Page 77 of Ten Beach Road

He shrugged. “He’s been spotted in Florida. He hasn’t landed anywhere for long, but we have reports of him in the Keys and in the Florida panhandle. Does either of those areas mean anything to you or your brother?”

It took everything Nikki had not to react, but she couldn’t help thinking of that long ago Thanksgiving.

“If you know something, you need to share it,” Giraldi said. “You can’t possibly think he deserves to go free after ruining so many people. That money doesn’t belong to him. And the longer it takes us to catch him, the less of it there will be left.”

She studied him for a long moment, trying to see past the good looks and the focused determination. Special Agent Joe Giraldi was a force to be reckoned with. As was the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was highly unlikely she could reach Malcolm without Giraldi and his people knowing it; it seemed even less likely she could find him without their help.

Once her brother had been everything to her. Even now, as angry and disappointed in him as she was, he was the only family she had. She didn’t want to set Malcolm up for capture; she wanted to get to him first so that she could convince him to turn himself in and return the money. It was far too late to prevent all the harm he’d done, the lives he’d ruined, but she desperately wanted him to do at least some semblance of the “right thing.” Giraldi might never knowingly give her that chance, but he might well locate Malcolm before she could.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said as she looked into the agent’s clear dark eyes. “Let’s stop all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. You say you’re handy? We can use some more hands on this job. That way you can watch for Malcolm.” And she could watch him. “I for one don’t expect him to show his face here, but I guess you never know.”

“You want me to work on your house,” he said, straightening. “With you.”

“Sure, why not?” she asked. “You’re here half the time anyway. As a taxpayer, I’m probably already paying your salary. And while we’re working together I’ll decide whether I can trust you or not.”

“And then?” he asked with a look in his eyes that made her think maybe that flytrap was about to slam shut. “Then you’ll help us catch your brother?”

“If you find him, I’ll talk to him,” she said, careful not to give away too much.

“Okay,” he said easily, and she knew she wasn’t the only one holding back. “You’re on.” He glanced down at his watch. “But you better hurry. You’re down to about fifteen minutes.”

She gave him a wink. “Make it the original thirty minutes, and I’ll give you a few days off before you have to start.”

His soft laughter followed her, floating in the hallway until the bathroom door clicked shut behind her.

The YouTube post was cut to the strains of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. At each boom of the cannon the shot changed.

The morning bathroom line was punctuated by the door being yanked open and slamming shut. The sunset toasts were broken down into a sequence of shots: caviar and Cheez Doodles. Toasts and hoots of laughter. The sun rising and setting in a frenzy of animation that illustrated the passing days as well as how much progress had been made and how very much was left to be done.

The work shots were compelling: Nicole leaning over to swipe chemicals across the door stretched out in front of her. Avery sanding beside her, her face determined, her muscles defined. Both of them shot from every conceivable angle. Not a smiling point or gesture to be found.

There were shots of the trucks and the workmen and Chase from all sides; he apparently didn’t have a bad one. The standoff in the pool house was there, apparently shot through the open door. The sweet-faced Robby at work was intercut with the bathroom line each morning. The swarm of the white-haired garden ladies was there, too. Throughout the three minutes of video were close-ups of Maddie’s hands, mother’s hands, polishing and wiping, cooking and cleaning, writing lists and clipping coupons.

Kyra, who was only seen in the occasional reflection of a shiny surface, had caught it all: the sweat and the tears, the toasts and high fives, the agonies and the ecstasies, the growing friendship and the bonds that had formed. She’d managed to demonstrate the magnitude of the task and each struggle and mistake, even more clearly than she had with her sneering commentaries.

Avery watched it twice and though they could have used hair and makeup people and quite a lot of airbrushing, she was impressed with how well Kyra had captured the essence of their efforts to renovate Bella Flora.

And she wasn’t alone. The video got more than twenty thousand views and hundreds of comments. She had no idea whether a video like this could actually sell a multimillion-dollar home, but one thing was for sure: they and the house at Ten Beach Road were no longer a secret.

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