something dark across the tile that she hadn’t noticed. “Oh, God. Sam—” Her voice broke, and her mind filled with every horrible possibility. “Is that blood?”
“I ain’t sure.” He shook his head. “I’ll have a deputy come check it out.” He walked over and grasped her elbow. “Let’s head outside.”
Gently, Lisa pulled away, trying to stand her ground, even though she was trembling hard. “Don’t lie to me, Sam. Please.” She tried to tamp down the worry that threatened to choke her. “If that’s Grandpa’s blood, do—” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Now, don’t go jumping to conclusions.” His words didn’t match the worry in his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried again, still unsuccessfully, to guide her to the door.
“Do you notice anything missing?” he asked, clearly trying to distract her.
And, even though she knew what he was doing, it worked. Maybe there was a clue in the house. Lisa looked around but had no idea what to even search for. “I—I don’t think so.” She shrugged. Suddenly, the weight of the last few hours settled hard on her shoulders.
The morning had started out so bright. Marco’s pronouncement about the business closing seemed ages ago. Lunch with Trudy... The drive up here... Now this. It was almost too much.
Should she have called Sam earlier, when Grandpa hadn’t answered her mother’s calls? Should she have come to visit sooner? More often?
She’d been so busy the past few months with the job, she hadn’t been up here much, nor had she spoken to her grandfather in a while.
Guilt raced through her. Would it have made a difference if she had?
Would he still be here? Would something have happened to her, too? Her stomach churned.
“Sam, when did you see him last?”
“See who? Win? Oh, now, don’t go fretting, Lisa. He had drinks with Hap and me yesterday over at The Thirsty Eagle.” Their favorite bar.
Lisa shot to her feet and paced. “But Sam, look at this place.” She waved her arms around. “He seems to have been gone longer than one day.” She ran her finger over the counter where a layer of dust dulled the dark tone of the marble.
“Lisa.” The older man stepped closer. “Your grandma’s been gone almost two years,” he unnecessarily reminded her. “Your grandpa would never be accused of being a housekeeper.”
“But—” She looked around, more closely this time. She stalked over to the refrigerator and yanked it open. The light came on, washing over the room, reassuringly normal. A gallon of milk, a carton of orange juice and several other normal items sat inside.
She didn’t want to, but she opened the milk and sniffed. Not spoiled. Thank goodness.
Maybe he hadn’t been gone long. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Still... “Then where is he? It’s getting late.” Another glance at the clock told her it wasn’t that late by her city standards. But here? For her grandfather? It was very late.
“Don’t go borrowin’ trouble.” Sam put his big, rough hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. We’ll find him,” he reassured her, and she wasn’t sure if he believed what he was saying or not.
Sam pulled out his phone and was soon talking to someone about securing the house. “Bring a sheet of plywood.” He paused and listened. “There’s a couple of sheets out in the shed. Got a broken window here, and Win ain’t around to fix it. Yeah.”
Once he’d hung up, he turned back to her again. “Okay, let’s get you settled at the hotel.”
“What?”
“It’s too late for you to drive to Denver tonight. And you’re not staying here by yourself.”
“Sam, I’m a grown adult. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know that.” He put his hands on his hips. “Someone broke in here for a reason. If they didn’t get what they want, they could come back. Nope, you’re not staying here.” He shook his head, and she saw his familiar stubbornness flash in his eyes.
Sam wasn’t going to let her stay in the house. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to stay here by herself, she wasn’t admitting that to him. She let her stubborn glare speak for her.
“No.” The big man strode toward the screen door and held it open for her. “Not only no, but hell, no.” He shook his head.
“I can’t go to a hotel.” She hadn’t had time to tell him she couldn’t afford it. She had lost her job today. She glanced at her watch. Yeah, still today. She followed him outside and watched as he closed and locked the door.
“Win would kill me if anything happened to you.” He finally stopped next to her car and crossed his arms over his chest. Stubborn never looked so human. Or immovable. “Evelyn down at The Guest House always has a room for dignitaries. We’ll set you up there.”
“I can’t—”
“Gonna make me tell Win on you?” His left eyebrow lifted, and she recognized that he’d stay here all night long and argue. And she wouldn’t win.
“Oh, fine.” She huffed to her car. “But only for tonight.”
“We’ll see.” He waited while she climbed in and closed the door behind her. Walking back to his car, he waited until she started her own vehicle and headed toward the small downtown hotel. He followed close behind.
The Guest House was one of the oldest buildings in Telluride. The two-story building, with an old-fashioned false front and big glass windows all across the street side, was a landmark. Built during the original mining boom back in the 1890s with new mining money, it’d been meant to impress.
And it still did.
She’d always wanted to stay here. Why did she feel like she was taking advantage of a bad situation?
As if she had any choice? Sam sat in his car outside and waited until she walked through the big glass door. Glancing at him and waving, she hoped he investigated crimes in this town with as much tenacity as he used keeping track of her.
She looked around the vast lobby in awe. It had seemed silly to stay here when her grandparents had always had a perfectly good guest room. That guest room was still there—just not an option right now. She shivered at Sam’s earlier warning that the intruder could return and she continued farther inside.
She had to force her feet to keep moving. It was so beautiful. Two huge antique crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Light fell in prisms over the old-fashioned wingback chairs and Chippendale couches, and in pools on the lush gray carpet.
Brass handrails edged the steps she descended into the sunken lobby area. But what caught her eye was the staircase. It curved upward, over the heads of diners in the small bar, and continued to create the ceiling over the check-in desk. Gleaming brass rails followed the same curve and nestled in the crease of the carpet on each stair.
It was beautiful. Too pretty to actually
