Mediterranean Tycoons. Jacqueline Baird

is the thief? And that you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law?”

      That’s what Mom had claimed last night as Jill had tried to soothe her tears. But then again, Mom frequently blew situations like this out of proportion. Hence, Jill had decided to learn the truth.

      He hesitated. “The discussions that take place between me and my employees are confidential. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but it’s not correct. Right now, I don’t know who the guilty party is.”

      Jill’s shoulders stiffened. She’d seen this scenario before during her childhood. The assumption would be that the owner of the sawmill was in on the theft. And in such a small town as Bartlett, gossip spread like wildfire. Hearing that her brother was a thief didn’t sit well with Jill. No, not at all.

      “What do you intend to do about the situation?” she asked.

      “I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you right now. But I can tell you that I’ve called in the LEI to perform an investigation.”

      Oh no! The LEI was the Forest Service’s Law Enforcement and Investigation unit. Jill bit the inside of her cheek to hide her panic. She knew the drill. A special agent would come to Bartlett and investigate the theft. No doubt her family’s sawmill would bear the brunt of the inquiry. And if they didn’t cooperate, Alan would look even more guilty.

      “Then, you don’t currently have plans to charge my brother with a crime?” she asked.

      He sat back, his chair squeaking. “No, not at this time.”

      “I can understand why you’ve called for an investigation, but do you have any reason to believe Alan is responsible?”

      “Not yet. Large tracts of ponderosa pine have been harvested in the mountains bordering the cutblock where your mill was contracted to cut trees. The thieves decimated the area, leaving nothing for the future. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”

      Her heart plummeted. All it took was for Martha, or one of Brent’s other employees, to talk about the theft at the dinner table with their family, and news soon spread. It wouldn’t even do Jill any good to ask who the gossip might have come from. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter, now. Chances were she’d known the culprit all her life and they were friends. And threatening Brent with a slander lawsuit wasn’t Jill’s style. She didn’t like contention. Besides, she couldn’t prove it and doubted it would go anywhere. But she still needed to do some damage control.

      She held his gaze for several pounding moments. He lifted his chin in challenge.

      “So, because my family’s sawmill was contracted to cut timber near the area where the trees were stolen, you think my brother is guilty of the theft. You don’t know for certain?”

      He released a soft sigh. “Again, I don’t think anything right now. No accusations have...”

      “I know, I know. No accusations have been made against anyone yet.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.

      His expression softened with empathy. “I’m sorry, Jill. I can’t say anything more. But rest assured I’ll contact you about it as soon as I can.”

      His eyes darkened to a steely blue and she heard the soft edge of professionalism in his voice. He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. But that wouldn’t stop him from pursuing an investigation. Which might incriminate Alan and destroy the mill. Since Brent hadn’t made any formal accusations against Alan, she couldn’t really ask what evidence he might already have on her brother. Not if she expected a genuine answer.

      For the first time, Jill felt an edge of uncertainty. Late last night, Alan had told her and Mom that he was innocent. But what if he’d lied to them? He’d always been so honest. So kind and generous. But everyone had their limits. In this rotten economy, the construction industry had been hit hard. Meeting their payroll and other bills had become difficult. Could Alan have become desperate enough to start pilfering timber? Jill knew he’d do almost anything to keep Mom safe. But did that include theft and lying to cover it up?

      She hauled in a deep breath, her mind a jumble of unease. No, Alan wouldn’t do such a thing. Would he?

      She didn’t like the pang of suspicion that nibbled at her mind. Maybe it was time she went down to the sawmill office and took a look at the books herself. It’d been months since she’d worked there, and she had to know what was going on. If for no other reason than to help reassure her agitated mother that her only son wasn’t going to lose their family business and end up in prison.

      * * *

      Brent gazed at Jill with regret. A blaze of compassion sliced through his heart, but he ignored the urge to blurt out the truth. He couldn’t compromise this case. There was too much to lose. Including his livelihood. He liked Jill Russell. A lot. But he also had a job to do. And that must come first. “I’m sorry about this situation, Jill. I truly am. But the gossip didn’t come from me.”

      “So, what are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

      He caught the twinge of hurt in her voice and hated it. For some reason, he felt protective of this woman and longed to shield her from this problem. “Anything you like.”

      “You really can’t tell me something more?”

      “Not right now. As soon as I can, I promise to give you a call.” Brent met her gaze, trying to concentrate. The naked fear in her eyes haunted him, along with the sweet fragrance of her hair. He took a deep inhale, drawn to this woman in spite of the warning sirens going off inside his head. After her kindness to him and Evie yesterday afternoon, he wasn’t being much help. Of course Jill was worried about her brother and the sawmill. It was only natural. And Brent blamed himself.

      “How long will the investigation take?” she asked.

      “I don’t know.”

      It would be unprofessional for him to tell her that timber theft was difficult to prove and the conviction rate was low. That was good for the thieves and bad for the victims of the crime, which in this case were the taxpayers.

      She stood, bracing one hand against the armrest of her chair. She looked shaky and he reached out to clasp her arm and steady her. She flinched and he let go, wishing he could offer her more reassurance. That he could say something to put her at ease. But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

      He accompanied her to the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”

      “Thanks for seeing me,” she said.

      “Anytime. My door is always open to you.” And he meant it. He owed her that much.

      She stepped out. He planned to follow her to the outer reception area, but she held up a hand. “I know the way. I’ll see myself out.”

      As she walked down the hallway, he stared after her, thinking she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Wishing he could call her back. Yearning to tell her all the facts. But his job prohibited it. Too much was riding on this case and he couldn’t jeopardize it by confiding in her.

      Instead, Brent returned to his desk. Reaching for his keyboard, he rapped out a quick email to his staff members. First thing in the morning, he’d hold a quick meeting with all his employees to discuss the importance of confidentiality. No doubt one of his people had seen the investigation request he’d filed with the LEI, or overheard a conversation he’d had with his timber assistant about the stolen trees. Not once had Brent mentioned the Russell Sawmill in connection with the theft, but conjecture was bound to occur. Someone had assumed Alan Russell was to blame for the theft, and word had soon spread.

      That wasn’t what was troubling Brent right now. He’d done his best to alleviate Jill’s concerns. But the truth was, Alan had already come forward to seek Brent’s help. Eight weeks earlier, the man had walked into Brent’s office and claimed he was being blackmailed by Frank Casewell, his mill manager. According to Alan, Frank was stealing the timber late at night and processing it at the sawmill to sell on the