Expecting Trouble. Delores Fossen

buying it.

      Jenna apparently did. With the butcher knife still clutched in her hand, she stepped back so Helena could enter.

      “That reporter out there might have some way to eavesdrop on us,” Helena explained. “She has equipment and cameras with her.”

      Maybe. But Cal hadn’t seen anything to suggest long-range eavesdropping equipment. Still, it was an unnecessary risk to keep talking in plain view. Lipreading was a possibility. Plus, anything said here could ultimately put Jenna in more danger and get him in deeper trouble with the director. Not that her paternity claims were exactly newsworthy, but he didn’t want to see his and Jenna’s names and photos splashed in a newspaper.

      “Well?” Cal prompted when Helena continued to look around and didn’t say anything else.

      “Where do I start?” She seemed to be waiting for an invitation to sit down, but Cal didn’t offer. Helena sighed. “My brother is determined to carry out Paul’s wishes. They’ve been friends since childhood when our parents moved to Monte de Leon to start businesses there. Holden was devastated when Paul was killed.”

      Cal shrugged. “Paul isn’t the father of Jenna’s child, so there’s no wish to carry out.”

      The last word had hardly left his mouth when he heard a soft whimpering cry sound coming from the nursery.

      “Sophie,” Jenna mumbled.

      “Go to her,” Cal advised. “I’ll finish up here.”

      Jenna hesitated. But not for long—the baby’s cries were getting louder.

      “I do need to talk to Jenna,” Helena continued. She opened her purse and rummaged through it. “Do you have a pen? I want to leave my cell number so she can contact me.”

      That was actually a good idea. He might be able to get approval to trace Helena’s calls and obtain a record of her past ones.

      Cal didn’t have a pen with him, and he looked around before spotting one and a notepad on the kitchen countertop. He got it and glanced into the nursery while he was on that side of the room. Jenna was leaning over the crib changing Sophie’s diaper.

      “Someone was following Jenna.” Cal walked back to Helena and handed her the pen and notepad.

      She dodged his gaze, took the pen and wrote down her number. “You mean that reporter across the street? She approached us when we drove up and said she was doing an article about Paul. She said she recognized Holden from newspaper pictures.”

      Cal shook his head. “Not her. Someone else. A man.” He watched for a reaction.

      Helena shrugged and handed him the notepad. “You think I know something about it?”

      “Do you? The man’s name is Anthony Salazar.”

      Her eyes widened. “Salazar,” she repeated on a rise of breath. “You’ve seen him here in Willow Ridge?”

      “I’ve seen him,” Cal confirmed. “Now, mind telling me how you know him?”

      Her breath became even more rapid, and she glanced around to make sure it was safe to talk. “Anthony Salazar is evil,” she said in a whisper.

      He caught her arm when she turned to leave. “And you know this how?”

      She opened her mouth but stopped. “Are you wearing a wire?” she demanded.

      “No, and I’m not going to strip down to prove it. But you are going to give me answers.”

      Her chin came up. Since he had hold of her arm, he could feel that she was trembling. “You’re trying to make me say something incriminating.”

      Yeah. But for now, Cal would settle for the truth. “What’s your connection to Salazar? Does he work for your brother? For you?”

      She reached behind her and opened the door. “He worked for Paul.”

      He hadn’t expected that answer. “Paul’s dead.”

      “But his estate isn’t.”

      “What does that mean?” Cal asked cautiously.

      “Yesterday was the first anniversary of Paul’s death. Early this morning his attorney delivered e-mails of instruction to people named in his will. I saw the list. Salazar got one.”

      Cal paused a moment to give that some thought. “Are you saying Paul reached out from the grave and hired this man to do something to Jenna?”

      “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Helena turned and delivered the rest from over her shoulder as she started down the steps. “Neither Holden nor I can call off Salazar. No one can.”