start on the job site by the time it was light enough to see. When excessive heat wasn’t a problem, he took his time, actually sitting down to eat his breakfast, checking his email, catching up on the news.
That was what occupied him Tuesday morning when Mick trotted to the open door and snuffled. His tail was wagging in a broad enough swath to take down any antiques within range—the reason Jones had spent a good part of yesterday afternoon moving all breakables to a safer place.
After he’d stood at the door the entire time Mark Howard was inside the house. When Mark had come out, he’d looked satisfied, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Had the meeting with Reece gone that well, or was he just really good at hiding his emotions?
Even after Mark had left, Jones had stood there, watching, but Reece hadn’t come out again. Neither had Miss Willa.
Now, though, it looked as if he’d have a chance to find out how the reunion had gone, because Mick wasn’t wagging his tail so eagerly for the old woman who didn’t care for dogs.
Shutting his laptop, he went to the door, unlatching the screen. Mick shot out, barking and bounding down the driveway toward the barn. Sure enough, Reece was a few hundred yards down the road, wearing the short pants his secretary called capris and a bright orange top, her stride long but easy, as if she didn’t have a particular destination in mind.
Upon hearing Mick’s approach—something similar to a freight train—she turned, then braced herself for any excited leaping. Jones grinned. No jumping was the first lesson he’d taught the dog. He’d guess her own dogs hadn’t learned it as well.
Mick immediately sat down in front of her, and she bent to scratch him. Her mouth was moving, but Jones couldn’t hear the words until he got closer.
“…such a good boy. You’re so pretty, and look at that face. Who wouldn’t love such a handsome face?” Her tone was softer than usual, gooier than usual. She was a sucker for four-legged guys, even if the two-legged ones made her a little wary.
“You’re gonna spoil my dog rotten,” he said from a few yards away.
Her gaze lifted, and wariness did enter it, just a bit. “He deserves to be spoiled. He’s a good boy.”
“You headed someplace in particular?”
She shook her head.
“Mind if I join you?” At her hesitation, he went on. “I told you yesterday, one of the things I need to do is walk the property. We need to know what conditions we’ll be working with, if there are better ways in or out, where we can stage equipment when we’re not using it, that sort of thing. Maybe you can show me around.”
She was quiet for a time. She glanced at the old barn ahead, then past it where the road trailed off. Regretting that he’d ruined her plans for a quiet morning walk? Or was there something more to her walk this morning? Was she planning to revisit old haunts? Maybe to check that things out there hadn’t been disturbed?
Things like Glen’s grave?
She shrugged. “I’m not sure how much showing around I can do, but you’re welcome to come along. I really don’t remember much about the place.”
“I thought you said you spent as much time away from the house as you could.”
“I did, but it was a long time ago. I was a kid. I didn’t pay much attention.” She started walking again, and he fell into step with her. Mick raced on ahead, regularly looping back to encourage them onward.
Curious why she was lying about something as simple as knowing her way around the woods, Jones continued subtly probing. “I understand that a creek runs through here somewhere before it empties into the river, and that there’s a pool deep enough to swim in.”
“Really.” She spared him a glance before shifting her gaze down again. The road had petered out and the ground was getting rougher. “I don’t like to swim. I can’t remember the last time I was in the water.”
Jones’s muscles tightened. Now that was
That was what occupied him Tuesday morning when Mick trotted to the open door and snuffled. His tail was wagging in a broad enough swath to take down any antiques within range—the reason Jones had spent a good part of yesterday afternoon moving all breakables to a safer place.
After he’d stood at the door the entire time Mark Howard was inside the house. When Mark had come out, he’d looked satisfied, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Had the meeting with Reece gone that well, or was he just really good at hiding his emotions?
Even after Mark had left, Jones had stood there, watching, but Reece hadn’t come out again. Neither had Miss Willa.
Now, though, it looked as if he’d have a chance to find out how the reunion had gone, because Mick wasn’t wagging his tail so eagerly for the old woman who didn’t care for dogs.
Shutting his laptop, he went to the door, unlatching the screen. Mick shot out, barking and bounding down the driveway toward the barn. Sure enough, Reece was a few hundred yards down the road, wearing the short pants his secretary called capris and a bright orange top, her stride long but easy, as if she didn’t have a particular destination in mind.
Upon hearing Mick’s approach—something similar to a freight train—she turned, then braced herself for any excited leaping. Jones grinned. No jumping was the first lesson he’d taught the dog. He’d guess her own dogs hadn’t learned it as well.
Mick immediately sat down in front of her, and she bent to scratch him. Her mouth was moving, but Jones couldn’t hear the words until he got closer.
“…such a good boy. You’re so pretty, and look at that face. Who wouldn’t love such a handsome face?” Her tone was softer than usual, gooier than usual. She was a sucker for four-legged guys, even if the two-legged ones made her a little wary.
“You’re gonna spoil my dog rotten,” he said from a few yards away.
Her gaze lifted, and wariness did enter it, just a bit. “He deserves to be spoiled. He’s a good boy.”
“You headed someplace in particular?”
She shook her head.
“Mind if I join you?” At her hesitation, he went on. “I told you yesterday, one of the things I need to do is walk the property. We need to know what conditions we’ll be working with, if there are better ways in or out, where we can stage equipment when we’re not using it, that sort of thing. Maybe you can show me around.”
She was quiet for a time. She glanced at the old barn ahead, then past it where the road trailed off. Regretting that he’d ruined her plans for a quiet morning walk? Or was there something more to her walk this morning? Was she planning to revisit old haunts? Maybe to check that things out there hadn’t been disturbed?
Things like Glen’s grave?
She shrugged. “I’m not sure how much showing around I can do, but you’re welcome to come along. I really don’t remember much about the place.”
“I thought you said you spent as much time away from the house as you could.”
“I did, but it was a long time ago. I was a kid. I didn’t pay much attention.” She started walking again, and he fell into step with her. Mick raced on ahead, regularly looping back to encourage them onward.
Curious why she was lying about something as simple as knowing her way around the woods, Jones continued subtly probing. “I understand that a creek runs through here somewhere before it empties into the river, and that there’s a pool deep enough to swim in.”
“Really.” She spared him a glance before shifting her gaze down again. The road had petered out and the ground was getting rougher. “I don’t like to swim. I can’t remember the last time I was in the water.”
Jones’s muscles tightened. Now that was
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