"Not to me," Laurant corrected. "To my grandfather. They betrayed him, and that’s why I went after them."

It had taken her a year to find an attorney who was willing to take on one of the largest and most powerful law firms in Paris, and even he had resisted at first, until he looked over her papers and saw what they had done. His position radically changed then. He wanted to put them out of business. The suit was filed the following morning.

"Don’t lose hope. You have to keep fighting to get what’s rightfully yours." She sighed over the phone. "Lawyers are scum buckets."

"Shame on you. You’re marrying a lawyer, remember?"

"He wasn’t a lawyer when I met him."

"Michelle, pray this is settled soon. I’ve spent almost every dime I have on legal fees and renovating the store. I had to borrow money from the bank too. God only knows how I’m going to pay it back."

"The lawyers you’re fighting are hoping you’ll give up and go away. Remember what Christopher said? That’s why they keep filing all those motions or whatever to delay the final court hearing, but if you win again this time, they have to pay up."

"And within ten days," Laurant said.

"Well, hang in there. You’re close to the finish line now."

"Yes, I know."

"Mother’s yelling at me. I have to hang up. The picnic’s at five. Don’t be late."

"I don’t understand why the abbot scheduled the party so soon. The renovations aren’t finished yet, and I’ll just bet the scaffolding is still in the church."

"It’s the only time that would work with his busy schedule," Michelle explained. "And the abbot promised me the scaffolding would be gone before the wedding. Do you realize, in less than a week I’ll be an old married woman. Oh, hold on, Laurant."

She heard Michelle shout to her mother that she’d be right down, and then she spoke into the phone again. "Mother’s becoming a nervous wreck with the preparations."

"I should let you go."

"You sound tired."

"I am," she admitted.

Laurant’s mind was racing even as she talked to Michelle. Agent Wesson was using the abbot’s cabin as his command center, and no one was supposed to know that he and his men were in Holy Oaks

"Where exactly is the picnic? At the abbot’s cabin?"

"No," Michelle answered. "He has some relatives or friends staying there. It’s across the lake. Just follow the traffic."

"Okay," she said. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow."

"I won’t be here, remember? I’m going to Des Moines to pick up my new brace, so I’ll see you at the picnic."

"Who’s driving you?"

"Dad," she answered. "If this one doesn’t fit, he’s going to raise holy hell. Because of their screwups, I have less than a week to learn how to walk without a limp."

"If anyone can do it, you can. Want me to do anything for you while you’re away?"

Michelle laughed. "Yes. Go get some color in your cheeks."

Chapter 20

Laurant heard Nick coming down the stairs, and when she finished saying good-bye to Michelle and hung up the phone, she saw him leaning against the door frame watching her. His hair was tousled on his forehead, and she was once again struck by how sexy he was.

Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe she should think about putting some color back in her cheeks.

What would he be like in bed? My God, she couldn’t believe she was letting her mind conjure up such thoughts. She quickly pushed the budding fantasies aside. She wasn’t a teenager in the throes of a hormonal rebellion. She was an adult, and there wasn’t anything wrong with being celibate until the right man came along, was there? Nick didn’t fit her requirements. No, he wasn’t the right man. "Sorry I was on the phone so long."

"That’s okay. Joe says you’ve got a bunch of messages stored on your machine. Go ahead and listen to them."

Nick carried her bag upstairs while Laurant replayed the tape. There was only one disturbing message, from Margaret Stamp, the owner of the local bakery. She was calling to tell Laurant that Steve Brenner had upped his offer to buy Margaret’s store by 20 percent, and that Steve had given her a week to consider. She ended the message with a question. Did Laurant know that Steve wasn’t going to pay out any of the money to those who had sold until all the stores had signed?

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. Laurant slumped against the back of the chair, concentrating on the droning whir of the tape as it rewound. Her resolve had taken another beating, yet she knew she would have to summon the energy to deal with this latest crisis. Poor Margaret. Laurant knew she didn’t want to sell, but business at the bakery was poor these days, and the money Steve was offering would be enough to ensure Margaret a comfortable retirement. How could Laurant, in good conscience, talk Margaret into holding firm when there was a good chance she would lose everything?

She jumped when Nick touched her shoulder.

"Laurant, I’d like you to meet Joe Farley. He’s going to be staying with us."

The agent came forward to shake her hand. "It’s nice to meet you, ma’am."

Laurant’s mind switched gears. The fight to save the town square would have to be put on the back burner for now.

"Please call me Laurant."

"Sure," he replied. "And you can call me Joe."

Joe was a thickset man with a bushy mane of red hair and a round face that lit up when he smiled. One of his front teeth was slightly crooked, and that humanized him somehow. Even though he too was wearing a gun, he didn’t seem as imposing or as rigid as Mr. Wesson.

"Do you usually work with Nick?"

"I have a few times," he answered. "I’m usually stuck in an office, so this is quite a change for me. I hope you don’t mind, but Feinberg and I have made a couple of changes in your alarm system. It isn’t fancy, but it will get the job done."

She glanced at Nick. "I don’t have an alarm system."

"You do now."

Joe explained. "We’ve wired all the windows and the doors so that when anyone comes inside, we’ll know it. A red light will flash, the alarm won’t make any noise," he assured her. "We don’t want to spook the unsub. We want to draw him inside and nail him. Hopefully, he won’t know he’s triggered the setup. Of course, any stranger that comes near your house is going to get marked by the agents outside."

"The house is being watched?"

"Yes, it is."

"How long will you be staying here?" she asked.

"Until the first of July… if we haven’t caught the unsub before then. I’ll leave when you do."

Her head was spinning. It was becoming more and more difficult to push one crisis aside while she concentrated on another. She turned around and headed for the kitchen, the men trailing behind her. "I need a cup of tea," she said wearily.

"Laurant, you’re not waffling about leaving, are you? We did talk about this," Nick reminded.

"Okay, I know," she answered weakly.

"I mean it, Laurant. You’re out of here-"

She cut him off. "I said okay." Her irritation was loud and clear. "Mind telling me where I’m going?"

"With me."

"Will you stop doing that?" she demanded loudly.

The burst of temper surprised Nick. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned back against the kitchen table and folded his arms. "Stop doing what?"

"Giving me dumb answers," she muttered. She grabbed the white teakettle from the counter and went to the sink to fill it with water.

It didn’t take a trained eye to see that the pressure was getting to her, but the timing couldn’t have been worse because Nick was also feeling like a cranky, caged animal. Now that they were in Holy Oaks, the waiting game began, and God, how he hated that part of his job. He’d rather have a root canal than wait around for something to happen.

Working with Jules Wesson was already turning out to be a problem. Nick had spent ten minutes on his mobile phone trying to get Wesson to give him information, but every time he asked a question Wesson hedged. Nick knew what he was doing, pushing him out of the loop.