He winked, and that sign of life—of humor—at Ardnoch made me smile.

Adair led me down a gravel path that followed the lochside. We passed a couple of small cabins with great views of the water until we came to one situated farther away from the others on its own at the western side. I followed him up the decked porch and waited behind him as he knocked.

The door swung open, and I hid my surprise.

Lucy Wainwright stood before us.

Lucy “America’s Sweetheart” Wainwright.

“Luce.” Adair squeezed her shoulder as she stepped aside to let us in. He didn’t look back as he begrudgingly introduced me. “This is Mac’s daughter, Robyn.”

To my bemusement, Lucy’s stunning, cat-shaped blue eyes widened as I stepped inside. She held out a flawlessly manicured hand. Thin gold rings covered nearly every finger. From her jewelry choices to her monochrome outfit of black silk shirt and white wide-leg pants that no ordinary human being could make look good, Lucy Wainwright screamed chic style and money.

Not surprising.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“And you.” She peered closely at me. “Wow, you have Mac’s gorgeous eyes.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Adair emphatically denied as he stopped in front of a young woman seated in the living room.

“Yeah, I do.” I crossed my arms over my chest, shocked by his belligerent denial.

“She does,” Lucy insisted. “I doubt you would have noticed. Heterosexual guys don’t go around staring into each other’s eyes, right?”

Adair’s answer was to squint at me. I could feel him studying my eyes. His intense perusal made me uncomfortable, so I focused past him.

The young woman sitting on a small sofa was a beauty.

It shouldn’t surprise me that Adair, an ex-Hollywood god, would be surrounded by the most stunning women in the world. But seeing them all in one place was kind of unnerving. Was this what living in LA was like?

“You must be Eredine,” I said, keeping my tone light.

A tormented expression in her large green eyes made me realize Adair hadn’t been exaggerating about her reaction. Either she was especially sensitive, or there was more to her reaction than merely being upset by property damage and a creepy message meant for her boss. Perhaps she and Adair were together, and she was terrified for him after what happened to Mac.

Eredine nodded, her mass of dark brown curls shimmering with the movement. Her age wasn’t clear. She had smooth, golden brown skin that made her eyes seem unusually light. No signs of a certain age in her skin and definitely not in her long, lithe body delineated by her workout bra and yoga pants.

I’d put her in her twenties, but I didn’t know which end of the scale.

If I went by how gorgeous she was and how Adair hovered protectively, I’d say there was definitely something going on between them. That would make her the perfect target for his stalker. If that was what we were dealing with.

Realizing all three of us stood over her, I gestured to Adair and Lucy. “Maybe we can all just sit and have a chat.”

I took the sofa across from Eredine without asking as Adair sat beside his yoga instructor and Lucy sprawled casually on the window seat near the front of the cabin. I almost laughed at how effortlessly elegant she looked—like she was ready for a photo shoot.

I was in a cabin with two-time Oscar-winning actor Lucy Wainwright hours after visiting my father in the hospital where he was recovering from multiple stab wounds.

My life had taken a very surreal turn.

“So, Eredine, I’m Mac’s daughter, Robyn.”

“I know.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her graceful fingers twisting together as she stared at the coffee table between us.

“I’m helping Mac with the investigation. I’m a cop. Well, I was a cop. Back in Boston.”

“Okay.”

“You teach Pilates and yoga here?”

“Yeah. And mindfulness.”

“I’ve studied mindfulness.” It was something my therapist had suggested. It was a type of meditation, and to my surprise, I really got into it. During moments of stress, I practiced it. “It works.”

I ignored Adair’s intense stare because Eredine had finally lifted her eyes to meet mine.

“Yeah, it does.” She was American. I couldn’t place a specific accent. With a name like Eredine, I’d assumed she was Scottish. False name?

“So, when did you discover the break-in at the studio?”

Her hands twisted tighter together. “About 2:45. I-I’d finished my morning classes. There are only a few members who come to those at this time of year. Occupancy is higher during the summer. But my afternoon classes are a little busier. They start at three thirty.”

“But you discovered the studio was wrecked.”

“Yes.”

“Did you touch anything?”

Eredine shook her head. “I called security and waited.”

Adair covered her hands with one of his, drawing my attention. Genuine concern and distress etched his rugged features.

“I … uh … I’m still trying to get a picture here of what’s going on, but I know from Mac’s findings that he’s pretty certain the messages are all for you, Adair. That it’s mostly likely a stalker, and it’s more than likely someone you know who has access here.”