“Not one of those is a criminal activity. A jury would see him as a sleaze but you can’t put a man in jail for that.”
“So Grace is on her own?”
“’Fraid so,” Eli said. “Let’s go back and see what we can do to help her. I bet Abby could use a makeover. You could put black stuff on her eyelids.”
Chelsea glared at him. “Why are you trying to get me away from here?” Before he could answer, she hurried forward, making her way toward the storefront.
Eli went after her, but he was hindered by half a dozen men who stopped to stare at Chelsea. But then, she was smiling her way through the crowd so that no one questioned her.
A few feet from the front door, she stopped beside an IRS van and stood there watching.
Just as Eli feared, Orin Peterson was there talking to two men wearing FBI jackets. He had on one of his hand-tailored suits and looked very different from the down-and-outer they’d seen in the diner.
“He’s not being arrested,” Chelsea said when Eli got to her. “And he doesn’t look afraid at all.”
“My guess is that if he has incriminating evidence, it’s hidden. Or maybe there is none. Maybe he only lies to his ex-partner’s wife. Maybe she turned him down and he wants to get her back.” Eli was standing behind Chelsea and put his hands on her shoulders. “We need to go.”
“What are you—” She broke off because Orin looked up and saw the two of them. At first his face showed only appreciation for a pretty girl, but when he saw Eli, recognition came to him.
For a split second, his dark eyes glowed with such hatred that it sent chills through both of them.
“He’s guilty,” Chelsea said.
Eli’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and led her away. At the end of the van, he took her hand firmly in his.
“What a great poker player he must be,” Chelsea was saying even as Eli pulled her at a near run. “He did that act with poor Grace with such sincerity. His tears! Remember them?”
Eli nearly pushed her into the passenger seat, got in the other side, and drove out of the parking lot.
“Why do you think he went to such an elaborate scam with that old house and the story of his dying wife? What does he want from Grace? Or what is he afraid she’ll find out?”
“I have no idea,” Eli said. “I think we need to stay out of this. You can get a dress for the girl and send it to her.”
She looked at him. “So what’s spooked you?”
“A gut feeling,” Eli said. “And the look in that man’s eyes when he recognized us. He knows we had something to do with this raid.”
She looked back at the road. “I’m sure you’re right. You’re going to let law enforcement handle it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Eli said. “I am.”
“That’s a good plan. I’ll find a dress for Abby and send it as a gift from Orin.”
“Better not use his name. I’ll find out more about Grace and we’ll send it from another relative. That will be nice for her.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Chelsea said, her voice rising. “Mind if I buy her some jewelry and shoes too? I mean, after all, that’s all I’m good for, isn’t it? To paint eyelids black and pick out clothes. That’s what I do. You’re the brains while I’m only good for dressing people.”
“And hair,” Eli said softly.
Chelsea’s face was red with her anger. “What?!”
“You’re good with hair too. Yours is clean and shiny today. It’s really pretty.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Actually, I’m not. I have two fathers. There was a time when they fought over me, but Frank won.”
Chelsea was looking out the side window. Her anger was fading. Unlike every other man she knew, Eli always knew how to calm her down. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was trying to protect her from what could possibly be a dangerous situation.