Chapter 18

Hunter began striding toward the house. “You do have a key, don’t you? And I would withhold judgment on the interior if I were you.” Hunter paused just outside the double doors, waiting for Ian to catch up. He took in the detail of the floor-to-ceiling French windows on the first floor, how each was topped with intricate designs in leaded glass.

Ian was making his way through the weeds toward Hunter, cursing as he stumbled. “Yes. I have a key.” He caught up and extracted a large old-fashioned key coated with rust from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Hunter.

Hunter knew Ian could say nothing about the house but also knew the lawyer would not be deterred.

“How do you propose to cut through all this?” Ian gestured at the trees and briars choking the lawn and driveway.

“Simple. I’m sure Wisconsin has a good supply of gardeners and landscapers, many of them, I’m sure, looking for work. They have skill. I have money. It could work. Can we go inside?”