The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,16

tougher with this housekeeper than she had originally intended. “If you don’t cooperate, you’ll be obstructing that investigation.”

It worked. The woman looked spooked. “I don’t know him,” she said. “I’m just an employee of the cleaning service. We tend to this place once a week. We never see him.”

She was scared. She was answering questions that Francesca hadn’t asked, spilling information that she was under no obligation to give.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Francesca assured her. “But you might be in danger if you go in there. Let’s go back to your van for a minute.”

The housekeeper turned and went back to the van, Francesca close behind.

“I’m going to borrow a uniform too. And take the cleaning supplies with me,” Francesca said.

The housekeeper opened the back of the van, and Francesca put on a green and white uniform over her clothes. Then she grabbed the bucket of supplies the housekeeper had been carrying.

“How will I get the keys back? And my supplies,” the housekeeper asked. “If I return without them, my supervisor won’t like it.”

Francesca glanced at the front of the house. “I’ll leave them behind that terra-cotta pot to the left of the door,” Francesca said.

The woman still looked unsure. But after a moment, she reached out and dropped the keys into Francesca’s hand.

“Thanks,” Francesca said. “I’m glad we didn’t have to do this the hard way.” She paused, then said, “Do you have a piece of paper and something to write with?”

The housekeeper grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the back of the van. Meanwhile, Francesca pulled some cash from her pocket that she’d had ready for tipping at the hotel.

Francesca wrote down Laird’s name and phone number. “Your supervisor can contact my partner if there are any questions,” she said, handing the piece of paper and the money to the housekeeper.

The housekeeper nodded. “All right.”

“You’d better go now,” Francesca advised.

The housekeeper needed no further convincing. She got into her van and drove away.

Francesca surveyed the house. Going in the front door, she decided, might be a bad idea. Lindström could be watching.

No cars had been by for a while now, though. The sky was darkening, and the snowfall was getting heavier. Maybe the keys would work in the locked gate along the wall. As long as she stuck close to the side of the house, she didn’t think it would be possible for Lindström to see her from inside.

She jogged around to the side of the house, glanced around to make sure that no one was watching her, and then tried the keys in the security gate.

The second key worked. She quickly let herself through the gate and closed it behind her, grimacing when the gate made a loud clang.

There must be a door back here, she thought. A house of this size has to have a second entrance.

Laird wouldn’t like this. Laird would tell me to go back right now.

But she couldn’t. Not now that she had come this far. Not now that she was so close.

She rounded the corner to the back of the house. It backed up against a forest of deciduous trees. Francesca was impressed. That quiet street on one side of the house and this forest on the other—it must have made for a very private living situation.

She had to admit, it didn’t quite fit with the impression she had formed of Lindström. He appeared, in the tabloid articles, to be such a party animal. She would have expected him to live in a downtown penthouse, near the nightlife of the city. Not in this house in the middle of nowhere.

But then, he doesn’t really live here, does he? This is just where he stays when he’s on the island. His home is in New York. There’s no shortage of nightlife there!

There was a small red door at the back of the house. Unlike the massive front door, this one was normal-sized, and it was painted a soothing mahogany color. Perfect.

She hoped that the keys in her hand would work on this door, too. Crossing her fingers, she pushed the key into the lock and turned.

The door swung open.

Francesca stood still, listening, waiting for any sign that she might have been noticed, but none came. After a moment, she stepped into the house and carefully pulled the door closed behind her.

She was in a narrow hallway. On her immediate left was a flight of stairs, and on her right was a series of doors. At the far end of