His Brother's Bride

Scott shifted, stretching one long leg. “A couple of different ways, depending on what they’re going to use the cranberries for.”

“You going to tell me what they are?” she asked, with a nudge to his arm when he left her hanging there.

It felt good touching him.

It also felt good to listen as he told her about the harvesting methods and the wildlife in the bogs as well.

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Laurel asked, chuckling.

Scott glanced over at her, his gaze holding hers for a heady second. Then his grin faded. “Plenty,” he said, turning his attention back to the road.

Laurel wondered what had brought about the sudden change of mood.

But that was one question she didn’t feel free to ask.

CHAPTER TEN

THE NEIGHBORHOOD WAS NEW. Middle class. The homes were based on three or four models, and the yards were large enough to play tag on, freshly mown and green. Leslie lived about halfway down the block in a cozy bungalow with black shutters and a white picket fence. The house was rimmed with flower beds blooming with riotous color.

Crossing her fingers as Scott pulled up in front of the house, Laurel opened her door.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Scott said.

She didn’t want to think that. “Her car’s probably in the garage. And you don’t need lights this early in the day.”

Of course, the morning papers still on the mat by the front door were a little harder to ignore.

Scott picked them up. “The last few days’ are here.”

His eyes met Laurel’s above the stack in his arms and her blood ran cold.

“You think we’re going to find out that she’s missing, too, don’t you?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

The papers in his arms said what he wouldn’t. They’d found a similar pile at Cecilia’s house. He knocked, anyway.

And then knocked a second time.

“Leslie could just be gone on vacation,” he said after the third knock.

“Then why didn’t she cancel the newspaper? Isn’t that what people normally do when they go out of town? Or at least ask a neighbor to pick them up?”

“Usually, but not everyone’s that organized.”

Laurel nodded, though she wasn’t buying a word of it. She suspected he was only saying those things for her benefit, trying to leave her a little bit of the optimism she’d started with four days before. But while she appreciated the effort, she knew the situation didn’t look good.

She was almost afraid to continue. Was every clue going to lead to another missing person? Where would it end?

“Let’s take a look around,” Scott said, heading back down the steps and around the side of the house. He searched under every window for footprints and checked for any sign of forced entry. Laurel chose to be encouraged when he found nothing.

And then Scott walked over to the garage and peered in the window.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

Heart in her throat, Laurel stood up on her toes to see what he’d found.