Free Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) by Annette Dashofy Page A

ex-wife. Now he realized what a lousy son and brother he was as well. Friend was about the best he could muster.
    And how was Zoe going to react to the letter? Pete had made a copy of the crumpled note Baronick had found under James Engle’s couch. He’d contemplated taking it directly to Zoe’s mother. But the case was old. The note probably didn’t mean a thing. He’d never met Kimberly Chambers Jackson. How would she respond to something like this? No, he’d show the copy to Zoe first and let her decide how to deal with her mother.
    “Hey. You in?” Sylvia thumped him on the arm. “Ante up, bud.”
    Pete blinked. Seth was raking in his winnings, a victorious smile on his young face. Never mind that he was still down five bucks for the evening. The kid needed to work on containing himself. 
    Pete glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. Eight-thirty. Poor Zoe had been sitting in there, watching TV with Harry for over an hour. “Deal me out of this hand.” His ankle throbbed, but he fought to ignore the pain as he entered the living room.
    The TV was tuned to some sort of dance competition. But Harry and Zoe weren’t sitting back and watching it as Pete had expected. Harry perched on the edge of the sofa, his face etched with tension. Zoe had her back turned to Pete, but he noticed her hand on Harry’s arm.
    “What’s going on in here?” Pete kept his voice light.
    Harry sprung to his feet. Zoe rose slower and turned toward Pete. Her lips were pressed into a troubled frown, her eyes communicating volumes without saying a word.
    “Where’s Nadine?” Harry demanded. “I want to go home.”
    “Nadine’s out of town. You’re staying with me for a few weeks. Remember?” Pete winced at his own words. Hell, no, Harry didn’t remember. That was the problem.
    Harry squinted at Pete. Then his face softened. “Pete? Is that you? What are you doing here?”
    Pete sighed. “I live here, Pop. How about I show you to your room and get you ready for bed.”
    Harry looked around, obviously confused. His eyes settled on Zoe. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Zoe.” Her voice sounded tired, but patient.
    Pete wondered how many times she’d answered that question during the course of the evening. He took his father’s elbow. “Come on, Pop.”
    “Okay.”
    As Pete turned his dad toward the hallway at the back of the house, he felt Zoe’s fingers brush his arm. He met her gaze for a moment and wasn’t sure which stung most. The vacant look in his dad’s eyes. Or the look of sympathy in hers.
    “You’ve done your time,” Pete told her. “Go play some poker.” 

      
    Pete finally settled Harry into the guest room after considerable arguing. Had the raised voices been heard all the way out in the dining room? Pete hoped not.
    He left his father’s room door ajar and the hall light on. As he hobbled through the living room, the absence of poker player chatter struck him as a bad sign. Sure enough, the dining room and kitchen were empty, except for Zoe, who looked up from a game of solitaire.
    “Did Pop’s bellowing scare everyone off?”
    Zoe motioned toward the clock on the wall. “No.”
    Eleven o’clock. How did that happen? Pete sunk into the chair across from her with a groan. His ankle was killing him. “I guess I’m a lousy host.”
    One at a time, she flipped the cards face down. “No, you’re not. Did you get your dad settled?”
    Pete wiped a hand across his eyes. “Finally.”
    “It’s called sundowning.”
    “What?”
    “Sundowning. A lot of Alzheimer’s patients get...unruly...later in the day.”
    Pete recalled Nadine’s words. And on occasion, he gets rambunctious in the evenings .
    “Plus he’s in an unfamiliar setting,” Zoe said.
    “Unfamiliar,” Pete echoed. And whose fault was that? He longed to blame this all on his sister. But as much as it pained him to admit it, Nadine had been right. “How do you know all this?”
    Zoe scooped up the cards and tapped the