I left Frost Security both a little shaken and, oddly, a little comforted. I wasn't sure how to handle this idea of some random man following me around all day and all night. Of course, don't get me wrong, he was an absolute hunk with blonde hair, gray eyes, and the lean build of a snowboarder or carpenter. And, geez, those hands of his. So sure of themselves. Plus, he seemed smart—not like most of the guys I'd run across who looked like him. Something in those gray eyes of his just screamed intelligence and a keen awareness.

But having Richard Murdoch follow me around? Or anyone for that matter? I didn't like it. Not even him. It just seemed too intrusive for my tastes.

“I'll be a ghost,” he'd assured me when I'd voiced my mild concern over it. I wanted to believe him, but I just didn't know how to handle it. I hadn't had a babysitter since I was ten. I reminded myself, though, that I was paying for his protection and expertise. I wasn't going to object to them doing what they needed to do to catch this creep.

I drove my old Volkswagen Jetta back across town to the Curious Turtle and headed back inside with a jingle of the bell as I opened the door. I flipped the sign on the door around to “Open” out of habit. Not that I expected any customers, of course, but it was still nice to hold out hope for a miracle.

I walked back through the gallery, barely glancing at all the paintings of wildlife and natural landscapes hanging from the walls. My low heels clicked and echoed through the empty space with each step on the tiled floor. The place was quiet, deathly quiet, and I could hear the wind whistling outside over the window panes, trying to find a way to get in.

The Curious Turtle specialized in local and regional artists, catering more to the rich tourists who had their summer homes and winter cabins up here. It wasn’t the hippest, coolest thing in the world, and it'd have no traction in a city like Los Angeles or New York, but I liked it, and so Blake Axelrod had gone with my choice.

Now Blake, there was a character. I hadn't seen him very often, except for when we'd first begun working together. After a few months, the novelty of owning his own art gallery must have worn off, especially when compared to his primary business. He owned a custom motorcycle shop and Harley dealerships across the state. People said he had more money than sense and, based on him investing in this place with just a minor in Art History running the show, I tended to agree with them. But, although Blake had been eccentric, he'd still shared a love for the kind of art I promoted, and had been a big supporter of wildlife conservation in the Rockies. Most hunters were, to be honest. I found they loved nature as much as us more liberal hippie types, just in different ways.

I couldn't fault him for any of that.

I missed him. Even though we hadn't been great friends or anything, it was hard to lose someone so unexpectedly. Especially when you'd figured you would have years and years ahead of you. I'd never really gotten a chance to thank him for taking a risk on a hometown girl who'd come back from college with no idea of how she'd make a living. I had no family in town anymore, just a few friends like Sheila and my other good friend Karen. Not after Mom and Dad split and moved away, both to warmer climates.

I sighed and headed back into my office. I stopped just two steps in, though, when I heard the bell on the front door clang. I backtracked and stuck my head out, seeing a middle-aged man wearing a dark suit and carrying a briefcase. “Be right with you,” I called.

He smiled and nodded, giving a little wave. “Take your time, miss.”

I hurried over to my desk and locked my purse in the bottom drawer, then headed back out to the showroom floor, smoothing the front of my shirt as I approached.

“How are you doing today?” I asked with a smile in my art dealer voice. “Is there anything in particular you were looking for?”

The man wore a well-tailored suit. Not as expensive as some cuts I'd seen, but still pretty decent. It struck me as odd, though, because you hardly ever saw those kinds of outfits up here. Most people tended to go pretty casual, jeans and a flannel. It was just more rustic in these parts.

“You, actually,” the man said, smiling widely.

“Me?” I asked, cocking my head to the side, an uncertain smile on my face as I stopped a few paces from him.

“Yes,” he replied as he took a step in my direction. “You are Jessica Long, correct?”

I nodded, not exactly sure where this was going. “I am.”

“Evan Case,” he replied, sticking out his hand. “I represent the late Blake Axelrod's estate.”

“Oh,” I said as I took his hand. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I was starting to get way too paranoid. “His estate?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “There are a few items in his will that we wanted to sort out with you, a few pieces from his collection that he left to you when he passed.”

Items from his collection? Blake hadn't ever mentioned anything like that to me. And why not his piece of the business? If he was going to leave me anything, I would have suspected that. Confused, I ushered the lawyer into my office.

I sat down at my little desk and he took a seat across from me.

“Sorry for the mess,” I said with an embarrassed smile. “I'm never been much for administrative work.”

He chuckled as he looked around. “It's always surprising to me how much one office seems to look like another. You should see my partner's in the firm. Imagine all this, but legal briefs instead.” He flipped his briefcase around and set it on his lap, popped the latches, and opened it up so he could dig around the papers.

“He left me a few pieces from his collection?” I asked, looking for clarification more than anything else.

“Yes,” Evan Case replied as he pulled out some paperwork and passed it over to me.

I took the documents and flipped through them. They were for a few pieces of his I'd adored. One by a local artist of a gray wolf hunting an elk, but in a modernist style, and another two from a Santa Fe painter who'd passed away a few years ago. Individually, they were both worth quite a bit.

I glanced up at the lawyer. “Nothing about the gallery, then?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, flipping through the will until he found the spot in the document that he was looking for. “Yes, right here. To my nephew Wyatt Axelrod, I leave my fifty percent partnership in the Curious Turtle. May the art contained within its walls inspire you to the same heights it has inspired me, and aid you in carrying on my cause of nature conservancy and philanthropy.”

My face flushed and my stomach felt queasy. I slumped back in the chair, a sudden wave of nausea sweeping over me at his words.

Evan glanced over the top of the document. He must have been able to tell from the look on my face how disappointed I was, because he frowned. “I’m sorry, Ms. Long. Sometimes I'm the bearer of good news, sometimes bad tidings.”

I waved him off. “No,” I replied, “I completely understand. You're just executing the estate, right? Not your fault.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought the paintings he left you were quite lovely.”

He was right, they were lovely. But they weren't quite as lovely as being the sole owner of my own art gallery. I smiled a little at his sentiment and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Case.”

He began to gather up his papers and tuck them back into his briefcase. “The family will be going through and cataloging the voluminous possessions of Mr. Axelrod over the next several weeks, so you should be able to get into the estate by just calling ahead to my office. We'll be more than happy to assist you with shipping.”

I nodded and went to stand as he did. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Oh, don't mention it,” he said. “I love making trips up here to the high country. It's lovely this time of year.”

I showed him out of the office and walked him back to the front door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Richard Murdoch scoping out the place from across the street in his beat up old Jeep. I could feel him watching me and the lawyer.

“Oh, and Mr. Case, I'm curious,” I said, stopping him as he was about to leave. “This Wyatt Axelrod? Do you know anything about him, my new partner?”

He shrugged and made a face, shaking his head. “I just know he was my client's nephew, to be honest. I'm honestly a little surprised he hasn't been in touch with you already. I would think he was aware that his uncle was leaving him his piece of the business, considering how detailed the will was.”

I nodded and forced another smile. “Thank you again. And drive safely, Mr. Case.”

He grinned and thanked me, then he was back out the door and headed to his rental.

I stayed there, looking out the front windows of the shop, at the sunlight as it hit the store fronts across Main Street from the Curious Turtle. Just another day in the Rock. Another dollar, another disappointment.

I smiled through the heartache, though. Sure, the outcome of Blake's will hadn't been exactly what I was hoping for—complete ownership of my business—but on the bright side, I at least knew someone in Blake's family owned his portion. Maybe that was a good thing? Maybe it just meant I was one step closer to knowing how all this was going to pan out.

I frowned again, the smile suddenly too hard to hold in place.

Glancing over, Richard Murdoch caught my green eyes with his gray ones. We kept our gazes for the briefest of moments, and that same feeling from Frost Security's office returned. Suddenly, I realized that I was going to figure this out. I had a security guy watching out for me through all this.

He gave me a little smile I could just barely see, and looked away before I could respond.

I turned around and went back into my office. I still had a few bits of paperwork to get through before calling it a night.