92 Pacific Boulevard (12 page)

“It’s not an act.” Christie slid off the stool. “Anyway, I should get home.” She had a long walk to the bus stop and didn’t want to waste time on idle conversation with her sister. Especially if James Wilbur was going to be the topic.

“All right,” Teri said in that superior way of hers. “Whatever you say.” She made her skepticism abundantly clear.

“Fine.” She hungered for information about James but refused to ask, refused to let Teri or Bobby say one word about him. She wasn’t giving James an opportunity to creep back into her thoughts or her life.

Teri insisted on calling a taxi and tucking a twenty into Christie’s pocket. Although she made a fuss, Christie was thankful. Before she left the house, she hugged both Teri and Bobby, and Teri promised to call as soon as she heard about the car.

True to her word, Teri phoned less than twenty-four hours later. Bobby’s friend had located an older vehicle in relatively good condition for under five thousand dollars. The gas mileage was low; it even had a CD player and automatic locks.

“Perfect!” Christie said, so happy she could barely hold still. “What color is it?”

“What color?” Teri repeated. “White.”

Christie couldn’t squelch her disappointment. “I was hoping for blue.”

“You can have it repainted later if it bothers you that much.”

“It won’t—I’m just being silly. I’m so grateful to have a car.” And if it was as reliable as her sister seemed to think and had such nice extras, she wasn’t about to complain.

“Shall I have it delivered to your apartment?”

“Please,” Christie said. “Thank you, Teri,” she said, “thank you, thank you. I promise I’ll pay you back—with interest.”

“Okay. It’ll get there soon.”

Fifteen minutes later, the knock on her door told her that her new car had arrived.

When she saw James Wilbur standing on the other side of the torn screen, she followed her instinctive reaction, and that was to slam the door. A torrent of emotion overwhelmed her as she leaned against the wall. Her knees gave out, and she started to slide downward.

There was another knock, this one louder and more insistent. She had to answer, Christie thought reluctantly. Any kind of reaction would encourage him and that wasn’t Christie’s intention.

Collecting herself, she straightened and opened the door again. She had to admit James looked good, although she made every effort to stare right past him.

“I apologize,” she said. “The door, uh, got away from me.”

He smiled at her explanation as though it amused him. Well, fine, he could be as amused as he liked. But not at her expense.

She was furious with Teri and Bobby. They’d tried to
pull a fast one on her—and they’d succeeded. Christie supposed she should have figured it out. Teri’s vague talk of a friend “in the business,” the sudden mention of a phone call from James…Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Teri would be hearing a few angry words about this.

No, she decided. She’d put her anger aside and overlook their trick in gratitude for all their help—although she wouldn’t forgive them a second time.

“I brought your car,” he said and held up the keys.

“Thank you,” she said, keeping her voice emotionless. Indifferent. But her awareness of him had never been sharper than it was just then. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she’d rather keel over dead than give James Wilbur any indication of her feelings.

“Can I show it to you?” James asked. His eyes burned into hers, sending silent messages—that he needed to talk to her, be with her.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for offering.” She opened the screen door far enough to pluck the keys from his hand. Then, with a polite smile, she quietly closed the door.

To be on the safe side, she turned the dead bolt—unsure whether this was an attempt to keep him out or her in.

F
ootsteps. Faith Beckwith heard them outside her bedroom window. Whoever was there made no effort at stealth. Someone was about to break into the house and didn’t care if she knew.

Paralyzed with fear, Faith stopped breathing. The clock radio said 2:14. At first she’d assumed the movements, which couldn’t be more than a few feet from her window, were just her imagination. But now there was no question—someone was there, crunching through the hardened snow in the backyard. Whoever it was might even be looking inside. Although she was buried under blankets and the blinds were closed, Faith felt the trespasser’s stare, felt his presence as clearly as if he was standing over her bed.

Her breath came again in gasps as her mind raced frantically. Rolling carefully onto her side, she reached for the bedside phone and drew it under the sheets with her. Then, hidden under the covers, she used the lighted dial to punch out 9-1-1. Whispering, she told the operator that someone was outside her bedroom window.

The operator assured her a deputy was on his way.
Without thinking, Faith disconnected the line. Oh, dear, that was foolish. Then she understood what her heart had been telling her from the first—it wasn’t a 9-1-1 operator she wanted reassurance from, it was Troy Davis.

Troy had said she should call but she couldn’t. Not in the middle of the night and, really, what could he do?

He’d been on her mind ever since the evening he’d come into the Wok ‘n’ Roll when she was dining there with Will Jefferson, a friend from her high-school days. He’d been two years ahead of her and a real heartthrob.

Naturally, Troy pretended he hadn’t seen her with Will. She’d done exactly the same thing and acted as though he was invisible. If anything, she’d gone out of her way to prove she could enjoy another man’s company. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time; now, in retrospect, she wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t resist letting him think she had an active social life.

Will Jefferson, while charming and as good-looking as ever, didn’t interest Faith. For that matter, he wasn’t interested in her, either. He happened to be eating alone when she came in, and Will had invited her to share his table. They’d spent an hour catching up and exchanging news of mutual friends, laughing frequently at various reminiscences. They’d had a friendly visit—and that was it. Faith hadn’t heard from Will since and didn’t expect to, which suited her fine.

The footsteps outside her window seemed to be receding. Faith exhaled and then, acting purely on impulse, grabbed the phone again. She hesitated; she had plenty of time to change her mind, plenty of time to be ruled by reason rather than emotion.

Troy answered on the second ring. “Davis here.” He sounded awake. Alert.

“Th-there’s someone outside my bedroom window,” she said, struggling to speak coherently.

“Faith?”

“I—I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hang up and call 9-1-1.” Each word was spoken clearly and distinctly.

“I already did. You suggested I phone you, too—it was silly. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t hang up,” he commanded.

“I’m fine…Your deputy will be here any minute. I’m sorry to bother you, Troy.” She disconnected. With her fingers trembling violently, she felt more than a little embarrassed to have given in to her impulse. Her weakness.

Faith could hear a car pull up and hurried out of bed. She threw on a housecoat, then waited by the door until the sheriff’s vehicle came into view. Turning on the porch light, she stepped onto the porch.

“There—at the back of the house, near the bedroom on the south side,” she called out, pointing in that direction.

Wrapping the housecoat more securely about her, she returned to the house. As she waited, she paced the living room. When she heard a loud knock at her front door, she rushed to answer it—and found Troy Davis standing there, looking grim and hard-faced.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

He sounded angry, as he had every right to be. What an irrational, irresponsible thing she’d done in calling him.

“I’m…shaken up,” she told him, hoping that would be enough to explain why she’d behaved so illogically.

“Wait here,” he said and left her.

Faith lowered herself into her favorite rocker. She sat
there for long moments, unmoving, not knowing what to think or why someone had targeted her.

That was obviously the case. She’d done her best to ignore the fact, pretend this couldn’t be happening. Now, whoever this person was, he’d come back, bolder and even more aggressive. After the initial break-in, he—or she—had spray painted her garage. Now—

“There’s clear evidence of someone outside your bedroom window,” Troy said sternly as he came through the front door. “Deputy Walker saw footprints in the snow.” His tone was almost…accusatory.

Faith looked up at him and blinked, bewildered.

Troy’s nod was curt and professional as he prepared to leave.

But Faith sensed his hesitation.

“Did you lock the dead bolts before you went to bed?” he asked.

She confirmed that she had. “I also purchased a pair of old work boots from Goodwill and set them on the porch. I bought the largest size I could find—fourteen. Then I added a huge dog dish and a bone, so it would look as if I have a dog.” She figured that since she was pretending she had a dog, she might as well make him big. Her son and daughter had found her antics amusing. Troy apparently didn’t.

“Did you get a
real
security system?” he snapped.

That she hadn’t done. This was a rental house and she had a six-month lease. She hoped to buy a home within the next few months. It seemed a waste of time and money to invest in a security system when she didn’t intend to live here much longer. And she didn’t feel an alarm system was the landlord’s responsibility.

“No,” she admitted.

“Then I recommend you do so.”

Faith nodded.

Troy turned to leave again.

Frightened, she didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t know how to stop him. “Why are you so angry?” she cried out.

Troy’s back was to her. He held himself stiff, and then she saw his shoulders deflate as he faced her. He didn’t seem to have an answer.

“It was wrong of me to call you. I apologize, I really do.” She didn’t remind him that he’d been the one to make that suggestion. It had stayed there, in her mind, like a thorn caught on a piece of fabric. In her weakened state she’d done what she’d wanted to all along and now regretted it.

Still Troy didn’t speak, didn’t move or give even a hint that he’d heard her.

“I realize I shouldn’t have…”

He accepted her answer with a curt nod. “You’ve made it plain you don’t want me in your life.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, embarrassing her even more. “Yes, I know. I—”

“Then why, when you felt you were in danger, did you reach out to me?”

He was obviously determined to make this difficult. She told him the truth, since she couldn’t come up with any other explanation. “I feel safe with you.”

He glared across the room at her.

It felt awkward to be sitting while he loomed over her, even if he was on the other side of the room. Faith stood
abruptly. She hated to let him see how upset she was by this latest disturbance.

“I need some coffee,” she said, knowing there was no point in going back to bed now. “Would you like some, Troy?” she asked, refusing to allow his anger to affect her.

“No.”

It didn’t sound as if he meant that, so she proceeded into the kitchen, immeasurably pleased when he came, too, a few paces behind her.

“I have the names of a couple of companies who install security systems,” he said. “I’ll have Megan pass them on to you.”

Faith continued to prepare the coffee. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Troy.”

He seemed on the verge of leaving again. She resisted the urge to stop him, although she didn’t want to be alone. No, it was more than that. She wanted Troy with her. She needed him.

“I saw the TV report about the cave and the skeleton on that Seattle station,” she said conversationally. “I hear everyone in the area’s talking about it. I hope all this media attention hasn’t caused your office any problems.” The reporter had started all kinds of speculation, and as a result Kitsap County seemed to be alive with rumors, some of them pretty ridiculous.

Troy didn’t answer, but he didn’t walk away, either.

She glanced over at him, waiting for a response.

“Mayor Benson isn’t happy about it,” he finally said. “Neither am I.”

“It puts a lot of pressure on you and your staff, doesn’t it?” She brought a mug to the kitchen table and set it
down while the coffee filtered into the pot. “Is that the reason you’re so cranky?”

Again he didn’t answer.

“Or does it have to do with Will Jefferson?”

Troy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“You
did
see us, didn’t you?” she said.

Once more he declined to respond, but she went on as if he had.

“I thought so.”

Troy remained stoic. “I didn’t know the two of you were seeing each other,” he said tersely.

“As it happens, we aren’t.” She went on to explain that she’d run into Will at the restaurant. If her explanation satisfied him, he didn’t say. He seemed determined to keep her out of his life. Well, that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? What she’d asked for.

The coffee gurgled behind her, and the slow dripping sound came to an end.

“It’s none of my business who you have dinner with.”

“True, but I felt you should know.”

He nodded as though acknowledging the information. That was encouraging.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into having coffee with me? It’s almost four, and there probably isn’t enough time to go back to sleep.”

He hovered uncertainly in the kitchen doorway.

“Why is that such a difficult decision?” Faith asked, half joking.

“I should go.”

It was hard to hide her disappointment. “I understand.” Thankful for an excuse to turn away, she filled her mug
and added cream. When she turned back, she discovered that Troy had taken a few steps into the kitchen.

“Before I do, I want you to tell me again what happened tonight. Start with the fact that someone was at your bedroom window.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth seep through her. “Yes. I heard the footsteps.”

“You heard noise out by the garage on another occasion.”

“Yes, there was that spray-painting incident.”

“Has there been anything since?” he asked. “Before tonight?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Well, you
should
be aware,” he said in a brusque voice.

Faith exhaled slowly, unaccustomed to dealing with Troy when he was angry. This was a side of him she wasn’t familiar with. Troy Davis had never revealed a temper in her presence, not in the past and not recently. Until tonight.

His mouth tightened.

“I…I probably should keep closer tabs on the garage and the house, too,” she said.

“Yes, you should.”

“You’re making me feel foolish.”

Troy ignored the comment. “Have the interior security system installed, and ask Grace and Cliff to place a motion light above the garage.”

“I’ll do that at the first opportunity.”

“Don’t put it off,” Troy warned.

“I won’t. I promise.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes.

“Good night, Troy,” she said softly.

For a long moment he didn’t say anything. “I appreciate knowing you’re not involved with Will Jefferson.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

Troy looked down at the floor. “He’s not a good match for you, Faith.”

“So who do you think
is
a good match for me?” she pressed.

This time Troy Davis didn’t hesitate. His eyes met hers. “We both know the answer to that.”

She leaned forward expectantly.

“It’s me, Faith. It’s always been me.”