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So what if it was black? she told herself. She wasn’t superstitious.
“Fine. Call me if anything comes up,” Jonah said.
“You do the same.” A click confirmed that he was gone.
Trying to relax despite what they’d learned, she drew a deep breath, but before she even set her phone aside, another call came in—from Unknown Sender.
CHAPTER 10
Having lost sight of the cat, Francesca let the drapes fall into place and answered her phone on the way back to her laptop. “Hello?”
“Is this Francesca Moretti?”
She didn’t recognize the voice, and it was a little late for a sales call. “Yes…”
“This is Dean Wheeler.”
“Who?”
“Paris’s brother.”
Thinking this had to be a referral from a previous client, she sank into the seat she’d occupied earlier. “I’m afraid I don’t remember a Paris.”
“Paris Vaughn. Butch’s wife?”
She’d been about to shut down her computer, but as she heard this, her fingers hovered in midair. Was her caller the slim young man who’d watched the events at the salvage yard with such ambivalence? It had to be. He spoke as if she should know him. “What can I do for you, Dean?”
“I wanted to tell you I’ve found your purse.”
She closed her laptop without bothering to power it down. “What did you say?”
“The purse you lost?”
There’d been no “losing” involved. Butch had stolen it from her. But she didn’t insist on the truth. She preferred to see where this was going. “You’re prepared to return it to me?”
“Of course, now that I’ve found it.”
She listened for proof that Dean wasn’t alone but couldn’t hear anything—no voices, no television, no car engine in the background. “I appreciate that. Where was it?”
“In the salvage yard, just like you thought. Isn’t that strange? I don’t know how we missed it.”
Could Dean really expect her to believe it had been overlooked, when she knew exactly where she’d dropped it and under what circumstances?
What was going on here? Was Dean trying to do her a favor? Or was he somehow in league with Butch?
“Your wallet’s inside and everything,” he added, as if she should be inordinately pleased.
“And my phone?”
“Yep. That, too.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“It’s on your checks.”
Of course. Her address was there, too. Her business cards provided her office information. Her telephone contained a complete list of all her friends, clients and associates, as well as a detailed calendar of upcoming appointments. Her video card gave the location where she rented her movies. Her key ring held the supersaver card for her local grocery store. Heck, anyone who got hold of her purse could even tell what kind of tampons she used.
She’d never considered just how much information her purse might reveal about her—until she’d lost it.
