can be demanding.” She gave him a slight smile, but still appeared poised to bolt at any second.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just came back to get something.”
His eyes dipped to her hands. One held a set of keys. The other was empty. She wasn’t even carrying a purse. If she had really come back to get something, it was apparently small enough to fit inside the pocket of her lightweight jacket.
“Did you find what you needed?”
She nodded, the motion stiff and jerky. “Yep. Everything’s good.”
That was a lie, if he’d ever heard one. He held up a hand. “Have a nice weekend. Mine starts in about an hour, if the Caterpillar back there will cooperate.”
“Good luck.”
She got into her car and backed from the space. When she pulled forward, she released the clutch too quickly and the car lurched. At the edge of the building, she made a sharp turn onto the drive, and its back fishtailed, slinging gravel.
Conner frowned. Darci Tucker couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
He stepped on the gas and headed into the field. Someone at P. T. Aggregates probably had information about Claire’s disappearance. But he had a Caterpillar to wrestle. And he needed to get it done and get home before Jenna threw in the towel, like the four sitters before her had. No matter what kind of recommendations they came with or how much experience they had, one week with Kyle had put each of his babysitters at the end of her rope.
He could relate. That was exactly where he had been since Kyle stepped over his threshold. And he couldn’t blame the kid. He never knew his dad, and now his mom was missing. He was moody and bitter and angry at the world. And Conner hadn’t the slightest clue how to help him.
He brought his F-150 to a stop next to the service truck that held his mechanics’ tools. He hadn’t signed up for this. He was supposed to be free and single and enjoying life. He was still single. But freedom had flown out the window the moment his sister disappeared. And it had seemed like three forevers since he had enjoyed his life.
He sighed and stepped from the truck. Maybe when he was finished, he would do a little snooping. He dismissed the idea as soon as it came. The incriminating stuff was likely to be inside. What he needed to do was get to know this Darci Tucker, which wouldn’t be an easy task. According to his coworkers, she kept her guard up. As the only young, single woman in the company, she probably felt like a guppy in a tank full of sharks.
But he wasn’t going to hit on her. And not because she wasn’t attractive. She was. She was short—a good eight or nine inches less than his six feet. Her dark hair reached her shoulders, its soft, silky waves begging to be touched. With those expressive blue eyes that sparkled with life and that spontaneous smile that so often lit her face, she possessed a down-to-earth beauty that had piqued his interest from the get-go.
But he had too much on his plate to think about romance, which was a good thing. His prospects had totally dried up over the past six months. Women weren’t looking for men with baggage, especially in the form of a seven-year-old with a stinkin’ attitude and a smart mouth.
He opened the back doors of the service truck, pulled out a set of wrenches and approached the monster backhoe. He would figure out a way to get to Darci Tucker. Because he had no doubt—Claire didn’t just take off. She finally had her life on track. She liked her job. She loved her son. And she’d found the contentment that had always eluded her. She didn’t walk away from it all. At least not by choice.
If Wiggins was involved, he was good at concealing it. Tucker wasn’t. She had guilt written all over her.
Or maybe that wasn’t guilt. Maybe it was fear—not at him having seen her, but of something much more sinister.
The same fear his sister had felt.
* * *
Sharp white light spilled from the fluorescent fixture overhead, chasing the shadows from Darci’s office. She dropped her purse and a small cooler on the floor of the closet then twisted the wand on the miniblinds. Outside, fog blanketed everything. It was a dreary Tuesday.
But the gloominess wouldn’t last. In another hour, the mist would burn off and the sun would continue its ascent, blazing a path upward in a beautiful blue sky. Florida wasn’t called the Sunshine State for nothing.
She slid into the swivel chair behind her desk. She enjoyed her job. Even though she wasn’t a CPA, her bachelor’s degree in accounting and finance, along with her years running Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts, more than qualified her to be the accounting manager at P. T. Unfortunately, none of her courses had included the chapter on dealing with difficult bosses.
She reached into her in-basket and picked up the stack of time cards piled there. Her first task of the day would be running payroll. Then she would work on the October financial statements, along with her staff meeting report, a job she had hoped to finish last Friday.
Friday. The now-familiar disquiet settled over her, and she swallowed hard. She’d come so close to getting caught. If her phone had rung on her way out, when she was sneaking down the hall...or if Wiggins had looked under her desk...
But he hadn’t. Although he’d stood less than two feet away, he hadn’t known she was there. Thank You, Lord. As long as it stayed that way, everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, the new mechanic had caught her leaving. Even stopped to introduce himself. Conner something. She remembered him, had seen him in the break room several times that week. He was the kind of guy women noticed—green eyes that sparked with restrained humor, honey-colored hair that always looked casually tousled and a bearing that radiated confidence. Yeah, hard to miss.
Hopefully, he wasn’t much of a talker, because if he said anything to Wiggins about seeing her there...
As she began alphabetizing the time cards, worry gnawed at her. Her chances would be better if she hadn’t acted so guilty. Maybe she should just talk to the mechanic and ask him not to tell anyone about seeing her Friday night. But that would make her look even guiltier. No, she’d better keep her mouth shut and pray the mechanic did the same.
She had just finished payroll when a familiar voice drifted down the hall. And she almost dived under her desk again. Jimmy Fuller owned a large commercial construction company and bought aggregate from P. T. He also insisted on hand delivering his checks. It gave him three or four opportunities a month to hit on her.
Footsteps drew closer and Fuller’s athletic frame filled the doorway. With that deep golden tan and sun-bleached hair, he was used to women throwing themselves at him.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She laid the time cards on her desk. Let the other women have him. Those model looks were wasted on her. So were the pickup lines.
“Hello, Mr. Fuller.” She stayed with the formal address. He wasn’t much older than she was, maybe thirty-five to her twenty-six. But she wouldn’t get too chummy with him.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Come on, Darci. When are you going to start calling me Jimmy?”
“Probably
