Blood Ties in Chef Voleur by Mallory Kane

Author:Mallory Kane [Kane, Mallory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary romantic suspense, Harlequin Intrigue, Fiction
ISBN: 9781460337318
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-06-30T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Jack was not happy with the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Office. They’d hauled in a suspect in the theft of the journal, based on two partial fingerprints they’d found on the surface of the tiara. Jack had expressed his surprise that the thief hadn’t worn gloves, but the detective told him there were some jewel thieves who refused to use gloves to handle the jewels, claiming that even the thinnest gloves were clumsy and one couldn’t afford to drop a piece that could be worth millions of dollars. The police had recovered the journal from the suspect’s house.

Jack had asked for the journal, or at least photocopies of the pages inside. He’d told them he’d settle for one or two specific dates if that would make them feel better. He’d been summarily turned down. According to Detective Phillips, the journal was evidence and neither it nor any of its contents could be released until the evidence lab was finished with it.

At that moment, Jack wished he could call on the Delanceys. With five of them on the job, either in New Orleans or St. Tammany Parish, he was certain they could obtain photocopies. But he wasn’t about to ask them. If he brought one of them in, at best he would be out, at worst he’d instantly become a suspect.

He’d considered getting a court order instead, but he would face the same problem with it. Within minutes the Delanceys would be alerted, and he’d be hit with so many delays and objections that he’d probably never see the book. So he had to resign himself to waiting, and hope that Cara Lynn didn’t decide to ask her brothers or her cousins for help.

All he’d gleaned from his long and futile visit to the sheriff’s office was one thin file folder that contained a scant two-page report on the suspect, a mildly successful second-story man named Drakos Rodino, known for his connections to jewelry fencing operations.

When he got inside and set his keys on the foyer table, he saw Cara Lynn’s cell phone. It was lying face down on the table and its battery was missing. “Cara?” he called. “Where are you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Cara, hon? Did you drop your phone? Where’s the battery?” He reached for his briefcase, but it wasn’t on the floor of the foyer where he kept it.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Cara Lynn, what the hell’s going on? Where’s my briefcase?” If she picked up the code for the lock by watching him open it and was snooping inside, reading his grandfather’s letters...

He realized he was angry, much angrier than he probably should be, but damn it, he was tired and frustrated, and all he wanted to do was sit down and go through the meager report that he’d gotten from Detective Phillips. He’d probably already heard every tidbit that was in the skinny folder from the detective, but still, he wanted to read the report himself.

He rubbed his face tiredly, thinking that none of that was true.

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