Free A Killer's Watch by Tallulah Grace Page A

look
inside their home, to make sure that they’re not a murderer.”
    “That’s not asking for much,” Monique smiled.
    “I don’t think so,” Chloe agreed, pressing the doorbell.
    Within moments, the leaded glass door opened to reveal a
stone-faced man, dressed in an undertaker-black suit.
    “May I help you?” he inquired, traces of boredom in his
tone.
    “Yes, we’re from EJB Global,” Chloe flashed her credentials,
“and we’d like to take a look in your basement.”
    “Who is it, Thomas?” The delicate voice of an elderly woman
floated toward them from inside the home.
    “One moment,” Thomas pushed the door to, but did not close
it. They could hear him speaking through the sliver of an opening.
    “It’s two women, madam, from something called EJB Global.
They wish to inspect the basement.”
    “Do let them in, Thomas. I’ve been asking Graham to have
someone check for mold down there. My friend, Mrs. Watson, had a terrible time
removing mold from her cellar, don’t you know.”
    “Yes, Ma’am.”
    The door flew open to reveal Thomas standing off to the
side.
    “You may enter,” he told them.
    “Thanks,” Chloe answered, looking at Monique for direction.
Should they pretend ignorance, and gain entry to the basement? Or should they
come clean about why they were really there, and risk being turned away?
    “May we speak with Mrs. Grant?” Monique asked, hoping that
she remembered the correct name of the homeowner.
    “Please show them in, Thomas,” Belinda Grant commanded.
    “Right this way, please,” Thomas closed the door and stepped
in front of them.
    As they followed the butler into the parlor, Chloe glanced
at Monique for direction. Monique nodded.
    “Hello, Mrs. Grant, I’m Chloe Carson and this is Monique
Pellier. We’re with EJB Global.” Once again, Chloe flashed her identification.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not here to inspect for mold,” Chloe continued with a
smile. “We’re actually working with the FBI.”
    “Oh, my, the FBI, how intriguing. What could the FBI
possibly want with my basement?” Belinda Grant did not offer them a seat.
    “Probably nothing, Ma’am,” Chloe answered, still smiling.
“We’re helping them with a house by house search. Are you aware that two
teenagers have gone missing from the area?”
    “Oh, my goodness, no. And you think they are hiding in my
basement?” Belinda appeared confused.
    “No, Ma’am, not really. But we have reason to think the
girls may be holed up somewhere in a concrete room. We’re doing a search of all
the homes in the area with basements. Do you mind if we take a quick look?”
Chloe’s smile never faltered, even in the face of Belinda Grant’s frown.
    “Of course you must look. I understand that you need to
eliminate even the most unlikely places. I watch Law and Order,” she finished proudly,
thinking that it made her current.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Grant,” Chloe did her best to keep her
polite smile from breaking into a grin. “You have a lovely home,” she glanced
around quickly, to prove her point.
    “Thank you.”
    “Do you live here alone?” Monique asked. “Besides Thomas, of
course,” she nodded at the butler, hovering in the doorway.
    “No, this is actually my son’s home,” Belinda answered, her
pride growing. “He takes such good care of me, insists that I live here, for as
long as I like. My friend Sarah’s son put her in one of those retirement homes,
but not my Graham. He often says how much he appreciates my company.”
    “I’m sure he does,” Monique agreed sincerely. “It must be
nice for you, to be so close to your grandchildren.” Nodding at a group of
framed photos, some with children, Monique asked a question, without asking a
question.
    “Oh, no. Those aren’t my grandchildren, those are my
great-nieces and great-nephews.” Sighing, Belinda looked toward the photos for
a moment. “No, Graham has not yet found the right woman, so I’m still waiting
for