Desperate Intentions (HQR Intrigue)

by Carla Cassidy

  So if she slept with Troy there would be no promise of commitment. There wouldn’t even be an assurance that they would see each other again in a dating capacity. Could she live with that? She didn’t know. All she did know was it was time to get busy making the evening meal.

  Before she could get started, the doorbell rang. She opened the door to a fiftysomething man. His dark brown uniform shirt pulled taut around his bulky upper arms and his uniform pants appeared to be about an inch or so too short. An emblem on the shirt pocket was that of the electric company.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. He smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach the darkness of his eyes. “Are you Eliza Burke?”

  “Yes, I am. May I help you?” she asked, oddly grateful there was a locked screen door between them.

  “Sorry to bother you on this fine afternoon, but your electric meter has stopped registering correctly and I need to come inside and check out some of your wiring.”

  She looked past him to the white panel van that was parked in her driveway. There were no markings identifying the van as belonging to any company. That, coupled with his slightly ill-kempt appearance, caused little alarm bells to ring loudly in her head.

  “Can I see some kind of identification?” she asked.

  He pulled a frayed black wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open and showed it to her. It appeared to be a legitimate Kansas City Power and Light photo identification.

  According to the ID his name was Max Sampson and he’d been a KCPL worker for the past five years. Still, her sense of unease wasn’t allayed. She, more than most people, with her experience on the web, knew how easy it was to make and laminate a badge or an identification card that would look realistic. Besides, she’d never heard of an electric company working on Sundays unless it was an emergency. Her power was working just fine so there was definitely no emergency.

  “Now, can I come in and get to work?” he asked as he re-pocketed his wallet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m having a dinner party and my guests will be arriving anytime. Now isn’t convenient for me. Could you have somebody call me tomorrow to set up an appointment?”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t interfere with your dinner party.”

  “I would prefer we don’t do this now,” she replied.

  His frown deepened. “You could go ahead and make the appointment with me right now.”

  “I’m sorry, but this really isn’t convenient for me right now,” she repeated more firmly. “Just have somebody call me tomorrow.” She closed the door and locked it, her heart beating a slightly accelerated rhythm.

  She moved from the door to the window and released a sigh of relief as she watched him walk across the lawn to his van. She continued to watch as he backed out of the driveway and then disappeared down the block.

  She wasn’t sure why, but all her instincts had been to keep him out of the house. He’d been wearing the right uniform and had what appeared to be proper identification, but that hadn’t mattered. Something had felt off and she never ignored her gut instinct.

  She immediately went into her office and to her computer, where she pulled up the home page for Kansas City Power and Light. She called the contact number the web page displayed.

  After four rings a woman answered and identified herself as Jennifer Belvin. Eliza explained the situation and when she was finished there was a long moment of silence.

  “Are you sure he was from Kansas City Power and Light?” Jennifer finally asked.

  “That’s what he said. He was wearing a dark brown uniform and he had an identification card with the KCPL logo on it.”

  “Did you call for service?”

  “No,” Eliza replied. “As far as I’m concerned everything in my home has been working just fine.”

  “If it was a meter issue there’s no reason for the technician to come into your house. The meter is outside,” Jennifer replied. “Please just give me a minute to check a few things.”

  “Thank you.” As Eliza waited to the sound of some unidentifiable music, a fluttery fear once again rose up inside her.

  She tried to calm herself. Maybe it was just some sort of a crazy mistake. Perhaps Max Sampson had the address wrong. Surely these kinds of things happened occasionally.

  And yet he’d known her name.

  “Ma’am?” Jennifer came back on the line.

  “Yes, I’m here,” Eliza replied.

  “We have no record of any problems with your meter and we didn’t send a technician to your home. If I were you I might think about calling the police, and I’ll make a note of this issue here.”

  “Thank you.” Eliza hung up and moved to the window, the fear moving up the back of her throat and squeezing tight. There was no sign of the white van, but that certainly didn’t ease her concern.

  She doubted that the man’s name was really Max Sampson. So who was he and what had he really wanted? Why had he wanted to come into her house?

  There was no reason for the police to come to her house. She had no idea where the man in the white van had gone, but she definitely wanted to make a report of what had just happened.

  It was possible the man was some kind of a predator with a list of single women’s names and addresses in his pocket. If he had gained entry would he have robbed her? Raped her?

  Her heart nearly stopped as she thought of her babies upstairs. What would he do with them if he’d gotten inside? A chill of horror worked up her spine.

  Would somebody call her tomorrow and set up an appointment? If anyone called, she wouldn’t believe they were who they claimed to be. There was no way she was opening her door tomorrow or any other day to a “technician” from the electric company.

  Instead of calling 911, she got on the computer and found out the phone number to the nearest police station. She was in no imminent danger and didn’t want to tie up an emergency operator.

  After she made the report, she climbed the stairs, suddenly needing to see Katie and Sammy. They were in Sammy’s room playing with miniature cars.

  “I have the police car and I had to give Sammy a ticket for speeding,” Katie said with a giggle.

  Eliza fought the impulse to grab both of her kids and give each of them the biggest hug in the world. But they were laughing and having fun and she didn’t want them to feel any of the negative tension that still roared through her.

  “Remember when you got a speeding ticket, Mommy?” Sammy asked.

  “You were mad,” Katie said.

  “I was mad at myself, not the police officer who gave me the ticket. Speeding is a bad thing to do. You should always drive under the speed limit,” she replied. “And now I’m going to get busy cooking dinner.”

  “And Mr. Troy is coming over,” Katie replied. She and her brother clapped their hands together, obviously happy to share dinner with their favorite neighbor.

  Before heading into the kitchen, Eliza went back downstairs and to the front window. She gazed up and down the street, looking for the white panel van, but she saw nothing to cause her alarm. Still, as she got started on the cooking, she occasionally wandered back to the front window just to check. At one point a police car drove by and she was grateful that they were in the area.

  As she worked on the sweet-and-sour chicken she had promised Troy, her thoughts turned to the mission for the night. She was almost afraid of what they might find out about Frank Malone.

  The more she thought about it the more she realized Blake hadn’t told her too much about the grandfather who had raised him. She knew that Frank and his wife had divorced when Blake was nine and he’d never seen his grandmother again.

  Eliza had spent time with Frank twice early in her marriage and both times he’d seemed like an affable old man who had entertained them over dinner with stories about Blake’s childhood.

  She wasn’t sure
what she feared finding out. The house had felt like such a gift when she’d learned it had been left to her. She just hoped it didn’t turn out to be some sort of a curse.

  The meal was ready to serve at five o’clock when Troy arrived. “This looks great,” he said when she set his plate in front of him.

  “We like Mommy’s sweet-and-sour better than Mr. Chow’s,” Katie said, referencing a nearby restaurant.

  “I like the pineapple pieces best of all,” Sammy added.

  Troy smiled at her. “You definitely have a fan club here.”

  She laughed. “They know where their bread is buttered.” As always when she was around him, little butterflies danced in her stomach. He looked so handsome seated across the table from her with his blue-striped shirt enhancing the blue of his eyes.

  Even more attractive was how normal it felt for him to be seated at the table and chatting with the children. It was obvious the kids adored him and Eliza could definitely get used to him being here all the time.

  Too fast, she reminded herself. She was thinking about a future that had nothing to do with reality. She didn’t even know if Troy was interested in any kind of a long-term relationship with her.

  She hadn’t intended on dating while Katie and Sammy were young, but Troy had appeared out of nowhere. His presence made her realize how hungry she was for a relationship and how she ached to be loved. She had never truly felt that way during her marriage. She’d also like it if her children would have a loving, supportive male figure in their lives.

  However, she had to tread carefully with Troy. She would hate to fall into a relationship with him when she wasn’t ready or they both weren’t on the same page. She would definitely hate to lose him as a valued and caring neighbor, and it would be far too easy to have a failed relationship with him that made it impossible for them to even remain friends. That was the last thing she wanted to happen.

  Dinner conversation revolved around school, the kids’ friends, and all the manners they were teaching Dolly Isabella. Troy began to make up goofy manners, making them all laugh.

  “That was one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten,” he said later as they cleared the dishes. The kids had gone into the living room for some television time, after which it would be bath and bedtime for them.

  “Thanks. I do enjoy cooking.”

  “It shows,” he replied.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “That sounds good,” he replied.

  She fixed the coffee and then joined him at the table. “You definitely entertained us throughout the meal.”

  He grinned. “I was a bit silly, but it’s fun to make the kids laugh.”

  “They can be pretty goofy themselves,” she replied, then sobered. “Something strange happened today.”

  “What’s that?” One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward.

  As she told him about the man who had pretended to be a KCPL worker, his eyes darkened. “Thank God you followed your instincts and didn’t let him in,” he said when she’d finished. “Did you call the police?”

  “I did. They took an official report over the phone and told me it might have been an attempt at some kind of a home invasion or robbery. The officer I spoke to said the bad guys are getting more and more innovative when it comes to committing their crimes.”

  “Terrific,” he replied drily. “Just what we need...criminals getting smarter.”

  “Hopefully the police are keeping an eye out for this guy so he won’t get a chance to prey on anyone else.” She fought against a chill that suddenly threatened to walk up her spine.

  “I’m sure there’s probably a patrol car in the area keeping an eye out,” he replied. “So, are you ready to see what we can find out about the man who left you this house?” he asked.

  She took a sip of her coffee and then set down her cup. “To be honest, I’m almost afraid of what we might find out. Maybe he was a big crime lord back in the day. Or maybe he was some kind of a serial killer and there are ghosts of dead people roaming around in here at night.” She released a small laugh at his look of stunned surprise. “Okay, tell me I’m crazy.”

  He smiled. “I wouldn’t say you’re crazy, but I definitely will say you have a big imagination.” He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  She frowned thoughtfully and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure what I believe when it comes to all the paranormal stuff. All I know for sure is that if this house has ghosts, then they are darned noisy ones.”

  She picked up her coffee cup once again. A sense of inexplicable dread coursed through her. “Shall we head into my office and see if we can find where the dead bodies are buried?”

  * * *

  ELIZA SAT IN her office chair and Troy sat right next to her in a straight-backed one he’d brought from the kitchen. As always when he was near her the scent of her stirred him, creating an itch inside him he wanted her to scratch.

  What surprised him as much as anything was that his attraction to her wasn’t just a sexual one, although that was certainly strong. He also loved the sound of her laughter and how easily she laughed.

  He admired the work ethic that had financially taken care of her and her two children when her marriage had fallen apart. He especially liked the fierce love she had for her children and wondered what it would be like to be loved that way.

  He’d loved his wife, and he believed she’d loved him, but when he’d needed her the most she’d turned her back on him. There had been no love, no forgiveness at all in her heart for him. She’d blamed him for their daughter’s murder and her love had turned to hate for him.

  Sherry had been hurting as deeply as he had, but instead of getting through it together, she’d chosen to blame and hate.

  “So, tell me more about your fear of ghosts,” he said once they were settled in. He needed something to take away his thoughts of the past. “Are you also afraid to walk in a cemetery after dark? Do you hold your breath when a hearse goes by?”

  “Now you’re making fun of me,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Maybe just a little.” He took a sip of his coffee. “What are you really afraid of, Eliza Burke?”

  She leaned back in the chair and looked at him thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I’ll die while my children still need me. I’m afraid something will happen and I won’t be able to support them. And cats... I’m deathly afraid of cats.”

  “Really? Cats?” He looked at her in surprise. “I thought all women liked cats.”

  “Not this woman. I was traumatized by my grandmother’s cat every time I went to visit her. Sweetkins was a loving kitty according to my grandma, but I thought she was a demon from the very depths of hell. She spent the entire time I was at my grandma’s house hiding and then jumping out at me when I least expected it. Grandma would tell me she wanted to play, but I was terrified of little Sweetkins.”

  He laughed, delighted by the small glimpse into her childhood. “So, you were close to your grandmother?”

  “Yes. She was my grandmother on my father’s side and she and my grandpa lived on a farm in western Kansas. Every summer I’d spend a couple of weeks with them. Grandma would take me out to pick tomatoes or green beans and my grandpa would let me ride on the tractor with him. It always felt like an adventure being with them.”

  “That’s nice. I didn’t know my grandparents,” he replied. “They were all already gone when I was born.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “That’s life,” he replied with a small shrug.

  “So, Mr. Troy Anderson, tell me what you’re afraid of,” she said. She picked up her coffee cup and her beautiful eyes gazed at him curiously as she looked at him over the brim.

  He couldn’t tell her that he feared a grief-stricken man had gone off the rails and now might want him and four other men dead. He co
uldn’t share anything about the murder pact he’d made while he’d been in the very depths of hell.

  He also wasn’t willing to share with her that he was terrified of loving again. He was enjoying their relationship, but certainly didn’t intend to put his heart on the line ever again.

  “I’ve already lived my worst fear,” he finally replied. “So now I’m not afraid of much of anything.” He cleared his throat as emotion attempted to rise up in him.

  She reached out and covered his hand with hers on the top of the desk. That simple touch warmed the ice that had threatened to consume him. She had pretty hands with slender fingers and nails painted a pastel pink. They were warm and seemed to transmit comfort.

  For a moment neither of them spoke. Finally it was he who found his voice once again. “So, any word from Leon the creep?” he asked.

  “No, thankfully.” She removed her hand from his.

  “I imagine he decided to fly right once the police visited his house.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Your showing up with a gun might have had something to do with his sudden change of heart.”

  “Thank God I didn’t have to actually use it. It’s been packed away in my bedroom nightstand for several years and there weren’t even any bullets in it.”

  She laughed, that full-bodied sound that he loved to hear. “So you were all bluster and no bite.”

  “If he would have touched you in any way, you would have definitely seen my bite,” he replied. For a moment their gazes locked. Oh, how easily he could fall into the soft gray depths of her eyes.

  She cleared her throat and broke the gaze. “Let’s get this started.” He leaned toward her as she typed Frank Malone’s name into the search bar. The screen filled with hits. Frank Malone was a lawyer in Seattle, Washington. He was a blues singer in Tennessee. He was the mayor of a small town in Maine.

  She shook her head. “That was silly of me. Obviously I need to narrow the search to Kansas City.” Her slender fingers flew over the keyboard once again.