Forever Mine (17 page)

The door to a closet in the small entryway stood slightly ajar. Ben approached it with caution, gripped the knob and yanked the door wide, exposing jackets, coats and a pile of stacked boxes. He blew out a deep breath, moved across to the front door and checked the locks. Both were engaged. He returned to the sewing room. Darkness shrouded the steps that led to the second floor. The house harbored the quiet of death, not making even the slightest creak. The silence, which should have reassured him, tightened his gut.

He took the stairs two at a time. His eyes swept the hallway through the rail spindles. Nothing appeared suspicious. At the upper landing, he paused, waited, and listened for the sound of breathing or a footfall. The lamp on Allie’s dressing table threw pale light into the hall. Instead of heading there, he turned toward the kitchen, the nearest room, leaving the bedroom for last. He patted his jacket pocket, checked for his cell. If necessary, a quick keystroke would quickly summon cops from the station.

He entered in a half crouch. The soft hum as the refrigerator kicked on suddenly sliced into the silence. Food smells—the meat from his dinner sandwich and her fish—still lingered in the air. The wall switch was within easy reach. He entered the room, flicked the switch, and light from the glass globes of the ceiling fixture flooded the area. Nothing appeared disturbed, and no one hovered in a corner.

Ben eased back into the hall then entered and checked the bathroom. Empty. A few steps took him to the room where Allie slept on the pullout sofa. A thorough search assured him it was safe, too.

Finally, he continued down the hall to the master bedroom. His gun, a Glock, felt as heavy as a shotgun in his hand. Tension ran up his arm and stabbed his shoulder. Showtime? He went into a crouch and slipped into the master bedroom, keeping clear of the closet doors. Bed, dressing table, the chair where he waited for the son-of-a-bitch loomed empty in the frilly room. Reaching out, he fingered the metal that edged the nearest side-by-side closet door. One push sent the panel rolling down the track. Women’s clothing, shoes, an upper shelf lined with boxes and purses filled the small space. He found more of the same at the other end. He stepped back and drew a deep breath. The bed stood maybe eight inches off the floor, but he checked under it anyway.

He holstered his gun and went downstairs and into the office to find out who had left the voicemail. His money was on Dave, and he cursed the sick bastard under his breath. When he pressed the playback button, a man’s voice filled the room.

Not Dave’s.

The message said a floral bouquet ordered from Peter’s Garden had been delivered and left outside the front door. There was a return number and a request to acknowledge the receipt. Ben decided to bypass the flowers for now. First, he needed to investigate outside. The drive-by had only proved no one staked out the immediate area of the house. Not yet at least.

Had Dave sent the flowers? Ben’s gut said yes. Did he lurk somewhere nearby? Ben had to find out.

He called Allie’s name, alerting her before he reentered the garage. By the time he flipped on the overhead light, she stood outside his car. Color had drained from her face, and she sucked in rapid, shallow breaths. She walked toward him, unsteady. He closed her car door, the one he’d opened to temporary shield her. He met her halfway and reached for her hand. She grasped his and squeezed hard.

“It’s okay. The house is clear. Everything’s still locked up tight. I’m certain no one was inside.”

Inside the house, she let go of his hand and dropped her purse on the worktable. She shrugged off her jacket and dumped it beside her purse then leaned against the counter for support.

“You were gone so long…the quiet…” She blanched and covered her face with her hands.

“Quiet usually means everything’s okay.” That is, unless Dave had been inside and managed to knock him out cold with an iron pipe or something.

“We need to address a couple things,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “Someone left a message on your office phone.”

She jerked away and almost lost her balance, jabbing her elbow into his ribs in the process. “Was it from
him
?”

“No.” Pain radiated through his ribcage. By tomorrow, he’d probably have a black-and-blue mark the size of a fifty-cent piece.

“You said everything was all right.”

“It mostly is.” He told her about the voicemail left by the florist. “I’ll have to do something about the flowers. Then, depending on who sent them, I may need to call the lieutenant. He’s gonna spit bricks if I have to pull him away from his Saturday night game of gin rummy. The house is secure, but I need to check the surrounding area outside. Will you be okay here for a short while? Otherwise, I can call the station for a cop.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Her strong tone indicated Allie was over most of her fright. Not too surprising. From his daily observation, he knew she had a tough inner strength. He admired her grit. There was some vulnerability, though, deep beneath the surface that was also good. It precluded a lapse of common sense. She’d remember the necessity to take care.

“I’ll leave through the back. Lock the door after me. I’ll use my key to get back inside. Do you want to wait upstairs?”

“No.”

“You’ve heard it before, but stay away from the windows.”

“I will.”

He walked back to the door leading into the garage. “I need to change my clothes. I’ll only be a minute.”

* * * *

While she waited, Allie tried to think of a reason for the flowers. If she had advanced past the semi-finals, and the flowers had arrived the following day, it would have made sense. Then, her mother and Hamilton or even one of her friends might have wanted to acknowledge her accomplishment. However, the semi-finals weren’t for another five days. Thursday.

Had Dave sent the flowers to her?

Fear turned her spine into a tube of ice. She could think of no other explanation. Had he expected her to be flattered and thrilled by such a thoughtful gesture? How long after the flower delivery would he appear? Would he ring her bell even late at night? Was he arrogant enough to believe she’d open her door at this late hour to a virtual stranger? Even if he was with Jimmy? No, he was too smart. He wouldn’t want to alarm her.

Where was he?
How close was he?
She hugged her arms to her chest and shivered.

Chapter Seventeen

Ben reentered Allie’s work room dressed entirely in black: sweatshirt, running shorts, socks and athletic shoes. A black-billed cap covered his head. He had strong legs, well-muscled in the calves and thighs, which Allie had noticed the day they jogged on the beach. That’s when she’d first become aware of his obvious sexuality. Along with everything else twisting her mind in a dozen different directions, she now had something else to distract her: Detective Ben Sutter’s very evident and very potent masculinity. Even his bulky sweatshirt couldn’t hide his sex appeal.

It jolted her to even think along those lines at a time like this. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to clear her thoughts.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Ben asked as he reinserted his house key onto the ring then shoved it into his pocket.

He stood so close Allie could smell the remnants of his aftershave. The beginnings of a dark beard shadowed his jaw. Allie’s heartbeat quickened, this time from an acute awareness of Ben and not entirely from fear. Once again, even at this most inappropriate moment, she wondered about the woman who’d splurged on his Hermes tie. Whoever she was, Allie suspected their relationship had not been a casual one.

“I’m not afraid to stay by myself. I’m used to living alone,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about me.”

He nodded and pulled a business card from his pocket. He held it out to her. “If you get spooked for any reason, here’s my cell number. Call me. I’ll keep the phone on vibrate.”

“I’ll be fine. The house is like a mini fortress.” She placed the card on the printer’s chest next to the phone.

“If anything goes down out there, someone will get word to you. It may or may not be me.”

“Oh?” Her facial muscles tensed, and she pressed her hand to her chest.

“I meant if Dave is apprehended, and I’m tied up.”

She sighed in relief, banishing the fear of something terrible happening to Ben. “Sure. I understand.”

“Okay then, Cinderella. Odds are I’ll be back in less than half an hour. My gut says Dave won’t knock on your door tonight. He’s probably learned enough from Jimmy to know you’re not the kind of woman who puts a welcome mat out for a stranger at this hour.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

“However, I can’t know for sure. It’s best to not take chances.”

He opened the backdoor just enough to ease out onto the darkened porch. “Leave the lights off downstairs. There’s a full moon, so it should provide enough illumination for you. Stick to the center room down here. You can turn on the hall light if you change your mind and decide to wait upstairs.”

Allie’s heart thumped, and she sucked in her breath. “I won’t. I’d rather stay here.” Even though danger might lurk outside the house, she’d feel less isolated downstairs. At least her neighbors were close by.

“Okay. It’s up to you. If the office phone rings, don’t answer it. I’ll return to the house from the rear, the same way I’m leaving. Don’t forget to lock up after me.”

She tilted her head to the side and made a goony face.

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “By now I should know better.”

“Ben. Be careful.” His name came more easily than she would ever have guessed. Maybe because the present moment so lacked intimacy. Saying it aloud seemed very natural.

He nodded, closed the door then walked quickly across the porch. When he reached the bottom step, he pulled his cap farther down to shade more of his face.

She waited until he crossed the yard and disappeared behind the fence before she locked the door. With her bare back against the solid wood, the coldness seeped into her bones. She shivered, but not from the chill, and pressed her hands to her ears.

The memory of Dave’s voice skidded through her mind, as clear and menacing as if he stood beside her, reminding her they would soon meet.

Chapter Eighteen

Once on the sidewalk, Ben broke into a loping jog. The air was clear, but the wind chill had dropped though not enough to keep the goose bumps from rising on his bare skin. He crossed the street and waited on the adjoining median for the loose stream of cars to pass before he navigated the Great Highway. Once across it, he paused, watchful and alert to the sights and sounds of Allie’s neighborhood but found nothing suspicious. Seagulls squawked above the hum of tires. A dog’s persistent bark accompanied rap music played at too loud a decibel.

The moon threw down a silvery sheen of light. Along with the street lamps, it was enough to guide him up onto the dunes. Before the Sunset and Richmond districts were developed, both areas had been a vast ocean of sand. What eventually became Golden Gate Park, as well. Tonight the gusts were strong enough to bend the dune grass. He pulled in deep gulps of air so salty he could taste it on his tongue. The sea was restless. Waves pounded the shore with a roar that reverberated across the wide expanse of sand. The wind slipped beneath the neckline of his sweatshirt; a chill dug into every bone in his spine.

He checked his luminous watch dial: 10:48. Too late for any serious action on the beach. Only a couple dogs romping within sight of their owners, a few joggers and the small cadre taking advantage of the fire rings installed years before. Tonight, few hardy souls braved the wind. Unless they showed signs of suspicion, he wouldn’t interfere. He fingered the police badge clipped to the waistband of his shorts, checked the cell he’d dropped into his pocket. His Glock nudged his lower back, the holster concealed under his sweatshirt. He wondered if he’d find anything unusual or if he’d return to the house disappointed and on edge from frustration.

He used his cell to call Taraval Station. After identifying himself, he gave Allie’s address. He kept the account brief and asked for an unmarked car to watch the house. Allie’s show of courage had won his respect, but leaving her alone with no protection was not viable. She needn’t ever know he’d made the call.

He stuck close to the dunes, able to take in the wide swath of sand sweeping down to the ocean. Patches of tall beach grass and other vegetation afforded seclusion. They were also a likely spots for a man to hide and observe. The beach stretched north to south for three-and-a-half miles. Ben had already mentally sketched a grid composed of the city streets that surrounded Allie’s house.

Nothing raised an alarm. After a quarter hour, he jogged back across the Great Highway. He continued up the nearest side street and checked into parked cars. Most houses were dark, and nothing odd leapt out at him. The street was mostly deserted. He completed the route he’d set for himself then headed back to Allie’s.

There were no lights inside. Either the dark gave her a sense of security or she’d wisely used the absence of light to stay unobserved. Ben felt confident no harm had come to her while he was roaming around outside doing his job. Especially since he’d had the house under temporary surveillance.

He called off the watchdogs then headed down the alley.

The second he cracked the backdoor, he called her name. For all he knew, she could be lying in wait with a pair of those sharp scissors she kept handy. So far, she’d hung tough, but tonight, very likely had escalated the danger and her fear.

She hurried to him clutching a cell phone. She’d changed from her gown and now wore jeans and a dark T-shirt. Her hair spread in soft waves across her shoulders. He’d noticed them before but, tonight, the almost perfect configuration of her features struck him. His heart dug out a couple extra beats. Moonlight threaded through the sole window, and in the glow, his eyes remained on her face. He wished there was some way to alleviate the worry etched in her brow.