Suddenly One Summer (FBI/US Attorney #6)(49)

She smiled brightly. “Hi, there. Is . . . Peter home?”

“Dad!” the kid shouted over his shoulder. “He’s in the bathroom.” Engrossed in the game, he walked away, leaving the door open.

Thanks for sharing. But then Victoria realized—holy shit—Peter Sutter was home. She was actually doing this, like now. Moving a few inches farther to the right, she looked around, as if admiring the yard.

“Can I help you?”

She turned and got her first look at Peter Sutter Number Six.

Average height and build, in his late thirties, he had light blond hair that was thinning at the top. Victoria smiled and held up the package. “I think this belongs to you. I live one street over and it was delivered to my place by mistake.” Given his hair color, she had a feeling this wasn’t Nicole’s Peter Sutter. Nevertheless, she paused for a split second before handing over the envelope, so Ford could snap his photo.

“Oh, sorry about that. Thanks for bringing it by.” Peter smiled and took the envelope from her.

“No problem.” She turned and headed down the steps, just as Ford’s car pulled away. Around the corner, she found him waiting for her as promised.

“It worked,” she said excitedly, while climbing into the passenger seat. “Did you get a photo?”

“Sure did.” Ford held out his camera and showed her on the screen. “But it’s not going to be him. The hair color is wrong.”

“Still, that’s now two Peter Sutters out of the eleven that we can eliminate.” She looked over approvingly. “You may actually find this guy, after all.”

Unfortunately, they struck out with the next two addresses. No one was home at Peter Sutter Number Eight’s place, and a woman answered the door on behalf of Peter Sutter Number Three—his wife, Victoria guessed, given the wedding band she wore.

After that, they drove to the Edgewater neighborhood, where Peter Sutter Number Eleven lived in a two-story row house with a wide front porch. Parking was easier to find in this neighborhood, and Ford scored a spot directly across the street.

“I just thought of another worst-case scenario,” Victoria said. “What if someone sees you snapping photographs and charges the car, demanding to know what you’re doing?”

“On the off chance that happens,” Ford said, while adjusting the zoom lens to line up his shot, “I’ll show him my Trib ID and say that I’m a photographer, getting photos for a Home and Garden feature we’re doing on the neighborhood.” He grabbed the envelope out of the backseat, handed it to her, and winked. “But it’s really sweet that you’re worrying about me.”

She didn’t bother responding to that as she exited the car.

Well familiar with the drill by now, she headed up the steps to the front door, got into position, and rang the bell. No one answered, so she rang again to be certain.

No luck.

With a shrug, she turned to go, and made it halfway down the steps when the door opened.

“Sorry,” the man said, out of breath. “I was running on the treadmill and had earbuds in.” He flashed her a perfect smile. “Luckily, I heard the doorbell between songs.”

Chiseled jaw, striking light blue eyes, African American, he was shirtless and sweaty with a towel thrown over one shoulder, and had muscles rippling everywhere.

Victoria blinked, vaguely remembering something about a mission. “Are you Peter Sutter?”

He nodded. “Sure am.”

She held up the envelope. “I live on the next block. This was delivered to me by mistake.”

“Those tricksters at the post office—always keeping us on our toes.” He headed down the steps to take the envelope from her. “Thanks for bringing it by.”

“No problem.” She walked away and met Ford at their rendezvous point around the block.

“Nicole said that her Peter Sutter is white?” she confirmed, climbing into Ford’s car.

“Yep. It’s not him.” Ford watched as she shut the car door. “And I think you left your jaw on the steps back there.”

“Oh, was he attractive?” she asked faux innocently. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He grunted as they drove off, muttering something about her walking to Peter Sutter Number Two’s house.

It was their final stop of the evening, a garden-level condo in Lakeview. Victoria waited at the front door, ringing the bell three times for good measure, and then finally gave up.

Still, both she and Ford were in a good mood as they headed back to their building, having narrowed down the field of contenders to eight. “Do you plan to circle back to the three guys we missed today?”

He nodded. “At least for the two no-shows. I’m thinking we wait until Saturday—maybe we’ll have better luck on the weekend.”

“‘We’ll’?” she repeated. “As in, you and me?”

“Yes, you and me.” He looked over while driving. “Come on. Tell me you aren’t curious to find this guy. I see the gleam in your eye every time we pull up in front of a new place.”

Okay, fine. So she’d gotten sucked into the Mystery of the Missing Baby-Daddy. “Maybe I am a little curious. It’s a different kind of case for me. Normally, I see families as they’re falling apart. I’ve never had the chance to bring one together before.”