That Was Yesterday

by Vella Munn

  “I wish you could.”

  He sounded as if he wanted things to be easier for her. Mara reacted to that simple and necessary fact. She tried to tell herself it was the only thing she was reacting to. “Why?”

  “Because that animal put you through hell.”

  A few minutes ago Reed had struck at her and her family and everything she’d spent her life building and committing herself to. She’d come close to hating him for that. She blamed him for her wild, frightened reaction to nothing more sinister than finding no one on the phone a minute ago. And yet he cared; she knew he cared. Suddenly she was a breath away from crying. “Hell,” Mara whispered. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “I think it’s the only way. You were ragged around the edges.”

  “Maybe. I’m pulling myself back together.” Was she? Would he sense that she wasn’t sure of her answer?

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “It was a shock. I won’t deny that. But—” She was babbling, telling him too much. “So. What happens now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mara pulled her strength around her. She’d be spending the night with Clint. Safe, strong Clint who knew what she needed better than she did and made no demands on her. And, as soon as she’d put her “adventure” into perspective, she’d tell her family about it. If she could contemplate that, certainly she could continue this conversation. She would reclaim her equilibrium where Reed Steward was concerned.

  Finally she did as he suggested and sat down. This was her turf. She could dictate what was said. And she wouldn’t try to look below Reed’s surface story. “I don’t understand. First you ask me to get involved in something illegal. Then, when I threaten to throw you out, you change your tactics. You’re telling me you had legitimate business with the police.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes isn’t enough.”

  “No. I don’t imagine it is.” When Reed leaned forward, Mara held her ground and stilled the impulse to touch Lobo. It wasn’t that she feared Reed. But he was too masculine, too rough for the gentle surroundings she’d created. Everything he said, every gesture, left her feeling like a twig caught in an advancing tide. But certainly she could handle a simple conversation. “I’m in a sensitive position, Mara,” he went on. “What I said about connections you might have— I had to feel you out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s the nature of the investigation I’m involved in.”

  “Investigation?” A few nights ago she’d walked out of a grocery store and into a nightmare, and now a man had shown up asking bizarre questions and talking about investigations. If it wasn’t all so deadly serious, she would have laughed.

  “If you want, I’ll give you the name of a police captain. He’ll vouch for me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you want his name?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” Mara said. Her declaration was more to keep distance between them than to answer his question. “Are you going to continue taking my course?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need your expertise.”

  “Even if you don’t like skids?”

  “It showed, did it? Mara, I’m hoping there are things you can teach me about evasive action. Survival tactics.”

  Mara hadn’t been able to push her thoughts fast enough to anticipate anything, and yet now that Reed had said the words, they made sense. His cool, almost detached gaze took in a great deal more than it revealed. What little he did expose was calculated. He was telling her nearly nothing, only that to stay alive he needed certain cards stacked in his favor.

  He’d told her only that there was a policeman who would vouch for him, and now he was asking her to assist him.

  “I have to have more than that,” she told him.

  “I understand how you feel.”

  “I don’t think you do, Reed. I run a legitimate business. If you won’t tell me what this is about, then I don’t want to work with you.”

  “You aren’t making this easy for me.”

  Mara shrugged. It wasn’t her job to drag more out of him or to make things easy for him. Her job, if it could be called that, was to try to absorb everything the man was throwing at her. Maybe she should thank him. If nothing else he was giving her more to think about than changing her locks, replacing her credit cards, getting a new driver’s license, wondering when she’d live again in her own home.

  “Mara. I’m not a policeman. I don’t work for the FBI. Nothing that exciting. But—”

  The mobile home creaked. Mara was used to the sound, but for a moment Reed paused. “I’m an investigator,” he said. “I work with auto insurance companies. Something happened… A friend, a very good friend, was hurt. It was a pretty powerful message. It’s possible that my staying alive will depend on my ability to get out of a tight situation. If I’m behind the wheel of a car and someone is after me, it’s vital that I know what I’m doing.”

  Mara shivered. Five years ago she’d seen her father’s car become crumpled tinfoil. Friday night she’d felt cold steel at her throat and thought nothing else could touch her in that way, and still she shivered. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

  “Did you think I was?”

  “No.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  She had. Professionally Mara felt challenged by what he was asking of her. And on a personal level… No. There was no personal level. She couldn’t allow there to be. For reasons she now understood, he’d had to test her. It was essential that he know where she stood, whether she could be trusted. Now he wanted to employ her to provide him with certain skills. Those were the reasons the two of them were talking tonight. The only reasons.

  For the next ten minutes they discussed specifics. What, Reed wanted to know, would Mara suggest if he was being forced off the road. Reed’s eyes answered the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask. He wasn’t talking about remote possibilities. When she was done explaining that a combination of a firm grip on the steering wheel, pumping the brakes, and finally a quick steer back onto the road was his best and probably only recourse, Reed turned to questions about the various evasive actions he could take to avoid a collision.

  “I’d use controlled braking, if I had no other choice.” Mara’s voice was flat. Businesslike. That wasn’t what she was feeling. If she closed her eyes, her mind would settle on an image of Reed trapped behind the wheel of a wrecked car. She kept her eyes open and her mind, she hoped, on nothing. “But if you don’t want to stop—if that constitutes another danger—you’ll want to try a lateral evasive action. It all boils down to one thing. Control of your vehicle. You never want to lose control.”

  “I understand.”

  Mara took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this? You said you aren’t a policeman. Why—”

  “He’s my friend. I owe him more than I can ever repay. He doesn’t see it as a debt, but I do. Maybe this is my way of saying thank you.”

  She shook her head, not understanding, wishing she did. “What you owe him—that extends to risking your own life?”

  “Maybe it does.” Reed said the last so softly that Mara felt more than heard the words.

  “Then I think I envy you. That kind of relationship is rare. Something to be savored.”

  “Yes. It is rare,” Reed said softly. “He cared. That’s what it all boils down to. He cared about me when I needed that.”

  Without asking if he wanted anything, Mara got up and went into the kitchen. She debated between iced tea and wine and settled on tea because they didn’t know each other well enough to be sharing anything else. Still, she was glad they’d come far enough for this.

  When she came back, Reed was looking out at the night. For a moment she simply looked at him, convincing herself that he was real. Then, wanting to be part of his reality, she stepped forward and handed him his glass. He turned and smiled a slow, almost shy smile. “Thank
you,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know.”

  “But you did it.” His smile ebbed but didn’t die. “I’ve been listening to the night. Silence,” he said softly, indicating their surroundings. “Silence has a sound of its own.”

  His philosophical mood knocked Mara off balance. He was right, so right it was almost painful. She wanted to tell him she understood what he was saying, that she too had heard the silence, but if she did, she might reveal too much of herself. And until she understood who she’d become since Friday night, Mara would keep distance between herself and others. It might be hard, but it was better that way.

  “Not having neighbors, that doesn’t bother you?”

  Mara worked on her smile. “It depends on what you mean by neighbors. There are more rabbits than I can count. So cute and curious. So destructive. They’re always after my flowers.”

  “Your dog doesn’t chase them off?”

  “He’s about given up. Besides, I don’t encourage that kind of behavior.”

  “Because he has a more important job. I noticed the picture of your family. Do they live nearby?”

  Without, she hoped, making an issue of it, Mara took a backward step. She was no longer able to see out the window, but it didn’t matter. She knew what black looked and felt like. “They don’t really live anywhere,” she told him. “Mom and Dad have an apartment in San Diego. My brothers have their own places. They share their apartments with a variety of roommates. But those are just places to store their belongings.”

  “Then you’re the one holding down the family fort.”

  “I guess.” Was this what they should be talking about? And if it was, should she do more than give him this unfinished response? Mara found the answer in what little Reed revealed about himself. They had a business relationship, a short, focused business relationship. “They spend most of their time on the racing circuit. Competing the way they do is demanding. It doesn’t make much sense to put a lot of money into a place they’re seldom in.”

  “You don’t race?”

  “No.” Mara wondered if he was going to ask her why. Instead he asked a few questions about the evolution of the school. She kept her answers brief, and he soon stopped.

  “What happens now?” he asked.

  “I don’t understand.” Reed was no longer looking out the window. He’d walked over to her seascape and spent several minutes studying it. Now he turned toward her.

  “Are you going to spend the night here? I talked to the police about what happened. I’m sure you’re aware they don’t have the manpower necessary to turn this into a fortress.”

  Mara swallowed. “I know.”

  “Have you considered moving?”

  “Moving? I’m not rich, Reed. I can’t afford that. I’m having my locks changed tomorrow. I wanted to do it earlier, but I couldn’t get anyone to come all the way out here over the weekend. There’s my dog.”

  “That isn’t enough.”

  “What else would you suggest?”

  “A gun.”

  A gun. Guns were for killing. “I haven’t thought—”

  “Think about it. If you don’t know how to use one, I’ll show you.”

  This was insane. She didn’t know who this man was, not really. Yet he was standing here telling her he’d teach her how to fire a weapon. She should tell him she wasn’t interested. But a gun. Maybe, if she had one, she could sit in her house and not listen for the sound of glass breaking and the sight of a man climbing through a broken window. And maybe the act of reversing the pupil-teacher role would teach her something more about Reed Steward. “I don’t know.”

  “Hopefully you’ll never need it. Chances are you won’t. But…”

  You’re scaring me. “I won’t be staying here tonight,” she told him. “Clint wants me—”

  “Clint? Good. You should get there as soon as possible. We’ll leave together.”

  “No. I’m— I have a few things I still need to do here.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “No,” Mara repeated firmly. “I don’t need a bodyguard. If I did, I would have asked a friend.”

  He wants to know something more, Mara thought. Whether it was about her relationship with Clint or if she’d come to a decision about a gun, she didn’t know. But Reed didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer. When he got up and headed for the door, Mara followed. With Reed here, strangely, the night didn’t touch her. For a moment that went on longer than it needed to, Reed stood with his hand on the car door and his back not quite to her. Then he slid into the Jag and brought it to life. “You won’t be alone long?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he told her softly, simply.

  “Yes. Tomorrow.”

  He was gone.

  The effects of Reed’s presence lasted while Mara grabbed clothes from her closet. She wished she could remember when she’d stopped wanting to throw him out and started believing he cared about her. The moment had been pivotal, essential. She was thankful he’d suggested she talk to a Captain Bistron. She still wanted to know more about Reed, about the man he’d mentioned, named Jack Weston, and the bond between the two of them.

  Then, without warning, Mara’s thoughts turned to another recent conversation.

  “He knows where you live,” Detective Kline had said earlier, needlessly repeating what she already knew. “And he has your keys, which could give him a feeling of power. From what the other victims have told us, he fits the rapist profile. The man needs to be in control.”

  Mara wanted to crawl into bed and curl into a tight ball so she didn’t have to step outside. She wanted to be a child again. If only she could call her family, run to them for safety. But those things were impossible. Instead she gathered what she’d come for and opened the front door, listening to the night. Trying to remember what Reed had said about silence having a sound of its own.

  Then, with a scream trapped in her throat, Mara ran to the loaner car she’d left out front, with its stiff steering and the seat that didn’t quite mold itself to her body.

  Reed remained on the side of the county road until he saw Mara’s headlights. He eased his car back onto the pavement ahead of her before she came close enough to be able to recognize him or his car. She hadn’t wanted a bodyguard; she’d made it clear that she didn’t need one. Fine. He would respect her wishes and admire her courage. Still, he felt better knowing she was no longer alone in her lonely place.

  Chapter Five

  A half hour after dawn, Clint and Mara returned to her place. Mara was relieved to see Lobo unruffled. If anyone had come onto her property last night, he would be agitated. Surely her attacker had better things to do than wait for a glimpse of a woman with a trained watchdog at her heels.

  As he’d done before, Clint stepped inside the house first. Mara followed, walking over to the stereo system and turning it to an easy-listening radio station while Clint headed for the refrigerator. “You need to go to the grocery store if you’re going to go on feeding me,” he announced. “I wanted to tell you, I thought you handled yourself pretty well with that detective. He sure is a by-the-books cop. You haven’t thought of anything else you should have told him, have you?”

  Mara shook her head. “You heard him say he’s told the police to step up their patrols out this way.”

  “What did you want him to say? That they weren’t doing anything? I don’t know. I guess I want them to pull out all the stops and get this joker.”

  “I haven’t given them much to go on.”

  “You did the best you could. It’s out of your hands now. Whew. It’s starting to smell stuffy in here.”

  Mara had already noticed that. She went about opening a few windows, reminding herself to close them again before— No. She wasn’t going to spend tonight with Clint. His parents would be in town this afternoon, and because the three of them needed to talk about Clint’s father’s heart problems, she’d to
ld Clint she would be going to a motel.

  A motel because, even with new locks, she wasn’t yet ready to stay in her own home alone.

  Clint went on talking about the meeting with the detective. “When I was a kid I thought maybe I wanted to be a cop. You know, the kind who solves crimes, not directs traffic. The reality’s a little different, isn’t it?”

  “I guess. I was thinking, if they don’t need me to help put that man behind bars, if I can’t give them a description, I might know only what I read in the paper.”

  “If there’s anything to read. That’s what gets to me. Sorry, boss. Neither of us wants to hear that, do we? When are you going to start working with Mr. Steward?”

  “Tonight,” Mara told him and reached for the container of orange juice.

  “I still wouldn’t trust him any farther than you can throw him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because maybe he was giving you a line of you-know-what last night.”

  Mara remembered a man looking out at the night and talking about the sounds of silence. “I’m going to verify what he told me. There’s a Captain Bistron…”

  “Good. Call him, today. I was just thinking, if he’s really doing undercover work, he’s going to drop out of sight one of these days, isn’t he?”

  That shouldn’t bother her. Certainly it didn’t. After all, Mara had more than enough to deal with. Like whether she was going to buy a gun and let Reed Steward show her how to use it. “I imagine he is,” she said and joined Clint in front of the refrigerator. Clint was right. There was nothing to eat.

  Reed spent the lunch hour talking to the young man with dreams of racing for a living. Mara hadn’t expected the two of them to have anything in common. Their shared laughter held her attention. Reed could laugh. She was glad there was that side to him. After a few minutes spent listening to Reed tell the novice racer that his one and only attempt at drag racing had resulted in needing a wrecker to get his car out of a muddy field, Mara walked into her office and dialed Captain Bistron’s number. Yes, the captain told her, he had been informed that she might be calling. He’d leave it up to Reed to explain the particulars, but the man did have police clearance. He could be trusted.