Page 28 of Steal My Heart

Brian leaned against Hilliard’s shoulder. “Where do we go from here?”

Gran grinned. “Let’s talk to people and see if we can puzzle this thing out. Eat your heart out, Jessica Fletcher.” And danged if he and Hilliard didn’t both laugh.

BRIAN WASN’Tsure about this, but he and Hilliard stood outside the scene of the crime, staring at the large Victorian-era home that had been an anchor of the town, competing in prominence with the Masonic Hall for over a century. “I don’t know if this is a good idea or not.”

“She doesn’t have to speak with us, and she might not. But I get the feeling that she knows more than she’s saying and that she is going to be damned curious what we have. For her, the nightmare has been over. The person who victimized her has been punished, and now that’s being ripped away. I want to see how she reacts and try to figure out what she knows.” Hilliard gave Brian a hint of heat in his smile, which sent a shiver through him as he remembered last night, and the way Hilliard transported him to a place where he forgot about everything other than Hilliard’s mouth and the way he used it to send Brian into ecstasy. “You don’t have to come.”

He didn’t want to, but he was too curious to go back to Gran’s and wait, so he followed Hilliard up the walk to the front door, which opened before Hilliard knocked.

“I saw you coming.” Violet’s cold eyes swept over him, and Brian did his best to pretend he hadn’t seen it. “What is it you want?” The light dress she wore would have been more appropriate for a garden party than just sitting in her house, and Brian wondered if they were keeping her from something.

“I know what Beverly told you at lunch the other day, and, well… we know how difficult this is for you.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You think you do?” she asked.

Hilliard nodded gently. “Yes. You were the victim, not the enemy. You were the one who was initially hurt in all this. Having things taken from your home also robs you of your sense of safety. We know that, and we aren’t here to cause you any more pain.”

“That’s a real nice speech, but what is it you want?” Violet asked.

Hilliard kept his cool. “Believe it or not, we’re on the same side. Brian wasn’t the person who broke into your house. He was with his grandfather, just as we said, and we can prove that. The evidence from his truck was planted, which means that the realthief is still out there, and we all have an interest in finding them and maybe getting your things back.” Damn, Hilliard really was a great lawyer and amazing with words.

Brian didn’t move, and Violet seemed torn with indecision. “I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I suppose you should come in rather than standing out here where everyone in town can see you and wonder what’s going on.” She stepped back, and they went inside.

Brian expected “fussy old lady” style when he stepped inside, but he was surprised at how large and weighty the furniture was. Not that it didn’t feel right, just that it was imposing and impressive, and somehow reflected Violet at the same time—and that was just the hall. The living room where she led them was equally impressive. She motioned them to chairs, and Brian perched on the edge of the seat, extremely uncomfortable.

“I suppose you’re here to try to convince me or something,” Violet said.

Hilliard shook his head. “I don’t think I need to convince you, because you already knew—or at least suspected—that Brian was never the thief.” He came right out with it. “When you first came home and discovered the burglary, who did you think had broken in?”

“I don’t think that has any bearing on this,” she retorted, her back straight, eyes intense as ever.

“Oh, I think it does. I know that you had the house on a home tour a few months before the burglary, but Beverly tells me that most of the portable valuables had been put away. Yet as far as I can gather, that was the reasoning behind why someone would know what to take.”

“That’s true. I figured that they snooped around when no one was in the rooms….” She was grasping at straws.

“Weren’t there docents?” Brian asked gently, and Violet eventually nodded.

“It was what the police thought as well.” As though that justified her position.

“I understand, but who might actually know where the stolen items were kept? Some of them weren’t items that you would keep sitting out, were they?”

“What do you take me for? A fool?” Violet stood. “Of course not. I’m not going to leave a collection of antique sterling just lying about. It was put away and….” She sat back down, paling. “But the police said that they found one of the pieces, so that….” Violet turned to him, her eyes softening. “Can you really prove it wasn’t you?”

Brian nodded. “I spent the day with Gramps, and we have proof that he and I were together, as I said all along.”

Violet lowered her head. “So my nightmare isn’t over.” She wrapped the shawl from the back of the chair around her shoulders. “Have the police seen what you have?”

“Yes, they have. We are developing a case to have the conviction vacated. But I’m afraid none of this is going to be over until the real thieves are found.” Hilliard’s voice was so gentle. “And that’s why we’re asking for your help. If you have any ideas about who it might be, then maybe we can put this behind us all forever.”

Violet pulled the shawl closer around her. “I wish I knew.”

Brian found himself watching her and then glanced at Hilliard, who seemed almost comfortable sitting back in the stiff chair. There was something about him, a presence that didn’t seem to get flustered. It helped give Brian confidence of a sort. If anyone could sort through this mess, it was Hilliard.

“I have to ask. Are you acting as Brian’s lawyer?”

Hilliard shook his head. “No. I’m not a member of the California bar. I’m acting as his friend. Nothing more.” Heleaned in, those intense eyes that looked deep into Brian’s when they were alone drawing Violet closer. “I just hate to see miscarriages of justice. I know mistakes happen, we all make them, but this is one we can right. And we need your help. You don’t have to give it, of course, but I want to see if we can get back what was taken from you.” He blinked. “I know some of what was taken you can never get back.” That voice wrapped around Brian like a blanket, and he could see it having the same effect on Violet.

She sighed and seemed to come to a decision. “Okay. Assuming that Brian isn’t the thief—and I’m not saying that I buy all of what you’re selling, but let’s say he isn’t—then where do we go from here?” Her eyes still held skepticism, but also a little of the lady that Brian knew from when he trick-or-treated at this house and Violet dressed as her namesake from Willy Wonka, covered in blue makeup.

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