indication that Jennifer Mason had used her credit cards or written any checks in the past few months. Intrigued, he went deeper.
He found no evidence that Jennifer Mason was involved in the process of obtaining a divorce from Davis Mason. There was no sign that she had hired any of the local moving companies to assist in relocating to another town or city.
Forty-five minutes later he sat back, stretched his legs out under the desk, shoved his hands into his pockets, and contemplated the glowing screen.
Jennifer Mason had disappeared. He had a hunch Zoe Luce had already guessed as much before she hired him to find the woman.
Chapter Six
Zoe picked up the desk phone on the first ring.
âEnhanced Interiors.â
âYou lied to me,â Ethan said on the other end.
He made the accusation in a stunningly casual tone, as if he was accustomed to having people lie to him. Maybe that was true, given his line of work, Zoe thought.
She went very still in her chair, staring unseeingly at the three framed black-and-white photographs that hung on the opposite wall.
She had taken three photos of the fanciful old house steeped in the shadows of the desert twilight. Later, she had tried to choose the most evocative shot but each had caught some elusive element, and she had been unable to select just one. She had wound up framing all three.
A client had noticed the photos hanging on the wall a few days later and had informed her that the house was known locally as Nightwinds.
âAre you there?â Ethan asked.
Donât panic yet, she thought. Maybe itâs not as bad as it sounds.
âYes, of course,â she said tonelessly.
How much had he learned about her in the process of searching for Jennifer Mason? Had he somehow stumbled onto the truth? Had he found a chink in the firewall that had been erected between her past and her present? And what about Arcadia? Oh, Lord, what if she had blown her friendâs cover as well as her own? She had been an idiot to hire a private investigator.
Get a grip, she told herself. Breathe. Think.
The new identities that she and Arcadia had purchased had been first class. Arcadia had insisted on paying the huge amount of cash required to get the very best quality. Ethan Truax could not have dug deep enough to uncover the truth, she assured herself, not in such a short period of time.
Besides, heâd had no reason to go looking into her past. She had paid him to search for Jennifer Mason. Why would he waste time probing into his clientâs background, instead?
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â she said, trying to keep her voice cool and even. âDid you locate Jennifer Mason?â
âNo,â Ethan said.
She clutched the phone more tightly to her ear. âYou couldnât find her?â
âNo,â Ethan said again. âWhatâs more, I donât think you expected me to find her. And thatâs what makes this all so damn interesting, you see.â
âI donât understand.â
âWe need to talk,â Ethan said. He ended the call abruptly.
Anger shafted through her. âDamn it, donât you dare hang up on me, Truax.â
The door of her office opened without warning, jolting her. She swung around in her office chair.
Ethan walked into the room looking as if he had just come from a construction site. He wore a pair of grungy paint-stained jeans, a denim shirt, scuffed work boots, and a peaked cap emblazoned with the logo of a local tavern, Hellâs Belles. She recognized the name of the establishment. It was a sleazy dive that catered to guys who drove trucks and motorcycles. She had never been attracted to the kind of male who frequented such places.
So why was she experiencing these little hot and cold chills of awareness at the sight of Ethan? She had clearly gone a little too long without a date.
Ethan slid his phone into the pocket of his shirt. âI happened to be in the