Suddenly One Summer (FBI/US Attorney #6)(61)
“One year. Okay.” With a smile, he took her hand, leading her up the stairs to the unit on the third floor.
The door was open, so he and Victoria walked right in. There were several people milling about the penthouse condo, and a handful more gathered around the kitchen island, where light refreshments had been laid out.
It was a nice space, with lots of sunlight, vaulted ceilings, and maple hardwood floors. Two bedrooms, two baths, according to the listing sheet Ford took from the dining table as part of their cover. He and Victoria meandered into the living room, where he spotted several framed photos on the fireplace mantel.
Including a wedding photo.
Exchanging glances with Victoria—she’d spotted it, too—the two of them made their way over to get a better look.
“Any questions I can answer about the place?” asked a male voice from behind them.
Ford turned around.
The man smiled and gestured over his shoulder. “My wife, Melanie, is the real estate agent, but since she’s a little busy, I’m helping out.” He held out his hand to Ford. “Peter Sutter.”
Ford shook his hand, taking in the man’s brown eyes and short brown hair. Good-looking and built, this man would undoubtedly meet even Nicole’s standards of “cute” and normal looking. And there was one other thing that stood out about Peter Sutter Number Four.
He was the spitting image of Zoe.
Twenty-two
FEIGNING INTEREST, VICTORIA nodded along as Sutter talked about the upgrades he and his wife had made to the unit, and told them not to miss the private rooftop deck.
After he excused himself to greet another visitor, Ford turned to her. “Should we see the bedrooms next?”
“Definitely.”
Playing their parts, they checked out the second bedroom first, which the Sutters were currently using as an office, before moving on to the master suite. Victoria smiled politely as a woman passed them on her way out. Then she turned to Ford, whispering, “I think it’s him.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
The bedroom had a contemporary-style décor, lots of clean lines and white fabrics. Victoria spotted another wedding photograph on one of the nightstands—a close-up of Sutter and his wife, smiling and looking adorably happy.
“Watch the door for me,” Ford said.
She blocked any incoming traffic by putting her hand on the doorframe and pretending to study the room. Ford grabbed his phone from his back pocket and took a picture of the Sutters’ wedding photo. He checked the image, then tucked his phone away.
“What do you think the odds are that Sutter and his wife met and got married all in the last fourteen months?” she asked.
“About fifty-fifty.”
She agreed, which meant they were quite possibly looking at an infidelity situation here. Maintaining their ruse, Victoria checked out the large master bedroom closet as another couple entered the room. Ford came up behind her.
“Plenty of room for your shoes,” he said teasingly, in a normal volume.
The setup of the closet reminded her of the closet in her old townhome, the one in which she’d blacked out during the break-in. Remembering that moment, she suddenly began to feel slightly . . . off.
No. Not here. Drawing on her relaxation techniques, she focused on taking steady breaths from her diaphragm.
I feel calm and relaxed.
“Look there,” Ford said quietly, clueless to the rising panic she felt. He moved around her, into the closet, and pointed to a row of men’s red T-shirts, zip-ups, and polo shirts, all bearing the same black logo. “He works at XSport Fitness.”
The comment diverted Victoria’s attention and grounded her. Instead of focusing on whether she felt light-headed, the lawyerly wheels in her mind began to spin in. Knowing that Sutter worked at an XSport Fitness club was helpful—she could likely contact him at work, instead of at home, to tell him about Nicole and Zoe.
She exhaled, feeling steadier than she had moments ago, and then noticed that the other couple was waiting to check out the closet. “Oops, sorry. I’ll get out of your way.”
Ford followed her into the master bathroom, which had double sinks, a porcelain soaking tub, and a steam shower.
“Crap. Not a toothbrush in sight,” he whispered.
Victoria paused while the other couple passed by the bathroom on their way out.
As soon as it was just the two of them, Ford quietly opened one of the cabinets. “Bingo.”
“You can’t take his toothbrush,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
She pointed in the direction of the living room. “Because he’ll notice that it’s gone. And when he finds out who I am, he might put two and two together, and I don’t want to get disbarred for stealing a damn toothbrush.” She paused. “But, there’s always Plan F.”
“What’s Plan F?”
She grabbed a small Ziploc bag from her purse. “Does he have a hairbrush in there, too?”
“Oh . . . I like the way you think, Victoria Slade.”
She waved this off. Yes, yes, she’d become quite the super-sleuth these days, but they needed to forgo all compliments and commendations regarding her mad skills until later. “Just hurry.”
Ford pulled a two-inch round brush from the cabinet.
“Not that one. That’s a woman’s brush. Yes—that one,” she said when he grabbed a flat brush with boar bristles. She checked to make sure no one was coming while Ford yanked some hair strands off the brush.