Page 92 of Buried Too Deep

“Smart. I wish more of these old houses did that. Still could have caused some damage, though.” He walked to the window. “Was it locked?”

“No,” Phin said. “We unlocked it. We wanted to know who he was. But none of us know him, either.”

Clancy shook his head at the now-handcuffed intruder. “Who sent you? Because they sure wasted their money. I hope they didn’t pay you in advance. You walked right into a trap.”

The man gave them all a look filled with hate.

“That’s what I figured,” Clancy said. “We’ll run his prints through AFIS and if that doesn’t get a hit, he’ll tell us his name when it’s time to call his lawyer. Why this room? What’s so important in Miss Winslow’s attic?”

“We don’t know,” Molly said, having returned at some point. She leaned against the wall near the door. “I thought he might have figured it was the best way to get to Miss Winslow, but the matches and gasoline changes things. We’re hoping that he’ll tell you.”

Cora heard what Molly didn’t say—that they’d been looking for her dead father’s records and that was what someone wanted destroyed enough to risk sending this bozo. She wondered when they’d tell the police but decided to go with the flow for the moment.

The intruder shook his head at Molly’s words, his sneer becoming a smirk that Cora wanted to knock right off his face. He didn’t even look scared, despite possessing weapons, gasoline, and matches.

Cora thought that smirk might be the most frightening of all. Who’d sent him? And did that person have enough influence to get him out? Was that why he was so arrogant?

“We’ll figure out what he was looking for,” Clancy said, then looked down at Cora’s bare feet. “It’s cold up here. I’ll be sending CSU up in a bit, but we can’t close the window until they’ve dusted for prints. Why don’t we all go downstairs? I can get your statements in the kitchen where it’s got to be warmer.”

One of the uniforms dragged the intruder with them down the stairs, followed by Molly and the detective. Cora hit the stop-record button on her phone, then tugged Phin’s jacket, keeping him from leaving, too.

“Why did you come back?” she asked. “I’m glad you did, but what made you?”

Phin met her gaze directly. “We’ve had the lights on up here for two straight nights.”

“Oh. Come and rob me,” she murmured.

“Something like that. Whoever’s been watching you knows we’re searching for something. I worried about that. And when I saw the asshole lurking near your gate on the camera feed, I just…”

“Rushed to rescue me?” Cora asked with a smile. “Thank you.” She turned to Stone, who was watching them with eagle eyes. “You too. Thank you both.”

Stone nodded. “You’re welcome. See you downstairs.” He disappeared through the door, leaving her alone with Phin and the other uniform.

“Do you have to leave again?” she asked Phin.

Phin tilted her chin up, his finger gentle under her chin. “Still can’t sleep?”

She shivered and it wasn’t all from the cold. His finger was warm against her skin. She wished he’d cup her face in his palm. She craved the contact, but the simple touch on her chin was all he was offering at the moment. “No. I’m sorry. I hate to ask, but…”

“I’ll stay. I’ll sit outside your door like I did earlier. SodaPop and I.”

“I don’t want you to have to sit on the hard floor.”

He shrugged. “I’ve sat in far more uncomfortable places and slept sitting against a wall more times than I want to count. I want you to get some rest and I can sleep out there. I’ll wake up if anyone approaches. Army taught me that.”

She wanted to argue, but fatigue was finally closing in. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Now let’s go get that tea. Your feet have to be like ice.”

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 11:45 P.M.

“Well,” Sage murmured, watching through his binoculars as the cop pushed a man dressed in black into the back of the squad car. “That’s interesting.”

He’d been debating the wisdom of his own entry into the attic when he’d seen the man casing the Winslow house an hour before. It had been a golden opportunity, actually. If there was a security system, Sage could’ve found out how long it took for alarms to screech. He also could’ve judged the response time of Broussard’s people.

The man in black had been Sage’s canary in the mine.

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