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Authors: Andrea Kane

Tags: #Divorced People, #Private investigators - New York (State), #Private Investigators, #New York (State), #Mystery & Detective, #Arson investigation, #Crimes against, #General, #Romance, #Children of divorced parents, #Mystery Fiction, #Businessmen, #Businessmen - Crimes against, #Suspense, #Fiction, #Wilderness Survival

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BOOK: Wrong Place, Wrong Time
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Another hint of wry amusement. “Brutal honesty. Very well, I’ll take this again from the top. My supplier has a
two-bedroom
cabin in Lake Luzerne. I’d enjoy the company of a beautiful and intelligent
friend
who enjoys the outdoors as much as I enjoy the boardroom. Maybe she can teach me how to unwind, and we can get to know each other in the process. As much or as little as she wants,” he added pointedly.

Relenting a bit, Sally mentally ran through her limitations. “I can’t leave until after three on Friday.”

“Of course not. Three o’clock is when the nursery school you teach in lets out.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “You’ve done your homework. I’m impressed.”

“Good. Then join me.”

She was starting to enjoy the dance, and her hazel eyes twinkled. “Not so fast. What about the horses I’m responsible for? Who’ll exercise them?”

“We’ve got a staff of qualified grooms and trainers. I think they can manage. Plus, my nephew Blake will be up here this weekend. He’ll make sure the horses get
almost
as much expert care and loving attention as they get from you. I’ll even send someone over to feed and check on your animals. Anything else?”

“Actually, yes. There’s Scamp.”

“Scamp?”

“My Brussels griffon. My
dog
,” Sally clarified at the blank expression on Frederick’s face. “He can’t stay alone. And he doesn’t adapt well to strangers. I’ll have to make separate arrangements for him.”

“Now
that
one won’t fly.” With a wry grin, Frederick shot down her final stipulation. “Not when I know your daughter Devon is a veterinarian.
And
that the practice she’s affiliated with is a combination Mount Sinai and Club Med for pets.”

“She’s not just affiliated with Creature Comforts & Clinic,” Sally corrected, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Not as of January first. She’s a junior partner. The youngest one in the practice.” Realizing how boastful she sounded, Sally broke off with a self-deprecating expression. “Sorry. Just a burst of maternal pride.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s wonderful news. And quite an accomplishment. I haven’t forgotten that when my family bought this farm from the Wilsons, one of the reasons you asked to keep your job exercising the horses was to earn extra income. As I recall, you and your ex were putting Devon through college and Cornell Veterinary School. Well, your efforts were obviously rewarded. You have a remarkable daughter. Then again, she has a remarkable mother.”

Sally accepted the compliment with a smile. “I’m flattered.”

“Flattered enough to join me this weekend? I’ll even alter my plans for you. I’d intended to leave Thursday, but I’ll gladly wait the extra day, just to enjoy your company.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t need to. I just remembered that school’s closed this Friday. The heating system’s being fixed.”

“If that isn’t fate, what is?” Frederick asked, clearly pleased. “Then it’s settled. We’ll leave Thursday, right after school.”

Sally relented another notch. “
Two
bedrooms?” she requalified.

“With a bathroom separating them. Also, a spectacular view and incredible hiking trails. Tell you what. I’ll even give ice skating a shot. But I draw the line at cross-country skiing. I’m not that courageous.”

“Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing.” With a spontaneous rush of enthusiasm, Sally decided to go for it. A weekend in the mountains. A chance to replace old memories with new ones. She
had
to try. “It sounds like just what I need. I’ll be packed and ready to leave by four.”

“Consider it a plan.”

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Devon Montgomery shrugged out of her lab coat and hung it away, rubbing the back of her neck. Talk about exhaustion. She’d worked a twelve-hour day, with two emergency surgeries and one emergency visit: a month-old black-and-white kitten named Marble with a urinary tract infection.

There’d been such pandemonium at Creature Comforts & Clinic today that the celebration honoring Devon’s promotion to junior partner had been forgotten. By the time anyone remembered the refreshments that the office staff had arranged in the conference room, the ice-cream cake had melted down to a puddle and the pot of coffee had turned to mud.

It didn’t matter. Instead of a party, Devon had the joy of saving an Irish setter’s life, giving a cockatiel back her gift of flight, and diagnosing Marble’s infection so she could prescribe some meds and put him back in the arms of little Amy Green, his grateful five-year-old owner.

No party could compare with that.

But now things were quiet. The adrenaline rush that had carried Devon through the day plummeted. Fatigue set in. And her personal concerns took over.

Automatically, she headed for the clinic’s boarding facilities to check on Scamp, who’d been dropped off by Devon’s mother early that morning. She found him well and happy, frolicking around the doggie playroom with one of the boarding techs, working off some extra energy. Not a surprise. Sandy Adams, the on-duty tech playing with Scamp, was one of his favorite people. So he was having the time of his life.

Then again, it wasn’t really Scamp Devon was brooding over. It was his owner.

Dammit, Mom, what’s going on with you
? she mused silently, making her way down the halls of Creature Comforts & Clinic.
Why are you rushing into this weekend getaway? And if you’re as upbeat as you say you are, why were you acting so weird
?

Something didn’t feel right.

Devon frowned, heading back toward her office. Her footsteps echoed on the ceramic tile floor as she passed the now-empty examination rooms. Hard to believe this was the same place that not a few hours ago had been exploding with activity and vibrating with barks and meows. Now, at 9

P.M., the regular clinic facilities were silent. Not so silent, of course, in other portions of the complex. The state-of-the-art hospitalization wing was hopping, as veterinary techs checked on patients and administered medications. Adjacent to the clinic were the boarding and exercising facilities, which spanned acres of the clinic’s grounds. There, skilled aides took the animals through their evening routines and settled them down for the night, while other staff accommodated late-arriving executives picking up their pets from doggie day care. As for the training center, it was quiet, since no obedience classes were scheduled till tomorrow.

Devon was proud of this place. Proud that it had been heralded by the
New York Times
as one of Westchester County’s most promising new business enterprises. Prouder that they’d described it as “impressive, with top-notch medical care and obedience training, and the penultimate in boarding facilities.”

Proudest of all that, at twenty-eight, she was the youngest junior partner in a practice that selected its staff from the best of the best.

She reached her new corner office, glancing briefly at the gold plate that read DEVON MONTGOMERY, DVM, to remind herself that this coveted space was indeed hers. Then she went inside and sank down behind the cherry desk. She released the clip that held back her long, golden brown hair, letting it tumble down past her shoulders. Impatiently raking her fingers through it, she leaned her head back against the chair and began massaging her temples. Talk about being stressed out.

She glanced at her watch. Dinnertime in L.A.

Of course, that didn’t mean a damned thing. He could be anywhere in the world.

She picked up the phone, punched in a cell number, and waited while the call rang through.

“Hey, Dev.” Her thirty-two-year-old brother, Lane, picked up on the third ring. He sounded winded but unsurprised. “I’m home. Right here in safe old L.A. So if you’re calling to check in, you can stop worrying. What’s the matter — you’re on duty and it’s a slow night?”

“Hello to you, too,” she retorted. “Boy, caller ID certainly takes all the anticipation out of a ringing phone.”

“That’s technology for you.”

Devon smiled, feeling the customary surge of reassurance at the sound of her brother’s voice. He was an incredibly successful photojournalist who traveled the globe on dangerous assignments, worrying the hell out of her in the process. Then again, he had their father’s affinity for living life on the edge. Danger and excitement were synonymous to them both.

Her mother was the opposite.

Devon fell somewhere in between.

“Dev?”

“I’m here. And, no, in answer to your question, I’m not on call tonight. I’m just hanging out at the clinic. And
you’re
out of breath. Why? Did I call at an inopportune time?”

He chuckled at her implication. “Nope. If it was an inopportune time, I’d let your call go to voice mail. I was working out. Long day, long flight. I was in Hawaii, shooting the Kilauea volcano. The Pu’u ’O’o crater is amazing. Anyway, I just got in a couple of hours ago. I needed to unwind.” He paused. “Enough small talk, doc. What’s wrong?”

Devon didn’t bat an eye at Lane’s instantaneous zeroing-in on her mood. He knew her like a book, just as she knew him. When he’d moved to Los Angeles five years ago, she’d been crushed. She missed him like crazy. So did the rest of the family. They never let an opportunity go by without guilting him into remembering that. Poor Lane. He didn’t stand a chance. He’d be moving back east before he knew what hit him.

Yup, the Montgomerys were a tight-knit bunch.

Which was why this was driving her crazy.

“Scamp’s here,” she announced. “Mom’s boarding him till Monday. She went away for a long weekend.”

“Good. She needs a little fun. So what’s the problem?”

“She didn’t go alone.”

“I repeat, what’s the problem?”

“Do I have to spell it out? Mom went away with a man.”

Lane sighed. “Yeah, Dev, I figured that part out. So, as usual, this is about Mom and Dad and the never-going-to-happen reconciliation you’ve conjured up in your mind. Kiddo, it’s been fifteen years. Aren’t you
ever
going to let it go?”

“I can’t. They still love each other.”

“No argument. But the divorce didn’t happen because of lack of love. It happened because they can’t be married. That hasn’t changed.”

Devon’s chin set stubbornly. “Dad never dates.”

“He doesn’t need to. He’s married to his work. As for women, he probably gets whatever action he needs when he goes on those reunion weekends with his old buddies from the precinct.”

“Lane.” Devon protested the idea and the image it conjured up.

“Oh, come on, Dev,” her brother returned impatiently. “The guy hasn’t been celibate all this time.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to paint me a picture.”

“I just call it like it is. Dad’s fifty-four, healthy, and in great physical shape — not to mention a PI and a retired NYPD police detective, which are both major turn-ons for some women. As for Mom, when she ended their marriage she was — according to the testimony of all my seventeen-year-old, hormone-raging friends — young and hot. She’s still great-looking. Do you honestly believe she’s lived like a nun?”

“No,” Devon retorted. “Of course not. But she never cared enough about anyone to go away for a weekend with him. And it’s not only that. It’s the way she was acting when she dropped Scamp off. Too exuberant. Too gushy. That’s not Mom’s style. It was like she was forcing her enthusiasm.”

“Probably because she was afraid of getting the third degree from you.”

“Or because she was trying to convince herself this was right.”

“Maybe she was nervous. Like you said, this isn’t the kind of thing she’s used to doing. On top of that, she knew she’d be seeing you when she dropped Scamp off —
and
providing you with the whens and the wheres. Talk about embarrassing. I hope you didn’t totally invade her privacy.” A pause. “By the way, who is this guy?”

Despite her concern, Devon’s lips twitched. “What is it you were saying about invading her privacy?”

“Okay, so I’m protective of her, too,” Lane admitted. “Who is he?”

“Frederick Pierson. As in Pierson & Company. Apparently, they’ve become friendly up at the farm.”

Lane grunted. “I hope Mom’s not out of her league. She’s not exactly the jet-set type.”

“No, she’s not.” Devon felt that twinge of worry again. “Speaking of the whens and wheres, there’s more. He’s taking her to Lake Luzerne.”

“You’re kidding.” This time Lane sounded outright stunned. “Did she say why?”

“I asked her about it. She pooh-poohed the whole thing, said it was just a coincidence. It seems a colleague of Frederick Pierson’s owns a cabin up there.”

“I don’t care if he owns a luxury camping retreat. Frederick Pierson can afford to rent a weekend cabin anywhere in the world. But Lake Luzerne? Mom sidesteps any mention of the place. I’d think she’d avoid it like the plague for her first…first…whatever this weekend is.”

Devon sighed. “Truthfully, I think she’s going back there on purpose. To prove something to herself. She’s trying to force Dad out of her system. And it’s not going to work.”

“You didn’t tell Dad about this, did you?”

“No. But I was tempted.”

“Well, don’t. If Mom wants him to know, she’ll tell him herself.”

“I’m worried about her, Lane.”

“She’s a grown woman, doc. We’re her kids, not her parents.”

“I know,” Devon conceded quietly. “But I’m not happy. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

 

 

SALLY WAS THINKING much the same thing.

The drive up had been fleetingly scenic — and painfully familiar. The late winter afternoon had been crystal perfect, right up to a brilliant sunset. The rustic cabin was lovely, with a huge stone fireplace, comfy sofas, a modern kitchen and bath, and two small, cozy bedrooms. The conversation had been pleasant. The sleeping arrangements hadn’t been questioned — at least not this first night.

But the memories were almost too excruciating to bear.

Lying quietly in bed, Sally wondered if her torn emotions were more obvious to Frederick than she realized. He’d grown progressively more quiet and pensive as the evening wore on and, following a brief after-dinner drink, had kissed her lightly on the mouth and retired to his bedroom.

BOOK: Wrong Place, Wrong Time
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