Page 82 of Capturing You
“He was eight. Would he have known about hidden stashes of cash?”
“Okay. But your theory that a cop was involved… That’s quite a stretch. Maybe the police looked but failed to find anything useful.”
“If they were serious about their investigation, they would have found something. You’re not a cop, and you found a ledger I’ve spent weeks searching for.”
“I’m special.”
That brought the telltale twitch that told her he found her amusing. “True. I hadn’t found it. But they were professionals. So they were either incompetent or covering up the truth.”
“You’re a professional, aren’t you? I mean, not a cop but someone who digs up secrets? Is this your first unsolved-mystery book?”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“And you didn’t find the ledger.”
He said nothing, just returned to his lunch.
Was Brooklynn making a mistake in trusting the police? Even Lenny the Stalker, for all her issues with the man, took his job seriously.
Or was she wrong about him—again?
Were the local cops incompetent? Or worse, corrupt?
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Forbes worked to keep his gaze on his plate. Watching Brooklynn savor the meal he’d prepared for her brought far too much enjoyment.
He’d bought her a handful of T-shirts to go with the yoga pants, and today she’d chosen a bright pink one. He’d vacillated about the color, but remembering the yellow top she’d worn when they met, he’d guessed she preferred bright colors. He didn’t hate that he’d guessed right. Her hair was braided, a few strands framing her face. She wore no makeup, not that she needed any.
She looked gorgeous.
He’d cleaned up the widow’s walk and hauled the furniture upstairs because he’d needed a distraction. He’d needed to think, and sometimes that was best accomplished when he did something with his hands.
And maybe he’d gone to the trouble because he’d known she would like it. Another thing he’d guessed right about, considering her appreciative gazes at the view and the little mews of pleasure as she ate.
If he were a different man with a different past and a future filled with hope instead of the murky darkness he’d never been able to see past… If there were any way at all to make it work, he might consider trying to keep Brooklynn around. Not that the effervescent woman would want to be with a miserable jerk like him.
Even so, he wanted to make her happy, or at least a little lessunhappy, while she was trapped in his house.
“Tell me about him.” She sipped her water, then added, “Your uncle.”
Forbes set his fork down. “Charles grew up here. A Ballentine ancestor built it, and it’s been in the family ever since. The family’s got some money.”
“Strangely enough, I figured that out myself.”
“You’d be surprised how many families own expensive properties who are barely scraping by financially. The upkeep on a house like this is pricey. Just the taxes force some families to sell.”
“But not the Ballentines. They’ve held onto it, even though nobody’s lived here for years.”
His ever-practical grandmother claimed she’d held onto it for him—his legacy—but he suspected it was more than that. Though this house was the setting of great tragedy, before that it had been a home filled with love.
Forbes couldn’t share any of that.
“Charles’s grandfather owned a shipping company, which his dad, Broderick, inherited. He added logging to the enterprise. Charles wasn’t interested in either business.”
“Did his father mind?”
“Not that I know of.” Forbes was careful to talk about this like an outsider, though it felt strange. He never talked to anybody about his family. He’d spent his entire life hiding his past and his true identity. But Brooklynn was involved now, and she needed more of an understanding about what was going on.
