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Livia dropped the deed back into the globe, trying to sift through the various possibilities. The property had been purchased decades ago, but Adrian was only now trying to close the bank account. Did that mean the two weren’t connected? Or had something recently happened to worry him that his secret might be exposed?

Something like her catching his private investigator sneaking into her house and pawing through her underwear drawer.

Maybe he’d closed down the account because he’d been using it to pay Larry Sutton and he didn’t want the creep connected to him. Or maybe …

The breath was squeezed from her lungs.

Maybe he didn’t want the Slidell bank account to lead to the house because that’s where he’d stashed the private investigator until Livia lost interest in looking for him.

It was yet another wild theory, but that was all she had at this point.

Certainly it was worth a quick drive to Slidell to check it out.

CHAPTER 18

Slidell, LA

Sunday, July 6th

Taking the longer route to the northeast shore of Lake Pontchartrain, Livia easily blended in with the church traffic as they returned home after a meal in one of the numerous local diners.

She didn’t really have a plan as she zigzagged through the narrow streets of Slidell. She wasn’t foolish enough to show up and knock on the front door. No, that wasn’t true. She was that foolish, but the knowledge Bryce would be furious with her squashed the urge to take such a bold approach. Instead, she intended to cruise past the house and see if she could spot any vehicle in the driveway. Or maybe a last name printed on a mailbox or carved into a log and arranged in the front yard. Those chunky decorations were popular right now.

At last turning onto the street she’d been searching for, Livia slowed to a mere crawl, her heart jumping as she saw something even better than a last name on a mailbox.

There was a FOR SALE sign stuck in the middle of the lawn.

Circling the block, Livia parked on the opposite side of the street and shut off the engine. Then leaning back, she studied the house with the eye of a real estate agent.

It wasn’t the small bungalow she’d been expecting. The sort of modest, inconspicuous place you expected a man to buy for his mistress.

This two-story brick house was twice the size of its neighbors, with a massive yard and ancient weeping willows perfectly framing the wide patio with fluted columns. The tall windows were mullioned with heavy wooden shutters and an upper balcony ran the length of the front of the house. The white trim had been recently painted and the shingled roof was in good condition. There was a detached four-car garage to one side, and a glass sunroom addition on the other side. The backyard was fenced in, blocking her view, but she could see the top of a gazebo from where she was sitting.

It was designed to demand attention and, unless the inside was completely trashed, it was easily worth half a million dollars.

The thought had barely formed when Livia abruptly pulled out her phone to send a text to the real estate agent, requesting a tour. She now had the perfect excuse to get inside the house. The woman responded within seconds, saying she would be there ASAP.

Livia grabbed her purse and dropped her phone inside before shoving open her door and climbing out of the car. She wasn’t willing to risk confronting whoever was in the house before she came to Slidell, but now she strolled forward with a casual confidence.

If you put your house on the market, you had to expect people to come poking around, right?

Avoiding the front door, Livia crossed the brick-paved driveway to peek into the garage. It was dark inside, but she could tell it was empty. Next she strolled to glance into the backyard. Besides the gazebo there was a koi pond and a garden shed decorated with hanging flower baskets that overflowed with fuchsia and petunia blooms. It was all well tended, but it felt professionally staged. There weren’t any personal items—no furniture on the covered patio, no equipment to care for the lawn, not even a stray garden gnome.

At last, Livia turned toward the nearby house, her heart suddenly racing and a layer of goose bumps coating her bare arms despite the smothering heat. Until this moment she’d managed to pretend she was doing a routine inspection on a property she was interested in selling. Just another day in the life of a real estate agent. Now her stomach cramped with unease as she forced her heavy feet to carry her toward the nearest window.

This had seemed like a great idea when she’d been sitting in her car. Just stroll up like any other potential buyer and do a little poking around. All perfectly normal when there was a house for sale, right?

But the closer she got to the window, the more she felt like there was a target right between her eyes.

Telling herself she was being an idiot, Livia finally reached the house and leaned forward to peer through the clear glass. It was obvious at first glance that she was looking into an informal living room that was connected to the open kitchen. It was equally obvious that the furniture and wall decorations had been removed, leaving behind a barren space to be filled by the next owner. And what she could see of the white French-style kitchen warned that it was equally empty. Not even a stray glass next to the sink.

Livia clicked her tongue, caught between relief and a surge of disappointment. Not only was it growing doubtful that Larry Sutton was hiding at this location, but the fact that it was on the market explained why her uncle was keeping the deed in an easy-to-reach location.

Not that she was fully satisfied.

She wanted to know why her uncle would own a fancy home in Slidell. Especially if they were having money issues. And why no one had ever mentioned this place.

It was at last the sound of a lid snapping closed that jerked Livia out of her thoughts.