So she headed to the kitchen and poured her coffee down the drain, got dressed, and waited for 8:04 to roll around.
She'd been at the fire house often enough that she knew exactly when to call. He’d be done with his shift, and probably out the door, but he wouldn't quite yet be home.
God forbid, they had a call that had run them over. But 8:04 am was her best chance to catch him. So Maggie tried to read the newspaper and avoid yet another cup of coffee.
She hoped her makeup hid the dark circles beneath her eyes and the tension at the edge of her mouth.
At 8:03, she gave up waiting and dialed.
Chapter Nineteen
Sebastian did an about face in the middle of the sidewalk when he got Maggie's call.
His duffel bag bounced at his side with the quick movement, but he enjoyed the stutter in his chest at the sound of her voice. He tried not to linger on the wonderful knowledge that she and Rex had broken up. As tempting as it was to ask Rex if it was okay if he made a move on her, ultimately he figured it was probably better if he asked Maggie herself.
Anything he said to Rex was just a courtesy so his job would move smoother.
The problem was that the hitch in her voice didn't sound like an eight am booty call. She sounded scared, but she wasn't willing to tell him anything over the phone.
Though he’d just passed the intersection where he'd take a left to go to his own house, he turned and headed back, taking the other direction and heading straight toward Maggie’s. So what if the neighbors saw him double back?
He was maybe seven minutes away, just a handful of blocks to wonder what could possibly have gotten Maggie so riled up?
Once he'd agreed to come over, she basically hung up on him. Sebastian picked up his speed, not willing to run the whole way but not quite willing to take a leisurely stroll either.
Halfway there, he realized he would show up on her doorstep sweaty and dirty. The only other option was to turn around, again, and shower at home like he'd intended to do in the first place. But he’d told her he was on his way, and hopefully he could shower at Maggie's. She might take one look at him and send him home. He tried to surreptitiously sniff at his shirt and decided he didn’t smell too horrible.
He arrived at the old house and jogged up the path, listening as the front porch floorboards squeaked beneath his feet. He could fix those for her, he thought, but more importantly, he needed to solve this morning’s dilemma first. Even before he got close enough to knock, the door opened and there stood Maggie.
She was in another business suit, one that showed she had a flair for fashion and also an understanding of small town sensibilities. Sabbie must have warned her.
She looked amazing, and he wanted to say so, but a closer step revealed dark circles under her eyes artfully covered with makeup. He saw the twist at the edge of her lips and the expression that didn't smile at seeing him.
“Come in.” She said it almost formally, waving a hand to gesture him inside as she stepped back, her heels clacking on the hardwood. She motioned him to the living room, but Sebastian held his hands up in surrender.
“I was on my way home to shower after shift. You don't want me to be sitting on the furniture.”
Her laugh was a brittle sound. “I don't want the furniture at all … but you’re right, I'm stuck with it for a while longer.”
He’d wondered about it. It didn’t look like “Maggie” to him. The ornate wood pieces were stuffed and padded and buttoned within an inch of their life. He wasn't even sure it suited Sabbie, but it seemed to be part of the inheritance. He stood in front of the couch and waited for Maggie to sit down.
She didn’t. Her hands laced together in front of her, fingers twisting nervously and spiking his worry.
Maggie was competent and fierce. Instead of hiding in her closet with a phone, calling 9-1-1 when a burglar had broken into her house, she'd headed down the steps waving a baseball bat and chased him out.
But now … she looked nervous and paranoid. Even her voice had a small tremor to it. “I called the police and asked about the jewelry box.”
Sweet Jesus, he thought as she told him what she'd learned. He really wanted to sit on the edge of the couch and drop his head into his hands, but he really was too dirty. So he shifted from foot to foot, trying not to look as nervous as Maggie already did.
She explained that she stayed up all night. “At least I didn’t have any prowlers … at least not any that I know of.”
“You could have called me,” he chastised her before thinking better of it. People said that all the time. How could he make her know he meant it?
“You were at work,” she replied quick enough to let him know she’d considered it.
He hoped she’d call even if he was at work next time. “I can lose a shift here or there.”
“I wouldn't want you to.” She was shaking your head, but he pinned her with a return glare.
“Apparently someone in this house was a serial killer or at least related to one in some way … You’ve already had at least one break-in.” He emphasized the words, and Maggie seemed to catch on.
He understood her hesitation, he’d seen it a lot in his line of work. Each thing that could get brushed off, explained away individually, wasn’t that bad. It was a coping mechanism. But when everything was strung together, it was hard to ignore. He let her digest the information he’d basically held in her face.
“Okay.” She nodded, though what she was agreeing to, he didn’t quite know. Maybe just that she would make decisions giving the circumstances the weight they deserved.
He stepped a little closer, probably beyond the boundaries of what he should do as a friend. He picked up her hands where they were clasped in front of her and separated her intertwined fingers. Taking her hands in his, Sebastian gave her something to hold on to. She gripped him tight.
“Alright, Maggie, let's make a plan.”
She nodded quickly, and he kept talking.
“You're dressed, so I'm assuming you have clients.”
“Yes. At nine.”
“And I'm assuming you're not moving them.”
This time she almost pulled her fingers out of his grasp as she shrugged and looked away. Her words were soft. “I can't afford to.”
He understood. His salary was fine, but it was nothing to write home about. Firefighters were definitely not overpaid. So he merely nodded along. “When do you finish for the day?”
“I should be done by noon or one, depending on how long my meetings take.”
With his mind racing beneath an exterior that he hoped projected a calm he didn’t feel, he looked her in the eye and started a plan. “I need a shower. Can I use yours?”
“Of course.” She pulled her fingers from his and waved her hand behind her, gesturing up the staircase behind her, as though he could obviously just take any of the rooms up there.
But he wasn't done. He liked the feel of her, so he regrasped her hand. “All right. I’ll get out of the shower in a few minutes, and I’m going to be here while you have your clients.”
Maggie nodded one more time, clearly at the end of her rope and seemingly grateful that he was taking over some of the decisions.
“While you work, I’m going to search the rooms. I know you did already, but I want another pair of eyes on it to see if there's anything else—any other loose floorboards, items hidden in the back of closets.”
She might not have been looking for hidden boxes and trap doors, loose floorboards and hidden stashes. He would.
Sebastian watched as she perked up. Research seemed to be her thing. Probably what made her a good lawyer, he thought.
She spoke in full sentences, a little more chutzpah behind her words. “I've been going through Abbie's records, trying to figure out who her boarders were. At first, I only found a couple. But yesterday, I found a much bigger box of records. I just haven't started going through it yet.”
“When I get out of the shower, you’ll p
oint me in that direction. When I get done with the rooms, I'll start going through the records. Then,” he said, “we'll get you some sleep.”
And he would see if he could maybe find a name in all of Sabbie’s mess.
Chapter Twenty
Sebastian showered in the bath attached to the upstairs room that Maggie wasn’t occupying.
He wasn't the kind of guy to parade down her hallway in only his towel. But the steam from the bathroom forced him out into the room itself to change. Wherever Maggie was, she wasn’t sneaking a peek.
He reached into his bag and pulled out the roll of clothing. He always carried a change of clothes with him—typical firefighter thing. Climbing into his old, soft jeans and faded t shirt, he realized he might have some explaining if her new clients found him in her house while she worked. People were picky about pre-marital sex, not that he was having any right now, but it wouldn’t do Maggie any favors if things looked like she’d had a sleepover and didn’t even have the sense to hide it.
At least Maggie’s clients seemed to be Sabbie’s old friends. They would hopefully say “What a nice boy. Helping the new girl out.”
Sebastian headed back downstairs, his hair still dark and wet. He hoped it would dry before her clients showed up, but there hadn’t been a hair dryer and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used one anyway. So he hadn't done anything with it.
At the bottom of the steps, he turned the corner and saw Maggie curled into the corner of the sofa. She couldn’t be asleep, the position looked as uncomfortable as the furniture did. It seemed she was trying to catch a few minutes of rest without messing up her suit.
Stepping forward softly, he tried to stay quiet, but hit one of the many squeaky floorboards. There was no sneaking around here. Maggie popped up, startled, but she settled when she realized it was just him. Something about the way her gaze traveled over him made him think maybe his hair was getting a little shaggy.
“Let me show you where she kept her records.” Maggie stood, heels tapping on the hardwood floor as her hands smoothed the fabric of her slim fitting pants as though there was maybe a wrinkle to be found. His thoughts traveled but he reminded himself that wasn’t why he’d been invited here.
“I'll help look for now, but my clients tend to show up early. They tend to be older.”
He knew. He knew this town.
Sebastian also knew the population was finally skewing younger. He’d been in many people’s homes and he knew who was a hoarder and who had OCD. He knew who was struggling to pay rent with seven kids and who was secretly rolling in it. Firefighters didn’t see everything, but they saw a lot. And they fielded medical calls at four am for many of the crowd who were making up the bulk of Maggie’s new clientele.
He wasn't surprised that nine felt late for them.
He also wasn't surprised that Maggie handed him a piece of printer paper she’d drawn on. A basic layout of the house clearly showed the ground floor as well as the upper floor. He fought a grin, art was apparently not one of Maggie’s skills. Neither was architecture.
Firefighters read blueprints. They needed to go into businesses and homes, knowing where the load bearing walls were could save a life. So could understanding where a closet was likely to be, because children hid in them. Maggie’s sketch was missing a few key elements, but he could see where she'd made notes.
“All the rooms with the checkmarks are rooms that seemed to have, at least at one time, belonged to one of her boarders. She had three when she died.”
“I thought she had five bedrooms? Six including hers.”
Maggie shook her head. “Six for the boarders, though only five occupied them.”
He looked down the hallway, there were only five doors not including the communal bathroom.
“There’s another in the shed out back … it’s converted. Plus the two upstairs.”
“One of those was hers—now yours.” He pointed to the drawing.
“This one was hers. Where you showered.” Maggie pointed. “I’m staying across the hallway.”
Both of the rooms were large and had their own bathrooms attached. Maybe she just hadn’t brought herself to take over her aunt’s room yet.
He looked back at the drawings. The other portion of the upstairs was a game room / sunroom / library. Maggie didn't seem to have touched it yet either.
“Here's where I've looked already.” She motioned to the spots of pink highlighter she’d made on some of the rooms. Art might not be Maggie’s strong suit, but organization was. He fought a smile as she kept talking. “And here.”
She was pointing to a third, smaller room. “This is the upstairs office.”
He tried to ignore the feeling of her standing so close, and the change in his own reaction now that she was single. That didn’t mean she wanted him, though it meant he could ask. Forcing himself to pay attention to the diagram was harder than it should be. “She had an upstairs office?”
Maggie tipped her head and gave him an odd look. “I think it was designed as an office … Abbie used it to …” the words trailed off and she waved her hand as if to conjure the correct word. “Office is far too organized a term for anything she might have done.”
That meshed with the Sabbie he'd known—head on straight, always practical, but always scattered.
“You're welcome to go through anything there. I'm assuming there's more than what I found. No,” Maggie corrected herself. “I know I haven't been through all the papers yet. I'm assuming there is more information on her boarders.”
“Did she register any of her paperwork with the city?”
Maggie raised her palms and offered a full-sized shrug.
She looked better than she had when he’d arrived and his chest squeezed. Maybe it was because he was here. Sometimes all you needed was to know that you had backup.
“I'll look into it,” he told her.
“Thanks.” She started to walk away, but she turned back, her tone changed. “Really. I can't thank you enough. You don't owe me any of this, but I appreciate it so much.”
Her eyes darted away, as though it was tough to admit it was better not going it alone. Without her looking him in the eyes as she so often did, he reached out and touched her shoulder, to aim her back toward him.
“Maggie, I don’t mind.” He almost added, that's what friends are for, but he didn't want to give her the idea that friends was all he was interested in. Instead he said, “This is a big deal. It’s definitely concerning. Don't ever think that you're overreacting. But we’ve got this.”
Then she shocked the shit out of him and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. It was so easy to hug her back. He felt her pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his waist.
With one hand, he tugged her closer, while the other snuck up into her hair. He would have kissed her, but this wasn't the time.
It didn't matter anyway, because just then the doorbell rang.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maggie was just finishing up with her last appointment that morning, when she heard the knock at the door from where she sat in her office.
Her first reaction was to jump up and answer it, but before she could, she heard footsteps in the hall. Sebastian was here. The thought soothed her far more than was appropriate, and she wondered if the shy firefighter knew she was fighting a raging attraction to him?
Maggie kept her eyes on her client and continued the conversation. At least they should be wrapping up.
The older man’s goal was to split his property and give a piece to each of his children to build on. But it had taken Maggie a little more time than she’d planned to help him understand what the city ordinances were.
“So the property lines will go here, here, and here.” He said it with authority as he pointed to a rough sketch he’d drawn on a napkin before arriving.
Maggie replied the best she could. “I hope so. Ultimately the surveyors will make that decision. But you can request it of them.”
<
br /> “This is going to take longer than I thought it would,” he complained.
“I know. It's a longer process than most people think, but that’s mostly because the city needs to sign off on everything when property lines change.”
Though he still seemed cranky, he understood. Maggie nodded, though she was listening to the conversation in the front hall with half an ear. She could have sworn she'd heard “FBI.”
She both wanted to and didn't want to shove Mr. Gentson out the door. The stubborn part of her refused to shortchange her client simply because someone was at the door. It was worse that it likely wasn’t some random visitor. Her heart thumped a little harder, afraid she’d heard correctly.
“So you have this—” She pointed to the documents she’d printed for him and reminded him what each one was. Then she watched as he reluctantly signed two of them. She took the check from him and slid it into the drawer, having left it on the desk while they worked.
A friend had warned her to take more than just electronic payments and that had been very smart advice. She'd had more clients insist on handing her checks or cash than anything else.
More of the conversation in the hallway filtered through. Though she couldn't make out the words, it sounded like Sebastian was holding someone at bay verbally.
“What else can I do for you today, Mr. Gentson?”
“That's it, ma'am. I just needed to get this ball rolling.”
“I’m glad I could help. I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything back.” She tried to keep her smile in place, and she was glad he was here, but just beyond the door was something she didn’t want to deal with.
At least he left with a smile. As he opened the door, Maggie suddenly became concerned about what he might hear as he headed out.
Sure enough, a man and a woman—both in stark dark suits—stood inside her front hallway. She must have heard correctly—these two couldn't have screamed FBI any harder if they tried.
Crash and Burn (Wildfire Hearts Book 1) Page 7