He swallowed. Adeline’s gaze followed the tense movement.
“You don’t need to tell me this.” She took a breath. Did not want to hear about his sexual escapades. “Let’s just go.”
He continued to stand there, staring at her. The building tension seemed to push all the oxygen out of the room. She’d been right about his eyes. They looked greener with the shirt. Somehow that fact prevented her from breathing at will.
“I don’t want to ...” He shook his head, his mouth a firm line, those eyes full of regret or sadness. “I can’t just pretend the past didn’t happen. Maybe you—”
Music drowned out his words.
His cell phone.
She relaxed marginally, grateful for the reprieve.
He pulled his phone from the holder on his belt. Read the screen. Frowned, then answered the call. “Henderson.”
Adeline managed to suck in a lungful of scarce air.
Wyatt listened another moment or two. “I’ll be right there.”
He ended the call, the look in his eyes giving her the details before he said a word.
She guessed, “The second princess has been taken.” Her gut clenched.
“Real estate agent over in Wiggins.” He slid the phone back into its holder. “She got a call early this morning, went to meet a client.”
“On Christmas?” Adeline thought she was the only female who made that sort of socially unacceptable sacrifice.
He nodded. “She promised to be back within the hour. When she wasn’t back, her husband started calling her cell. She didn’t answer so he loaded the kids up and drove to the property she’d gone to show. He was pretty pissed since it’s Christmas.”
“He found her car,” Adeline guessed.
“No sign of her or the cell or her purse.”
“Any message?” Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, shocking her heart into a frantic rhythm.
“On the windshield of the car. The message instructed whoever found it to call my office. Dispatch just got the call.”
“Come on.” Adeline pushed him away from the doorway. “We’ll take the Bronco.”
He argued all the way out of the house. She ignored him, hurried down the drive, past his SUV, to where she’d parked her Bronco.
She stalled.
An envelope was tucked beneath a wiper blade. She was at the vehicle and climbing onto the running board before he caught up with her.
“Don’t touch it, Addy!”
She froze. He was right. She took a breath. Ordered her hands to steady.
Wyatt poked around in his SUV, then walked over with a pair of latex gloves.
She tugged on the protective wear and reached for the envelope. She hopped down, opened the unsealed envelope. A single sheet of white paper ... like the others. She unfolded the paper and stared at the words pasted on the page.
Merry Christmas, princess. You’re next.
19
Wiggins, Mississippi; 12:05 p.m.