To Trust a Stranger (25 page)

Julie shook her head. “No clue.” Mac grunted unsurprised acknowledgment as he continued to point and click, then peck away at the keyboard, apparently trying words at random. “Ah,” he said moments later with obvious satisfaction, watching as text popped into view. Julie did a double-take. She was just about to ask how he'd done that clearly he had either figured out the password to one of the files or somehow bypassed the system's security-when an unexpected sound from somewhere behind her made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She spun around. In her arms, Josephine stiffened. The little dog's eyes stared alertly toward the kitchen. Because there was no possibility of mistake: someone was entering the house through the garage door.

18

TERRIFYING MEMORIES CAME BACK IN A RUSH, threatening to swamp every last vestige of calm that remained to her. Julie's pulse raced, and her breathing grew choppy. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead and her palms.

“I'm right here.”

Mac had obviously heard the sounds too. He was behind her before she could break and run, his voice low, one hand wrapping around Josephine's muzzle. Even as he spoke he drew Julie back inside the den. A glance told Julie that the computer was now dark and still; Mac must have turned it off.

“Keep Josephine quiet,” he breathed in her ear, closing her hand around the poodle's muzzle as he removed his own. Julie obediently held Josephine's mouth shut, but to the dog's credit she showed no inclination to bark. Still, she seemed almost as petrified as Julie felt, and Julie wondered with the part of her mind that was still capable of entertaining such speculations if the dog was somehow able to pick up on her emotions. Josephine's slight body was stiff in Julie's arms, and her eyes bugged out, as shiny and round as black marbles in a nest of white frizz. Like Julie, she was breathing fast, and her heart was thudding. Julie could feel it pounding in double-quick counterpart to her own.

“Shh.” Mac's arm slid around Julie as they reached one of the two long windows overlooking the manicured back lawn and the pool. He pulled her with him behind the drapes that hung from ceiling to floor, letting the heavy taupe velvet and the whisper-soft sheer beneath wrap around them, hiding them from sight. Enveloped by the sickly-sweet aroma of the rose-scented air freshener that clung to the curtains, shrouded now in shadow, Julie discovered that she was trembling; fear washed over her in waves. Trying to keep her breathing under control, she leaned against Mac, her cheek resting against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

Josephine remained stiffly alert in her arms. Julie prayed that the dog would remain silent and they would not be discovered. She didn't think she could live through another terrifying encounter, not even with Mac and Josephine the would-be guard dog for protection. Confronted, she would die of a heart attack on the spot.

Mac held her close, an arm hard around her waist. The sheer size of him was reassuring. She tended to forget what a big man he was until she was in his arms. A sideways glance told her that he had produced a gun from somewhere on his person, which he now held in his hand. It was the black, businesslike weapon she had seen before, when he had appeared like a guardian angel in her kitchen, when the monster had been hard on her heels and she'd been running for her life.

The world spun as she remembered, and for a hideous, horrible moment Julie feared she might faint. Mac's arm tightened as if he sensed her sudden weakness. She closed her eyes and rested heavily against him and counted to ten and forced the dizziness away by sheer force of will. Then Josephine whimpered, the slightest sound, and tried to pull away from Julie's hand. Julie realized that she was holding the dog's muzzle too tight even as the murmur of approaching voices made her shudder. Forcing herself to remain in the present, to remain focused, she loosened her grip on Josephine and apologetically cuddled her closer, drawn back from the precipice just in time. She could not, would not, let fear overwhelm her. If she succumbed to the mindless terror that hovered near, she might very well make some sound or do something that would reveal their presence, thereby endangering Mac and Josephine as well as herself But once she was in control enough to really listen, she realized that this was not the monster returned. At least one of the voices was all too familiar. This was-Sid. Sid and a woman.

Julie's spine stiffened. Her head rose like that of a doe's scenting danger.

“It's Sid,” she whispered.

“Don't move, and don't make a sound.” Mac's voice was scarcely louder than a breath. His arm around her hardened into an unbreakable band as though he feared she might pull away from him, might dart out and confront her husband there and then. Mac shifted position without loosening his hold on her, manoeuvring so that her back was against the wall and he was in front of her, as if to both shield her and keep her in place. Julie once again got a good look at the gun in his hand. He had not lowered it, or relaxed in any way. His attention seemed to be divided equally between her and the newcomers who were now talking unconcernedly in the hall just a few yards away.

Julie realized that Mac considered Sid’s presence a threat.

Before she could get all the implications of that sorted out in her head, her husband's voice came to her clearly.

“ ... plenty of time,” he said in a jocular tone.

“I guess I can tell her I had. to run an errand, but I absolutely, positively have to be back by three.” The woman's voice was young, giggly-and almost as familiar as Sid's. Julie froze, poleaxed.

“If you're in a hurry, we could always do it right here on the steps.”

“Oh, Sid.” A high-pitched giggle. Rapturous silence. Then, from a little bit farther away, as though they were climbing the stairs: “What time does your plane leave?”

“Four. God, you've got such a nice, tight little butt .... “

Even as Julie registered that bit of insult that had just been added to injury, the voices faded into indistinctness.

Or, at least, Julie could no longer hear them distinctly, which worked just as well. There was another, muffled giggle, followed by distant footsteps and the sound of a door closing. She realized, with the kind of distant clarity that was a hallmark of certain dire situations, that Sid and another woman were in her bedroom. She felt as if, like Lot's wife, she'd witnessed something she wasn't supposed to witness and had been turned into a pillar of salt where she stood as a result.

She would never breathe, never move, never feel anything again.

“Come on, we're getting out of here.” Mac's voice was a growl in her ear. Pillar of salt or not, he was moving her, thrusting his gun down the back of his jeans and taking Josephine from her and wrapping his hand around her wrist and literally dragging her from their hiding place.

With no will to resist, Julie allowed herself to be dragged: through the hall, the dining room, the kitchen, the garage, while visions of what she was leaving behind swirled through her head. Sid's Mercedes was parked in the garage. The big, black Mercedes that he drove so proudly as a symbol of his success.

“Wait,” she said hoarsely, and freed her wrist from Mac's hold with a sudden yank. Before he could stop her, she was back inside the house, in the cool hush of her own kitchen, quick and quiet as a cat as she snatched what she needed from the pantry cabinet. Mac was already coming across the kitchen after her as she brushed by him again on her way back down into the garage, illusive as a drop of mercury as he reached for her, silent and focused and totally intent on her task.

With a flip of her hand and two quick turns of her wrist, she had the Mercedes' gas cap off. Then she upended the five-pound bag of sugar she carried, and, carefully using one corner as a funnel, poured the contents down the tank.

“What the hell ... ?” Encumbered by Josephine, Mac wasn't fast enough to stop her. He came to a halt a pace away, looking at her like she'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.

“Sid loves this car,” Julie said with savage satisfaction, screwing the lid back on and closing the little door. Only a small amount of sugar had spilled on the floor. She kicked it under the car with her toe so that no telltale sign remained.

“Remind me never to tick you off” A quick smile just touched his mouth as Mac grabbed her wrist again and pulled her out of the garage. Julie crumpled the sugar bag into a tight little ball as she was hauled bodily down the driveway.

“Get in,” Mac ordered when they reached the Blazer, jerking open the door. He took the sugar-bag ball from her and tossed it into the backs eat. A quick glance back at her house told Julie that the curtains had been drawn across the master bedroom's windows. A stab of some fierce emotion-fury, she thought, more than pain-made her grit her teeth.

“That was Amber,” she said through her teeth, looking at Mac.

“The no-good dirty rotten bastard is doing Amber in my bedroom. On my bed.”

The thought made her so mad she wanted to spit.

“Get in,” Mac said again, practically pushing her inside. This time she complied-she really had no choice-and he dumped Josephine in on top of her and closed her door. Seconds later he slid behind the wheel, tossing the white lawn-service sign into the backseat where the sugar bag and Josephine's rejected collar and leash and no telling what else already took up space.

Josephine stood on her lap, wagging her tail and staring up into Julie's face, her expression worried, as if she somehow sensed that a crisis was occurring around her. Mac leaned across, opened the glove compartment, extracted a doggy brownie from it, and tossed it into the backseat.

“Go get it,” he said.

Josephine, way ahead of him, had looked around at the first stretch of his hand toward the glove compartment and was already springing like a mini-kangaroo over the seat as he spoke.

“So who's Amber?” With another quick, frowning glance at Julie, Mac got the car under way. Julie was barely aware of the changing scenery that meant they were moving. She felt numb, the kind of numb that signified deep psychic shock.

And why not? The life she had known for the last eight years had just been blasted into oblivion.

“She works for me. She and Meredith. At Carolina Belle. I don't believe this.” Julie began to laugh, the sound high-pitched and unnatural to her own ears. “No wonder Sid needed Viagra-to keep up with her! She's only twenty-the same age I was when Sid met me. She's a brunette, like me. And last year she won Miss Angel of Beauty. He's replacing me with me.”

“Men do that a lot.” Mac's voice was even. The glance he sent her way was stark with concern. “There's a certain type they like, and they go back to it again and again.”

“Oh, so now I'm a type.” Julie bared her teeth at him in a feral travesty of a smile. “Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, it could be worse. At least you're a beautiful, sexy type.”

This attempt to make her feel better, if that was what it was, failed miserably. Her fists clenched. “I hate him so much I want to kill him. I want to do him harm.”

A flicker of a smile lightened his expression. “That sugar in the gas tank thing was a pretty good start. You know, that car cost about eighty grand.”

“Yeah.” There was a wealth of pleasure in Julie's voice. Then it faded. “Of course, insurance will cover it. He'll just get another one.”

“Look, I know you're hurting, I know you're upset, but you need to focus on the big picture here. You got him right where you want him. He just handed you his head on a plate.” Mac fished his cell phone out of the console and punched a button. “Hang on a minute. I want to make sure Sid's walk on the wild side gets recorded for posterity.”

Before Julie could reply to that, someone on the other end of the phone answered. The voice was distant and faintly muffled, but she could hear every word.

“Mac, man, where you at? Rawanda's been looking for you-seems Ed
Barundi
came stomping in, all hot because his girlfriend found out about the background check we ran on her and dumped him-and she said you're not answering your cell.”

“Yeah, well, never mind that now.” Mac frowned, and hung a left that had them heading back toward downtown. “You're working on the Laura Simmons thing, right?” There was an affirmative sound on the other end. “That puts you about five minutes from here. I need you to come on into Summerville as quick as you can and get as much audio and visual as possible on a couple shacked up in the upstairs front bedroom at 451 Magnolia in the Sutherland Estates subdivision. You got that?” He repeated the address. -

“Who you got in there?” The voice sounded interested.

“Just do what I tell you,” Mac growled. Then, before the sputter at the other end could resolve itself into words, he added: “Catch you later.”

Then he disconnected.

Julie frowned at him. “Who was that?”

The phone rang shrilly before he could reply. He glanced at it, grimaced, apparently at the number that was displayed on the caller LD. readout, hit the power off button, and dropped the phone back down into the console. “My partner. That was him calling back, too. Sometimes he wants more information than is good for him. Don't worry about it. We need proof that Sid's shacked up with your employee in the marital home so that it doesn't deteriorate into just a he-said, she-said kind of situation. Even if it's just the two of them leaving the house together. Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words knew what he was talking about, at least in court.”