Читать книгу: «Hidden Deception»
A noise sounded downstairs.
Elena moved to the door and listened. She knew someone was down in the supposedly empty store. She turned off the light and reached for the phone, dialing 9-1-1. When the operator answered, she whispered her situation.
Pocketing the phone, she slipped out of the office and walked to the top of the stairs to listen. After a moment, she heard something move. She slipped back into the office and dug for Daniel’s phone number. He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel, there’s someone in the store.”
“Elena?”
“Hurry.” She heard someone walking up the treads and hung up. Where could she hide? The office had a large window with a fire escape. She hurried there, hoping she could beat the intruder. The old window hadn’t been opened in years. She unlatched the window and pulled. It sounded as if the gates of a dungeon were opening, but it was her only hope.
LEANN HARRIS
Leann has always had stories running around inside her head. When her youngest child started elementary school, she finally gathered her nerve and began writing. She joined RWA in 1987 and is a charter member of Dallas Area Romance Authors and former president. Her first published novel was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest and was nominated by Romantic Times BOOKreviews as one of the best first novels in 1993. The author of eleven novels, her latest book is her first for Steeple Hill. She has a BS in speech from the University of Texas at Austin and is a certified teacher of the deaf, teaching deaf high school students algebra and chemistry. She’s been married for thirty-five years and has two grown children.
Hidden Deception
Leann Harris
MILLS & BOON
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The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.
—Nahum 1:7
I’d like to thank:
My sweet husband, who cooked a lot of dinners.
My mom who always encouraged me.
And Sharon Mignerey,
who is the best “what if” partner.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Something was wrong.
Elena Segura Jackson stared at the open back door of her family’s antique shop.
“Hello.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. A shiver ran up her spine. “Joyce, are you here?” This was Joyce’s night to lock up. Elena listened for a moment more. Nothing.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided herself. “You’re acting like a five-year-old.”
Shaking off her apprehension, she moved inside. Where was the inside security light? Reaching for the switch, she flicked it on. Nothing happened.
Her stomach sank. Taking a deep breath, she called out again, “Joyce.”
The outside light did little to penetrate the vast darkness of the store. It was like walking into a cave, wondering what she’d find with her next step. She bumped into several pieces of furniture. Slowly, she made her way from piece to piece moving toward the stairs in the center of the room. The papers she needed were upstairs in her office. Halfway across the room, she stumbled and caught herself on the back of a chair.
“Wha—” She looked down. Her eyes followed a pair of legs up to a skirt and a blouse. The body lay against the large Spanish chest.
Slowly she approached the body. “Joyce?”
Kneeling, she shook her shoulder. “Joyce? Are you okay?”
Nothing.
Elena turned the woman over. It was Joyce. Her eyes were open, staring into nothing. Elena shook Joyce’s shoulders, but there was no reaction.
Releasing her, Elena’s fingers skated over Joyce’s chest and encountered a wet spot. Elena jerked her hands back. Although she couldn’t see the color of the liquid, she could smell the coppery scent. Blood.
Stumbling to her feet, she turned. A figure materialized out of the darkness, and before she could react, something crashed into her head turning the world black.
Detective Daniel Stillwater and his partner, Raul Rodriguez, climbed out of their police-issued sedan. Two police cruisers and the evidence van dotted the area around Amarillo Plaza in old town Santa Fe, closing down traffic on the street.
“Hey, Stillwater, you get this case?” Patrolman Mark Sanchez called out.
“We did. You the first responder?”
“Yeah, Icenhour and I caught the call. He’s inside with the lady who found the body. She’s not in too good a shape, crying and blubbering, but you know what a talker Icenhour is. He can soothe things over.”
Daniel stepped into the antique shop and looked around. The overhead lights beat down harshly on the old furniture and elegant collections in the room. He couldn’t figure out what folks saw in this old stuff. It looked like some of the stuff in his aunt’s house. The evidence lieutenant looked up from his evidence kit.
“Find anything?” Raul asked.
“No.” The tech stood. “There was a collection of smudged prints on the doorknob, but there’s nothing I’ve discovered in the shop. The vic was stabbed several times in the chest and bled out.”
“Thanks, Greg,” Daniel replied. He scanned the shop and didn’t see anyone else. A set of wooden stairs divided the room, leading to the second floor. “Where’s the witness?”
“She and Icenhour are upstairs in the office.”
Daniel and Raul climbed the stairs, their shoes echoing heavily on the worn wooden treads.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Icenhour’s voice floated out the open door at the top.
When they reached the top riser, they scanned the area. To the right, the space opened out to a storage area piled with boxes, chairs and carpets. To the left was a door marked Office. Looking inside, Daniel saw Icenhour sitting in a chair next to a woman. She held an ice pack to her left temple. In her late twenties, she had shoulder-length straight black hair with a sprinkling of bangs across her forehead. Those bangs brought a man’s gaze to her golden-brown eyes. Twin tracks of tears ran down her pale, smooth cheeks.
She looked up, and Icenhour turned.
“Detectives, this is Elena Jackson, who found the body.” He finished the introductions then stood. “I’ll go downstairs and see if they need any help.”
Raul took Icenhour’s seat. Daniel grabbed a chair in the corner and pulled it close. He took a notebook and pen from his coat pocket. “Tell me what happened this evening, Ms. Jackson.”
She set the ice pack on the desk. “I forgot some papers I needed and was coming back to the shop.” She looked from him to Raul. “I found the back door to the shop unlocked, which alarmed me. Joyce is—was always so reliable about store procedures. But—”
Daniel waited for her to continue. He knew when to push a witness and when to back off and let them proceed at their own speed.
She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“But…” Raul prompted after several seconds.
Daniel threw him a look and Raul shrugged as if to say “someone had to.”
“Joyce seemed to be distracted lately. I should’ve been more diligent and asked her what was wrong.”
“So you think something odd was going on in her life? Did she have any family issues?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know. I think Joyce might have been divorced. She never talked about her past and wasn’t looking for another relationship.”
“Why do you say that?” Daniel asked.
“I’ve seen a couple of customers try to flirt with her. She shut them down. Politely, but she discouraged men. This last week, though, she was remote, as if something was bothering her.”
“Have any idea what?” Rodriguez pressed.
She shook her head. “No.”
Daniel’s gut reaction told him the woman was hiding something.
“Did you have any cash on hand? Maybe someone was after money?” Daniel asked.
She shook her head. “I make the deposit run in the late afternoon. We don’t keep a lot of money in the store.”
“Is anything missing?” Raul questioned.
“Where is she?” A woman’s voice floated up the stairs.
“Ma’am, you can’t go up there,” Icenhour replied.
“You want to try and stop me?” The steel in her voice caught both Daniel’s and Raul’s attention.
For the first time, Elena smiled. That smile tugged at Daniel’s heart.
“That’s Mom. You might as well let her up. She won’t stop until she makes it up here.”
They didn’t need a scene. Daniel stood and walked to the door. “Icenhour, let the woman come up here.”
Instantly, a woman appeared in the doorway and brushed by Daniel. In her early sixties, with blond hair and deep-blue eyes that burned with concern, she was a handsome woman, who bore no physical resemblance to her daughter. Instantly, she scooped Elena into her arms.
“Are you all right?” She pulled back and brushed Elena’s hair from her face.
When Elena tried to speak, she couldn’t say a word, but nodded.
“What have you done to my daughter?” the older woman demanded, turning to the detectives and glaring.
Daniel understood her reaction, but her attitude wasn’t helpful. “Your daughter’s—”
“Mom, the detectives have done nothing. Seeing Joyce’s…body…reminds me of—”
The older woman nodded. “I want to take my daughter home.”
Daniel glanced at Rodriguez, who nodded. “That’s fine.” Daniel reached inside his sports jacket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Elena. “If you remember anything else, please get in touch with me.”
She took the business card and clutched it in her hand.
As the women started to leave, Elena paused and handed Daniel her keys. “Will you lock up?”
“Yes.”
Once they were alone, Rodriguez stood and shook his head. “Talk about a mother bear protecting her young. I wouldn’t want to get between that woman and her daughter.”
Daniel slipped the keys in his pocket, then joined Rodriguez at the door.
“I know. Let’s see if the guys downstairs have finished up.”
He watched from the shadows as the police swarmed over the building. He ground his teeth. The stupid female showed up too soon. He hadn’t finished his search. Of course, Joyce had surprised him, too. Threatened him, but he solved that problem. He could solve this new problem. There was another night, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found what Joyce had stolen from him. Too much depended on that evidence, and he would find it.
When Elena walked into the Santa Fe police headquarters, the large clock on the wall read 6:20 a.m. It hadn’t been a peaceful night. She’d wrestled “the nightmare,” only this time it had a new twist. This time the dream started with her arriving at the antique shop and finding the body. But when she turned the body over, it wasn’t Joyce she discovered. It was her birth mother’s body, and suddenly the room had altered to the kitchen where her mother died. Her father, in a drunken rage, had grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed her mother when she refused to get him another beer. Elena had been eight when that happened. Her older brother had called the police and held their mother while they waited for the cops.
It had taken years for that vision not to haunt her dreams. Too many times her adoptive parents held her while she cried. This morning she didn’t want to add to the sorrow and grief her mother felt for Joyce.
After experiencing that old nightmare, Elena knew she couldn’t go back to sleep, so she dressed and decided to go to work. Unfortunately, her car and keys to the shop were still with the detectives. Instead of waking her mother and facing questions, Elena wrote a note and took a bus downtown. She could walk from the main police station to the shop.
The receptionist walked to her desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. “May I help you?”
“Is Detective Stillwater here?”
The woman called the detective’s extension. “Detective, there’s a woman here—” She paused and looked at Elena.
“Elena Jackson.”
The woman repeated the name. “Okay. I’ll relay the message.” She hung up the phone. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
Elena turned and looked out the plate-glass windows into the empty street. It glowed with a soft predawn light. The scent of piñon and mountain cedar filled the air. This time of day always refreshed Elena, and in the stillness, she could pray. She could tell the Lord about her day and spend time with Him. Even in New York, where there was a mass of humanity, the mornings were her time to renew herself. In New York, praying as she walked to work had made her appreciate the beauty of the city, but when she came home to New Mexico, her soul found peace.
The smell of the receptionist’s coffee floated through the air, reminding Elena that she hadn’t had her morning cup yet. A stop at Juan’s at the corner of the street would be her first priority after she got her keys. Juan’s Café was a favorite hangout for the cops and lawyers downtown, but, despite that, she’d wanted coffee and one of the breakfast burritos Juan cooked up. Often, when she was a teen, her adoptive father had brought her to the store and they’d stop at Juan’s for a treat.
“How are you doing this morning?” Daniel’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts.
Elena turned and watched the detective walk toward her. He was a good-looking man, something she hadn’t noticed last night. Of course, she had been a little too preoccupied to look, but now she gave him a once-over. Whipcord lean, Daniel had a wealth of blue-black hair, high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes and a well-defined mouth. The coppery tone of his skin reminded Elena that it was his ancestors who first roamed this land. He probably had his fair share of female admiration. She didn’t notice a wedding ring on his left hand. Although he’d been up all night, he didn’t look tired.
“I came by for my keys. I wanted to get to the shop and see what needed to be done.”
“Let’s go back to my desk. Your keys are there and we can go over your story again.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Now that you’ve had the night to think about what happened, maybe something else occurred to you.”
Suspicion filled her. Did he think she had something to do with Joyce’s murder? But before she could say anything, her stomach rumbled. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Daniel’s mouth curved with amusement.
“I haven’t had breakfast,” she mumbled. “I was going to stop by Juan’s before I went to the store.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Her brows knitted into a frown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Let’s go to Juan’s. Over some burritos, we can go over your statement.”
“Huh—” Her stomach rumbled again.
His gaze captured hers.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Daniel went back to his desk, picked up her keys and handed them to her. He put his notebook in his shirt pocket, grabbed his corduroy jacket and slipped it on.
Rodriguez sat back in his chair. “Hey, when you’re at Juan’s, buy me a number one and have him send it over.” He pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to Daniel.
Elena noticed the silent message the two men exchanged and wondered what it was about. Once outside in the morning air, Elena glanced at Daniel.
“Am I about to get the third degree?” she asked.
“No. What makes you think that?”
“All the silent messages you and your partner exchanged.”
“You’re imagining things.”
She didn’t believe him and prepared herself for the grilling.
The wonderful smell of coffee and refried beans surrounded her as they stepped into the restaurant, making her worries disappear. Whatever the detective had in mind, she could handle it after a cup of coffee and something to eat.
She ordered and found a booth in the corner away from the noise and chatter of the restaurant. Daniel ordered his breakfast and Rodriguez’s. After paying for them, he joined her.
“Have you remembered anything else about Joyce that you didn’t tell me last night?” he asked.
“I’ve tried not to think, to put everything out of my mind.” She concentrated on her burrito.
He took a bite of his breakfast. “How long did Joyce work at your store?” he questioned.
“She worked for my parents for the last five years.” When he gave her a look, she explained, “I was in college at UNM, studying art. When I came home one Christmas, Joyce was working at the store. I knew her casually, but if you want more information on her, talk to my mother. Mom worked with Joyce every day for the last five years. I worked holidays and some summers when I came home. Once in New York, I rarely saw Joyce.”
“But you’ve been here in Santa Fe for the last six months?”
Elena frowned at him. If he knew the answer, why ask the question? Maybe he was testing her. “My father passed away at the beginning of March. Mother wasn’t able to handle the business, so I quit my job in New York and came home.” She didn’t want to discuss the grief that put her mother in bed or how in order to keep things running, she’d come home. Her adopted older brother lived in Seattle with his family. Of the two of them, she was more able to come and help their mother.
He took out his notebook and scribbled something down. “So you aren’t familiar with Joyce?”
She frowned at him. “No. She was a wonderful employee, always on time, reliable, helpful to my parents. Since I’ve been home, I can’t name any problems with her.” Of course, Elena had been worried about Joyce.
“What are you not telling me?”
Her head jerked up. “What makes you think—”
He gave her a pointed stare. “I’m a trained investigator.”
Elena shrugged. “As I told you last night, Joyce seemed to be preoccupied over the last couple of weeks.”
“Tell me about it.”
Elena tried to come up with exact instances. “One time she put the special orders in the wastepaper basket. Another time, she forgot to put a large check in the cash register. And another time, she came to work without her purse. She had to drive home and get it. That wasn’t like her. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she just had an off day. It wasn’t an off day, but an off week. But I didn’t press her. We all screw up.”
As he jotted notes in a small spiral, the clatter of silverware and dishes filled the air. Elena tried to peek at what he wrote, but his head came up, and she smiled and settled back into her seat.
“And you never knew anything about her personal life?” he pressed.
Something was going on here. “No, I didn’t, but I’ve got a feeling that you know something I don’t.”
He leaned back against his chair. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
TWO
She looked stunned. “No.”
“Hey, Stillwater.” Jeff Muller, a patrolman and fellow soccer dad, walked up to the table. He nodded toward Elena. “You going to the girls’ soccer game this afternoon?”
His daughter, April, and Jeff’s daughter, Melissa, played on the same soccer team, the Red Peppers. They were 9-1 for the season. This was their final game. “I wouldn’t miss it, Jeff. Has your daughter’s injury healed?”
“Yeah. She’s only got a few scabs left, but she’s ready to play.”
“I’ll see you at the field at five.”
Jeff nodded and walked off.
When Daniel looked back at Elena, he saw her struggling with the information he’d just dropped about Joyce. She was either a good actress or the info came as a total shock. His heart wanted to believe it was surprise, but his brain argued she could be acting.
Of course, he was fighting an unseen enemy—attraction.
She was the first woman who’d grabbed his attention since his wife’s death. He’d found himself looking forward to seeing her today. Of course his reaction could be a combination of tiredness and hunger.
Liar, a voice in his head whispered.
“Are you sure you have the right woman?” she carefully asked.
They’d taken the dead woman’s prints and run them through their AFIS computer system. Joyce Murphy’s name and mug shot had popped up. “I’m sure. She’d been convicted of passing counterfeit money.”
Elena’s mouth fell open.
“So my news comes as a big surprise,” he continued.
That jerked her out of her fog.
“Of course.” She shook her head. “I never knew. She was a trusted employee. I’m sure my parents didn’t know about her past. She was the only employee my parents had over the past few years, with the exception of my brother, Adrian, and me. Joyce was there for my mom when Dad had his heart attack and has helped since his death.”
Elena’s impression of Joyce didn’t sound as though she continued her criminal ways. “Did your parents ever mention a concern about Joyce?”
“They never said anything to me. You could call my brother in Seattle to see if they mentioned anything to him. Of course, he left home before I did.”
Elena’s phone rang. She dug around in her purse and grabbed it. “Hi, Mom. No, I’m with Detective Stillwater.” She looked up at him. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
He watched her face as she listened to the answer.
“You did, but I don’t—” Her hand curled into a fist. “Okay. No, I’ll be at the shop in a few minutes.” She closed her phone and carefully placed it in her purse. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “Mom knew about Joyce’s past. Are we finished? I need to meet her.”
“We are for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might have more questions as the investigation goes along.”
She nodded, gathered her purse, and left. He carefully observed her. He’d checked out her background. Elena Segura Jackson had no criminal record. Adopted at the age of ten by the Jacksons after the trauma of seeing her mother murdered by her father, she’d had a normal life with teenage rebellion. She had one ticket for speeding, but that was it. Her college records showed her as an A student and her move to New York had been uneventful as far as law enforcement was concerned. He needed to interview the mother and brother. It might turn up something.
There was something that bothered him. It was this attraction thing. What he needed to do was to chalk it up to too little sleep.
His cell rang.
“Hey, Dad, are you going to be home before I leave for school?” April asked.
“I’m on my way, now, sweetie.”
“Good. Grandma wants you to bring home some milk. She says you won’t mind.”
He laughed. His mother’s friend, Rosalyn Mendoza, had come to his rescue when he came home from his unit in Afghanistan to take care of his wife, who had breast cancer, and daughter. His own mother had died before his daughter was born, but Rosalyn had adopted his daughter as if she were her own granddaughter. April only knew Rosalyn as her grandma. “You tell her I’ll bring the milk. If she’s plays her cards just right, I might bring home some apricot empanadas from Juan’s.” He knew the baked turnover was a favorite of his daughter’s.
April cheered. “Hurry home.”
He laughed. “You just want the empanadas before you go to school.”
“No, Dad, it’s you I want to see.”
Her words brought on bittersweet pain that reminded him of how little he’d given his daughter over the years. But with the Lord’s help, that would change.
Getting off the bus at the northwest corner of Amarillo Plaza, Elena tried to put aside the fear gnawing at her. She didn’t want to think about what happened last night, but it seemed to race after her like a stalker. Hurrying past Mama Rosa’s Cantina on the corner, Elena walked toward Past Treasures on the north side of the central plaza in old town Santa Fe. This square was part of the original city, built with adobe. Wooden beams used to construct the adobe stores were used to support the new wooden awning built to give shoppers shade in the middle of a blistering day. In the center of the square, old hitching posts were left to emphasize the history of the area.
When she got to the shop, there was nothing there to indicate a murder had occurred within those walls. All the police tape was down, but the door remained locked. She found the keys in her purse and opened the door.
With her hand on the knob, she prayed, “Lord, give me strength.” Slowly, she entered the building. Her gaze scanned the room. The police had moved things, and there was black powder on several pieces of furniture and the back door.
Walking into the room, she heard voices coming from the janitor’s closet at the back of the store.
“You don’t have to do that yourself, Diane. Call your experts that deal with rugs.”
From the voice, Elena recognized Preston Jones, the owner of the art gallery next door. Preston dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.
The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.
“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”
“The bus.”
Preston and Cam appeared behind her mother.
“How are you doing?” Cam asked, coming to her side. In his early fifties, he was a hippie, who came to Santa Fe in the early seventies and never left. He still bore some of his rebellious attitude toward the establishment and wore what was left of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. His designs had become famous, and he’d developed a wide following. He was also a major dealer of native jewelry created by local artisans.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he hugged her.
She stiffened. “I’m okay.” She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. When he released her, she stepped back.
Preston caught her gaze. “Are you sure?” He was the polar opposite of Cam. Preston Jones was tall, with a hundred-dollar haircut and clothes of the Hollywood elite, silk shirts and designer pants. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would help scrub this room. He’d probably give the sponge to her mother or Cam and then supervise.
“I can’t believe what happened here.” Cam looked around the room. “When I arrived this morning, the last of the cops were driving off. No one would tell me anything until your mom got here.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would anyone want to harm Joyce?”
Elena looked at her mother. They needed to talk.
“Guys, Mom and I need a few minutes,” Elena informed them.
The men glanced at Diane and she nodded.
Cam rested his hand on Elena’s arm. “If there’s anything that I can do, you let me know.”
She appreciated Cam. He’d been a rock when her father died. Those first few days after she arrived home from New York City had been hectic, but if something needed to be done, Cam had stepped up and helped until Adrian had arrived from Seattle.
Preston nodded. “Those are my sentiments, too. If you need anything, call.”
After the men left, Diane turned back to her daughter. “How are you?”
Elena sat down in the old rocker they’d recently acquired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go get my keys and purse from the cops. Detective Stillwater was still there.”
Diane sat on the coffee table next to the rocker. “And—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Joyce’s police record?”
Diane looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t my secret.”
“You didn’t think I needed to know?”
“At the time, no.” When Diane looked up again, she grabbed Elena’s hand. “Do you remember when your father worked in the prison ministry?”
“Vaguely.”
“It was something he had a passion for. He met Joyce while she was still incarcerated for helping her ex-husband to pass counterfeit twenties. Apparently her ex-husband convinced her to pass some of the funny money.”
“She knew that money wasn’t real?”
“Yes. When Joyce came up for probation, your dad was contacted and asked if he would sponsor her.”
“So he agreed?”
“Yes. He believed Joyce had turned her life around and wanted to give her a new start. Your father trusted her. His trust was rewarded. Besides, your father’s faith in her led her back to church.”
Elena wasn’t surprised by the news. Phillip Jackson had been a mighty man of God with a heart that encompassed all around him. He’d been a tall man, with a full head of black hair. His laugh had been a thing of pure joy, and his smile had eased her heart more than once. When the Jacksons had first adopted her, she remembered how nervous she was around Phillip, worried that his temper would flare out of control. That had been her experience with her birth father. He would rage, shout and strike out. If he was mad, everyone in the family knew to hide.
Elena remembered the first time she’d disobeyed Phillip. She’d been in the antique store and spilled her purple grape soda on her father’s desk. She knew the rule about not bringing drinks into the office. When Phillip had discovered it, he’d been livid. He’d yelled and approached her. She covered her head with her hands expecting a blow. When nothing happened, she peeked through her fingers. Her father’s stricken expression shocked her. He squatted before her and waited.
It took several minutes, but she lowered her hands. He then said the most amazing thing. “I’m sorry, Elena.” She hadn’t believed her ears.
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