Light in Shadow Read Online Free Page B

agency on the other side of town. So what if its services cost three or four times as much? You got what you paid for in this world.
    On the other hand, she was here and time was of the essence. And money, unfortunately, was a factor, especially now that it looked like Mr. Ideal Client might not be quite so ideal.
    She pushed open the door and stepped cautiously inside. But once over the threshold, she relaxed. There was nothing alarming in these walls.
    She took stock of the surroundings. You could tell a lot about a business and its owner by the manner in which the office was maintained, she reminded herself.
    If that dictum was true, it looked like TruaxInvestigations was in bad shape financially. Either that, or the proprietor had not seen fit to invest any of the profits back into the reception area.
    There was an old-fashioned vintage look to the heavy wooden secretarial desk and the large overstuffed leather chairs, but they were not the kind of period pieces that would interest an antiques dealer. People didn’t collect furniture like this, but it was sturdy and built to last. The desk and the chairs were used and worn, but they would never break down or wear out. If you ever decided to get rid of them, you’d have to haul them off to a landfill.
    She was half tempted to take out her camera. The place would have made a great black-and-white shot. She could see the picture in her head, brooding and moody and atmospheric with the hazy afternoon light slanting through the blinds.
    There was a phone on the desk, but she saw no evidence of a computer. That did not bode well. She had been counting on an investigator who was conversant in technology to get her the answers she wanted in a hurry. The lack of a secretary or receptionist was not encouraging, either.
    What really worried her, though, was the stack of cardboard packing boxes that occupied a third of the small space. Many of them were sealed. A few stood open. She crossed to the nearest one, glanced inside, and saw a gooseneck lamp and several shrink-wrapped packages of new, unused notepads in various sizes. Half were the small three-by-five type that fit into a man’s shirt pocket. The rest were large, eight-and-a-half-by-eleven legal rule tablets. There were also several old, well-thumbed books.
    Someone was packing up the office. Her heart sank. Truax Investigations was in the process of closing its doors.
    For some reason, she was unable to resist the compulsion of curiosity. Reaching into the box, she plucked out one of the heavy volumes and glanced at the title on the spine. A History of Murder in Late-Nineteenth-Century San Francisco.
    She put it back into the box and took out another. Investigating Violence and Murder in Colonial America.
    â€œCheerful bedtime reading,” she muttered.
    â€œJeff? Theo? About time you two got back.”
    Zoe started and dropped the book back into the box. The voice came from the inner office. A man’s voice—not loud but dark and resonant with a natural air of authority.
    Voices like that made her wary.
    â€œI hope one of you remembered my coffee. We’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us this afternoon.”
    Zoe cleared her throat. “This isn’t Jeff. Or Theo, either, for that matter.”
    There was a short silence from the inner room. The door squeaked on its hinges as whoever was on the other side pulled it wide.
    A man came to stand in the opening, one powerful-looking hand gripping the edge of the door. He looked out from the shadows, contemplating her with an enigmatic expression that was probably meant to pass for polite inquiry. He didn’t have the kind of eyes that could do polite inquiry well, she thought. They were an interesting shade of amber brown. She had seen similar eyes on the Nature Channel and in wildlife shots in National Geographic. They usually went with the creatures that possessed the sharpest teeth.
    He was dressed in a pair of close-fitting khaki