Hidden in the Wall

by Valerie Hansen

  “What made you think you were being followed in the first place?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Instinct?” Beginning to smile and almost ready to laugh at herself, she added, “I seem to have perfected uncalled-for paranoia. My old psych instructor would be so proud.”

  EIGHT

  T o Trevor’s disappointment, he and Steff were not able to recapture their youthful ease by visiting the pizzeria the way he had hoped they might.

  He looked at her across the red-and-white-checked tablecloth. “You sure you won’t have a slice? I ordered the kind you like. No olives.”

  “I suspected that was why you did that,” she said, blushing slightly. “I’m amazed that you’d remember.”

  “I remember a lot about those days,” Trevor said softly. “And about you.”

  He’d yearned to hold her hand ever since she’d touched his hand while they drove. He reached across the table and laid his hand gently over hers, careful to make sure she could easily pull away if she wanted to.

  “We can’t go back,” Steff said wistfully. “Sometimes I wish we could.”

  “We could never be as carefree as we were then. Too much has happened. We’ve matured. Learned.”

  She grinned. “Aged?”

  “That, too,” he said, mirroring her smile and noting with relief that she had not withdrawn from his touch. “I like to think we’re a lot smarter these days.”

  “We sure thought we knew it all when we were in college, didn’t we?”

  That made Trevor chuckle. “We sure did. I may not have stuck around long enough to get my degree, but I was just as opinionated as the rest of you.”

  Steff giggled. “No!”

  “Yes, and you know it.” He eyed the remaining food. “Like the way I was always trying to get you to eat more. I hope you’ve noticed I’m not pushing you tonight.”

  “I thought it was kind of cute back then,” she said, her grin spreading to crinkle the corners of her eyes. “But I was worried that you thought I was too skinny.”

  “You’re perfect,” Trevor said, hearing an unusual huskiness in his voice and hoping Steff hadn’t noticed.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Rebel.” She leaned back and broke their physical bond. “But I really should be getting home. I have lots of work to catch up on since I played hooky all day.”

  Realizing their moment of closeness was over, he stood and dropped a tip on the checked tablecloth, then held her chair for her. “You work too hard, Princess.”

  “Ah, but I love it,” she countered. “I don’t know if I’d be nearly as diligent if I were doing something I hated.”

  “I remember you used to have an interest in fine arts,” he said as he escorted her to the door. “What happened to those dreams?”

  “I find an outlet in decorating for the reunions and preparing fund-raising brochures, things like that. My artistic expertise hasn’t gone to waste, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Trevor chose to drop the subject rather than chance making her angry again. Steff was so defensive of the college and her place there that he knew she’d be unwilling to even consider the idea she might have chosen her job for all the wrong reasons.

  They spoke little as they drove back to his office. Half a block away he spotted flashing red and blue lights. “What the…?”

  “Is that by your office?” Steff pointed.

  “Looks like it.” He parked as close as he could get without blocking the police cars. As he jumped out of the truck he shouted, “Stay here.”

  “Not on your life.” She was jogging beside him before he’d gone ten paces. “What could have happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Approaching, Trevor was stopped by a uniformed officer. “Sorry. You can’t go in there, sir.”

  “It’s my place of business,” Trevor said. “I’m Whittaker.”

  The officer nodded. “Okay. Just give our people a few more minutes to check it out so you don’t destroy any evidence and I’ll let you through.”

  Steff was clinging to Trevor’s arm. “It looks like somebody smashed the front window to get in.”

  “Well, if they were after expensive tools they were disappointed,” Trevor told her. “I keep most of my good stuff either in my truck or at our warehouse.”

  As the officers who had been inside the building exited, they were waved over by the first man Trevor had encountered.

  “This is the owner,” the cop said. “Want him to go over the place with you to see if anything’s missing?”

  When they answered in the affirmative, Trevor paused to speak to Steff. “You may as well go on home. This could take hours and you said you had work to do.”

  “I hate to leave. Is there any way I can help?”

  “Not that I can think of.” He glanced across the street at her parked Mercedes. “Just make sure your car isn’t damaged before you leave. It looks okay, but after all this, who knows?”

  “Okay.” In parting, she gave his arm a squeeze before she let go.

  Trevor watched her start for her car, then detour back to his pickup. She returned, carrying her purse and the scrap of wallboard, got into her car and drove away.

  A sense of menace had begun to encroach on Trevor’s thoughts, his gut feelings. He shook it off. This wasn’t the first time vandals or druggies had trashed his place. The neighborhood was rundown and slightly seedy, but his overhead was low and his neighbors never complained if he left a few trucks parked on the street overnight. It was a perfect location for a construction business.

  Resigned to the inevitable, Trevor followed the officers into his office and began to look it over. Thankfully, his computer was untouched. Whoever had smashed the front window must have been interrupted before they could steal anything worth hocking.

  “Thank You, Lord,” he breathed quietly.

  For no apparent reason his thoughts immediately flashed to Steff. “And take care of the princess for me, will You?” he added. “She’s a very special lady.”

  In the deep recesses of his mind lurked the emotion responsible for his heartfelt prayer. He refused to give it a name but it was there, nonetheless, taunting him, nibbling away at his convictions that he and Steff were an impossible pairing.

  I will not give in, Trevor insisted, clenching his jaw. What I may want and what’s right in this case are not the same thing.

  Turning back to the task at hand he forced himself to concentrate on inventorying his spartan office and possessions. That, alone, was enough to reinforce his conclusions that he and Ms. Kessler were worlds apart. They always would be.

  “We almost had the initial,” the voice on the phone insisted.

  “Almost isn’t good enough. What happened?”

  “I didn’t know he’d given it to the Kessler woman when I broke into Whittaker’s office to look for it. I could have saved myself a lot of grief—and the money I spent having her tailed—if we’d known sooner.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I assume she took it home. My man said he saw her put it in her car but the cops were everywhere because of the burglary. She’d already outrun him once and he said he was afraid of being noticed if he followed her right then.” There was a long pause. “I’ll wait till tomorrow and get it from her place after she goes to work.”

  “Call me as soon as you have it. Understand?”

  “I will, I will. It’s been this long. A few more hours won’t matter.”

  Cursing was followed by “It had better not,” before the receiver was slammed down to break the connection.

  “I think Whittakers should be given the library job,” Steff said firmly as she addressed her father in his home office the following morning.

  He was adamant. “Don’t be ridiculous. Fowler Brothers has always been the best.” He scowled. “Besides, Trevor Whittaker has a bad reputation.”

  “From his teenage years,” Steff countered. “He’s not like that anymore. He’s matured and he’s
very responsible.”

  “Nevertheless.”

  Placing her palms on her father’s desk, she leaned closer to make her point. “Unless you can give me a better reason than that, I’m going to speak to the board myself on his behalf.”

  Showing disdain, J.T. leaned back in his chair. “All right. Since you insist. I wasn’t going to tell you this but I can see it can’t be helped. Trevor Whittaker has a lengthy police record.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have my sources. And I suggest you stop using him for even the smallest projects before we’re robbed blind.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  J.T. shrugged, his attitude one of clear dismissal. “Have it your way, Stephanie. The truth is the truth, whether you like hearing it or not. Now, don’t you think it’s time you got back to work? I know you weren’t in your office at all yesterday.”

  “That’s because I was in Savannah, looking at the latest Whittaker Construction company project so I could report on it for you. It’s magnificent. I even brought back pictures. Trevor ran the whole job. I know he’s capable.”

  The older man snorted derisively. “It’s what he’s capable of that concerns me. I will not discuss this further. Go to work, Stephanie, before someone catches you slacking and fires you.”

  Steff was so angry she could hardly speak. Slacking? Her? There was no one who gave more of themselves to Magnolia College than she did. No one. Not even her prestigious ancestors who had founded the place.

  Storming out of her father’s office, she slammed the door behind her. She had almost reached the front door of the mansion when her mother intercepted her.

  “What was all the shouting about?” Myra asked.

  “Hello, Mom. Dad and I were just having a spirited discussion.”

  The older woman began wringing her hands. “Oh, dear. That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Don’t worry,” Steff said. “I didn’t say what I really wanted to.” She urged her mother toward the front door. “Walk me to my car?”

  “I don’t understand why you and your father can’t get along,” Myra said as they left the house together. “He never loses his temper with Luke.”

  “Maybe he should once in a while. Luke could use a good talking-to.” She glanced at an upper story. “Is he still in bed?”

  “He’s been having some rough times lately,” Myra said. “You shouldn’t be so critical. Your brother has always had a very sensitive nature.”

  “Do you think that’s why he drinks?” Steff asked. “Because it seems to me he’s well on his way to being an alcoholic, if he isn’t one already.”

  “We’re thinking of sending him to a sanitarium. I keep telling your father it’s not necessary but he’s been insistent, especially lately.”

  “Well, for once Dad and I agree about something,” Steff said, pausing by her car to give her mother a parting hug. “It will be for the best, Mom. Don’t fight it.”

  Myra began to weep. “I just feel like such a failure. First Adam runs off and marries without even consulting us, then Luke keeps drinking and you…”

  “What about me?”

  “You know how we feel about your so-called career, Stephanie. Must you continue to shame us?”

  After her disagreement with her father and now this, Steff was ready to scream. Instead she merely kissed her mother’s cheek, bid her goodbye and slipped behind the wheel of her car.

  She was almost to the Magnolia College campus before tears stopped slipping silently down her cheeks.

  Trevor was relaxing at home that evening when he heard his sister yell from the opposite side of the duplex they shared. She had jerked open his door and run into his living room before he could go check on her.

  “Trevor!” Alicia shouted. “You have to get over to Steff’s right away. She needs you.”

  He grasped her shoulders to hold her still and try to calm her. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s her condo. Somebody broke in and trashed the place while she was at work.”

  He sat down to lace up his boots. “All right. Tell me exactly where she lives.”

  As Alicia was speaking, his mind was racing ahead. He knew the area in question and was certain he could find Steff’s place without much difficulty. The question was, why had this happened and what might it have to do with the vandalism at his office? Two such incidents, so close together, almost had to be connected.

  “Why did she call you if she wants me to come?” he asked.

  “She didn’t know your home number, I guess. I told her I couldn’t leave because the boys are already asleep, and she asked if I’d send you. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not.” His nerves were enough on edge that he immediately added, “Lock your doors and windows, sis. I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t like the way strange things keep happening around here.”

  “You think we’re all in danger?”

  Trevor didn’t want to frighten her needlessly but he also felt responsible for alerting her. “I don’t know. You have the twins to think of. Just do as I say, okay?”

  “Okay. Be careful, Trevor.”

  He was already running for his truck, his mind reeling. Steff must have been right! She was being stalked.

  All he could think of was reaching her and taking her in his arms. And that was exactly what he was going to do, whether she liked it or not.

  Steff was waiting for him by the curb when he screeched the truck to a halt in front of her building, jumped out and raced over to her. She stepped into his embrace without hesitation.

  “You’re shaking like a leaf,” Trevor said.

  “You would be, too, if you’d seen what they did to my beautiful apartment.”

  “I’m so sorry. Have you called the police?”

  Steff shook her head but kept her cheek against his chest. “Not yet. I remembered how they acted at your office yesterday and I thought I might want to look around myself before they made a worse mess than it already is. Besides, I don’t have my cell with me.”

  “I have a phone in my truck. We can call the police from out here.”

  “Okay. If we have to. But I still don’t like the idea. Dad will have a fit when he hears my place was broken into. He’s been trying to convince me to move back home ever since I left and this will give him even more reason to insist he’s right.”

  Trevor smiled and gently slipped his arm around her shoulders to guide her. “This is too serious to ignore, and you know it. Come on. I’ll dial and you can give the dispatcher the details.”

  A few seconds later, as he was reaching for the phone, a troubling thought intruded. “Wait a minute. You called Alicia already. Where were you then?”

  Steff gave him a funny look. “Um. In my apartment.”

  “You went in? Alone? What were you thinking?”

  “Now don’t get upset. I was already in the door before I realized the place had been ransacked. It was natural to drop everything and grab the closest phone.”

  Once again he embraced her and held her close, his own heart thudding as if it were about to burst. The realization that she could have been hurt—or worse—tore into him as if he’d been sucker-punched. All he could think about was keeping her safe no matter what and knowing it was going to be an impossibility.

  I can’t do it but You can, Father, he prayed silently. Please, please, look after her for me.

  In the deepest reaches of his heart he added, Because, God help me, I think I love her.

  NINE

  S teff knew she’d begun acting too dependent upon Trevor but she couldn’t help herself. The sight of her usually pristine home torn to shreds had shaken her so badly she could barely think rationally, so she had absolutely no objection to his arm remaining around her shoulders. Truth to tell, she relished it.

  They followed the uniformed police officers into the apartment and waited in the marble-floored entry hall as reque
sted.

  “Nice place you have here,” Trevor said.

  “You should have seen it before it was trashed,” she replied. “It was lovely.”

  “And expensive.”

  “There you go again.” She took a step away from him and felt his arm relax to fully release her. “You have a severe case of unfair discrimination, mister.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugged as he watched the police pass in and out of view while they searched.

  Steff had had a rough day, an even more trying evening, and she wasn’t willing to accept his apparent dismissal.

  “I don’t appreciate you treating me the way my father does, so cut it out.” That got his attention.

  His head snapped around and he stared. “What did you say?”

  “That you’re treating me just like my father does,” Steff repeated firmly. “He acts as if my ideas are sub-par and my choices are idiotic. When I dare to express an opinion, he dismisses it the way he would if it came from a child.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Not in exactly the same way, no,” Steff admitted. “But every time you mention how I spend my money, or don’t spend it, you’re questioning my intelligence and my discernment. I give to charities and support local causes. And with the exception of big things like my car and a few pieces of furniture that were just slashed to bits and will have to be replaced, I manage to live quite comfortably on the wages the college pays me.”

  “I never said you didn’t.” One eyebrow arched. “It does surprise me, though.”

  “I thought it might.”

  The return of the officers put an end to their private conversation but Steff was certain she’d made her point because Trevor seemed a lot more subdued than he had been. Good. She might not be able to change her father’s opinions of her but she wasn’t going to permit anyone else to put her down, especially not Trevor Whittaker. A small, adamant voice inside her insisted that she must make him see that she didn’t consider herself above anyone else.

  Following the police through the apartment, Steff sighed. The mauve sofa and love seat in the living room had been slashed and their stuffing strewed across the beige carpet. There was dark dust from fingerprint powder all over everything.