Carolyn Ridder Aspenson - 04 Bidding War Break In by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

Author:Carolyn Ridder Aspenson [Aspenson, Carolyn Ridder]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781648759079
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2020-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

The fingerprinting process was entirely digital and took all of ten minutes. Dylan mentioned there could be issues if a finger wasn’t perfectly placed on the digital reader, but his deputy paid close attention to it, redoing a few of my prints two and three times to make sure they worked. I had the roll and smash of my finger down pat by the time we’d finished.

Dylan came back to the fingerprinting area to walk me out. “How long until you can check to see if it’s a match?” I asked.

“Not long, but I don’t want you to wait around. So you should go home.” The side of his mouth twitched.

“Is that an order, Sheriff?”

He switched his stance to his go-to law enforcement pose, with his shoulders, back and chest out and his legs wide. “Yes, ma’am.”

I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself. He was adorable when he tried to get all sheriff on me. “Well then, yes, sir.” I touched his hand. “Will I see you later?”

“Always.”

On my way home, I drove by Magnolia’s house again. I found myself almost feeling sorry for her. Dylan treated me like a queen. He respected my opinions, unless they were about crime TV shows—which he considered entirely unbelievable–and he considered me a value in his life. I knew I could count on him for anything. Dominic Scratachelli treated Magnolia like someone beneath him. He showed no respect toward her, and from the way she’d cowered at his command, it must have happened often.

I didn’t know much about Dominic, but I’d definitely research him.

Magnolia lived in an enormous home on two acres of land. She and Dominic had it built for them, and the entire town admired it. A mini-mansion of sorts, it was a replica of the plantation homes from the Civil War era. I’d had a friend get married at Naylor Hall in Roswell, Georgia, an old Civil War home turned event mansion, and every time I saw Magnolia’s place, I thought of it.

They both shared six large white columns framing the front steps and entrance to the porch, and they were stunning. They also screamed money, at least in my opinion. Of course, I loved the white hardi-plank, and the to-die-for wrap around porch with the old looking red brick floor. It just wasn’t an original, and good copy or not, there was no getting around that.

As I drove by, Dominic Scratachelli pulled his Mercedes convertible out of the garage and parked it on the driveway. He hopped out and headed toward the mailbox. I quickly sped up and passed him while keeping my head slightly turned to the side. The last thing I needed was that man on my case.

Even though I’d promised Dylan I’d go home, I drove over to the mixed development and parked near the townhomes. I decided to see for myself what kind of path the burglars could have taken from the house to the retail stores. Maybe it was the other

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