Spirited Away

He looked hot, but edgy. Kind of dangerous.

Serial killer dangerous? The way her luck was going, probably.

“I could have been mistaken.” But she wasn’t. She remembered everything about the woman she’d seen. Young – college age, probably. Long, dark hair and a pretty face. She’d been wearing a jean jacket over a white shirt. Something Spider wished she was wearing right about now. “Um, do you mind if I go throw some clothes on?”

“Go ahead.”

She glanced at the dogs and wondered how exactly her boss Zach communicated with them – apparently he could, being a pet psychic and all. Costello lifted his beady little eyes towards her, and she tried sending him the thought: Attack him if he follows me. Good boy.

Costello opened his mouth and grinned.

She held up her finger and managed a smile for their guest. “Give me one minute.”

Hurrying into the guest room, she shut the door behind her. Abbott was sprawled on the bed. Wait – she could have sworn the cat had disappeared into the office on the other side of the house.

“How did you get in here?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Safety in numbers. Don’t move.”

She yanked a pair of jeans and a Captain America t-shirt out of her suitcase and tugged them on as fast as she could manage. In case she got kidnapped, her cell phone was turned on for tracking purposes. The small pocket tools her dad insisted she keep with her made their way into her other pocket, just in case. He’d also given her a little stun gun to attach to her keychain—not that she had done it. What the heck had she done with it? No time to search. On the way out, she risked a glance in the mirror and paused. One side of her head boasted a tangled poof while the other looked as though she’d stuck her finger in a socket. Oh, geez. Had she really opened the door to someone with her hair looking like that? She ran a brush through it real quick, scooped the cat up and paced down the hall.

“If he tries anything, claw his eyes out,” she whispered to Abbott, who growled back a response she hoped meant “Consider it done.”

Noah glanced around the house he’d only been inside once, when he came over to introduce himself to his new neighbours, and whistled. For a guy who’d grown up in a trailer park, this sure seemed a nice place for a couple with no kids.

He’d found its previous sale listing online and memorized some of its stats during his initial research into Collins. Single-level updated traditional ranch with a little over three-thousand-square-feet, four bedrooms, three baths, a side-garage, and a sizable fenced backyard. That was on paper. In person, the home seemed even grander with its 10-foot ceilings, open floor plan, modern appliances and warm decor.

He’d been amazed to see a home across the street up for rent at a shockingly affordable price. The Buckhead community of Atlanta was where the wealthy lived, and Noah certainly wasn’t wealthy enough to afford even this neighbourhood, which was on the lower end of the pricey scale. But he’d grasped the opportunity and had considered staying in the two-storey fixer-upper after his assignment was done because he’d gotten such a great deal on it.

But maybe not, considering the crap he’d been dealing with since he moved in and the probable reality that his neighbours were going to hate his guts when they returned home. He picked up a framed photo of Zachary Collins and his bride posing with their wedding party. Their perky house sitter stood in a blue dress beside a smoking-hot blonde and attractive black woman on the other side of Hannah. His gaze skirted over the other women and stopped on the young redhead.

Anything wedding-related always gave him the creeps, but looking at this picture stirred an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Was it guilt? Or envy? Sleep deprivation must be making him crazier than he’d realized.

“I had that picture framed as a surprise for when they get back,” Emma said, catching him by surprise.

Some of the tension left his shoulders after seeing she’d covered up. She was even more distracting today than he remembered – and he’d remembered a lot. Hell if he knew why, but she’d been on his mind more than seemed reasonable for someone he’d just met. On second thought, her impressive chest pushed against a Captain America shield now. The woman was blessed. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The West men had always had a weakness for well-endowed women.

Feline grumbling came from the black and white cat she held, giving him a good excuse to look at something other than her. The creature eyed him with an unnerving stare. How many animals did Zachary and Hannah Collins own?

“This is Abbott,” she said. “I can’t remember if I introduced you to the dogs, but that chubby little guy is Costello and the one who keeps trying to escape is Charlie.”

He glanced at the stout mutt. “That one is a boy? I thought he was a she.”

“People always think that because he’s so pretty.”

“Are any of them yours?”

“Nope. Just pet-sitting.” She stroked the top of the cat’s head. “So… have you called the cops?”

His heart skipped a beat. “About what?”

“The mystery woman inside your house last night.”

Oh. Right. He shrugged. “Nothing was taken. They probably wouldn’t believe me.”

He’d used the so-called mystery woman as an excuse to come over and break the ice with her. Find out more about her and her relationship to Zachary and Hannah Collins.

Find out more about her.

Noah’s gaze strayed down the hall toward the bedroom she’d directed him to earlier. Her descriptions had been a little… spooky. That had been almost a play-by-play of what he’d experienced a couple of weeks ago when things had started happening at his new house.

He cleared his throat. “And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone earlier?”

She fidgeted with the squirming cat. “Well, I thought I saw—” She stopped herself. Shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

“What did you think you saw?”

She reluctantly lowered the cat to the floor. “When the sheet was wafting through the air, I thought it was covering a person. You know, like I saw the form of a person underneath the sheet? But I was probably dreaming. It was only a second or two.”

The walls seemed to shift and move around him as he struggled to remain steady on his feet. Exact same thing had happened to him a week ago. “Did you have your house alarm on?”

“Yep.”

She probably had been dreaming, but…

Damn. What were the chances?

He noticed the laptop on the coffee table. “What time do you get off work?” Her eyes widened, so he clarified, “So, I can keep an eye out, make sure you get into the house okay.”

“I’m actually working from home while I’m here. I doubt I’ll be in and out very much.” Her eyes widened again. “Except, you know, my boyfriend comes over a lot. Yeah. And friends. I’m hardly ever here alone. Lots of people would miss me.”

“Miss you?” Hell, she had a boyfriend. That blew.

She flicked her hand and laughed. “You know. If I weren’t here.”

“And how long will you be house-sitting?”

“Why?”

“So I can keep an eye out. Maybe check in every so often and make sure everything is okay. I’m sure you were dreaming, but you can never be too careful these days.” He pushed back the urge to ask about her boyfriend and if it was the guy he’d seen stop by last night. He knew when to keep his cards close to his chest.

“Well, Zach and Hannah are taking a long honeymoon. Three weeks. That’s how long I’ll be here.” She winced and murmured “You idiot” so soft he almost didn’t catch it.

Interesting. She didn’t want him to know. Why?

“Three-week honeymoon? Must be nice.” He forced a smile. Three weeks was going to make his job very difficult. “You must be really good friends with them for them to trust you with their house and pets that long.”

“Zach is my boss, so he knows I’m dependable, I think.”

Her boss.

Noah tried not to grin. Maybe he had a legitimate excuse to get to know Emma better.

“I didn’t ask what Zach did for a living.” Of course he already knew, but she didn’t know that.

“Private security.” She gestured to her laptop. “My specialty is cyber security. Easy enough to do from home.”

“Sounds exciting.” He had dossiers on all of Collins’ employees, but he didn’t remember hers. Either he was getting rusty, or there hadn’t been anything in her file to interest him.

He was definitely interested now.

She shrugged and crossed her arms. “So what do you do, Noah?”

“Photography.” He pulled out his wallet and retrieved one of his new business cards. “I’m starting a job teaching part-time at the art institute for the summer semester. That’s why I moved here. Figure I can freelance from home, maybe set up a studio downstairs, teach at night.”

It was all true, and he was glad not to have to lie to her about it. He was beginning a new chapter of his life, one that wouldn’t involve shadowing people who faked disabilities to cash in on insurance companies. It hadn’t been fully explained to him why the attorney of a man who’d been rejected a worker’s compensation claim wanted so badly to prove Collins was a fraud, and quite frankly, Noah could care less. He couldn’t wrap up this investigation into Emma’s boss soon enough. It was his last case, and one he’d only taken after a great deal of coaxing.

His original plans after turning in his resignation had been to spend a month in Arizona trekking through the Grand Canyon and shooting landscapes to pad his portfolio. Instead, he was being paid a lot of money to spy on two so-called psychic detectives.

Resentment threatened to sour his mood again.

Glancing at Emma as she examined the card he’d given her, he reminded himself this job might not end up being so bad. Not if he played his cards right.

“A professor.” She stared at his business card and gnawed at her lip. “Cool. Thanks.”

“Guess I’d better run.” He edged toward the door. “My cell phone number is on there. Feel free to call if you need anything, Emma.”

“Spider.”

“Oh, right. I thought I heard that officer call you Emma.”

“Emma is my real name, but I prefer for people to call me Spider.”

“Why?” He preferred Emma. It was a pretty name. Feminine. He liked it.

She scrunched her face. “Because it’s an awesome nickname. Come on now.”

Stepping through the doorway, he processed what he’d learned about her. Cyber security. Internet. The web.

Spider. He got it.

“Emma suits you better.” Winking, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Chapter 4

Spider waited for the Internet to connect and realized she’d been tapping her foot for – who knew how long?

“It hasn’t taken this long before. What the frack?”

Costello’s response was a cross between a whine and a grumble. The dog always insisted on lying as close to her feet as possible. Sooner or later, she was gonna step on him and then hello animal emergency room visit.

“And it’ll be your fault, you silly dog.” She nudged him with the toe of her Converse hi-tops as she rebooted the machine.

The plush sofa cushions tried to coax her into taking a nap, but her nerves were too on edge to cooperate. Her stomach churned with an urgent desire to find out more about Noah West. Even though her smart phone didn’t have the juice she needed to do a thorough Internet search, she tried it anyway while she waited for her laptop to restart.

She scrolled through the recommended websites a simple search returned, frowning. “This is useless.”

Tossing her phone aside, she hopped to her feet, sidestepped the dog, and began pacing. Noah could be everything he claimed to be, but serious doubt nibbled at that idea. Few people were all they claimed, and she still had the emotional scars to prove it.

Don’t think about the a-hole. He’s ancient history now.

Too late. Her mind reeled back to her ex and how horribly their relationship had ended.

After her mother had died when Spider was in the tenth grade, she’d relied upon her best friend Paul to be her rock, and he had been – that is, until he’d changed from her kind and supportive boyfriend into a cruel and domineering fiancé. She became so meek and shy, letting him dictate her every decision. He’d all but forced her to drop out of college because he wanted to take care of her. No job, he’d said, because she would be too busy being his wife and mother to the three kids he wanted. A proper little lady who wore dresses and never spoke out of turn. Practically a cardboard cutout.

One day she’d taken a look at the hot-pink-haired leather-clad female avatar she’d created in a game – which, let’s be honest, had been her escape to keep her sanity intact, not to mention her one act of rebellion, since video games were not at all lady-like – and wondered why she couldn’t become more like her avatar in real life. Strong. Independent. Unique. Maybe even a little bit snarky. The desire to become those things had grown and swelled until, one day, she impulsively dyed her hair purple and ditched her closet full of dresses for a wardrobe heavy on jeans, combat boots, and skin-tight t-shirts.

And she ditched Paul, too.

Both he and her father had accused her of having an early quarter-life crisis, but she hadn’t cared. She’d felt more herself than she had in her entire life.

She enrolled in computer programming classes, because she’d always had a knack for computers. Afterwards, she got the job at Zach’s agency. And she was almost two years into her five-year plan to save money, get her own house and finally enjoy her fought-for independence.

Patience was all she needed, and not to get mixed up with any serial killer types in the meantime. Because dying before she could get her own place would really, really suck.

Before she could change her mind, she snatched up her phone and punched in the non-emergency number for the Atlanta Police Department. When an officer she didn’t recognize answered, she said, “I’m trying to reach Officer Jack Lanier. He’s been working in Zone 2.”

“He’s on patrol and unavailable at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Sure. This is Spider, er, I mean Emma. Emma Fisher and—”

“The chief’s daughter?”

Her shoulders sank on a sigh. “Yeah.”

“No kidding. What’cha been up to, kiddo? Haven’t seen you around here in a long time.”

Yeah, well, for one, I’m not a kiddo anymore. “You know. I’m working now.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Pruitt. I come over to your house every now and then for games.”

“Oh, right. Pruitt.” She had no idea which officer was Pruitt. The parade of new and old uniforms that came through her house was never ending. “How have you been?”

“Good. Hold on. I’ll patch you through to Lanier’s cell phone. Take care, you hear?”

“Uh. Okay. Thanks.” She blew out a breath, hoping word wouldn’t get back to her father that she’d called into the station. Maybe this hadn’t been the smartest idea she’d had.

“Lanier,” a gruff voice growled.

“Hey, Jack, it’s Emma Fisher.”

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

Enough with the kiddo stuff. Geez. “I have a question. Remember the guy who was here?”

“Yeah, yeah. The neighbour. West. Looked like he’d been on a bender. Why? He been bothering you?”

“No.” Sweet mercy, how did she say this without sounding like a paranoid recluse who spied on her neighbours? She swallowed. “Did you run a check on him or anything?”

“Yeah, standard check. Came back clean.”

“So, no priors or anything?” She drew out her words slowly.

“What’s this about, Emma?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she plopped down onto the sofa again. Here goes. “It’s just that, well, you know how you always hear after police catch someone for doing something awful, that people will say, ‘I saw something suspicious, but I never called the cops’? And you wonder, why didn’t they call the cops? They could have caught the creep already. Know what I mean?”

There were a few seconds of silence. “You saw this guy do something suspicious?”

“I don’t know.” She sank back onto the cushions. As precisely as possible, she described everything that had happened. “I know I saw a woman in that window, but he claims there was no one in the house. I have this weird feeling I need to tell someone about it.”

“Probably worth checking out. Tell you what, I’ll stop by there in a little while, take a look around. It’s probably nothing, but you did the right thing telling me, Emma.”

Her face felt warm to the touch as she covered it with her hand. Sometimes meek old Emma reared her head and filled Spider with self-doubt. Was she actually doing this? “I appreciate it, Jack; but do me a favour? Please be discreet in case I’m wrong. Please don’t mention this to my father either.”

Last thing she wanted was a visit from her overprotective old man during her vacation from him. There was a point at stake here: the point that she could very well take care of herself without needing him or anyone else to look after her.

They ended the call on Jack’s promise to keep it their secret, and Spider’s chest tightened. What if Noah West had already gotten rid of any evidence because of what she’d said? What if this made him so angry he came after her next?

Grimacing, she rushed to the window and looked at the house across the street. No car in the driveway. How long would it take the cop to get here?

Something wet and warm touched the back of her arm, and she screamed. Charlie shrank back and cowered away from where he’d licked her.

“Charlie! You scared me to death!” Hand over her heart, she reached out to pet the dog, even as she glanced at her laptop. She’d forgotten about her computer problems.

Focus on work. Don’t fret over the possible serial killer next door coming to murder you.

Biting her fingernails, she tried to connect to the Internet again and… nothing.

After she double-checked her laptop’s settings, she got up to reset the router. If that didn’t work, she’d call and check to see if there was an outage in the area. Could be a good excuse to hit up the closest Starbucks and avoid a possible confrontation with Noah.

The computer pinged once, twice, three times. What?

The screen was black except for fast scrolling green characters. It shouldn’t be doing that. Not at all.

She sat down and reached to hit the ESC key when she noticed what those green characters said.

HELP!

DANGER#

HELP!

DANGER#

HELP!

Shrieking, Spider scrambled up onto the couch cushions and clutched a pillow to her chest. Looking around, she only saw the cat stretched out in the bay window and the two dogs curled up on the floor, each staring at her as if she were a lunatic.

Heart pounding loud in her ears, she pointed at the screen. “That is not normal!”

She chanced a lean forward and watched the words continue to fly up the screen. The hair on her nape and arms lifted as a chill settled along her spine.

Enough of that. It was freaking her the heck out.

Her fingers trembled as she held the power button, forcing the computer to shut down. She waited ten seconds and rebooted the machine.

Don’t overreact. There’s a logical explanation for this.

Could be a virus. Some a-hole probably infected her machine and set the creepy message to display upon startup. Shaky laughter bubbled in her chest as she pressed her palms to her eyes. Of course. That had to be what it was. Not anything irrational, like a ghost or demon or anything. Only a virus.

She sagged against the cushions.

Well, crap. That could take a couple of days to clean up. She had work to do, not to mention she wanted to cyber-stalk Noah West. Photographer. Maybe professor. Possible serial killer.

The familiar chime and login screen popped up.

She input the information and everything came up normal, including the Wi-Fi this time.

“Weird.”

A virus scan should have been her first order of business, but she shook her head instead, pulled up the Internet browser, and searched for Noah West, Atlanta, GA to see what hits it returned.

Absolutely nothing of any worth.

Facebook. Couldn’t find him. Not on Twitter either. She ran through every social media site she could think of. Seemed kind of odd that a professional photographer couldn’t be found on Instagram.

“Hmm. Should I be bad?” she asked the dog at her feet.

Costello lifted his head and looked at her. Charlie’s doggy eyebrows shifted in concern as he released a long drawn-out sigh. He probably knew she was going to do it regardless of their opinions.

“You’re right. I should totally do it, just this once. He could be a serial killer, after all.”

Still, she hesitated before putting her fingers to work. Hacking without permission was plain wrong, and Spider didn’t take that lightly.

But hello, possible serial killer!

“I’ll only check the database we use at work,” she told the dogs. “Promise.”

Her hands flew over the keyboard, tapping for several minutes until she had accessed the professional database the firm subscribed to for access to public records, telephone information, social network hits and other useful goodies. She located a handful of people named Noah West in the agency’s database. Noah’s sinfully handsome picture stood out amongst the others.

Crystal green eyes stared back at her, and his handsome smile added a charming and intelligent character to those eyes she didn’t see very often in the guys she knew. They drew her in, sending a thrill of excitement racing through her veins.

He had great eyes.

So what? Ted Bundy was handsome.

She shook herself and tried to remain objective.

Seriously. What human looked that good in his driver’s license picture? That alone was suspect. She noted his age. Twenty-nine. Four years older than her. Huh. She would have put him in his mid-thirties.

She trusted Jack about Noah’s lack of a criminal record, but you could learn a lot about a person from their public records. If they had any outstanding fines. Whether or not they paid their property taxes on time. Previous addresses.

So much information was out there.

Noah’s address had changed about a month ago. Prior to that, he’d lived in Savannah. Actually, the guy seemed to move a lot. Six different addresses in the past five years.

A series of high-pitched beeps from her phone reminded Spider of the time. She closed out of all of the browser windows and pulled up the video chat on her computer.

Her boss and his new wife were honeymooning in Europe, and Hannah had insisted on checking in on her animals once a day, usually around noon Atlanta time.

Hannah, being the overprotective pet mom she was, insisted on seeing the animals, too.

Spider initiated the chat, angled the camera toward Charlie, who was snoring away, and went in search of her feline charge.

Abbott was curled up on the pillow Spider had been using at night – seriously, cat? – and hissed when she scooped him up.

When she re-entered the room, she heard Hannah’s voice cooing to Charlie. Costello had lumbered over to the coffee table and lifted himself to stand at the edge of the computer, his fluffy tail wagging.

“We’re here,” Spider called out. “I had to get the cat.”

Hannah Collins’ pretty face filled the screen. Her long, dark hair was pulled back and she was wearing a sage-green dress. “How are things going, Spider? Everything okay there?”

“Everything’s great. We’re fine.” Except for the dog escaping. “How’s your trip?”

“I love it here! London is amazing.”

Spider didn’t have many female friends… scratch that. She didn’t have many friends, period. Not since she’d ditched her Emma persona. But she and Hannah had gotten along like comrades on the Starship Enterprise from the moment they’d met. She was still a little awed the woman trusted her enough to invite her to stay here for almost a month. Spider sagged against the cushions and listened to her friend share a few stories as unexpected tears welled behind her eyes. She didn’t even know why. It just happened.