No Good Deed

by Susanne Matthews

  He knocked and said loudly, “It’s me. Il fait chaud.”

  Alexa unlocked the door, quickly moving out of the way.

  “Wasn’t there a ladder?”

  “Yeah, there is, but I found something else you need to see first.” He held up the laptop.

  “Is that a computer?” she asked, her brow furrowed, her voice hesitant. “Why was there a computer in the garage?”

  “I don’t know, but I can tell you it isn’t standard operating procedure for witness protection. I found it in a small, highly equipped surveillance room. Did you know there are cameras in the house?”

  “Cameras?” Her eyes grew large. “You mean like nanny cams?” Already pale, her skin bleached.

  He hung up his coat and carried the laptop over to the coffee table before turning it on, exhaling when there wasn’t a password. Opening the video app, he stood back. The screen split into four with the words “no signal” repeated in each frame.

  “Let me play back what’s in stored memory.” He opened the file, found today’s date, and clicked on it. The time stamp indicated midnight. Three of the frames were dark, the fourth, the one in her bedroom, showed her asleep. “Do you always sleep with the light on?”

  “Oh my God,” she breathed the words, watching herself turn over and whimper. “How could he? That’s my bedroom. He would’ve seen me undress . . . Is one of those cameras in my bathroom?”

  She was getting redder by the minute, her hands fisted on the arms of her chair.

  “Yes,” he answered. “But for what it’s worth, it’s aimed at the shower. It had to be motion-activated since it’s part of the same system that monitors your bedroom. There’s another in the kitchen, your physio room, and this room,” he answered. Just the thought of what the sick bastard had done made him want to vomit. “It gets worse. You were miked, too. If you move the time stamp, you should see my arrival in living color.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t exactly make a stellar first impression, did I?”

  “No, but you’ve improved.” She shook her head, her jaw tense. “Everything I said, everything I did . . . Turn it off,” she snapped.

  She shuddered violently. Discovering she’d been the main attraction at a private peep show would be enough to send anyone over the edge.

  “This is wrong, just wrong. I can’t believe Callaghan would do something as vile as this.” She pounded the arms of her chair.

  “I’m sorry,” Mike said. Sympathy was all he could offer. “Even if Callaghan was with the RCMP, nothing justifies this invasion of privacy. He downloaded a week’s worth of surveillance each time he came, so unless someone else was doing it while you were sleeping, he had to know about it. I’m assuming he did it for someone other than the SQ or the Mounties. I’m thinking he was either the mole or he was working for him.”

  “I had the same thought earlier. It would explain the toy gun,” she said angrily.

  His heart went out to her.

  “Maybe. Whatever the reason, it was a damn stupid and dangerous thing to do. I’m going back out there to get the ladder, and then I’m taking down those electronic Peeping Toms. Lock the door.”

  Alexa nodded, her eyes bright in her fury.

  Few people would handle this level of betrayal as well as she was doing. The idea of being watched like that made his skin crawl. It was like one of those Big Brother reality shows, but at least in those, the people knew the cameras were there. This was just sick. The lady was definitely a victim, but whose?

  Hurrying down the stairs, he entered the garage and went into the control room once more. Judging by the complexity of things, it would’ve taken an electronics expert a considerable amount of time to set this up. Had Callaghan done it? Somehow, he didn’t think he had, which meant there was another player in town. It was even possible Callaghan didn’t know about the monitoring system if someone else did the weekly downloading. But that would mean someone else had known where Alexa was and had been able to come and go at will.

  Well, the show was over. He was going to undo this handiwork and take the whole shooting match with him and destroy it. The sooner he got Alexa away from here, the better. It was too bad Mother Nature wasn’t more cooperative. Grabbing a hammer from the workbench near the door, he systematically smashed and ripped away whatever wires he could find, funneling all of his anger into his arms. Once the room was thoroughly destroyed, he closed the door, grabbed the ladder, and locked up behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  Half an hour later, Mike entered the crowded attic. The area wasn’t as cold as he thought it would be, no doubt because of the heavy insulation in the overhead rafters. It would’ve been necessary to keep the cameras from freezing. Unless a person knew those spies were up here, they wouldn’t notice them among the boxes, trunks, and discarded furniture. Mike glanced at one of the boxes clearly labeled VCR, along with the name of a collectibles store in Montreal. That explained where the furniture had come from. It had been purposely purchased or rented for this charade, which also clarified the reason for the boxes in the garage. When this little pretense was over, everything would probably be going back to where it had come from.

  Based on the floor plan and the images he’d viewed on the screen, it took only a short while to disconnect all the microphones and cameras. This was as sophisticated a system as he’d ever seen, but not one item was labeled RCMP. If they weren’t behind this, who was? He hadn’t seen anything like it while infiltrating Zabat’s organization, so that left the magician. Why would he go to such lengths to spy on Alexa? It would be far more cost effective to simply kill her and be done with it.

  Perhaps Alexa was only this place’s most recent occupant. If the magician wanted a safe environment to conduct business, one where he controlled everything, including the mind-set of his guests, this location would be ideal. It was isolated and yet close enough to the city to make the journey a simple one.

  Shoving the equipment into the plastic bag he’d brought for the purpose, he used his flashlight to check out the rest of the space. Crammed above what would’ve been the boy’s room were trunks. Inside one he found a man’s snowsuit—not a new one, but it appeared to be in good condition—and a pair of snowmobile boots. They would be too large for Alexa, but with extra socks, she could wear them.

  Now that he knew about the surveillance equipment, Mike was convinced he hadn’t been expected to make it here in the first place, and he sure wasn’t supposed to find this stuff. He’d cheated death once more. How many chances did a man get?

  Alexa may have witnessed those murders, but whoever was doing all this, and he seriously doubted it was Zabat, was keeping her here for his own reasons. While Mike wanted Zabat so badly he could taste it, his sense of responsibility gave him a new priority. He had to get Alexa O’Brien away from here as soon as he could before the sick son of a bitch who was recording her came to collect her. And if it had to be at night, so be it. All he could hope for was that the wolves would stay away.

  There was always a chance he could be playing right into the bastard’s hands, but if that gear could be accessed by satellite, once the cloud cover was gone, whoever was monitoring this little operation would know he’d been made. Once that happened, Zabat wouldn’t be the only one after him.

  Returning to the ladder, he closed the attic door. Alexa was waiting, and while she was doing her best to hide it, he didn’t want her more upset than she was. Carrying his booty into the living room, he noted she hadn’t moved since he’d left her. She still sat in front of the woodstove, her fingers working away on their own at the small item she was knitting. There were traces of fresh tears on her face, but at the moment, she seemed to have herself under control.

  “Did you get them all?” she asked, turning her head at the sound of his footsteps. “I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but I feel violated. I’m trying to remember everything I’ve said and done . . . My God, Mike, whoever did this saw me naked, heard me talking to myself, and watched m
e suffer . . . ”

  “It doesn’t sound ridiculous. We all have an expectation of privacy when we’re alone, especially when we’re at our most vulnerable. As far as the cameras and microphones go, they’re down, and I did a number on the control center, but we’re going to take this crap with us when we leave. My friend may be able to tell me where it comes from. It sure as hell isn’t SQ or RCMP equipment. I also found a snowsuit that should fit you and some boots, which means we’ll be able to blow this joint as planned.” He would still need to find her some mittens, but things were definitely looking up.

  She nodded, stifled a yawn, and covered her mouth. After the day she’d had, she must be exhausted. She was holding up better than he would’ve expected, and his respect and admiration grew.

  “I’ve got one mitten finished, and I’ll start on the other tomorrow. If I really push it, I should have it finished by supper time.”

  “Why don’t you go to bed? The sleet stopped, and it’s snowing again. Someone knows where you are, that’s a given now, but just as we aren’t going anywhere, neither are they. Between the thick layer of ice on the road and the poor visibility, nothing’s moving tonight.”

  “Sitting ducks. I get it.” She held up the sketch on the table beside her. “Now that I’ve drawn him, I’m noticing little things I didn’t before, like the furtiveness in his eyes.” She yawned again. “Sorry about that. This has been the day from hell. I’m going to take your advice and turn in. It’s almost eleven. What will you do?”

  He reached for the sketch she held.

  “I’ll stretch out on the couch here in a bit. I can grab the blankets from the other room.”

  She swallowed. “Are you going to look at . . . you know?”

  “No, I’m not, but I am going to see what else I can find on this device.” He examined the sketch. “This is good. Have you ever thought of selling your drawings?”

  “Not really, but since teaching won’t be an option without credentials, I’ll have to do something.”

  “Go to sleep. I’m sure things will look better tomorrow. We’ve got all day to talk about the future and get to know one another.”

  “Thank you—for not looking, I mean. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She turned the chair and went down the hall.

  Mike watched her shut the bedroom door. He shouldn’t pity her. It was the last thing she would want, but damn it, he did—at least, he hoped it was only that. No one should have to go through what she had. It was a good thing this Callaghan was dead, because he’d rip the man a new one for what he’d done to her. And if he wasn’t? Then the bastard had better hope Mike never laid eyes on him.

  Several hours later, Mike awoke suddenly, pulled out of a nightmare he was quite happy to leave, but it took him a few seconds to realize where he was. The computer screen in front of him was black. He must’ve fallen asleep trying to find something he could understand in the files. A lot of them had been financial documents, lists, and inventories, but everything was encrypted. They reminded him of files he’d examined years ago when he’d been with the fraud unit before moving to narcotics. It would take a first-class hacker to crack those encryptions.

  He shivered. No wonder he’d dreamed of being in that refrigerated car. It was freezing in here. He’d forgotten to put fuel on the fire, and it was cold in the room, but he doubted that had awakened him. Then what? He got up and stoked the woodstove, adding several logs once he had a good base. He was just about to go back to the couch when Alexa cried out, the blood-curdling sound stopping him in his tracks.

  Grabbing his Glock off the coffee table, he ran down the hall and, without knocking, threw open the door to her room. Alexa was all twisted up in the blankets, thrashing on the bed as if she were fighting a much larger opponent who had her pinned, her head moving quickly from side to side.

  “No, Richard, no, please, for the love of God . . . ” she begged the invisible force attacking her. Suddenly, she stiffened and screamed once more.

  He rushed to the side of the bed and sat on it, cursing this Richard who was obviously terrorizing her, and reached for her inert form. “Alexa, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” Although at the moment, she was barely breathing. Fear filled him. “Come on, wake up. Please wake up.” He shook her slightly, repeating her name over and over again.

  Her eyes opened, but there was no sign of recognition in them. Was she awake? He’d heard about officers who’d been shot, guys with PTSD who suffered from night terrors where, even though they looked awake, they were so deeply asleep, almost catatonic, no one could reach them.

  “Alexa, it’s me. It’s Mike. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  She blinked twice, her eyes focusing on him. “Mike?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, remember? I arrived today.”

  She looked around her, her eyes filling with fear, her lower lip trembling. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “You were having a nightmare . . . scared the crap out of me. Who the hell is Richard?”

  The fear in her eyes increased, and she burst into tears.

  Feeling as helpless as he had when Thea cried, he pulled her into his arms and let her weep, not knowing whether it was the right thing to do, but after the hell she’d been through today, she’d earned the right to a good cry.

  “It’s okay,” he said, tucking her head under his chin. “You’re safe now.”

  He held her like that until the sobbing was replaced with hiccupping.

  “If you’re feeling better, I should—”

  “Don’t go,” she said, reaching for the doll on the bed beside her and holding the cloth body as a barrier between them. “Don’t leave me alone. The dream will come back.”

  He pushed her hair off her face and gazed into her frightened eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. You have my word on it.”

  It was an oath he intended to keep. Leaning against the headboard, he snuggled her in his arms, made sure the quilt covered her, and continued to rub comforting circles on her back. Before they left this place, he intended to find out everything he could about this Richard, but for now, he held her, reminded of the last woman he’d held in his arms—the one who’d died there. Her breathing slowed, and she was soon asleep. Gradually, his eyes closed, too.

  • • •

  Alexa woke at three in the morning to find herself draped all over Mike like a cheap suit. What the hell was he doing in her bed?

  Fisting her hand to punch him, the fact he was still fully dressed and on top of the covers took the wind out of her sails. Vaguely, she remembered him waking her earlier. No doubt she’d let out a hair-raising scream during one of her infamous nightmares. She didn’t remember the vision, but then she’d taken both her pain medication and her antianxiety drugs. She hated taking pills, but she’d been sore and upset, more angry and disillusioned than at any time since she’d made her ill-fated escape. The main attraction at a peep show. It turned her stomach.

  Hoping not to wake Mike, she got out of bed and slowly made her way into the bathroom. When she returned to her bedroom, the room was empty, and the bed bore no sign of its previous unexpected occupant. Had she hallucinated his presence? Who the hell knew? She climbed back into bed and closed her eyes once more, praying she would get a couple of hours of dreamless rest.

  When the alarm sounded at seven, she groaned and reached to turn the damn thing off. She was groggy this morning, and her head ached. How could taking prescribed medication for pain create more pain? Yawning, she stretched. The wind continued to howl, so it looked as if the storm was still flexing its muscles.

  Footsteps sounded loudly on the plank floor, and her pulse quickened. What if it wasn’t Mike? What if whoever was after her, whoever had been watching her, had discovered they’d found his equipment? Would he brave the storm to get to her—to them? Other bits and pieces of yesterday floated through her mind, including the fact that someone out there ha
d a key to this place. Mike would’ve put on the safety chain, but as he’d said, the thing was flimsy and all but useless. Her throat was dry, and she swallowed a couple of times to lubricate it, hoping to tamp down her nerves.

  “Alexa, are you awake? I heard the alarm. It’s early, but you did mention you kept some kind of crazy schedule,” Mike said.

  “Yes, I’m awake.” His voice calmed her. Damn her overactive imagination.

  “I hate to pull you out of bed so early after the restless night you had, but I need to go out and do another perimeter sweep. We’ve lost a few more branches, and I want to make sure the snowmobile is okay. If I can still open the garage door, I’ll rearrange stuff so I can move it inside where it’ll be safer. If this keeps up much longer, there won’t be too many unaffected trees. I need you to come and lock up after me.”

  “Give me five minutes,” she said, tossing back the covers. A restless night? It looked as if she hadn’t imagined his presence in her bed after all.

  “You’ve got it.”

  Stepping into her slippers, she noticed the cottage wasn’t freezing the way it usually was first thing in the morning. That was the advantage of having a man around to handle the heavier chores, but while she needed help in the short term, she didn’t plan on relying on one again after this was over.

  Donning her brown robe, she went into the bathroom, took care of her needs, ran a brush through her tangled hair, and pulled it into a ponytail. Had the Peeping Tom enjoyed watching her struggle to do even the most basic things? Had he gotten off on her pain? It was the kind of creepy thing Richard would do. She’d often felt as if she were being watched when he wasn’t around.

  “And here Zabat or his damn magician has been viewing me day in, day out, and I never even noticed.” So much for intuition.

  As she did each morning, she reached for her crutches to exercise her stiff muscles after a night in bed. Moving as quickly down the hallway as she could, she saw Mike waited by the door.