Rockwell Agency: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “We’re a couple,” he said squeezing her fingers. “This suggests that without saying a word.”

  “Of course,” Angela said, quickly, ordering her heartbeat to return to its normal pace. “I thought nothing of it.”

  Ryan smiled again, then continued walking with her up the sidewalk. Angela tried to focus on the task that was in front of them, knowing that there was a lot riding on what they might find out. But she couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts with his palm pressed against hers. His arm was swinging gently, as though they were going for a casual stroll, and his thumb continued to stroke along her knuckles. She could feel the strength of his fingers and the callouses on his palm. He had very masculine hands that encompassed hers entirely. With her hand tucked so completely into his, she felt both safe and dangerous at the same time. She felt protected from the world, but she also felt as though she might do anything. She might act on that low simmer that was ever-present within her when Ryan was near. She might lean into him, letting her body brush against his. She might look up at him through her eyelashes, searching his eyes for some hint that she had the same impact on him that he had on her.

  “Pause here,” Ryan said in a low voice, bringing her to a halt in front of the house they were heading towards. “Talk with me about the landscape.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Angela said, not looking at the landscape at all.

  Ryan stared back at her, his fingers still wrapped around hers. “Yes. It is.”

  The front door of the house opened. “Can I help you?”

  Angela turned from Ryan, her heart pounding in her chest and not just because of the woman standing in the doorway of the house, looking out at them and wondering why they were loitering in her yard. She immediately assessed the woman, detecting no familiarity in the pretty but worn face. The woman was indeed slight, with soft blonde hair that was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were simple—just leggings and an oversized T-shirt, perfect for hanging around the house on the weekend. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted pink.

  Ryan spoke first. “Hi,” he said, smiling with easy friendliness. “Sorry—we didn’t mean to bother you. My wife and I are interested in a house in this neighborhood. We’ve been driving around, looking at different places.”

  “This house isn’t for sale,” the woman said.

  “Oh, we know,” Angela told her quickly, still searching in the back of her mind for any hint of familiarity. “We’re just interested in the area. That’s all.”

  “Have you lived here long?” Ryan asked, pulling off the curious and slightly intrusive role easily. “It’s a great house.”

  The woman seemed a little cautious, but she didn’t go back inside and close the door on them. “Uh, no,” she said. “I’ve only lived here for about a year. It’s actually my boyfriend’s house. But he hasn’t lived here that long either. Maybe six months before I moved in with him. The neighborhood is nice, though.”

  Ryan looked around them, still holding Angela’s hand. “Yes, we love it. Have you enjoyed being here?”

  “I have,” the woman said, now leaning up against one of the poles that supported the small front porch. “It’s quiet. Well-kept. My boyfriend has kids, and I think he likes the schools pretty well. Do you have kids?”

  Angela shocked herself, and probably Ryan, too, by putting her hand on her stomach and smiling slightly. “We will soon.”

  It was a preposterous lie, and she had no idea where it came from, but it immediately softened the woman standing on her porch. She smiled at Angela and patted her own stomach. “We’ll have another one soon, too. You’re not showing at all. You must not be far along. I’m ten weeks.”

  “Eight,” Angela said, forcing the word from her lips. The lie had produced a good result, but she still hated it. Even more, she hated that she had set fire to a house where a pregnant woman slept peacefully in her bed. She had to push both thoughts from her mind and continue her experiment. “We want a nice place to raise her in. I’m convinced the baby is a girl.”

  “So am I,” the woman said. “You’re not from around here, are you? You sound British!”

  “I am,” Angela said. “I moved here for Ryan. We met during my graduate program. I did two semesters here, and now this is my home.”

  The woman smiled. “That’s really nice. Listen, why don’t you two come in?” said. “I can get you a drink, and you can ask me about the area. It’s looking like it’s going to rain again, anyway.” She pointed up to the sky, where dark clouds were gathering.

  Angela felt Ryan’s fingers squeeze hers hard in a gesture of triumph, but there was no trace of his internal reaction in his cheerful, breezy response.

  “Sure, that would be great. Thank you!” he said, starting up the driveway with Angela. “Obviously this is an area with friendly neighbors, honey,” he said to Angela. “That’s another thing we were looking for, weren’t we?”

  Angela smiled back at him. “Yes, dear. We were.”

  Chapter 19

  Ryan

  It had been easy enough, making their way into the house. Angela had been great, playing along so well with his plan for them to pose as a couple looking to buy a house in the area. When she had come up with her pregnancy story, he had been amazed, and it was fate that the woman who lived here was actually pregnant.

  That had been what got them in the door—he was sure of it.

  “I’m Dahlia Houston, by the way,” the woman said, walking back into the living room with a tray that had iced tea and homemade cookies on it. She set it on the table in front of the couch, soft strands of blonde hair tumbling into her face as she bent over.

  Ryan reached for a glass, nodding in thanks to her. “I’m Ryan, and this is my wife, Angela. These look delicious—thank you.”

  Dahlia nodded. “Of course. My boyfriend is out at the grocery store with his two kids, getting some things for the week. He’ll probably be home soon, and he might be able to tell you more about the value of the houses and all of that.”

  “How long did you say he’s lived here?” Ryan asked, settling back against the couch and putting his arm around Angela. It was true that playing husband and wife was the best strategy, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t also a good excuse to casually and constantly touch Angela. He was acting the part when he held her hand and sat with his arm draped around her shoulders. Her soft body pressed against his was just her playing the affectionate wife, and his fingers lightly stroking her upper arm was just him returning that affection. It was all for the cause, and if he enjoyed it immensely, as long as he kept that part private, there was no harm in it.

  “About eighteen months,” Dahlia said. “He picked this house after he got divorced.”

  Her words made Ryan tense inside, and he stopped focusing on the softness of Angela’s skin so that he could play his cards right. He desperately wanted to know more about the divorce she had just mentioned, but he couldn’t ask outright. “Why this neighborhood?” he asked as Angela leaned forward to take a glass of tea.

  “I think he wanted somewhere a good distance from his ex,” Dahlia said, settling into a chair that was across from them and crossing her legs, one foot swinging casually, as she looked around the cozy, quaint room with décor that bordered on country with its pastel colors and cutesy feel. “That was one of the main considerations. But he also liked that the house was pretty new, which can be hard to find at a good price around here. He didn’t want something that was rundown, or that he would have to update. And there are some good parks here. He’s an outdoors kind of guy, and he likes to be able to go for walks or runs. Plus, like I said, the schools are good, and it’s a family area, so we don’t get a lot of traffic or parties or anything.”

  Ryan nodded along with her, taking in every word and trying to read between the lines. “So the kids live here, then,” he asked. “Or at least they live here part of the time. Do they like it, too?”

  “Oh, t
hey live here all the time,” Dahlia said. “My boyfriend’s ex skipped town and left her kids altogether. He has sole custody. And yeah, I think they like it. They’re only seven and nine years old, so their judgment is pretty much based on liking their school, and their rooms, and their backyard.”

  Just as he had hoped, Angela chimed in, adding the female perspective. “Oh my God, how terrible. She just left her kids?”

  Dahlia rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty insane. She was a very unbalanced woman, to say the least. In a way, it’s better that she’s not in contact with the kids, even though they don’t understand why. She was …well, she was interesting.”

  Ryan wanted to ask Dahlia a hundred more questions about this woman, but he couldn’t seem too interested. “Do you mind if I ask the square footage?” he said, changing the subject.

  “Oh, I’m not sure,” Dahlia said, glancing around. “My husband could tell you more about that stuff. There’s a good Neighborhood Watch, though. And there are plenty of rules about keeping your yard tidy—you know, so neighbors can’t ruin your view with overrun lawns.”

  “That’s nice,” Angela said, nodding emphatically. “I always like it when things are kept tidy. Before we got married, Ryan was living in this sort of rundown neighborhood where all the yards were a bit of a mess. I knew I didn’t want to live there. I convinced him to move into an apartment with me until we could find a house where we really wanted to settle in.”

  Dahlia smiled, taking a sip of her own tea. “That’s our job, right? Manage the husbands. Gary and I aren’t married yet, but I’ve already taken over the managing job.” She laughed. “His ex-wife was so manipulative that he doesn’t even notice when I’m managing him.”

  Ryan built off Angela’s good work, steering the conversation more toward the personal side of things. “The secret that men don’t tell women is that we like to be managed. Takes the pressure off and leaves all the hard work to the women, while we get to sit back, watch TV, enjoy the view, and have things taken care of for us.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Dahlia said. “Gary is like that, too. He loves to be taken care of. I guess any man does.”

  “Well, especially if that man lived with a woman who is as crazy as it sounds like his ex-wife was,” Angela said. “He probably finds you a breath of fresh air.”

  “I hope so,” Dahlia said. “He seems content enough, anyway. He really doesn’t like to talk about her, though. There was a time when he would, but then one day …I guess he just decided he wanted to forget she ever existed. But I know that he won’t ever really be able to forget those years. I think this house, for him, was a fresh start.” Dahlia waved her hand and laughed slightly. “Sorry, sorry. I’m getting too personal when what you two really want to know is whether there are termite problems in the area, or if we have a crime problem. No to both, by the way. It’s a really peaceful little neighborhood, I have to say. We won’t be moving anytime soon, I don’t think.”

  There was a sound down the street. Ryan’s heightened hearing picked it up before either of the two women, who continued chatting about the neighborhood. It was the sound of a car making its way down the road. An SUV probably, or perhaps a minivan. It got closer and closer to the house they were in, decreasing in speed as it grew closer. When the wheels turned on the pavement and the car pulled into the driveway, Ryan was hardly surprised.

  It took a minute for the sound to register with Dahlia and Angela, but when the car door opened and closed, they both looked towards the front of the house.

  “Oh, that sounds like Gary,” Dahlia said, standing up. “That’ll be him and the kids. Just a minute—let me go tell him you’re here.”

  Dahlia disappeared out of the front door, and Ryan turned to Angela with only a second to give her a warning. “Whatever he says to you,” Ryan whispered in her ear. “Don’t react. You don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Angela’s eyes widened and her brow knit. “What are you talking about? Why would he say anything to me? He doesn’t know why we’re here.”

  He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Just follow those instructions.”

  Telling her anything more would only upset her, and it might be unnecessary. But somehow, Ryan didn’t think it was all that unnecessary. He suspected that the moment that Gary walked in, things were going to change.

  Gary’s footsteps came up the walk, his voice low and hushed, as he talked back and forth with his Dahlia. But Ryan could hear every word.

  “Visitors?” Gary asked. “What do they want to know?”

  “They’re just curious about the neighborhood,” Dahlia said. “They’re lovely. The wife is pregnant—almost the same as me. I invited them in, and I thought that maybe you could tell them more about the square footage and the value of the house.”

  “Good grief, Dahl,” Gary said. “You invited in two strangers?”

  “They’re nice people.”

  “You have to be careful,” Gary said. “You never know with people. What if they’re casing out the house?”

  “Oh, Gary, don’t be silly.”

  “It happens,” Gary said. “And we have the kids, you know?”

  “Keith and Kevin aren’t in any danger from a nice young couple looking to buy a house to raise their baby in,” Dahlia said, her tone a bit impatient. “At least come in and be nice for a minute. I’m sure they won’t stay long.”

  Angela hadn’t heard any of that quick, whispered conversation between the two, so when Gary and Dahlia walked in, she smiled warmly, greeting the man as she stood up. “Hello. Sorry to intrude like this. I’m Angela, and this is my husband, Ryan.”

  Ryan stood with Angela, every muscle in his body tensed. He could tell by the way Gary’s face had gone white that they were not only on the right track—they had nailed it on the head. He put his arm around Angela, pulling her close to him, his posture defensive.

  “Get out,” Gary said, fury packed into the two sharp words.

  “What?” Angela asked, confused, despite Ryan’s warning.

  Dahlia was equally shocked. “Gary! Please!”

  “Dad, what’s going on?” A boy of about ten years came running through the front door with a bag of groceries in hand. “Who are these guys?”

  “Keith, get back,” Gary said through clenched teeth. “Take your brother and go to your room.”

  “But Dad, I got yogurts in this bag. They gotta go in the fridge.”

  “Go!” Gary barked at his son. “Now.”

  Keith grabbed the arm of the other boy who had just walked in, also laden down with groceries, and pulled on him. “Come on,” Keith muttered. “Dad’s pissed again.”

  The boys ran off to their room, and the four adults stared at each other. Ryan was the only one in the room who understood the tension in the air, but he was hardly in a position to explain it. He squeezed Angela’s waist, nudging her towards the door.

  “We’re sorry to intrude,” he said. “Honey, let’s go.”

  Dahlia was flushed with embarrassment. “No, really—please. It’s no trouble. Gary, what is wrong with you? This lovely couple has been nothing but polite. Much more polite than you!”

  Gary cut his eyes at his girlfriend, then set them right back on Angela. “Get out, and don’t ever come back here.”

  “Gary!” Dahlia was nearly in tears. “Stop this!”

  “We’re going,” Ryan said, also not in a position to comfort Dahlia. He focused on Gary, his arm still around Angela. “Did you hear me?” he asked, drawing the man’s eyes to him. “We’re going. Back off.”

  “She’s a monster,” Gary said, his voice shaking with rage. “I’ll never be done with her. Never. She’s a monster. My God—she’s a monster.”

  He kept repeating those same words as Ryan rushed Angela towards the door without looking back. He could take Gary on in a fight if it came to that—he wasn’t worried. But that would be in none of their best interests, and the last thing that he wanted to
do was panic Angela again. The sooner she got out of the house, the better. And for Dahlia too, who probably had no idea what was happening either. Even Gary didn’t really know what was happening.

  Ryan got Angela out the door, and the moment they were outside, with the door closed behind them, she spun around and stared at him. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “Why did he get so angry?”

  “Come on,” Ryan said, taking her hand and tugging her towards the sidewalk. “I’ll explain everything in the car.”

  Together, they hurried towards the waiting vehicle and got inside. Ryan shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked up the engine, taking off before the car had gotten properly warmed up. Only when they were well past the house did Ryan take his eyes from the road to look at Angela, taking in her strained expression and the white tint to her knuckles as she gripped the car door.

  “It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice calm and gentle. “You’re fine now.”

  “He recognized what’s inside me,” Angela said, looking over at him. “Didn’t he? He saw something he hates inside of me, even though no one else can see it.”

  Ryan nodded. “Yes. There’s no doubt about it now, Angela. There’s a spirit inside of you, and it’s connected to that man. He doesn’t know why he hates you. He just does, at the very core of his being. He feels towards you the way he felt towards the person whose spirit is now attached to yours. He has no idea that’s what just happened, though. No idea.”

  Angela closed her eyes for a minute, blowing out a slow breath to calm herself. “His ex-wife didn’t disappear. She’s dead. And he hated her. And now she is living in me, and she wanted to kill him and his new family. Do I have that sorted?”

  “That about sums it up, yes.”

  Angela looked over at him and Ryan looked back at her, waiting for her response and wondering if he was going to send her running again.