, she thought. As she drove on by, she saw Inez peering out her front window.

  McCall gave a flash of her lights and waved. Inez, always on duty, waved back.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE WATCHED DAWSON drive away, reminding herself why they’d broken up all those years ago. She could tell by the set of his jaw and the ramrod stiffness of his back that he was upset with her. Upset because she didn’t want him to take a sledgehammer to her kitchen wall? And why? Out of simple curiosity. Like she had time to remodel the kitchen before she sold the house.

  She couldn’t help being irritated with him. It hadn’t been her idea for him to help her clean out the house.

  But the moment she had the thought, all her irritation evaporated. The problem between them wasn’t her kitchen wall. It was those old feelings mixed with the chemistry that had always arced between them like a live electrical wire. Being so close together most of the day had been hard on both of them.

  She felt close to tears as she wandered back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Of course Dawson had come to her rescue. She glanced toward the wall that shouldn’t be there.