A Stranger in Wynnedower (3 page)

Her heart said ‘yes.’
“He’s not here, he doesn’t answer the phone, and neither of us knows where he
is. I have to do something.”

“Where are you
staying?”

All he needed was her
cell number. The creepiness of knowing he’d watched her from the hallway
without speaking a word rankled. For heaven’s sake, she’d groveled on the dirty
floor with a stupid plastic hanger.

“I’ll find a hotel in
town. Do you have something to write my number on?”

“Just say it. I’ll
remember it.”

In the dresser mirror,
Rachel caught sight of herself and every other thought was swamped. Her silk
top was stained with dirt and sweat. Her dark hair was frazzled and stuck to
her grime-coated cheeks.

Bitter words
overwhelmed her self-control. “You act so concerned now. Where was that concern
when you stood in the hallway watching me trying to force my jacket through the
crack? I’ll bet that was quite a show. Did you have a good laugh? Why didn’t
you open the door?”

He drew back. “What are
you talking about?”

“Please. Who else could
it have been?”

“Your imagination? Or a
trespasser like you?”

She stormed past him,
then paused at the top of the stairs. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Jack.”

“I don’t want to call
you anything. I want to know what name to give the police when I file the
report.”

His face hardened. He
crossed his arms. “Do what you have to do. I doubt they’ll be interested.
Jeremy—is that his name? Jeremy’s a grown man and single. He probably moved
into town with a girl. There’d be a lot more to interest him there, and maybe
he didn’t think it was his sister’s business.”

He held out her jacket.
“Don’t forget this.”

Rachel grabbed it from
him and went straight to the stairs. She didn’t stop until she reached the
bottom where she paused to put on her shoes.

He called down. “Wait,
I’ll walk you out.”

“No thanks.” She took
the keys from her pocket and entered the night.

Dark. Breathless dark.
It hit her like a wall. She stopped. This was not city dark.

An exterior light
switched on with a puny glow.

Thanks for nothing,
Jack.

Jack? The owner? She
wasn’t surprised. At some point, she’d figured it out even though he’d denied
it earlier. Or had he denied it? Her brain was mush.

She held on to the iron
stair rail as she descended. The car was parked a few yards away where she’d
left it hours ago.

The lower level of the
house, that area behind the bushes, was black as pitch. It was unnerving to
look into the void. No sight. No sound.

Rachel hit the door
unlock button on her key fob. Nothing happened. She hit it again and again.

Desperation rising, she
fumbled the key trying to fit it into the lock, but finally got it and the door
opened. Once in the driver’s seat, she pushed the manual door lock. Only then
was she able to draw in a deep, cleansing, calming breath.

Refusing to accept the
car was dead, she inserted the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing
happened. The darker than pitch area ahead of her seemed to swell. It swallowed
the world beyond the windshield.

A light flickered from
within the bushes.

Too much. It was too
much.

Calm down. Think it
out, Rachel.

Should she call a tow
truck? If she could get to a hotel, she could deal with the car in the morning.
But the expense of a cab…costly, either way.

She hadn’t dialed
information in years. Hoping information was still 4-1-1, she punched the
number in and hit dial. No ringing, there was only an unfunny series of beeps.
She read the screen. The battery was low. The message suggested charging the
phone immediately. What next?

Phone dead. Car, too.
The heat. The dirt. The manicure. Tears squeezed from Rachel’s eyes. How
shallow was it to cry over a manicure? It was the safest thing to cry about.
Not her missing brother. Not the events in the house. Not home. Not her
aloneness.

If she returned to the
porch and knocked on the door, would he answer? Or had he already vanished into
whatever cave he hid in when he wasn’t frightening lone women and trespassers?

Pull yourself
together. You’re an adult.

Things happened.
Everyone knew that.

Suddenly, she wanted to
speak to Daisy, to hear her friend’s sympathy and common sense. Daisy would
say, ‘You just need a bath and a good night’s sleep.’

Daisy was right.

She’d deal with one
thing at a time.

Tonight, she needed a
place to stay and a mechanic or tow truck. She’d call Martin Ballew at the
museum in the morning and reschedule the interview for later in the day. He’d
understand. Meanwhile, she’d do what she had to do.

The porch light still
burned. She removed the keys from the ignition.

Something brushed the
side of the car. Her side, but nearer the back seat.

She was overwrought;
she pushed away panic.

Consider it
rationally. Strip away the emotion.

Rachel closed her eyes
and tried to visualize a well-lit, secure hotel room.

Remove the
extraneous. Identify the true need.

Something hit the
window next to her head. She screamed. A huge shapeless dark mass grabbed at
the door, yanking at the exterior handle.

Skirt, heels, and all,
she scrambled over the gear shift and to the passenger side seat. Her fingers
scrabbled at the door, desperate to exit and forgetting it was locked. She
heard a voice, Jack’s voice, shouting from the far side, his face close to the
glass, wild and scary. Her heart slammed almost through her chest.

“Stop yelling. Are you
hurt? Unlock the door.”

Should she? It was hard
to take that giant step back into sanity. She hit the manual unlock button and
opened the passenger door. Sliding out, clinging to the door frame, she yelled
at him over the car roof, “You startled me.”

“Startled? What do you
do when you’re terrified? You scared the crap out of me. I thought something
was attacking you in there.”

“So did I.” She
sniffled. “My car won’t start.” She crossed her arms to stop the shaking. “My
phone died. Can I borrow yours?”

His hands were on the
roof of the car. He thumped them lightly against the thin metal. The porch
light edged the side of his forehead, his cheekbones and the long line of his
jaw with a narrow glow. “You can come in and use the phone.”

Not back inside. “Do
you have a cell phone? I don’t want to put you out.”

He laughed rudely.

“I mean more than I
already have. I apologize for trespassing, although I didn’t believe I was. I
thought I was visiting my brother, or looking for him. I should’ve left when
you told me to, but then….”

“But then you still
wouldn’t know if your brother was here.”

“Yes.”

“I only have a
landline.”

He walked slowly around
the car, his fingers trailing across the hood. Her knees were quaking, but she
held her ground, refusing to appear weak. Afraid? Yes. Hysterical? Maybe. But
weak? Never.

He stopped a few feet
away and glowered. Her heart raced.

With a small, sardonic
bow, he said, “After you.”

Nothing lay beyond the
wide arch on the far side of the huge living room.

Rachel froze as she
stared at the pitch-dark opening. “Where are we going?”

“The only phone is in
my room.”

One phone and it was a
landline. This man lived in the Dark Ages. “What about your tenants?”

“Tenants? You mean the
caretakers? Like your brother? They have cell phones or no phones. There are
some old phone lines in the house, but so far you’re the only one who has
raised the question. And, frankly, you are a....”

“Trespasser.”

“Right. Do you want to
stand here and discuss it?”

She didn’t. She
followed him into the dark place. They turned a corner into a hallway. Here,
there was light, not much, but welcome. Weak bulbs in sconces lit the back
hallway and created deep, distorted shadows that climbed the walls and festered
in the corners.

They passed doors on
the right and a row of windows on the left, but no moonlight made it through
the clouds tonight and there was nothing to see outside. Rachel caught the
lingering smell of food. It reminded her of Daisy’s diner and her own, small
apartment over the restaurant. She pressed one hand to her midsection willing
her stomach not to rumble.

Near the end of the
hall, he opened a door and gestured for her to enter. Again, she paused.
Following him into his room warred with every iota of common sense she
possessed.

“It’s here or nowhere,”
he said.

The lighting was
stronger in his room. It revealed old furniture, cheap area rugs and general
clutter. A lamp scattered light across a desk stacked with papers and cast a
halo on the ceiling. The phone was on the desk. Belatedly, Rachel thought of
getting her phone charger from her suitcase in the trunk. A quick unzip
would’ve put it in her hand where, now that she was near an outlet, she
could’ve plugged it in for a fast charge.

“I have a phonebook
somewhere.” He waved his hand in the general area of the desk. “I’ll find it.
Why don’t you use the bathroom? Wash your face or something.”

She should wash her
face?

Rachel held her breath,
forcing the ungrateful words to stay unsaid. His bad manners didn’t justify the
same from her. She touched her face, remembered, and gasped. “Where’s the
bathroom?”

“A few steps down that
hallway. Door on the left.” He resumed opening desk drawers.

She wanted to yell or
throw something, but she didn’t. Impervious to her stare, he stayed turned
away. She gave up and went to the bathroom.

Old and shabby, the
floor and walls were patterned with tiny black and white tiles. The claw foot
tub had an aluminum frame attached that draped the shower curtain around it.
Rust stained the drain of the worn porcelain sink, but it was clean. The mirror
over the sink showed her reflection.

The view in the dresser
mirror upstairs had been tempered by the low, soft light. This light was bald
and harsh. Sooty dirt, sweat, and tears streaked her face. She reached up to
touch her cheek and saw the ragged fingernails again. A sob rose to choke her.

Rachel closed her eyes
and her mind. She didn’t want to keep this image in her head to be stuck
forever.

Her sad state was
fleeting. With soap and water it would pass. With the help of a good nail file
and clipper, her nails could be repaired. Her clothing? The silk shell had been
vanity, as had the suit. She should never have indulged herself. A waste of
money. Live and learn. As punishment went, fate had been gentle.

Calmer, she turned on
the hot water and started splashing her face and arms.

When she returned he
was bent over the phone book. The lamplight framed him as he ran his finger
down the listings. Dark curls, free of the pony tail, fell forward across his
cheek.

“You found the phone book.”

The finger stopped and
he looked up. “Yes. I called a couple of local tow companies. But it’s late.
Mike’s garage is nearest. He’s also a mechanic and he’s reliable, but he can’t
get out here until the morning.”

“What else?”

“Pardon?” He frowned.

“What else can go
wrong?” She rubbed her temples. At least, the grit was gone. “I need a taxi
then. I can leave the car here overnight, right?”

He stared. The moment
stretched out long and taut. Surely, he wouldn’t refuse.

She prompted, “Which
hotel is closest?”

“You’re talking going
all the way into Richmond. At least to Short Pump.”

“Is it far?”

The moment stretched
out again. This man didn’t owe her anything and she didn’t want to be in his
debt, but she was fresh out of options. Rachel met his eyes and watched
thoughts play across his face. She read reluctance in his tight jaw and
resignation in his sigh.

“Don’t mistake this for
hospitality.” He pushed up from the desk chair.

“What?”

“I could give you a
ride into town, almost two hours of my time there and back, and then what will
you do in the morning? The car will be here, but you won’t. It’s too late to
hunt down another tow or a mechanic tonight. As for a cab…from out here….”

He uncrossed and
re-crossed his arms. He scratched his five o’clock shadow, already
well-underway.

“I hope I won’t regret
this. Stay here tonight. You can have a room up near where you were
trespassing. Lock yourself in and get some sleep.”