Free 1 Dog Collar Crime by Adrienne Giordano Page B

missing spreadsheet might be the reason.
    An afternoon breeze tickled her arm through the window she had cracked opened that morning. She stuck her face against the small gap. The lacy pink curtains billowed against her cheek and she shoved them back. She hated this room and the I’m-going-do-die-of-suffocation feeling that came with it.
    She had to get out.
    Now.
    * * *
    A loud pounding on his front door brought Frankie out of a monster REM cycle. Jeez. Where’s the fire? He tossed the sheet off, rolled out of bed and slipped on a pair of gym shorts. Couldn’t even take a damned nap on his day off.
    He swung through the living room, stepped into the outer hallway and saw Lucie standing on the stoop in ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. The disturbing lack of color in her face resembled one of his new white dress shirts.
    He opened the door and the cool air pricked his bare chest. “You okay?”
    She looked him up and down, stopped at the bedhead. “You were napping? I’m sorry I woke you.”
    The quiver in her voice sent Frankie’s blood humming, and he suddenly wasn’t cold anymore. “What’s wrong?”
    She pushed by him, walked through the hallway into his living room. “I just talked to Detective O’Brien.”
    Still groggy from sleep, Frankie jammed the heels of his hands into his eye-sockets. When pain erupted from the pressure, he pulled his hands away “What did he want?”
    “A dog was stolen in Glencoe. Frankie, oh my God. It’s the same family.”
    He didn’t know what the hell she was babbling about. “Luce, take it easy.”
    She shook her hands in the air. “The dog that was stolen—I sold his owner a coat and collar at the Lutzes’ trunk show. This is no coincidence.”
    The Glencoe development, coupled with Joey almost getting dogjacked, brought a hell of a mess.
    Frankie couldn’t keep the Joey thing from her any longer. She’d be mad, but he had to be straight with her. He rolled his lips together and scratched a sudden itch on the back of his head. “Luce, take a seat.”
    “I don’t want to sit.”
    “Sit.”
    They stared at each other for a solid minute. She gave in and dropped into the hand-me-down black leather recliner he’d gotten from his folks. He sat on the arm of the matching sofa across from her. “Okay. You’re not gonna like this.”
    She squeezed the arms of the chair until her knuckles bulged and her blue eyes remained fixed on him like a locked-on missile. The last time he’d seen that focused intensity her father had been found guilty of tax evasion.
    “What is it?”
    His girl liked things straight on, so he’d let it fly. “Joey had an incident when walking Otis this morning.”
    “What kind of incident?”
    Sink or swim. He had to tell her. Unfortunately, his tongue turned to lead. This would not go well. “Attempted dogjacking. The guy told Joey he only wanted the collar.”
    She squeezed the chair tighter and the veins in her hands popped. Yep. Pissed. He reached for her, smoothed the tension from her grip. “Before you yell at me, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
    “You should have told me.”
    “Joey fought the guy off. At that point, I figured it wouldn’t do you any good to know. I was going to tell you, but not yet.”
    She leaned forward. “Putting aside you kept this from me, my fears were dead on. The dognappings are about that diamond. I have to stop offering services. It’s the right thing to do. Besides, my reputation will be ruined and I’ll lose my clients anyway.”
    That would kill her. A reputation as a responsible, law-abiding businesswoman was what Lucie craved most. It was time to get herself focused again.
    “How would the dognappers know the Winthrops are your clients?”
    “The only thing I can think of is my missing spreadsheet. It had all my client info on it.”
    Frankie did a yes-no thing with his head. “Or someone could have followed you to the Lutzes’ for the trunk show and then followed Mrs. Winthrop