Free Secret Sisters by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

basis.”
    He made his way around the bed and opened the closet door. The clothes inside were exactly what he’d expected to find—severalidentical plaid flannel shirts and half a dozen pairs of identical, well-worn twill pants.
    And work boots.
    Two pairs of scuffed, battered work boots. Same brand. Same style. Same vintage.
    Jack took out one boot and examined the tread on the sole. He measured the length of the boot with his pen. When he looked up he saw that Madeline was watching him with a resigned expression.
    â€œIt was Tom, wasn’t it?”
    â€œI think it’s a good bet that Lomax was the last person to go into room two-oh-nine before we arrived.”
    â€œThe question is, why would he do that, and why now?” Madeline paused. “And who swept the floor in that room?”
    â€œThat last part is easy,” Jack said. “Whoever has the briefcase swept the floor—to erase his footprints.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Daphne clamped her phone to one ear and watched the passengers stream off the plane from Phoenix. She had no idea what to expect in a security escort, but she assumed Abe Rayner would bear a strong resemblance to a nightclub bouncer or a football player.
    Her attention fell briefly on the short, compact man with the nerdy, black-framed glasses, a backpack, and a computer case. Automatically she tried to assess his personality on the basis of his style. It was an old game she had played since she was young. He was dressed in cargo pants festooned with pockets that bulged with tech gear, a short-sleeved sport shirt, and sneakers. His dark hair was secured in a ponytail with a leather thong at his nape. The finishing touches were a well-worn suede jacket and a leather bolo tie trimmed with a discreet chunk of turquoise.
    Something about the way he moved suggested that he did not spend all of his time sitting in front of a glowing screen. Computer-Geek-Meets-Man-of-the-West, she concluded. If she hadn’t been so tense she would have smiled at the fashion mashup.
    She went back to studying the other men coming off the plane. Theone thing she knew for certain about Abe Rayner was that he was male and that he would show her some ID when he arrived. Not much to go on, considering the circumstances. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she had allowed herself to be panicked for no good reason. Maybe she was losing her mind.
    A masculine voice infused with an Arizona drawl spoke behind her.
    â€œDaphne Knight?”
    She jumped a good inch or two. Her system kicked into fight-or-flight mode. Heart racing, she looked around, searching for a face that fit the voice.
    She saw Computer-Geek-Meets-Man-of-the-West. He gave her an apologetic smile and pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose.
    â€œSorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Abe Rayner. I had the benefit of a photo of you that Jack sent to me. I’ve got some ID to show you.”
    â€œMr. Rayner.” She collected herself and got to her feet.
    Now that she was upright she realized that Abe Rayner was an inch or two shorter than she was and definitely not built like a nightclub bouncer or a football player. He was lean and wiry and there was a lot of energy about him, as if he couldn’t wait for the next computer problem to solve. So much for the mental image she had conjured. Maybe Abe Rayner carried a very big gun. He worked for a high-end security firm, so presumably he was reasonably good at his job.
    If he was aware that she was trying to assess his capabilities, he showed no indication. He simply held out his identification without comment. She looked at the Arizona license and then she examined the business card.
    A BRAHAM R A PHAEL R AYNER
    INFORMATION ANALYST, RAYNER RISK MANAGEMENT
    She looked up from the card and met his dark eyes. She got the feeling he was slightly amused by her reaction.
    â€œWhat exactly is an information analyst, Mr. Rayner?” she