Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (bill gates books recommendations .TXT) 📗

A few minutes after that, Candy flounced through the same door onto the patio and growled, "Why are these people back?" she asked, shoving her goggles to the top of her head. "Did they not get what they came for the other day?"

At Mick's side, Neva started to speak before Holden Wagner walked up and cut her off. "Things have changed since then, Ms. Roman. This is now an official police investigation. The sheriff has a warrant to search the premises. I'd suggest you not interfere unless you want to face charges."

"Neva, what's going on?" Candy waved her hand in front of Wagner's face. "There's a pesky fly bothering me, and I didn't hear what you were trying to say."

Mick chuckled under his breath and glanced at Neva, who had to fight back a grin before she answered. "It seems Liberty never made it home. And someone in an official capacity managed to convince Judge Ahearn that even though we weren't hiding her last time, this time there is probable cause that we are."

"Jesus Lord, why can't those pesky buzzing flies leave a body minding its own business alone," Candy said with a huff and a pointed glance in Wagner's direction. "Makes a girl just want to swat 'em flat to the ground."

Holden didn't budge. He didn't say a word. Simply stood still and stared until Candy pulled her goggles from her head and turned back to Neva. "If you need me, I'll be at home watching Oprah. The sheriff and that cute Deputy Jason said they shouldn't be long. They're working their way through the studio and shipping center."

"Where's the other deputy?" Mick asked. The more cursory the search and the quicker the three finished, the less likely any of them would stumble across the safe room.

She pointed overhead. "He's in the attic. Digging through five years of files and other accumulated crap."

Mick heard Neva's alarmed hiss of breath before she quickly recovered from the surprise to complain, "That place is a mess unless you know what you're looking for. He'll be up there forever."

"Not to mention he'll come out smelling like a mothball." Candy shrugged—consummate actress that she was— then headed for the back of the barn and the door to her apartment, calling, "Wake me up when they're done so I can get back to work. I've got orders going on three weeks and I'm not happy about it."

Neva walked away from the patio and began to pace, leaving Mick alone on the covered porch with the attorney. He used the advantage of his sunglasses, staring until the other man backed up a step, stopping him from moving farther by saying, "I understand congratulations are in order, mate."

"Excuse me?"

"I hear you'll be tying the knot with the missing girl. If you can find her. And manage to keep her from running off again."

"My intentions toward Ms. Mitchell are none of your business, Mr. ..." He waited expectantly for Mick to fill in the blank.

Mick didn't. He boosted himself up to sit on the nearest table, braced his boots on the seat, leaned into his knees. "No worries. Just thinking you two are getting a good start, both of you coming from San Francisco, sharing that background and all."

Holden bristled. Or tried to. He looked more like a leaf shaking in the wind. "You don't know a thing about our backgrounds."

Mick glanced off into the distance, glanced back. "I know you both were raised by religious zealots. And you both ran away. Liberty figured it out a lot sooner. You stuck around long enough to see your parents killed."

This time it wasn't just a leaf that was shaking. It was the whole bloody tree. "I don't know who you are—"

"But I know who you are." Mick pulled off his sunglasses, met the other man's gaze directly, and yanked him up by the roots. "And I know what you're doing. Give me another few hours, and I'll know what you did."

Wagner tumbled. A redwood felled by a mightier wind. He stepped back, unspeaking, expressionless, then turned and walked off the patio toward his car. He didn't run. He didn't rush. He just left, defeated, flattened, done in by the destruction of Mick's promise.

Neva returned to the patio, approached Mick where he sat, placed her hands on his knees. "Please tell me how you managed to run him off. I'll take notes."

"Trade secret," he said, looping the sport strap of his glasses over her wrists, binding her to him. "I'd tell you, but then—"

"Stop." She pressed fingertips to his lips. "You're already killing me here. You and all this private non-profit business making you not a very nice man who I don't know what I would do without."

He started to tell her everything, to assure her men didn't come nicer, that she'd never find a good guy wearing a whiter hat. But the door from the studio opened, and the sheriff walked through, his deputy on his tail. The duo never said a word. They just headed toward the back of the barn.

"Candy's place," Neva said, and Mick pushed off the table to follow. He heard Wagner's car door slam but didn't give the man any satisfaction by looking back. Instead, he slowed enough that he caused the other man to do the same. Point made, point taken, and he'd never uttered a word.

When they caught up with the sheriff, it was to find Candy blocking her doorway, one hand at her hip, the other handing the warrant back to the deputy. "This is not Neva's residence. Nor is it part of the Big Brown Barn. This is my home, and it's not included in your warrant."

The sheriff looked from Candy to his deputy and back to the warrant, folding it and slapping it against his palm. "She's right. We're done here."

"No, Sheriff. You are not done here," Wagner boomed from behind them.

Munroe turned, pointed a finger, stopped inches from jabbing it into the other man's chest. "This