When You Dare - Lori Foster [91]
For now, Dare gave up on convincing her of his free participation. In the end, when he refused payment, she’d know the truth. “I don’t see why not.”
She left his lap. “The sooner I get everything back to normal, the sooner it’ll feel like home to me again.”
Damn, but he admired her. Not only didn’t she fall apart, she sought ways to cope.
And that kiss… That Molly had taken the lead really turned him on. But she was right—they needed to get her life back on track. After he gathered all the clues available to him and they put her apartment back to rights, he’d have the rest of the night alone with her.
Somehow, he’d wait until then.
DARE MADE HIMSELF turn back to the computer. While Molly collected the dumped clothes into a hamper to launder, Dare searched through her computer. He looked at all activity from the day of her abduction until today.
Oddly enough, the day after Molly was taken, someone had accessed her writing files. It infuriated him to know that while she’d been held in a hovel in Tijuana, some bastard had read through her book.
There’d been no activity on her computer after that—until recently. Eyes burning, Dare looked at the dates for when several programs had been opened—including her calendar and her internet.
The day after she was taken, and then again after he’d spoken with Bishop, someone had gotten on her computer.
Sitting back in the chair, he considered the possibilities. Why the long wait between visits? And why now?
Would the same person visit twice, searching through different programs? A pro would know how risky it was to return, but then a pro would have found what he looked for on the first visit.
And if it wasn’t the same person? Had Bishop ignored Dare’s warning and sent someone of his own to investigate, maybe to check on his daughter’s welfare?
Or to cover his tracks?
Dare was mulling over possibilities while also listening to Molly move about the apartment. She’d tidied the bedroom, which was mostly dumped clothes, and was now in the living room. Though she remained in the apartment, and not that far from him, Dare didn’t like it that he couldn’t see her. Until the people responsible for hurting her were found, he wanted to keep a very close watch on her.
He was just about to check the internet links when she reappeared in the doorway. She’d removed her sweater, and her boots and socks. Barefoot, blouse untucked and the hem of her jeans dragging the floor, she stared at him.
One look at her face and Dare was out of the chair. “What is it?”
She took a shuddering breath. “A…note.” She gestured behind her with a shaking hand. “Left for me by the phone table.”
Grim, Dare put an arm around her. “Show me.”
She walked to a small, overturned table against the wall that separated her kitchen and living room. “This is where I keep my landline, where my cell phone charges and where I put my mail, my change and…everything.”
A dozen letters, several packages and boxes were dumped around the floor. “You’ve got a load of stuff there.”
“I was gone for a while, remember?”
“So, who brought the mail in?”
Her hand to her forehead, expression bleak, she pointed a stiff finger at a lone pad of paper resting atop the answering machine. “Whoever left that, I guess.”
Dare stepped over the broken landline phone to the answering machine that lay on the floor. It was unplugged, possibly broken, too, but he’d check on that in a minute.
Molly stuck close to him. “I use the landline for business calls, like with my editor and agent, or phone interviews, that sort of thing. Family almost always calls the cell. Whoever left that note knew I’d try to check my business messages, right? That’s why he specifically left it there. He didn’t want it to get lost in the rest of this mess.”
“Probably.” Written in large block letters with bold red marker was a message that Dare read aloud: “Still feel so forgiving?”
He realized that Molly shook with anger, not fear. She’d curled her hands tight, clenched her jaw and her dark eyes were burning bright.
“I take it you have an idea what that means?