led. Maybe an attic.
A great hiding place for a little boy.
Spurned by adrenaline now, he flipped on the light and climbed the stairs. A few old pieces of furniture were stored in a corner, an antique chair, another bed, boxes of clothes and toys Petey had probably outgrown were crammed against another wall.
On the opposite side beneath the window sat an old trunk. Just big enough for Petey to crawl inside.
He crossed the room and opened it, hoping Petey was inside. Two worn blankets covered the top, then a lump.
“Petey?”
He felt beneath it, but his hand connected with a duffel bag instead of a child.
Frowning, he yanked it out with a curse and unzipped it. The damn bag was filled with cash.
All in hundred dollar packs.
His stomach knotted. Why in the hell did Stover have this much money hidden in his attic? Did Serena know about it?
And where had the money come from?
He counted the first stack, and worry crawled up his spine as cop instincts filled in the blanks.
A large sum of cash like this suggested that Stover had been dirty.
UNABLE TO SLEEP, Serena’s anger festered. She had been a cop’s wife. She’d heard Parker talk about cases, had seen his methodical mind working to figure out the puzzles of a crime.
She had to help herself and do the same.
She called the deputy’s name, and a moment later he surfaced. “You oughta get some sleep,” he grunted.
Serena gripped the bars. “I can’t. Would you mind giving me a pen and a piece of paper?”
His eyes narrowed. “What you gonna do? Try to break out with a pen?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t overpower you if I tried.” She forced a feminine smile. “But I would like to figure out who framed me. I thought I’d make a list of everyone who’s been in my house the last few weeks and see if anything suspicious jumps out at me.”
He studied her for a long moment. “I guess that’d be all right.” He strode back to the front office and returned a minute later with a small yellow legal pad and a pen.
“Thanks.”
He gave her a clipped nod, although she also felt his gaze sliding over her as if he was judging her himself. A sense of how alone they were bolted through her, and perspiration broke out on her neck. The damn man might be handsome, but she would never use sex to obtain what she wanted.
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