by Donna Fasano
He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he gathered his things together. Wouldn't it be ironic if she were to drive up in a car that she'd claimed had been disabled by hooligan teens? He'd had things like that happen in the past. Yet again, her claim could be quite legitimate. Her car could very well have been tampered with during the night by a gang of rowdy neighborhood kids.
Before heading toward the house, Reece made sure he had his phone and checked to make sure it was fully charged. Those smart phone cameras were the best invention. Documentation was everything in his line of business.
No sooner had he rung the bell than the door swung open.
Reece stood there, having to actually study the woman a moment to be sure she was the same Maggie Dunlap who had been in his office just last week. The velvety peach skin he remembered was now milky pale, her green gaze hauntingly suspicious. She darted a quick glance over his shoulder, toward his car, then to the opposite side of the property before she looked at his face again. The dark smudges under her eyes made him frown.
"Uh...Maggie?" he said when she didn't greet him. "You were expecting me, right?"
"Yes."
She nodded, and he couldn't help but notice how jerky and unnatural the movement seemed.
Then she gave a tired sigh. "Well, I did forget, but...I was told you were coming."
Maggie hesitated, as if she'd just remembered something important.
"Wait there just a minute," she told him.
Through the screen door, Reece watched as she went to the small desk that sat against the far wall of the living room. Her back was to him, but he could see her open the topmost drawer and place something inside before sliding it closed. She turned and came back to the door.
"Come in," she said, pushing wide the screen. "I'm glad you're here to look at my car."
Reece moved into the living room, but the fact that she took a second to scan the front lawn before closing the front door didn't escape him.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
Her gaze narrowed the slightest bit—something he took as a silent challenge. It was clear she didn't want him asking questions. It was too bad that that's just what he was here to do.
He shrugged. "You just seem a little... edgy."
"Everything's great."
But the expression she forced into her tone let him know everything was anything but great.
"Everything's fine. Let's go look at the car."
She went past him, and he followed.
"It's in the garage," she said as she passed through the kitchen.
They went down the hall, through the kitchen and a small laundry room, and Reece was impressed by how orderly and neat the house was. And when she opened the door that led to the garage, the tidy condition of the area told him that Maggie Dunlap was a highly organized person. Just like himself. His own garage was meticulously kept. A place for every tool, and every tool in its place. He kept his home the same way. It was a quirk for which he took a great deal of good-natured harassment from his friends, Jason and Derrick.
He silently followed Maggie around to the far side of the car, and just as he was about to ask her to explain the problem, he saw it.
The pile of sand that sat on the floor of the garage was fairly large. A set of keys dangled from the lock on the open gas cap.
"This happened inside the garage?" Reece couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. "And I see that whoever did this got hold of your keys."
Maggie only nodded, her lips pressed together tightly as her face paled further.
"Did you leave the garage open last night?"
"No."
A frown of bewilderment bit deeply into his brow.
"I don't understand how this happened," he said. "What did the police have to say?"
The silence that filled the room made him feel uneasy.
"Maggie?" He stood stock still. "You did call the police, didn't you?"
Her gaze never wavered from his. Reece watched as her tongue darted out to smooth across her lips, and then the muscles in her long, elegant neck tensed as she swallowed.
"Maggie?"
The sharpness in his tone made her emerald eyes narrow, but she remained stubbornly silent.
"Why?" he asked, the tiny word sounding incredulous and husky even to his own ears. "Why would you not call the police?"
She studied him, and it seemed as though a thousand thoughts were flying through her head.
Finally, her chin lifted a fraction. "Look, I just don't have any answers for you."
She became agitated, more upset with each word she spoke.
"Please..."
Reece saw her chin tremble with emotion. The sight made his mouth go dry. She was fighting emotion with everything she had in her.
"Just take your pictures and... fill out your paperwork. Just do your job and leave me alone!"
She turned and stormed out of the garage and into the house.
The sand on the concrete floor ground underfoot as he stepped toward the car. What the hell was going on here? Who would want to do such a thing to her car? Sand dumped in the gas tank was a malicious prank that kids usually played on people they disliked. What could the woman have done to evoke this kind of behavior from someone?
Of course, she could she have done it herself. But why?
He set his satchel on a nearby shelf. She was already suspected of destroying her own camcorder. Why not go for a new car, too?
The idea just didn't ring true, he decided. Maybe he could think such a thing if the car were older. But noting the make and model on the driver-side door panel, he realized that it had been purchased just last year. Maggie was most certainly still making payments. And she just didn't strike him as being stupid enough to try to pull a stunt like this.
Besides, there was something different about Maggie Dunlap. She was edgy. But it wasn't the kind of edginess that was brought on by a guilty conscience. He'd seen that in people often enough to recognize it. No, Maggie was acting jumpy. Nervous.
Afraid.
As the word floated into his brain, Reece opened up his satchel and pulled out some forms. He looked once again at the pile of sand at his feet, rubbing his fingers back and forth across his jaw in worried contemplation.
* * *
"I think I have everything I need." Reece came into the kitchen, and Maggie looked up at him from where she sat at the oval-shaped oak table.
"However," he went on, "I do have a few questions that need answering."
Her fingers tensed around the mug she held. "Somehow, I was certain you would." The sigh she heaved sounded weary. "Sit down. Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Or would you rather have something cold... a soda?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you." He pulled out a chair and sat down directly across from her. There were several sections on the claim form that needed filling out, but those could wait.
The questions he wanted to ask, the concern he wanted to impart, had nothing to do with car insurance or claim forms. Maggie Dunlap was in some kind of trouble, and he had an overwhelming urge to know what it was.
Bending forward just a little, Reece rested his elbows on the tabletop. "Maggie—"
"Don't."
Her gaze pierced him like tiny, razor-sharp needles, and the negativity pouring from her caused him to sit back in the chair.
"Let's keep this simple," she told him quietly, "and professional. Don't ask me any questions of a personal nature."
Okay, Reece, he told himself. She's made it abundantly clear she's not interested in your concern. He couldn't help feeling insulted by her rejection. And slightly embarrassed by it too. It was almost as if he'd reached his hand out to the woman, and she'd slapped it aside.
And just like any other red-blooded male, he did what came naturally—he got annoyed. Oh, it wasn't the kind of irritation that flared up and made a man say things he didn't mean. It was more slow-burning, a simmering just below the surface.
&nb
sp; "Simple and professional," he said, keeping his tone as even as he could. "I think I can handle that."
The kitchen was quiet a moment, then she replied, "I was certain you could."
But could he?
There were... things... strange currents that swirled around them. The very air was heavy with unmentioned strain. Ineffable emotion snapped like sparks. Was he sensing the edginess and fear emanating from Maggie? Or was it something else, something between the two of them that churned up the atmosphere?
As if the silent question were some sort of catalyst, the air felt as though it shimmered, like heat lightning in the summer, rumbling thunder following on its heels.
To sit here and ignore this... this invisible storm seemed ludicrous to Reece.
He set his case on the table, unfastened the latch and pulled it open. The paperwork he needed was right at hand, and he slid the folder out, setting it in front of him on the table.
"This damage to your car," he began, "is covered. Vandalism, fire and theft are covered one hundred percent."
Her overwhelming relief at his words had her breath leaving her in an audible exhalation, and she sank against the back of the chair.
"Thank God," she whispered.
"However..."
His grave tone was like a powerful magnet that attracted her gaze to his in a flash. She became utterly still, every muscle in her body tensed as she waited for him to go on.
"Without a police report, you can't expect my company to file this claim as vandalism."
She didn't speak for a moment. Her eyes dipped down toward the ceramic mug. And when she looked at him, her gaze was shadowed with the same haunted look he'd noticed when he arrived.
"You know I didn't do that to my own car."
He nodded slowly, and then he sighed. "I do, and I don't mean to be the bad guy here. I'm only trying to do my job."
Again, she studied him. The unseen, unheard flickers of energy tightened and burst and recoiled around them, between them. And yet again, he felt a tremendous urge to get involved in this lady's troubles, to ask her what was going on in her life, to offer some sort of help, or solace, or advice. Something.
Damn it! he silently railed at himself. She'd made it perfectly clear she wasn't interested in his help. Hell, this was a woman sitting here in front of him. A woman! he reminded himself. And he'd never met a woman yet who wasn't secretive, and conniving, and out for just what she could get for herself.
"So, where does that leave me?"
The heated velvet of her voice wrapped him in a balmy blanket, soothing the cursing and spitting viciousness of his thoughts. Immediately, he felt chagrined, almost embarrassed by the fact that he'd allowed himself to veer so far off track.
Simple and professional. He repeated the words several times in his head. He could do this. He could look at Maggie Dunlap and see her—not as a beautiful woman in obvious trouble—but as a policy holder in need of his services as an employee of her insurance company. He would do it!
"Well," he began, "as I said, the damage is covered. But without a police report, I'll have to place the claim under comprehensive. That means we'll tow the car, have the gas tank and gas line replaced... we'll even pay for a rental until your car is ready." He hesitated before delivering the bad news. "But you will be responsible for your deductible. And that amounts to the first five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred dollars?" Her green eyes went wide. "I don't have the first five dollars, let alone the first five hundred."
Tapered fingertips smoothed gracefully back and forth across her forehead. "What the heck am I supposed to do? Without my car? Without my camcorder?"
Her questions were rhetorical, he knew. And he was just as certain that she wasn't even speaking to him.
"I mean—" her jewel green eyes were filled with worry when she looked at him "—I can live without the camcorder if I have to," she said. "I'll take still shots with my 35 mm." Then she shook her head. "But I can't possibly do my job without my car. I simply—" her hands flung out "—can't."
An odd metallic sound interrupted them. Reece wasn't startled so much by the noise; however, Maggie's violent reaction to it had him completely baffled.
"What—?"
"Shh, shh," she commanded quietly, every muscle in her slim body going rigid, her eyes alert.
She reached up along the wall and flipped off the overhead light.
"Stay here," she whispered.
"But, Maggie—"
Her eyes widened in silent warning, cutting off further speech. She slipped from her chair without a sound and left him sitting in the gloomy light all alone.
"I'll be damned if she's not a crazy woman," he muttered as he got up and moved across the room to look out the small kitchen window.
The backyard was wooded and shrouded in dusky shadows. He craned his neck to look, first in one direction and then the other, but he wasn't able to see a thing. He went out through the laundry room to the back door, opened it and stepped out into the warm summer evening.
It was a nice yard. A little overgrown maybe, but the trees and full, unpruned bushes gave everything a wild and woodsy feel. He liked it.
Reece stopped short when he heard the scrabbling metallic sound again. His gaze traveled up along one corner of the house. He grinned at what he saw there.
"I told you to stay in the kitchen!"
Maggie's harsh whisper took him completely by surprise, and his smile faded.
"Get in here!"
Her tone was just a little louder this time, and as he saw her standing there at the screen door, there was something about the stiff set of her shoulders that made him frown. He went up the concrete porch steps.
As he got closer, he recognized the look in her eyes as sheer panic. Her face was a ghostly white, her facial muscles taut.
"It's okay," he assured her.
"Get inside."
He pulled open the door and stepped into the house. "Maggie, what—?"
The sight of the pistol in her hand dissolved the rest of his words. He simply looked at her peering out at the yard, at some unseen... attacker... or intruder.
The idea that someone had made this woman so afraid that she'd rushed to grab a gun—a gun!—at the least noise enraged him. And the fact that he had wanted her to confide in him, he'd wanted to offer her some kind of help and she'd flat out refused him only made him want to vent his anger on her. It wasn't logical; he knew that for damned sure. But who the hell bothered with logic at a time like this?
"It's a damned squirrel," he snapped.
He took her by the upper arm, shoved open the screen door and pulled her into the backyard. She followed him on legs as unyielding as wooden sticks.
When he got far enough from the house to see the corner of the roof, he pointed.
"See?" His eyes darted to the bushy-tailed squirrel that sat frozen in place. "A damned squirrel! Hunting for a damned acorn in the damned gutter! What are you going to do, Maggie? Shoot it?"
The daylight was almost completely gone now, and Reece glared down into Maggie's gaunt, frozen features. She appeared to be in some kind of fear-induced trance that had each and every muscle and tendon stiff and ready to react.
Suddenly, her entire body began to tremble. Her gaze bounced from the corner of the house where the squirrel had just scampered away, to his face and then back to the corner of the house. When her chin quivered, she clamped her bottom lip between her teeth in an obvious effort to control herself. Still, the anger that filled him was enough to make him want to shake her.
However, her tears were his undoing. Fat tears welled and glittered in her eyes and rolled slowly down her pale cheeks, scalding the icy layer of anger that surrounded his heart, melting the irrational fury that had him snarling at her.
Couldn't he see that what she needed was just a little comforting?
No sooner had the question flitted through his mind than he was wrapping her in his arms.
"It's okay," he crooned
. "It's going to be okay."
He wasn't surprised when she crumpled against his chest. Maybe he should have been, but he wasn't.
"It isn't okay." Her voiced cracked with a suppressed sob. "It isn't."
Reece felt her hands grip his back as she seemed to hold on for dear life.
"Someone was in my house, Reece," she said against his chest. "Someone was in my house while I was asleep."
* * *
He got Maggie into the house and seated once more at the kitchen table. Once the gun had been put away in the desk drawer, Reece flipped on the light directly over the table and then reheated Maggie's mug of tea in the microwave. All the while, she released her pent-up stress with a steady stream of gentle tears. When he placed the steaming mug in front of her, she had stopped crying, but she was trembling so that he had to force himself not to reach out and take her in his arms again. The woman was absolutely scared to death.
"There was a trail of sand—" her tone held a thin, ghostly quality that made the hairs at the base of Reece's skull stand on end "—from the garage, through the kitchen and hall and up the stairs." Maggie stared off into one corner of the darkened room. "Whoever was inside left a nice little pile of sand right outside my bedroom door."
Reece breathed a curse under his breath as he absently slid into a chair across from her, a dozen questions flooding his brain.
"It was… I was… You have no idea how badly it freaked me out," she rambled on. "I mean, I knew someone had been coming in. From the little things that had been moved... tampered with. It took me a while to figure it out. But he wanted me to know. It was always when I wasn't home. I never had a problem while I was here—"
"This wasn't the first time? You knew someone was breaking in?" His voice was sharp as the questions burst from him. "Who the hell would do such a thing? Why didn't you call the police?"
Her gaze rose to his face. "They already believe I'm a nutcase. The officers who were here practically came right out and accused me of burning up my camcorder." Her tone lowered as she added, "So did you."
"But..."
"I'm not going to call the police and be humiliated again." Her gaze averted to the shadowed recesses of the far end of the kitchen. "I can take care of myself."
