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In contrast, although considered part of the nouveau riche, Logan’s parents had bought this secluded piece of property because of its beautiful oak, pine, and walnut trees. The old British surname of Hearst meant “woods or forest,” after all.
Of course, his best friend’s family was nothing like European royalty. William Randolph Hearst had becomeAmerican royalty,like the Vanderbilts and the Astors, although he was a generation later than the original railroad tycoonsof the late 19thcentury.
Although Marcus didn’t come from the same world as Logan, they’d been friends since childhood, running wild on the property, building forts, making guns out of sticks, yelling like a commando during a battle. Their bond strengthened as they played football in high school and even took a few college classes together.
But after college graduation, he struck out on his own, joining the Navy and training to be a SEAL. Ten years later, he retired and started his own security firm, which he loved.
He had a nose for suspicious people or events and was like a hound dog, following the scent.
Despite being able to shimmy up an electric pole to install cameras and listening devices, he wore a suit when he was part of a big event—like meetings and weddings.
Today, there was no tree climbing going on. He had to be professional and in his best suit when guests arrived. And back to being just Logan’s best friend. Not the hired security.
Marcus lifted his head after he checked the final camera and synchronized it with the receiver inside the house.
Seconds later, he halted in his tracks. His phone was notifying him of movement at the front gate. Marcus quickly pulled up the feed for the camera in that location.
A suspicious vehicle—a Nissan SUV—had stopped before the double wrought-iron gates. The car crept forward, slowed again, and then stopped.
Suddenly a young woman shoved the driver door open and climbed out.
She was loitering much too long, and the hair onMarcus’s neck prickled. This one needed deeper investigation.
The woman glanced about, spinning on her high heels while looking back over her shoulder and down the road several times. Hm. Apparently, she was lost.
Consulting her phone, she tapped on it. Probably checking Google Maps.
Rechecking the road for oncoming traffic, she frowned, then stared pointedly at the double gates of the Hearst Estate.
Walking forward, she appeared to find the keypad and proceeded to enter a few numbers.
The gates began to open slowly, squeaking in the quiet afternoon silence. Marcus made a mental note to oil them. This woman obviously had the correct code, but nobody had told Marcus there was an arrival this afternoon.
She must be part of the wedding party. But Logan and Jenna’s wedding was still two days away. Maybe she was delivering wedding trappings or paraphernalia.
Perhaps a salesclerk with Jenna’s wedding gown? A wedding gift by special delivery? Normally, those came by courier, if not FedEx delivery.
Marcus silently watched her car maneuver the winding roads through the woods. He sprinted at times to keep up with her, his feet not making a sound on the soft dirt. Skirting the tree trunks, he remained out of sight while she passed.
She pulled around the circulardrive and stopped.
A moment or two later, the woman stepped out of her car and shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun.
Marcus knew there was no one at home, but this woman didn’t know that.
He stopped behind a tree and continued to watch. Now that he was closer to the driveway, he pulled out a small pair of binoculars and adjusted the lens.
Her car was loaded with stuff.
She had the longest, silkiest mahogany brown hair he’d ever seen. It swayed in the mild afternoon breeze. She wore a dress and heels and carried a large handbag.
Was she a friend of Jenna’s? Since Jenna was in town that afternoon with Logan, Marcus assumed this woman had arrived unannounced.
Which meant he needed to keep an eye on her.
An unannounced guest not on the daily “list” was a person of interest. To watch, study, and intercept if necessary.
Slowly, Marcus moved forward, staying behind the trees but never taking his eyes off her.
