She glanced into the study where she’d found the hidden drawer in the desk. At first, she had every intention of selling the thing to an antique dealer. It wasn’t auction worthy, but it was old. But if there was any question from Sheldon about where she’d found the photos, having the desk, and the drawer, would make it easier for her to show him. Since he’d given her permission to determine where the best dollar would be found, she’d lie about the desk and keep it there until the last possible day. After she gave him the photographs.

She set her empty coffee cup on a hall table and walked upstairs to the attic access. The stairs had been pulled down the day before, but Avery hadn’t sucked up the nerve to climb them.

In addition to the concern that she’d find more shit she didn’t want to see, Avery had a deep respect for spiders. Respect defined as you stay on your side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. Again, a plus for high-rise living. The little shits had a harder time finding her than they would if she lived in a normal house with the foundation sitting on dirt, where those eight-legged, fast crawling creatures lived. Then again, maybe the guy she hired to spray for the things every year was doing his job.

She stared at the space above her head for several seconds. “Stop being such a girl.”

Avery forced a fast pace up the steps and hauled herself up at the top. Two dormers on the east and west sides of the house let natural light into the space, but it wasn’t enough. There looked to be old hanging lights, with chain cords to turn the things on, spread out every twenty feet or so.

She brushed away a cobweb and told herself it was probably decades old and the spider that made it was long gone. “Nope. Spiders need food to survive. None of that up here.”

Yeah, except the few flies she’d already swatted away from her face. Maybe opening the stairwell the night before hadn’t been a good idea.

She turned on the first light and took in the space around her. It was huge, spanning nearly the entire frame of the house. Most of it had plywood covering the floor space, except closer to the dormers. The musty smell of insulation and maybe the decay of a mouse or two rounded out the joys hitting her brand-new nose. Attics in larger, older homes all held the usual suspects. Old furniture people weren’t ready to part with, some of it worth something, most of it sentimental to the dead, so in other words, worthless.

Boxes of holiday decorations sat closest to the stairs. Which made perfect sense. Those things were brought down year after year, while the other stuff morphed into the dingy space.

Avery moved deeper, turning on lights as she went. Old lamps, one that had a Tiffany thing going for it. Was it Tiffany? Rare? She had no idea.

She wiped dust off an old chest and clicked the stiff locks until they sprang free. “Quilts?” The Lankfords didn’t seem like quilt people, but clearly someone had been at one time. The homemade blankets were stacked on top of each other without any other protection than the box they were in. Again, Avery knew nothing about these kinds of handmade items except that they didn’t tend to fetch any money. The chest itself was 1920s modern. The deeper in the attic she went, the fewer furnishings she found. Old toys. Some that looked much too old for something that Sheldon would have played with.

She turned a corner and found a desk that looked a lot like the one in the father’s study. Her hand hesitated before opening the drawers. A few old coins, a pen, and a paper clip. She once again looked under the desk but had no intention of searching for a secret drawer. Her quick visual made her jump.

“Hello, Charlotte.” It was big, it was black, and it was definitely alive. “You just stay right there.” She backed up on the balls of her feet, lost her balance, and fell on her ass.

She bounced up. “Okay, I’m done in here.” She’d hire a crew to bring everything into the light, and keep an eye out for the things she thought held value. But right now, she wanted out. The stale air was stealing her oxygen.

Avery dodged at least four spiderwebs before reaching the stairs. She backed her way down and brushed at her arms and legs with her bare palms, muttering, “Yuck, yuck. Yuck!” A mirror and a bathroom, that’s what she needed.

She turned around and nearly toppled over Sheldon.

She screamed for the second time that day and lunged back.

He lifted his hands. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Avery clenched a hand to her chest. “Son of a . . .”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I called your name downstairs.”

Her heart was still in her throat. “I didn’t hear you.”

She brushed at her arms again, certain a sticky web was taking root.

“It’s pretty dirty up there.”

“Yeah.”

She dared to look him in the eye and found him looking at the top of her head.

Avery froze. “What is it?”

“I think you have a hitchhiker.”

Her squealing girl meter ramped into overdrive. She didn’t care who he was or how much he creeped her out—a spider in her hair ushered her toward him. “Get it off! Get it off!”

She suddenly felt like she did when she watched Raiders of the Lost Ark. Things were crawling on her, she could feel them.

Sheldon calmly lifted a hand to her head and brushed at her hair.

She held perfectly still, eyes closed. “Did you get it?”

He backed away. “I got it.”

She finally had the nerve to swipe at her hair as she opened her eyes.

What she saw then made her head explode in pain.

Sheldon was letting the long legged, hairy spider crawl on his arm.

“What’s the matter? It isn’t going to hurt you.”

Only it was.

A spider on the inside of his arm. A tattoo.

She was going to pass out.

Avery stumbled away from him and the insect, or small animal, whatever you wanted to call it. “I’ve got to go.”

“I think you should sit down. You don’t look too good.”

She backed away from Sheldon, keeping him and the spider in sight until she found the top of the stairs. “I can’t. I have to go.”

“I’ll take it outside.”

She ran down the steps, finding air in gulps as she went.

“Avery?”

She snatched her purse and ran to her car.

For two seconds, she gripped the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing.

Then she tore out of the driveway as if hell’s hounds were biting at her ankles.

Nine hours later she was stepping off a plane at JFK.

By the time she reached her hotel it was after eleven New York time.

She dropped her bag on the bed and opened the blinds wide. There would be no sleeping in tomorrow.

Her phone buzzed in her purse.

It was Liam.

She forced a smile she knew would help her sound normal and answered, “Hey.”

“Hey back. Are you still at the studio?”

Avery cringed. She’d forgotten to call Brenda.

“No, uhm, I had to fly to Seattle.” Even as she told the lie, she looked out over the dark vastness of Central Park and the skyline surrounding it. “An unexpected problem with my client up here.”

“Oh, okay. I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite. I know how hungry you get after krav.”

“I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

“When do you think you’ll be back?”

New York was a big ass city. Lots of places to hide. “I don’t know. A couple of days, I think.”

“Must be a big problem.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

He paused. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”

“I am tired. Not a lot of sleep this weekend, or last. Now I have to be here. I think I need to go to bed early.”

“Sounds like a good idea. We wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

“Not that, please.”

“What hotel are you in? I’ll send flowers since you had to leave the ones at your place.”

“You’re too much, Liam.” No point in telling him a hotel. That would be the fastest way for all of them to know she wasn’t there. “Orchids last forever. They’ll be alive when I get home.”

“Okay, then. I won’t keep you.”

“We’ll talk soon,” she told him.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

Avery tossed her phone on the bed, opened the notebook she’d been drawing in since she made it to the airport, and continued to sketch.

“Detective Armstrong.” Avery stared at the uniformed officer. “Or Gray. Either one will do.”

“You are?”

“Avery Grant.”

“Are they expecting you?”

“No.”

“I’ll see if they’re available.”

“It’s important.”

It was coffee-and-donut early, so Avery banked on them being in.

The officer lifted the phone to her ear and dialed. “Yes. An Avery Grant is here to see you.”

Good, they were in.

“Grant?” the officer asked Avery.

She nodded.

“Yes,” the officer said back into the receiver.

She hung up the phone. “He’ll be out in a minute. If you’ll take a seat.”

Avery moved away from the desk but didn’t sit.