The man narrowed his eyes even further. “I’m not Louis. Who are you?” he demanded.
Scarlett frowned, unease lifting inside her. She eyed this stranger. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Handsome in a rough sort of way, though maybe the roughness could mostly be attributed to his expression and surly attitude. “Excuse me? This is my home. Who are you and why are you here?”
“Your home?” He glanced around as though he might be checking whether or not he’d stepped inside the wrong dwelling.
Perhaps he’d mistakenly ended up at this abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere when he’d meant to end up at another.
Scarlett cleared her throat. “Yes, my home. I bought Lilith House and moved in yesterday. Now I think you better tell me who you are and why you’re in my house, or I’m going to have to call the police.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and held it up, her thumb poised to dial 9-1-1. She glanced at it, suddenly noticing she had absolutely no service.
“There are no cell towers in Farrow,” the man said. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“Uh, no,” she said, looking stupidly at her phone again as if he might be lying and those three bars would suddenly appear.
He stared at her for several beats before a muscle in his cheek ticked. “In any case, I am the police.” He let out a long breath, running a hand through his short dark hair. “Deputy West.”
“I see.” She lowered her eyes to his T-shirt and downward to his jeans, landing on his boot-clad feet and then raising to his eyes once again. Green. While Haddie’s eyes were a pale sea-glass green, this man’s eyes were the green of pine trees in a sunlit forest. Beautiful. His lashes were thick and curled upward. Too pretty for a boy. Too soft for such a hard-looking man. Yeah, he was handsome, she’d give him that. But she didn’t trust handsome men—in her experience, it was too easy for them to lie.
Or maybe she was just gullible.
Anyway.
“Off duty,” he explained, and it took her a moment to re-follow the trail of the conversation. He’d obviously read her unspoken question as to his lack of a uniform.
“Is it typical that members of the police department around here walk into private residences without knocking?”
“Sheriff’s department. And I hadn’t heard that anyone bought this place.”
Scarlett returned her useless phone to her pocket. “Was I supposed to make an official announcement to the authorities?”
That muscle tic again and a slow release of breath. “We got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for entering without knocking. I saw your car and, well . . .” His words dwindled. Thought someone was breaking in? she surmised would have been the end of that sentence if he’d finished. He walked toward her and though she was tempted to step back, she held her ground. Deputy West extended his hand. “Welcome to town.” His tone conveyed anything but congeniality.
“Gee, thanks,” she muttered. She eyed his hand warily and then reached out her own. His hand enfolded hers easily, his skin browned and slightly calloused, fingers masculine and sturdy. An unwanted shiver moved through her blood. “Scarlett Lattimore.”
He nodded once, dropping her hand. “Just you?”
“What?”
“Just you living here?”
“Oh, um, no. I have a daughter, Haddie. She’s seven.”
He kept watching her as if waiting for her to continue, noting, she was sure, that there was no Mr. Lattimore. Much to her dismay, heat rose in her cheeks, and she hated herself for it.
Being a single mother is not a scarlet letter. Though if it was, she’d been aptly named to play the role.
A knock sounded at the door, causing Scarlett to jump, bringing her hand to her chest again. God, she must seem like a scared deer. “Come in,” she called, a little too exuberantly.
Deputy West turned as the door swung inward and a wiry, dark haired young man entered, his face breaking into a smile. “Hey there, Cam. Didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Louis,” Detective West—Cam—greeted, his tone several shades warmer than when he’d addressed her, Scarlett noted. “How are you?”
“Well now, can’t complain much. How’s that hot water heater?”
“Better. Thanks for helping out with that.”
Louis nodded and then looked at Scarlett. “Mrs. Lattimore?”
“Scarlett.” She stepped forward, grasping Louis’s outstretched hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“You bet. Damn near fell over when I heard someone bought the old girl. Musta been a quick sale, no one’s buzzin’ about it in town.” He looked around, his eyes going from the stairway to the walls to the ceiling and then back to Scarlett. “Sure do have your work cut out for you, sprucing the place up.”
“I’m hoping that’s all it needs—some heavy sprucing. That’s why I called, so you could tell me exactly what I’m looking at here.”
“You didn’t have the place appraised before you bought it?” the deputy asked, raising a dark brow.
“Louis is right, it happened quickly,” Scarlett said. As if it was any of his business why she’d bought this place. “It seemed like a deal whether it needed major fixes or not. So I jumped on it. The property itself is pretty fantastic.”
The deputy glanced out the window, a shadow of something Scarlett didn’t know how to identify darkening his features for a moment and then smoothing out. He offered no comment.
“Course the place does have a history,” Louis said, eyeing the deputy. “Figure that’s why it’s sat empty for so long. People hear what happened here and shy away, you know?” He scratched at his cheek. “That and it being so remote and all.”
Deputy West shot Louis what looked like a warning glance. “Well,” Scarlett said, “I was looking for remote. And I’ve heard there are stories about this place—some of them bad—but that sort of thing doesn’t bother me. Houses have history. People have history too, some of it unpleasant. It doesn’t make any of us less valuable.” She glanced back and forth between them. Deputy West narrowed his eyes, staring at her with even more directness. She looked away from that laser focus.
“True enough, I guess,” Louis said. “So, uh”—he held up the toolbox in his hand—“should we get started?”
“I’ll show myself out,” Deputy West said.
“Yes, absolutely. Feel free to come and go as you please,” Scarlett said, adding a note of overly sweet sarcasm.
The deputy’s full lips twitched so quickly that if Scarlett had blinked, she’d have missed it. Perhaps the man had the smidgeon of a personality after all—somewhere deep down inside. Deep, deep down. He gave a short nod. “Ma’am. Louis.”
“See ya, Cam.”
She watched him walk away and Scarlett tamped down another wave of annoyance as the door shut behind the deputy. She mustered a wide smile, turning to Louis. “Okay then, how about we start with the plumbing? Also, are you able to get me set up with Wi-Fi?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Thirteen Years Ago