“Sure,” she murmured.

In front of the elevator a sign affixed to a dangling red chain hanging between two stanchions read OUT OF ORDER. Aunt Gail groaned as they made their way up the stairs, huffing and puffing hard by the third flight. En route, they passed a dentist’s office, a tutoring facility, and quite a few suites under refurbishment.

When they reached the fourth floor, Heath opened the door and peeked out. Once he deemed the empty space safe, he waved them out of the stairwell.

Mystery stepped through, checking the open landing with faux trees and nondescript dark-wood and beige chairs. The short pile carpeting in an uninspiring shade of oatmeal and the wall sconces with brass accents looked tired and out of date.

Whatever. She just wanted this over with. She was concerned that whoever had left the threatening picture in her hotel room in Dallas would be lying in wait for her here. Mystery would love to believe that, somehow, she’d lost the psycho’s trail and could just search her mother’s belongings in peace, but a tingling at the back of her neck told her otherwise. And after all the drama of the day, she absolutely didn’t need more.

Inside the office’s faux frosted-glass double doors, a fortysomething receptionist looked up from her gossip magazine, barely concealing irritation at the interruption, and buzzed Mr. Osborne. Two minutes later, she ushered them to the back, past a coffee station, a dark office, then to the end of the hall. The placard on the door read NELSON OSBORNE.

A man pushing sixty rose to his average height, wearing his gray suit well as he stood and greeted them with a jaunty wave. The movement didn’t ruffle his artificially dark hair, sprayed into place just so.

“Come on in.” He stuck out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Nelson.”

“Hi. I’m Julia Mullins’s daughter, Mystery.” They shook hands, then she turned to the others. “This is my mother’s sister, Gail Leedy.”

“I think we met years ago,” Osborne said.

“I believe so,” her aunt said placidly, then scooted to the far side of the desk to take one of the two guest chairs.

“And this is my . . . friend Heath.” Mystery hesitated to admit he was a bodyguard. To some, it sounded either paranoid or pretentious. And if Osborne or anyone in his office was somehow in on the plot to kill her, she didn’t want to tip off the fact that she’d come armed with protection.

But Heath gave himself away when he nodded sharply, cased the office, then took up sentry by the door. So inconspicuous . . . Mystery sighed.

Osborne sat again. “You look so much like your mother. It’s uncanny. She was a beautiful woman, too. I was so sorry to hear about her sudden and terrible passing.”

Mystery really didn’t want to rehash it now. She felt as if she’d reached the drama quotient lately, and she’d grieve her mother’s death again on its anniversary next Tuesday. “Thank you. As you know, I’ve come for her effects.”

He nodded. “We’ll have a few papers to sign, but let’s claim your mother’s belongings, then you can acknowledge receipt and whatnot. You have your key?”

“I do.” She nodded, wondering where Mom’s safe-deposit box was located. This office didn’t look like a secure facility, and she couldn’t imagine where the attorney would keep such things properly locked up.

“We’ll be heading to the bank across the street. I’ve given them a copy of your mother’s death certificate and prepared the other necessary paperwork. Your aunt, as executor of her will, provided testament that you are now the exclusive box holder and, therefore, the only person who can open it. As long as you have a photo ID, we should sail through the process.” Osborne rose from his seat.

Mystery followed suit. While keeping her mother’s possessions at the bank made more sense, she wished Osborne could have simply had them waiting for her. Legally, she knew that wasn’t possible, but she was anxious to have this behind her and return safely to the farm so she could lick her wounds in private. And she had to admit that she hoped she’d see Axel if he came back for his duffel and rental car. No idea what she’d say to him. She didn’t know how to reconcile so many red flags that pointed to him being a cheater with the hero she’d first fallen for. Had she gotten it all wrong today? Even if she had, she didn’t think he’d tolerate the fact that she’d told him off and walked out.

“I’ll follow you over there,” Mystery murmured.

“Very good.” Osborne stepped around his desk and sent a wary glance Heath’s way. “Whenever you’re ready . . .”

Aunt Gail fidgeted in her seat. “Goodness, I’d rather not have to walk up and down the stairs again. Your elevator is out of order, and I’m afraid I’m not recovered from the last hike. May I stay here?”

Osborne looked around his fastidious office. Not a single sheet of paper cluttered his massive mahogany desk. He ensured all his filing cabinets were locked and closed his laptop, which likely needed a password to access. “Of course. Forgive me, but I’m required to be cautious with other people’s sensitive legal issues.”

“Of course.” Gail smiled in relief. “May I help myself to coffee?”

“Please do.”

Mystery followed Osborne out the door, down the stairs, and to the bank. It was a sterile environment that tried to look friendly, with posters of people supposedly happy about taking out loans. Or maybe she was just feeling cynical right now because she was miserable thinking about Axel, not to mention worried that someone would try to kill her.

Within moments, a female bank employee in gray pants and a blue sweater had given her a form to sign and checked her ID. Everyone followed the woman with the flowing brown curls into the room with the safe-deposit boxes, passing row after row of the drawers in different sizes. Toward the back, the bank’s officer produced her key. Mystery fished the other from her purse. Together, they opened the dual locks and withdrew the box from its slot to place it on the lone table in the adjacent room.

“I’ll leave you to look through the contents. When you’re done, let me know.” The young woman gave her a bland smile, did a double take as she discreetly checked out Heath, then melted away.

Osborne stepped back. “Would you prefer for me to stay or go?”

“I think I’d like to do this alone,” she murmured, both because it was true and because she wasn’t sure she could trust him. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.” He turned away and headed out of the vault.

“I won’t leave you unprotected. Don’t ask that of me.” Heath crossed his beefy arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t.” Mystery shook her head. “I want you here.”

She kind of wished Axel was here, too, but refused to dwell on what wasn’t and might never be again. Then she took a deep breath, wondering if she could ever really be ready to face whatever her mom had safeguarded for her, shut the door to the private room, and lifted the box’s lid.

Inside, she found some jewelry, including some diamond earrings that had once belonged to her maternal grandmother. Julia had worn them on her wedding day, and they’d become a gift, as Mystery had heard the story. She also found a gorgeous cross made of rose and yellow gold entwined with lovely flourishes and embellishments. The center sparkled with a diamond that had to be at least a carat. Where had that come from? She didn’t remember her mom wearing it.

Mystery also found what looked like some letters to her mom from her dad. Instantly, she recognized her father’s handwriting on the yellowed envelopes. Based on the postmark of the first few, they had been written during their courtship and the early days of their marriage.

Despite their ill-fated union, these notes had been valuable to her mother. Mystery already knew that her father kept some from his late wife locked in his desk, along with a collection of her pictures. They’d loved each other completely and passionately once. Why had her father never tried to be a better husband? They’d both been human, filled with insecurity and capable of stupid mistakes. Had her mother somehow failed to understand that?