Page 43 of No More Billionaires

I was sort of thankful for the low lighting. I probably didn’t want to see the place any more clearly.

For a small room, the living area held morestuffthan I would’ve previously believed possible.

Porcelain figurines, artificial flowers, framed photos, and tchotchkes covered every flat surface.

And there were dolls. Lots and lots of dolls.

I glanced around at their unblinking plastic eyes, staring at me from every direction, and shuddered then immediately chastised myself.

It’s warm. It’s dry.She’s old and probably lonely. And taking us in out of the cold, literally.

I held out a hand to our hostess. “I’m Kenley.”

She grabbed my fingers and shook. “Well, Kenley, you’re cute as a bug. Get yourself over there by the fireplace. You must be frozen solid.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am. You’re so kind.” I maneuvered between the closely placed antique furniture to reach the hearth and the warmth of the fire.

God it was good. I could’ve sunk to the hardwood floor and fallen asleep right there… that isifI wasn’t being watched by Night of a Thousand Unseeing Eyes.

“Ruby Wheeler. You call me Ruby. I tell you, when this fella knocked on the door I thought I was dreaming. I watch him every night, and he wasn’t on tonight, and then we lost power and the TV went off, and I dozed off in my easy chair there, and then I looked through the peephole and there he was on my front porch, flesh and blood.”

Her speech was a stream-of-consciousness ramble. “I told Fred—that’s my husband.”

Gesturing to a portrait over the mantel, she continued. “I said, ‘Fred, you’re not going to believe who’s here.’ I only wish he was here to meet you Larson, and your lady friend Kenley.”

“Co-worker,” I said, though I knew by this point it wouldn’t do any good.

At least she realized Fredwasn’tactually here. I’d wondered at first.

“Well, thank you for offering us your guest room.”

“No guest room,” she replied. “The second bedroom is packed to the ceiling with boxes and junk. I’m a bit of a collector.”

No kidding.

So it wasn’t just the living room. We’d been taken in by a low-level hoarder. A nice hoarder, but… I started looking around, wondering if there was even enough room for two extra people in the house.

“That’s fine. Your living room’s perfect, more than generous of you. Believe me—I could sleep just about anywhere right now.”

Though, now that I considered it, the rickety antiques didn’t look any more comfortable than the wooden floor.

“Well, you can’t sleep here,” she said, waving toward the velvet-covered camel-backed sofa that reminded me of one in my great-grandma’s parlor. “That doesn’t pull into a bed. And I chained up the dogs outside so they don’t attack you—a lady living alone needs protection, you know. But they can’t stay out there in the cold and wet all night—I gotta let ’em back in here.”

I glanced over at Larson.So what are we doing here then?

Ruby answered my unspoken question. “I told your man there, I got a hunting cabin back by the lake. It’ll only take you a few minutes to get out there on the ATV.”

My eyes cut over to Larson.

“ATV?” I breathed through my clenched artificial smile.

Though I’d grown up in the Deep South, I’d been strictly a suburban girl. I’d never shot a gun, caught a fish, or been on an all-terrain vehicle.

I had, however, reported several stories of death-by-ATV-rollover in my career.

Reading my panic, Larson reminded me, “She says it’s a short ride—right over the hill. Warm fire, horizontal surface…”

I surveyed the doll collection. Their shiny eyes reflected the orange glow of the fireplace.

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