Beth poured the rest of the coffee into Jim’s and John’s cups. She sat back down, her nerves twanging like a banjo strung too tight.
“I called Don and Sally and explained that we might be breaking down their door, and they are okay with it, but they did ask why we don’t use the key they left with me.” John looked across the table at Beth, who laughed out loud.
“I’ll get it,” she said, getting up and opening the cabinet over the sink. Inside was a small basket that she dumped things into when she didn’t know where else to put them. She fumbled around until she found a bright purple ribbon with a key on the end. “It opens the front door. The code to her alarm system is zero-zero-zero-nine. I don’t know if the alarm is on or off. I suppose there is a possibility that one of the Realtors might not have turned it back on once they showed the house. I guess you’ll find that out when you get there.” Her voice was so flat, so devoid of emotion, both men simply stared at her.
Mack nodded as he pocketed the key. “John can enter by the front door, and I will be waiting by the back door in case he’s in there and opts for the back way out.”
“What about the garage?” John asked in a voice that was just as flat as Beth’s.
“I happen to know you can’t open the garage door without the remote control. I have that, too,” Beth said. “Mine works the same way. In fact, I’m the one who turned Sally on to the company I use.” She went back to the cabinet and the little basket. She rooted around till she found the small black square. She handed it to John, who stuck it in his jacket pocket.
“Okay, let’s go. Bundle up, John. It’s ugly out there.” Mack grinned.
Beth walked both men to the front door and burst out laughing when she saw the two side windows that had allowed her to see the delivery girl from Edible Treasures. Now two colorful beach towels covered both windows and were held in place with ugly gray duct tape.
“I told you, Luke had a clear view of the entire front of your house, and that includes those two windows. He can see right into this hallway if he has a pair of high-end binoculars, which I am willing to bet he has. The beach towels might not be designer decor, but they’re doing the job I want done. I’m not worried about your living room and the bay window since you really don’t use that room and are rarely in it. If there are no lights on, he can’t see in. You do, however, crisscross this foyer and come in here from time to time. All that guy needs is one sighting, and he’s good for days. That’s how these guys operate, how Olsen is wired,” Mack said matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t complaining about the towels, Jim. Actually, I’m kind of miffed at myself that I didn’t think of it. I just think that this is November, almost Christmas, and here I am decorating my foyer with beach towels. Makes me long for summer.”
“Okay, okay, lock up behind us. We’ll ring the bell when we get back. Make sure that dead bolt is solid in the slot.”
John kissed Beth on the cheek before he followed Jim out the door. They both waited to hear the dead bolt slide home. They looked at one another and started off. “We should have told her to put the outside light on,” John muttered.
“No, we should not have told her to do that. You do not want to light up the house in any way to make it easy for him. Will you please relax; I really do know what I’m doing. Beth was right, it’s less windy, and it’s just misting out. Come on, we need to put those cleats on and move out.”
The minute the two men walked out the door, Luke Olsen packed up his sleeping bag, along with all his equipment, and slung it over his back like an oversized army backpack. He was out the back door in under two minutes, all traces that he’d ever been in Don and Sally English’s house erased. He was confident he hadn’t left any fingerprints anywhere in the house because he’d worn surgical gloves the entire time he’d been inside. As he told himself over and over, this wasn’t his first rodeo.
Olsen walked between the yards, careful to stay near ice-crusted shrubbery. At one point he almost laughed out loud when he saw two men walking toward the house he’d just vacated. One of them had to be Beth’s friend, and the other one was someone he’d seen in Nashville and was now here. He made a mental note to find out who the man was.
Olsen stayed close to the thick shrubbery until he was two doors away from Beth Masters’s house. He stepped out onto the lawn, crossed both driveways, and in a minute he was standing under the overhang of Beth’s front door in total darkness.
Luke Olsen rang the bell and waited.
Inside, Beth was poking at the fire in preparation for laying down fresh logs. She looked at the small clock on the mantel. They’re back already? was her first thought as she tossed the logs on the fire. She shrugged. Obviously, they hadn’t found anything to indicate Olsen had been in the English house.
Beth turned on the outside light. Her hand was on the dead bolt to slide it back when she heard a voice from the other side of the door.
“Beth, honey, let me in. It’s cold out here. Come on, sweetie, let’s kiss and make up. Did you love the fruit basket I sent you for Thanksgiving? I missed having dinner with you. I hope you have a nice fire going so we can cuddle. I really missed you, honey. We need to make up. This isn’t fun anymore, honey. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, open the door.”
All the air left Beth’s lungs. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Her hand shot back away from the lock as her eyes went to the two beach towels. She was going to black out any second. Breathe, Beth! Breathe, Beth! She reached out to grab hold of the small foyer table, where she always tossed her car keys if she came in by the front door. Oh, God, where was her cell phone? Where did she leave it? She couldn’t remember. The den? The kitchen counter? Where?
Breathe, Beth! And magically, air started to seep into her lungs. Her head cleared, and she let go of the table. The spy hole! Olsen was tall, he could see in the little magnified glass. She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, ripped off a part of it, spit on it, and stuck it up to the round circle. Breathe deep, Beth! You can do this. The guys will be back any minute. Think! Where did you leave the phone? Focus! Focus! Take deep breaths.
“Now, why did you go and do that, honey? I know you’re in there all alone. I saw those two guys leave. Such pests. You need to get them out of your life. I don’t like that they are in your house. I don’t like that one little bit. Are you listening to me, sweetie?”
Beth was shaking so badly she could barely stand. Talk to him or not. If she responded, he’d just keep talking. Jim said if he saw her or spoke to her, and if she responded, that would sustain him till he made his next move. Do nothing, she cautioned herself. God, where are you, John? A horrible thought crossed her mind. What if that nut job outside her door did something to Mack or John? No, no, that would never happen. Mack was too good an investigator to let someone like Olsen get a bead on him.
Her best bet was to keep him talking, but would he continue to talk when she didn’t respond to him? He had to know that, sooner or later, both men would be back. Her mind raced as her body trembled. She needed her phone. God, where had she left it? If she could make a mad dash for it, she could throw open the door and take the creep’s picture. Only if you have a weapon, her brain shrieked. A weapon. She looked around the foyer, her eyes wild. Nothing . . .
Poker. Jam the poker into the fire until the end was red hot, then throw open the door and jab him. Good, that was good. How are you going to take a picture if you’re jabbing the creep with the poker?
Where was the damn phone? The kitchen, it must be on the counter in the kitchen. Thirty seconds back and forth. Maybe a minute to fire up the poker. Too much time. Ninety seconds was too much time. Crap, what was he saying now?
“I don’t understand you, Beth. Why are you punishing me like this? You know we’re meant for each other. We’re a perfect match. That’s what you call your company because you named it after us. I’m starting to get angry here, Beth.”
Beth’s mind raced. She made gagging, sobbing sounds as she sprinted for t
he den, where she jammed the poker into the hot flames. Then she raced to the kitchen to look for her phone. Seven, eight, nine, ten seconds. Where’s the phone? She couldn’t see it. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen seconds passed as she swept dishes and pots off the counter into the sink. Nothing. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, not on the table. Think! Breathe deep. Run back to the door. Make more sounds to keep him talking. She got there in time to hear Olsen say, “I’m fast losing my patience, Beth. I need you to open the door right now! Do you hear me, right now!”
“In your dreams, you bastard,” Beth said under her breath as she made more garbled sounds. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three. How long would it take the poker to glow red? Crap, what was he saying now? Maybe the phone had fallen out of her pocket when she was in the den earlier and it was down between the cushions. How long would it take her to ransack the couch? She made more garbled sounds.
“I hear you crying. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I am upset, Beth. We should have spent Thanksgiving together, so we could make plans for our spring wedding. But first I want you to get rid of those two guys. If you don’t, then I’ll take matters into my own hands. You’re too much of a softie, honey.”
Beth felt her jaw drop and her eyes pop wide. She lost it then and screamed at the top of her lungs. “There isn’t going to be any wedding, you stupid jerk! I hate your guts! I love John! John is the man I’m going to marry, not you, you creep! I’m calling the police right now!” She ran to the den, grabbed the poker, whose end glowed a bright red. Holding the poker straight out in front of her, she sprinted back for the door, her lips pulled back in a snarl. The bell rang just as she threw open the door. She jabbed blindly, screaming every dirty word her brother had ever taught her when they were kids.
“Whoa! Whoa!” both men shouted as they quickly backed up.
“Oh, God, it’s you,” Beth said, dropping the poker on the ground. Jim Mack picked it up as Beth fell into John’s arms. She started to babble incoherently as the men led her back into the house.
“What the hell happened?” John asked. “Calm down, take a deep breath. You’re okay, we’re here. We’re all safe. Deep breaths, Beth.”
When Beth finally got her breathing under control, and her eyes could actually focus, she related what had happened. “I’m sorry, Jim. I did exactly what you told me not to do, but I lost it when he said he wanted to come in to talk about our spring wedding. I was good until I heard that. His tone changed. It was bitter and spiteful. He thinks you two are standing in his way.”
John looked at Mack, who was chewing on his lower lip. “Stalker, casebook one-oh-one. I told you this would happen. I’m certain he was in the English house, because I could smell aftershave lotion. If the house has been closed up for over six months that smell wouldn’t be there. I can guarantee no Realtor showed the house because there were no business cards on the kitchen counter, and that’s where they always leave them, to prove the house was shown. Anyway, we could see the outside light was on here. As we got closer, we could see someone standing outside the door. At that point, we picked up our feet and ran like hell, but I guess he was watching. He had the advantage, and we were on ice, and even the cleats didn’t help us all that much. By the time we got here, he was gone.”
“Bold-ass bastard,” John snarled as he tightened his arm around Beth’s shoulders. “Should we call the police now? Beth saw him. Talked to him.”
“She can file a report in the morning, but it’s a she said, he said. But you’re right, at least it will be on file. Now, let’s do something for us, like finishing up that pie from yesterday. I think if it’s warmed up just a tad, we’ll be in gourmet heaven. I have a few ideas I want to run by you for tomorrow. I always find eating sweets when I’m in plan mode makes it all the more palatable.”
In spite of themselves, John and Beth laughed out loud.
The clock in the waiting room glared at Beth and John. Both hands were straight up when a tall, gray-haired man in hospital garb approached them, a wide smile spilling across his face. Seeing the smile caused Beth, John, and Moose to sigh in relief. They waited, hardly daring to breathe, for the surgeon’s report.
“Sit, sit! You two look like you should be my next patients. It went well. We’ll know for certain in twenty-four hours, but I feel confident enough to say Jake will walk again. He’s in recovery now and doing better than I expected. He’s babbling like a runaway train. He’s out of it to a certain extent, but that isn’t stopping him from talking. I tried to understand what he was talking about and the only thing I came up with was he is involved in some matchmaking service and saying he had to memorize a four-hundred-word questionnaire or his ass was going to be handed to him on a silver platter. He mumbled a lot about some killer dog and someone named Gracie, who has beautiful eyes. He kept saying over and over how sorry he was that he let you down, Miss Masters. In his ramblings, he said he was going to take the bull by the horns and wrestle it to the ground and make you proud of him. Then he went off on another topic about someone he called a whiny puke, a lazy laggard, and a king-sized pain in the ass. We had to talk him down and soothe him, as he was getting agitated. He was still muttering when I left him in the recovery room. I hope it makes sense to you all.”
Beth started to cry, then she burst out laughing. “You’re sure he’s going to walk again?”
“Unless he falls out of bed and breaks both his legs, then, yes, I feel confident in saying he will walk again. He’s going to need a ton of therapy, but I know he’s up to it. When he came in for the pre-op, he asked me to check into him doing his rehab at the veteran’s center. He said he’d pay his own way and bring his own therapist and trainer, but that he wanted to do his therapy there if possible. He also said he might be able to help some of the veterans—football stuff, you know. I promised him I’d do what I can, and I really don’t think it will be a problem. So, that’s it for now, unless you have more questions.”
“No, we’re good. Thank you so much. I hope Jake realizes that he’s very lucky to have someone like you on his side.” Beth threw her arms around the surgeon, who seemed a bit taken aback. But he hugged her in return.
The surgeon chuckled. “I think he knows it. In fact, he thanked me profusely for putting up with him these past few years.”
“When can we see him?” Moose asked.
“In about an hour. Well, that’s it for now. I have to scrub now. I have a ten-year-old who’s waiting for me to do the same operation. Do me a favor and stop by the chapel to say a little prayer for this boy. I am very much afraid that this one is going to be tricky.”
The trio looked at one another. They all had tears in their eyes.
“Moose, we have to leave now. Take good care of him, okay?”
Moose nodded. “I wish you’d at least stay long enough to—”
“No.” Beth said. She hugged the old man, tears rolling down her cheeks.
John shook Moose’s hand. “You know our plans. Call us if you need us for anything.”
“Go on, get out of here; you have a long drive ahead of you. Be careful,” Moose said gruffly. “Shoot me a text when you get to Nashville so I don’t go out of my mind worrying about you.”
Another hug. “Will do,” Beth said.
John looked at his ladylove, and asked, “You ready? You got your bag?”
“I am soooo ready, and yes, I have my bag,” Beth said, pointing to a flowered satchel at her feet. “Five minutes, and I’ll meet you at the elevator. You call Jim and tell him we’re on our way.”
Beth entered the women’s bathroom looking like a stylish thirtysomething young woman. She exited looking like an elderly gray-haired woman supporting herself on a cane.
John entered the men’s room looking like a studly jock and exited looking like Beth’s counterpart, doing a slow shuffle. When they met up they held hands and entered the elevator and took it to the basement garage, where they then walked up to the next level to meet Jim Mack, who was waiti
ng for them in a black 1995 Buick Regal. He climbed out, handed the keys to John, and said, “Good luck. I’ll catch up to you, so don’t worry about it. I’m going to give that jerkoff a run for his money. By the way, the roads are all clear.”
“Did you see him lurking around here, Jim?” Beth asked.
“No eyes on him, but he’s out here somewhere. I’m going to drive your Cherokee back to the house and park it. In the garage. I’ll sneak out the back way and pick up a rental. I’ll e-mail you along the way. I’ll be sure to set the timers and call Gracie to stop by. Business as usual. Drive carefully. Hey, hold on. What’s the news on your brother?”
“He’s going to be walking me down the aisle,” Beth said happily. “Thanks for asking, Jim.”
“Okay, you heard it here first,” John quipped.
“That I did, that I did. Congratulations! Be careful now; make sure you don’t speed.”
“You be careful, too, Jim,” Beth said before she rolled the window back up.
“Next stop, Nashville!” John said, excitement ringing in his voice.
“Amen to that, brother.” Beth giggled.
Chapter Twenty
By the end of the first week in December Beth and John had settled in to a new pattern of living in Nashville that Jim Mack set up for them. They moved into a bigger apartment, a furnished one closer to Rootie Tootie’s. This meant that they could walk to the club with Jim acting as a bodyguard. He had been escorting Beth back and forth for her singing lessons, but they were now on hold due to Alfie’s being in the hospital with a severe case of gout. With time on her hands, Beth volunteered to help Arnold Stonebridge in his soup kitchen and loved every minute of working with the little man.
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