If there was one thing in life that Jonathan St. Clair, aka Leo Banks, hated, it was a switch in plans that had been synchronized down to the last sync. That’s when things went wrong, ordinary, little things that brought men like him to their knees.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen to him. He’d worked too long, too hard, to secure the good life that was about to become his.
Jonathan poured the last of the coffee from the silver pot. As Jonathan gazed out on the swirling snow, he pictured Lucy in his mind and wondered if he would miss her if his instincts were on target.
9
Lucy rolled over to feel little puffs of breath on her neck. She opened one eye, then the other. Lulu was curled into a tight ball on her shoulder, half under the covers and half out. The little pink bow jiggled each time she exhaled. Lucy smiled as she reached out to stroke the tiny head. Lulu immediately bounded up, ready to play. Coop and Sadie were on the bed an instant later. All of them tussled for a minute or two before Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Okay, troops, time to go out and do your thing. Oh, oh,” she said, padding down the carpeted steps. “Looks like it snowed during the night.” Two minutes later, Lucy eyeballed the mountain of snow on top of the hot tub. At least another six inches must have fallen. That had to mean Wylie wouldn’t be heading for Manhattan. The thought pleased her.
Lucy unlocked and slid the sliding glass door to the side. Coop bounded through, his bark high and shrill. Sadie was right behind him, nipping at his tail as they raced to the back of the yard. Lulu stuck one tiny little paw into the snow on the deck, then backed inside, the pink bow jiggling furiously. “Okay, little one, let me get yesterday’s paper.” Not trusting the Yorkie, Lucy scooped her up and carried her to the family room, where she grabbed the sports section of the paper. She spread the paper and Lulu piddled, then ran to the door to watch her new best friends cavorting in the snow.
In the kitchen, Lucy made coffee. What would all this new snow mean to the guys’ trip to Watchung? For some reason she didn’t think it would make a difference to Mitch Logan. Jake, however, looked like a creature of comfort. Wylie would be game for anything if he didn’t go into work. That left her. Well, she had a ski suit and rubber boots, so that meant she was up to the trek if the men thought it advisable.
Mitch had said he drove up in a truck, so he was prepared. Wylie’s Land Rover had four-wheel drive. By the time the coffee dripped all the way, Lucy had herself convinced the trip would go on schedule.
Was the trip a good idea or a bad one? She simply didn’t know. What she did know was that she wanted this whole mess to be over and done with.
The phone rang just as Lucy added cream to her coffee. Her voice was wary when she uttered a greeting.
“Luce, it’s Steven. I’m just calling to tell you the city is shut down pretty tight. No one was expecting this much snow. I’m not even going to attempt to go to the office. I think I’m going to hang out at home, drink a few beers, and watch some videos. How are things with you, sis?”
“Same old, same old. Sadie loves the snow. She’s out there right now having a grand old time. I just got up as a matter of fact. Anything new?”
“Lucy, why don’t you just come out and ask me if I’m seeing anyone new. Actually, I am. Her name is Belle Andrews. She’s a lawyer at Justice. Long legs. Looks good in a bikini, and she likes me. Oh, did I mention she can cook? She can. She thinks I’m handsome, and she likes to run her fingers through my curly hair. Did I leave anything out?”
Lucy laughed. “Does she have any outstanding marks on that beautiful body?”
“A real strawberry mark by her belly button. Is that more than you wanted to know? Hey, anything on Jonathan? How are the wedding plans going?”
Lucy sucked in her breath. “The wedding is off, Steven. I’m going to tell Jonathan when he arrives for Christmas. It’s not something I’m comfortable saying over the telephone.”
Steven whooped his pleasure. “Glad you’re seeing the light of day, Lucy. That guy was all wrong for you. I, for one, am relieved. Guess that means you have to go on the prowl again.”
Lucy’s voice turned indignant. “I have never, nor will I, go on the prowl. There is this really nice guy next door. All I have to do is walk up to the fence, and I can see and talk to him. You’d like him, Steven. Maybe we can get together. I can meet all of you in the city, and we can do dinner one night if this freaky weather ever clears up. I can’t wait to meet the ravishing Belle.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan. This neighbor of yours, does he have a name?”
“Of course he has a name but you don’t need to know it. I don’t want you running any checks on him. He is what he is, a nice guy, a lawyer. I’ll call you next week, okay?”
“You got it, sis. Why don’t you go out and play in the snow with Sadie?”
Lucy laughed again. “Great idea. I did that yesterday. Maybe I’ll do it again today. See ya, Steven.”
Lucy wished she was a kid again, when life was simple. In those days she ate, played, ate, played until she was exhausted, then slept. There were no worries, no angst, no betrayals unless you counted the time Janet Williams told Bill Kelly she called him stinky because he needed deodorant. She’d made snow angels with Betty Lou Saylan, had ice-skated on Desty’s pond with Betty Lou. She should call Betty Lou, who now lived in a little town in Virginia. And, she would, just as soon as her life returned to normal. Maybe she’d even take a drive to see her. Old friendships were the best even when they were reduced to semiannual phone calls and the extra special Hallmark Christmas card along with a “family” letter describing the year’s activities. Yes, she would get in touch with Betty Lou.
• • •
It was nine-thirty when Lucy showered, dressed, and made her bed, which the dogs immediately messed up by playing tug-of-war with the comforter. Wylie should have called by now to announce their plans. Was the trip on or off? Lucy stared at her reflection in the stainless-steel Sub-Zero refrigerator while she waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. She was dressed for a day in the snowy mountains. She’d layered her clothing underneath the plum-colored, fleece-lined sweat suit. Warm cashmere leggings covered her legs. At the moment she was wearing slippers, but if the trip was on, she’d change into her rubber boots. Knowing her hair was going to get mussed up inside the hood of her parka, she’d simply piled it on top of her hair with tortoiseshell combs to hold it in place. If Wylie did not call soon, she would have to start peeling off her carefully assembled cocoon of clothing.
Outside, the thermometer on the deck said it was a freezing twenty-nine degrees. Just thinking about the cold made Lucy shiver. With nothing else to do while she waited for Wylie and his friends, Lucy emptied the dishwasher and folded the towels in the dryer. She hated emptying the dishwasher, but it was something to do. Maybe she should call Wylie’s house. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t.
She couldn’t help thinking about Jonathan’s phone call the night before. She wished she knew if her telephone was bugged. Did the federal agents listen in on her calls? Would they ask if she’d heard from Jonathan? Did she dare lie? To what end? She shook her head wearily. Maybe she needed to switch mental gears and think about Thanksgiving. For a moment, she couldn’t remember how many days she had to get a turkey.
Lucy was jolted from her thoughts when all three dogs let loose with earsplitting barks as they raced in tandem to the front door. She sighed in relief as she made her way through the dining room to the front door. When she opened it, Wylie announced that they had come for breakfast.
“In that case, I hope you brought it,” Lucy said curtly. “I can offer toast and jam, but that’s about it.”
“We’ll take it,” Jake said happily. “I’m also up for heated leftovers.”
Mitch took his seat at the table and stared up at Lucy. “Are you up for our trip to the mountain, Miss Lucy?” The giant of a man was always so formal and so polite. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She loved the way “Miss Lucy” sounded rolling off his tongue. She was almost positive he’d had a Southern upbringing. Later, she would ask.
Lucy nodded. “With the new snow, I wasn’t sure if we were going or not.” She pointed to the sweat suit she was wearing. “I’m ready to go.” She dropped bread into the four-slice toaster that she had retrieved from its home in the cabinet and poured coffee. She rinsed the empty pot and made a second. “By the way, Jonathan called again last night just as I was locking up. Maybe it’s just me, but I think he knows something is going on.”
“Something is going on. We’re going to find out what the man is up to and why the feds are on your case. We spent the last hour loading all my gear in Wylie’s cargo hold. We can’t take my truck because there’s only room for one passenger,” Mitch said as he rolled up the sleeves of his thick, woolen shirt. Today, the colors were blue and black. His wide-wale corduroys matched the blue in the lumberjack shirt. He wore the same buff-colored Timberland boots Jake and Wylie had on. To Lucy’s eyes he still looked as big as a grizzly bear. He also looked like her savior. She hoped she was right.
As the three men gulped and munched, Lucy elaborated further on Jonathan’s phone call. The trio said nothing, only nodding from time to time until she wound down at last.
It was finally time to go. Lucy let the dogs out one last time, cleared the table, and slipped into her ski jacket. She was as ready as she would ever be.
Wylie drove, Lucy in the passenger seat. Mitch and Jake in the backseat. It took them twenty minutes to make their way out of the development to Park Avenue, which had been plowed and sanded. Still, driving was treacherous, four-wheel drive or not. Another hour was spent trying to reach Route 22, which would take them to Watchung and Jonathan St. Clair’s house.
The men talked about football and cars as Lucy stewed and fretted in the front seat, wondering what they would find when they arrived at the house that had her name on the deed.
They used up another thirty-five minutes on the highway by driving past the property because the driveway hadn’t been plowed. Wylie drove until he found an exit and turned around. This time they all looked for the marker, hoping the Land Rover would make it up the steep, twisting driveway to the very top of a hill.
“The snow’s making the driveway look bigger and longer than it is,” Mitch said. “I think you can get as far as those electronic gates, Wylie. We pile out, and I do my thing. Let’s see what this baby can do.” The engine of the Land Rover whined and strained as it fought its way through the deep snow. Twice, the four-by-four bucked, then stalled, slipping backward.
“Miss Lucy, come around to this side and drive. The three of us will push you up to the crest. Low gear.” Lucy felt like cheering when the Land Rover came to a halt on level ground near the fortresslike gates.
Hands on hips, Mitch looked around. He pulled his navy wool hat down over his ears. “Impressive,” was all he said.
“Makes you kind of wonder what’s behind those awesome-looking gates,” Jake said.
Awesome was definitely the right word, Lucy thought. Iron spikes, ten inches tall, stood up from the iron grille of the fence and gates. Thick shards of glass were embedded in the concrete between the spikes. Put there, Lucy assumed, in case anyone was foolish or daring enough to climb over the fence. She risked a glance at Wylie, whose face was totally unreadable. Lucy felt sick to her stomach. What was he thinking? She strained to pick up his thoughts, but nothing came through. She crossed her fingers inside her warm mittens that he wasn’t thinking she was part of whatever was going on at this house.
“Let’s get to it, gentlemen,” Mitch said, opening the cargo hold to remove his equipment. “Let’s see how serious this dude is about his privacy.”
Lucy watched as the trio hauled out mysterious-looking gadgets and equipment. What they were for, she had no idea. James Bond would probably know. Shivering, hugging her arms to her chest, she watched as the three men plowed through the snow with their futuristic-looking tools.
“The windows of the house are multiple-pane glass. They have a Mylar film inside. To you guys that means anyone outside the house with a laser listening device wouldn’t be able to hear a thing inside. I’m thinking this is a safe house of some kind.” Mitch swung a long tool and pointed it toward the Tudor-style house. “The walls of the house are lined with copper. That’s so nothing can be picked up from monitoring devices on the outside. I saw something like this in Venezuela. This is drug lord surveillance,” he said, sweeping the grounds with something that looked like a metal detector. “This guy must have some big bucks. The security he’s got here is worthy of the White House or Colombia. The Colombians never stint on security and back it up with trained commandos. Now why does a guy who brokers business deals need something like this in his backyard?” Mitch asked. He didn’t expect a response. Instead, he walked through the grounds in the deep snow, pushing first one gadget, then another, and yet others until green lights glowed coolly on the equipment all of them carried.
“Okay. The green lights tell me I’ve located all the sensors. Now all I have to do is disarm them. I want you all to stand in the driveway behind the car in case one of these little beauties decides to go off. Boom!” he said playfully.
Thirty-five minutes later, Mitch looked at the green buttons that were slowly turning from yellow to red. “Red is the safe zone,” he said cheerfully. “Relax, guys, I know what I’m doing. I did it for fifteen years, and I have citations saying I’m the best of the best. This is puppy-dog stuff. The real test is going to be disarming the gate and the next round of embedded security. Then comes the house.” Wylie and Jake looked skeptical.
Mitch was in back of the Land Rover, stowing his gear and replacing it with different tools and gadgets. Everything glowed and vibrated. “What is all that stuff?” Lucy asked, in a hushed whisper.
“Tools of the trade, Miss Lucy. We live in a different world today and need such things. These things,” he said, motioning to the packed cargo hold, “are all government issue. Updated equipment we used when I was a SEAL and Drew was with Delta Force. Oh, oh, looks like we have company. I’m thinking it’s my buddy, but just to be on the safe side, don’t move. Don’t even blink.” Mitch’s hand, she noticed, was inside the blue-and-black lumberjack shirt. Shoulder holster, she thought. This is all just a bad dream. She pinched herself to make sure. It was all too real she decided when she felt the pain in her arm where she’d pinched herself.
No one moved when they heard a car door slam shut. All of them relaxed when a voice called out. “Yo, Mitch, you up there? It’s me, Drew.”
Mitch’s gloved hand fell to his side as he maneuvered his way to the driveway. Lucy saw a tall man wearing a backpack coming up the driveway. A suntanned man who looked like Charles Atlas, the body-builder. He was handsome, probably in his late thirties, possibly his early forties, with a buzz cut like Mitch’s. He wore jeans, probably over long underwear, boots, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hunter green down vest. When he removed his sunglasses, Lucy saw he had bright, summer blue eyes.
Introductions were made, hands shaken, then Lucy was outside of the loop as the men traded gear, poked and probed each other’s tools, and talked in low voices. The minutes crawled by. Lucy climbed into the Land Rover and turned on the engine. The heat kicked on almost immediately. She sighed with relief. She leaned back and stared out the window at the house the feds said belonged to her. Why did Jonathan need all this security?
Then she heard it. If she had been standing next to the men outside the truck, the words couldn’t have been any clearer. She was hearing Mitch’s thoughts.
And then Wiley’s thoughts. She was sure they were Wiley’s thoughts. She can’t be involved in this. There’s no way. She’s scared out of her wits. Hell, I’m scared out of my wits, and I don’t even know the stupid guy.
Then the newcomer, a man who didn’t even know her. There’s something weird going on here. The word trap comes to mind. This is New Jersey,
for God’s sake. Stuff like this doesn’t happen around here. No stakeouts. Where the hell are the feds when you need them?
Jake’s thoughts were different. A nice juicy cheeseburger, with onion rings on the side. Maybe a double malt. French fries with loads of ketchup when this is over.
Lucy sighed. If, and it was a big if, Jonathan was responsible for this security, this house, and everything the feds said, what did the word safe really mean? If Jonathan had the kind of money they alluded to, he would be able to find her anywhere.
Minutes crawled by. Minutes that turned into an hour. The sun that had been bright just minutes ago was gone, the day turning gray and ominous. Lucy rolled down the window. The air felt heavy with the threat of more snow to come. She shrugged as she watched the gray overcast sweep across the sky. The weather was just as freaky as what was happening to her. She wiggled around in her seat to see what the four men were doing. Mitch and Drew both had cell phones to their ears. That told her they were stymied. They must be calling other experts, hoping for clues as to how to disarm the sophisticated systems in place. Wylie and Jake looked like they were frozen to the ground. Jake’s nose was as red as a cherry. Wylie ran in place to keep warm. She knew they were chilled to the bone.
Wylie looked in her direction, saw the rolled-down window, and ran over. He leaned into the warm car, little puffs of steam escaping from between his lips.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked.
“Mitch said he hasn’t seen anything like this before. Drew agreed. They said this stuff is updated practically on a daily basis. I think they’re checking with members of their old units. Drew said he knows a spook at the CIA who might be able to help. This gadgetry is way beyond anything I’ve ever heard about.” Wylie shook his head and walked back to join the men.
The Nosy Neighbor Page 14
