When the door to the plane finally opened a couple of minutes later, the stairs whirred their way to the ground, and Bartholomew Rosenfelt descended from inside the cabin, dressed in pressed khakis and a hunter green silk shirt that even from a distance looked like it cost more than Alyssa made in two months. At the top of the steps, Rosenfelt paused, one hand still holding onto the door, surveying his surroundings, and to Alyssa, it appeared he was expecting an orchestra to announce his arrival.

She disliked him on sight.

Standing just behind Rosenfelt was Vincent Yates. According to Hal’s research, Yates had been the billionaire’s private pilot for close to twenty-five years. While his attire wasn’t quite as snazzy as his boss’s, he still sported clothes that would’ve taken more than one of Alyssa’s paychecks to purchase. And if anyone would know about Rosenfelt’s comings and goings, he would be the one, so she had every intention of cornering him, too. Before descending the steps, both men whipped out aviator sunglasses and placed them over their eyes.

Tired of being patient – well, tired of waiting, anyway – Alyssa approached the land mogul billionaire, hand outstretched to introduce herself only to have him ignore it as he removed his sunglasses and stared down at the badge sitting at her hip. After craning his neck to check that Cord also wore a badge, he popped his shades back into place.

‘Albuquerque Police Department?’ Rosenfelt drawled. ‘Has something occurred with one of my properties that I’ve been as of yet uninformed?’ Barely shifting his chin to the side, it was clear he was expecting a response from his pilot as well as the detectives.

‘None that I’m aware of, sir.’ Vincent Yates’s voice was high-pitched and squeaky, not at all befitting of the man’s physique.

‘Detectives Wyatt and Roberts. We have some questions we’d like to ask you. Why don’t we head inside where it’s not so hot?’

His expression guarded, Rosenfelt lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose and peered over them at Alyssa. ‘Do I need my attorney present, Detective? As he’s not traveling with me at the moment, this conversation will need to wait. If his presence is necessary, that is.’

‘I can’t answer that for you, Mr. Rosenfelt. You’re not under arrest; we’re merely hoping you can provide some answers for us. However, if you feel you can’t answer those questions without an attorney present, then I suppose that’s entirely up to you. Do you have something you wish to hide from us?’

Bartholomew Rosenfelt threw his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound. ‘I think I might like you, Detective. But if I do indeed have things to hide, then I most likely wouldn’t want to inform you of that fact, now would I?’ He turned to his pilot. ‘After she gets sprayed down, go ahead and put her in the hangar and wait for me there.’

Yates nodded and took off in the opposite direction, presumably to get one of the service attendants who worked at the small airport.