“You’re thinking she would call a friend more than once, right?” When Adam nodded, she asked, “What about calls from her cell?”

“It takes longer to get cellular records than regular telephone records. We won’t have those for a few days.”

They worked in silence for almost an hour. By that time Jasper was snoozing on Adam’s lap and the sun was dropping low.

“I’m not finding much on her charge accounts,” Whitney told him. “Gasoline mostly, and a few department store charges. Nothing expensive. She paid the entire balance every month.”

“I’m not finding anything either.” Adam gently picked up Jasper and put him on the floor. “Let’s see what she stored out in the garage before it gets dark. The fire destroyed the electrical wiring so we need to take advantage of what daylight is left. We can come back to this later.”

Whitney rose and stretched provocatively. He longed to reach out and pull her into his arms, then kiss the sensitive spot he’d discovered at the nape of her neck. Don’t start anything, he cautioned himself.

He reached out and brushed two fingers up the gentle rise of her cheek. He needed so much…more than this fleeting touch. But he refused to allow himself the pleasure. There was too much to do, too much danger.

His cell phone rang and he glanced down to where it was clipped to his belt. Max Deaver was calling. He hadn’t mentioned the accountant or the missing money to Whitney.

“Why don’t you get started?” he asked. “I need to take this call.”

Whitney nodded as he pulled the telephone off his belt. She was walking out the door, the dogs at her heels, when he answered.

“Any luck in tracking down those cash withdrawals your uncle made every month?” Deaver immediately asked.

“No. It doesn’t make sense.” Adam had decided the money had been given to someone in the weapons deal. Cash payments kept that person’s name off any records, but he wasn’t comfortable sharing this theory.

“Are you sitting down?” Deaver asked.

“No. Should I be?”

The forensic accountant chuckled but couldn’t manage to sound amused. “Your uncle’s account in the Caymans. There’s been more activity.”

Now Adam was sitting down. He’d plopped into the office chair the second he’d heard “Caymans.” If his uncle’s accounts were drained, Adam would be on the hook for anything owed against properties he owned jointly with his uncle.

“Someone wire transferred seventy-five thousand dollars into the account.”

“No shit.”

“No shit. Seems bizarre, man. Totally bizarre.”

“Where did the money come from?”

“A numbered account in the Bahamas.”

“Why would they put money into a dead man’s account?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then, “I thought you might have some idea by now.”

“Not really,” Adam replied. He thought about what Quinten Foley had told him. It was possible the group purchasing weapons didn’t realize Calvin Hunter had died and was still paying him.

“I’m going to keep working on this. We need to have a list of the assets for the probate, although I don’t know what any attorney can do with numbered account information that he could obtain only by hacking into systems.”

“I guess he’ll have to leave it out unless I can find the code so I can withdraw the money.”

“Someone else might beat you to it.”

That was becoming more of a possibility by the minute.

“You know the old saying,” Deaver said, irony in his tone. “Dead men tell no tales.”

WHITNEY TETHERED THE three dogs to what was left of the back gate post in the small yard behind the cottage. The lingering smell of smoke and the sooty debris in the yard was a stark reminder of last night’s fire. Nearby was the carport where she’d parked her SUV. Damaged by the fire, the structure’s flimsy roof had collapsed onto what was left of her Jeep.

The firefighters had chopped holes in the garage walls and broken through the locked side door to fight the fire that had quickly spread from the cottage. Peering in, Whitney saw charred, water-soaked boxes. She wasn’t looking forward to going through the sodden mess.

What choice did she have? She wasn’t sure she could put into words the feelings she had about her cousin. Miranda wasn’t going to miraculously reappear. They would have to find her, and it wasn’t going to be easy.

With a quick glance to make sure the dogs were secure, Whitney edged her way into the old garage. Huge holes had been hacked in the roof and light streamed into the darkness. All she found as she rummaged through the things strewn across the floor was clothing. She sorted through the stuff to see if any of it could be salvaged-or provide a clue.

Several minutes later a scuttling noise made her jump. She stared into the corner where the sunlight didn’t penetrate. In the dark shadows something moved. She released a pent-up breath of air. Rats or mice.

She needed to lighten up and soothe her raw nerves. Whoever was after Miranda was long gone. They weren’t lurking in the shadows or following her every move as she walked dogs or went to the breeder’s. Adam was merely being cautious.

“Find anything?”

Even though she immediately recognized Adam’s voice, Whitney flinched.

“Hey.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and lowered his head until his brow touched hers so gently that something caught inside her chest. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied as she pulled away. “I’m just a little spooked. That’s all.” She waved her hand at the mess on the floor. “I’ve checked out this stuff.”

Adam pointed to several cardboard boxes. They’d been hosed down but still held their shape. “Have you checked those?”

“I looked in them. Nothing but books. I didn’t see any reason to go through them.”

Adam walked over to the boxes. “Things that seem to be unrelated often provide important clues or links to other evidence.”

Whitney supposed he was right. Adam had been a detective. No telling where he’d found clues. Later, when the timing was better, she planned to ask him about his career. Right now she needed to concentrate on finding her cousin.

“These seem to be cookbooks mostly,” commented Adam.

“They’re definitely something you would leave behind if you were on the run.”

“Right.” Adam studied the flyleaf of a book. “This one’s The Internet For Dummies. Do you know a Crystal Burkhart?”

“No. I don’t.” Whitney walked over to him and peered over his shoulder. An address label was attached to the book’s flyleaf. “Textbooks are really expensive. Miranda could have bought it used at the campus store.”

“I doubt it’s used. Most used bookstores put a stamp inside the book. She must have borrowed this one and neglected to return it.”

“It happens,” she replied, her mind on her own books. She’d left most of them with Ryan but the few she treasured had been with her. They’d inspected the cottage first thing this morning. The contents had been completely destroyed. The books she’d saved from her mother’s collection were gone forever.

“Look at this.” Adam showed her another book. It also had Crystal Burkhart’s address label in it. He pulled his cell phone off his belt. “Let’s see if information has a phone number for Crystal Burkhart.”

While Adam talked to the information operator, Whitney made her way over to the back wall where a number of boxes were stacked. They’d been doused with water but hadn’t been disturbed. Evidently the flames hadn’t burned the rear few feet of the garage. The first box she opened was filled with office supplies. Miranda had left supplies in the nook for Whitney to use. These things must have come from her previous apartment and she hadn’t had room for them in the cottage.

“Thanks.” Adam snapped his phone shut and looked at Whitney, shaking his head. “There are thirty-two Burkharts in the metropolitan San Diego area. Nothing for a Crystal Burkhart or C. Burkhart.”