Stalked

She bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek. Then she straightened. “I’m going shopping.”

* * *

THE ONLY SOUND on the veranda after Hope made her departure was the tinkle of water from the frog’s mouth at one end of the pool.

“Archie?” Bing asked.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Reverend Minnow said, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“She doesn’t seem too concerned,” Mack said. He’d been prepared for her to be upset, maybe cry a little, or be a little angry that someone would dare to threaten her. He hadn’t expected to be dismissed.

“She needs to understand the full impact of the situation,” Patricia Minnow said. “I’ll talk to her.” The woman reached for the papers that Reverend Minnow held folded in his hands.

Mack reached over the frail, yet lovely woman. “I’ll do it,” he said. When he’d first read the threats, he’d been incensed that Hope was being targeted because someone had a bone to pick with Archibald Minnow. It was damn cowardly to go after someone’s child, even if that child was an adult. He’d been grateful that he’d accepted the assignment.

But he wasn’t going to guard an uncooperative subject. She had to go along with the plan or all bets were off. He wanted to talk to Hope alone. There’d been some strange dynamic at the table. He hadn’t had time yet to figure it out and nobody was tipping their hand.

“May I?” he asked, inclining his head toward the house.

“Of course,” said Patricia. “But you better be fast. Hope moves quickly when she wants to.”

Mack pushed back his chair. So far, he wasn’t overly impressed with Hope’s speed or initiative. When he and Bing had arrived at the reverend’s house and learned that Hope was still in bed, that she was always in bed until early afternoon, he’d been disgusted. The party girl needed to get her very nice butt home and get to bed at a reasonable time so she could stop wasting her life away. He knew he was probably too much the other extreme, but he was generally up by four, had read a couple newspapers by five, worked out and eaten breakfast before the sun was up.

He entered the air-conditioned house just in time to see Hope, with keys in hand, exit through a door that he assumed led to the garage. He cut through the immense living room, then the study and out the front door just as the garage door went up.

She backed out fast, slowing just a little to close the garage door behind her. Mack didn’t miss his opportunity. He opened the passenger door and swung into the still-moving car.

Chapter Three

“Hey!” she yelled.

“A minute of your time,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

She jammed on the brakes, almost causing him to pitch forward. He could tell that she wanted to tell him to go to hell, but good manners or something had her shoving the car into Park. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Now that they were sitting close and there were no competing fragrances from the chemical-rich pool, he could smell just her. The scent was something light, elegant, and it made him think of the rare orchids that his father grew.

Her bare arms were tanned and fit and he suspected that at some point they did more than just lift a martini glass. She probably had a personal trainer on call.

One polished fingernail tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. He glanced at her toes. Yep, they matched. He not only knew his bridal-gown designers now, but he was also pretty up to speed on polish colors, too. There’d been a lengthy discussion over lunch about those. Hope favored something a little hotter, a little sexier, than the pink champagne that his sister and her bridesmaids were wearing.

“You’re wasting time,” she said.

“I talk fast,” he said, and gave her his best friendly smile. It had unarmed bad guys all over the world, but didn’t seem to faze her. Her jaw remained stiff. He wished he could see her eyes but she’d put on her sunglasses.

“I guess I really just want to know why you’re so damned determined to be careless with your personal safety?”

She pressed her lips together.

He opened the folded papers. “I think you should see these.” He handed her the least insulting one. She started to reach for it and stopped.

“You can touch it. These are copies. The police have the originals and the envelopes that they came in. They were hand-addressed and delivered by mail to your father’s office. This one came about a week ago.” Reverend Minnow had shared that he’d asked Chief Anderson, the local cop in charge, to keep the letters confidential unless there was a specific reason for the information to be shared. Evidently the chief was a devout follower. Reverend Minnow had given Mack the chief’s private number and he’d entered it into his phone.

She took the paper. Read it. Her expression didn’t change.

That pissed him off. He leaned close and read aloud. “‘Dear Reverend Minnow. I lost my son because of you. You need to know the same pain.’”

“This one came just two days ago.” He spread the paper out. “‘Dear Reverend Minnow. An eye for an eye. My son. Your daughter.’”

She finally looked at him. “I’m not sure what you want me to say?”

“Maybe something like, ‘wow, I’m kind of worried.’”

“But I’m not.” She took a deep breath. “Do you know that my father has a new book coming out soon?”

Mack nodded.

“My mother’s cancer is in remission. Good news, of course. Not great timing for my father. You see, she’d been recently diagnosed when his last book hit the shelves. Gave him the boost he needed for it to hit the New York Times list.”

Okay. A few things were starting to make sense. First things first. “I’m sorry that your mom was ill.” His own mother had died of cancer when he was just a teenager. “And I’m glad that she’s getting better.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice very soft.

“You really think that your father would engineer something like this just to get some attention?”

“Definitely. Don’t underestimate my father. Others have and they’ve paid the price.”

“Bing believes these threats are real.”

“Uncle Bing is a wonderful man. But his friendship with my father, which I do not understand, is apparently clouding his judgment.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Mack asked. “Do you have so little regard for your life that you’re willing to take the chance?”

She moved the gearshift to Reverse. “Mr. McCann, you’ve used up more than your sixty seconds. Get out.”

He would have thought she was absolutely as cool as a cucumber, but she had a profound tell. Her pretty hot-pink toes on her left foot were moving. Her foot wasn’t tapping. No. Just the toes, expending her nervous energy. If she’d had on shoes or if they’d been seated at a table, he’d never have been the wiser. He opened the door. “Don’t be a fool, Hope.”

He watched her drive away. Let her get to the end of the block before he moved. Then he ran for his car, which was parked around the corner. Before she got to I-280 East, he’d picked up the car and settled in, staying a discreet three car lengths behind.

He called Bing from the car. “I’m following Hope.”

“I’ll let her parents know,” Bing said and hung up.

She drove competently, staying up with the nonrush-hour traffic. They crossed through the Holland Tunnel and weaved their way through lower Manhattan, then up to midtown. Then she pulled into a parking garage one block off of Fifth Avenue that charged a ridiculous thirty-five dollars per hour. He idled in a no-parking zone, giving her time to get out of her car and down the sidewalk. Then he pulled into the same lot and quickly parked.

This portion of Fifth Avenue was one designer store after another. The shoppers were an eclectic bunch. Parents with children, likely on vacation to the Big Apple, and much more likely, he figured, to be window-shopping rather than buying at the overpriced stores. There were business types—men and women—with briefcases or expensive leather bags on their shoulders and cell phones in their hands. Maybe they shopped but he thought not. Probably en route from one meeting to the next and using the expensive street as a convenient thoroughfare.

And then there were the real shoppers, the people like Hope Minnow, who had the means and the inclination to pay for a designer name and some personalized service. He caught up with her in a small store that was somehow managing to pay their rent selling purses, scarves and shoes.

He stayed outside because the interior was too narrow to provide him any cover. He stood off to the side of the big windows, pulled his cell phone off his belt and pretended to make a call.

He knew there was some chance that he could lose her if she decided to run out the back door but it was a calculated risk. He was confident that she didn’t realize she was being followed.

Wedding dresses, nail polish, now the accessories. He could feel his masculinity eroding. He needed some scratching and spitting.

It was a good thing he owed Brody Donovan a call. The two of them were going to throw Ethan a hell of a bachelor party, but first Brody needed to get back into the country. He’d been working on the front lines for a long time, patching up soldiers who had the misfortune to lose limbs to roadside IEDs. The last time Mack had spoken to Brody, just after Chandler had surfaced in Ethan’s capable hands, the man was looking forward to getting back to the States. He intended to join the trauma team at one of Southern California’s most prestigious hospitals.

The three of them were going to have some fun in Vegas first. Mack had seen the movies. He could do better.

But now, his only real responsibility in life was following a woman intent upon spending her daddy’s money.

When she walked out of the store fifteen minutes later, she was carrying just one bag that, by the shape, appeared to be shoes. It made him think of her pretty pink toes again. Shame to cover those up.

She went to three more stores and the pattern pretty much repeated itself. She went in, spent about twenty minutes and came out carrying another bag. Their shapes were not as definitive as the shoe bag, but given the types of stores, he suspected she’d purchased jewelry, dark chocolate and clothing. She was just about to enter a huge toy store when she suddenly detoured from her path and headed toward a bus stop at the corner. There was a group of people but she sought out a woman who was standing with a stroller in front of her and two other young children, one on each side. The woman wore a fast-food worker’s uniform. Mack suspected she was either just getting off or just going to work.

He couldn’t figure out what Hope had in common with the woman. But it didn’t take him long because suddenly Hope was handing the woman all her packages. The woman appeared hesitant to accept them, but Hope must have said something to convince her because she finally accepted the bundle.

He wished he could hear the conversation but he couldn’t afford to get any closer. In fact, when Hope turned quickly, retracing her steps, he had to jump behind a group that was waiting for the crosswalk light to come on.

What the hell? She’d spent two hours shopping only to give away the merchandise? He was confident the woman with the children hadn’t been expecting to meet Hope.

He followed her as she headed in the direction of her car. They were still two blocks away when she pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She glanced at the phone and answered. Then she walked and talked, an animated conversationalist, shaking her head, even waving an arm. The call continued all the way back to the parking lot and for another ten minutes after Hope was in her car. When she finally put her phone down, she slumped over the steering wheel for a few seconds.

Even from a distance, he could tell that she seemed defeated, and he had the most insane urge to storm the car and demand to know what was wrong. He wanted to fix it. Why, he wasn’t sure. She’d snubbed him, kicked him out of her car and made him waste two hours of his life on Fifth Avenue.

But before he could make the decision to show himself, she straightened up, started her car and pulled out of the lot. He got in his own car and followed her back onto the highway, dropping off when she turned the corner to return to her home.

He called Bing again. “She’s back, safe and sound. The only thing that was in danger was her wallet.”

“I was just about to call you. I’m out to an early dinner with Patsy and Archie before we catch our plane. Patsy called Hope while she was shopping and they had a long conversation. She’s agreed to have you provide security.”

That explained the phone call.

“Why the change of heart?”

“I could only hear Patsy’s side of the conversation. At first, it didn’t appear as if Hope was going to give in. But Patsy kept insisting, almost begging her. I guess she finally agreed.”

“When is she expecting me?”

“Tonight. But don’t expect her to cook you dinner.”

He’d be lucky if she didn’t throw her dinner at him.

Chapter Four

Hope had just finished her salmon and asparagus when Mack McCann walked up from the backyard. She’d eaten outside because the weather forecasters had been wrong. The rain had held off.

Mack carried an expensive leather bag with a strap over one shoulder and held something else in his hands. When he got closer, she could see it was lightbulbs.

That seemed like an odd thing to pack. He had changed into worn jeans, T-shirt and sandals. He had the job. Obviously no need to dress to impress.

But oddly, he still did impress. It was the confidence he moved with, the assurance that every step he took was exactly the right one.

She envied that. She’d been waffling for months, not able to make a decision about her next steps.

“We have a front door,” she said when he got close enough to hear. “Most people use it.” She stared at the gun that he holstered at his hip. Of course he was armed. She should have expected it but she’d never been all that fond of guns, especially after her father had demanded that she go with him on a deer-hunting expedition when she was about thirteen.

She shifted her eyes, determined to focus on something else besides the black gun. She frowned at the package of lightbulbs. “You didn’t have to bring your own,” she said. “We provide them for our guests.”

He shrugged. “When your father took Bing and me for a tour this morning, I noticed there were some lights out on the other side of the pool house. Light is one of the simplest and best deterrents to unwelcome activity.”

She should probably appreciate his attention to detail. But it was hard to appreciate somebody who was interrupting what would have been ten days of peace. Almost two whole weeks of not pretending to be something that she wasn’t. At least while she was in her own home.

“I still think it’s ridiculous that you’re here,” she said.

He nodded and pulled out a chair. He angled it and she realized he did that so he could see both the house and the backyard. He evidently was still buying in to the fact that the threats were real.

“If you think it’s so ridiculous, why did you agree to the protection?”

“Because my mother asked me to,” she said, blurting out the truth. “She said it was the one thing that I could do to ensure that she enjoyed her trip.” She tapped her index nail against the side of her dirty plate. “My mother has wanted to go to Europe for many years. A year ago, when she was so sick that she couldn’t even lift her head off her pillow, she had accepted that she was never going to get there. And it broke my heart. Such a simple thing to ask for, but time had run out.”

“But she’s getting to go after all,” he said, “and you’re not going to do anything to dull the shine of the experience.”

“I love her too much,” she said. “And when my parents check in with you, as I’m sure they will, I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that I don’t want my mother to have any reason to worry about me. I’ll play my part, Mr. McCann. I hope you will, too.”

“Mack,” he said. “We’re going to be living together for the next ten days.”

Living together. He made it sound so intimate. And a part of her that had been cold for a very long time heated up, making her almost ache with need.

They would not be alone in the house. “Mavis is my mother’s assistant and does some basic cooking and cleaning. About four months ago, she let the lease on her apartment go and moved in here. Right now she’s out to dinner with friends, but you should expect her back around nine. It would be good if you didn’t shoot her.”

She pushed back from the table, making the legs of the wrought-iron chair scrape against the brick patio. “I’m going to my room. Before she left, Mavis told me that the guest room on the second floor is ready for you. Top of the stairs, take a right, third door on the left. There’s an attached bath. I like to sleep late. I’d appreciate it if you’re quiet in the morning.”

* * *

HE KNEW WHERE the guest room was. After agreeing to the assignment, he’d reviewed the house’s blueprints and examined pictures of the exterior and the grounds, which were extensive. In this exclusive rural area of New Jersey, all the lots were at least ten acres. The trees were mature, providing lots of privacy.

From a security perspective, that could be a good and a bad thing. Good because it wasn’t likely that anybody would simply stumble upon the house. That made it easy to separate the good guys from the bad guys. If you weren’t an expected guest, you automatically went into the bad-guy column.

Most of the Minnows’ neighbors raised horses. They had barns and fenced-in pastures and horses that sold for thousands of dollars. When Reverend Minnow had walked them around the grounds, Mack had asked about the barn.

“Been empty since we moved in,” Reverend Minnow had said. “We’re not the horsey type. Hope had a cat for a few years when she was growing up but when it died, I didn’t want any more animals around.”

Mack would have preferred the barn to be bustling with animals. They, at least, would let him know if someone strange was around. Now the barn was just a large empty structure that provided lots of hiding spaces. That, along with the relative remoteness of the Minnow property, presented some security challenges.

Plus, he had to contend with lots of ground-floor windows and multiple points of access. Hell, even the second floor had direct access—right to Hope’s room. There was a lovely little balcony off her bedroom. Only good thing was there wasn’t any easy way up to the balcony and the door was hooked up to the security system. However, he’d looked at the specs of the system and he wasn’t impressed. It was ridiculously basic and a tenth grader could probably bypass it. And if the alarm were triggered, the responders were from a well-to-do suburban police force that rarely saw any real crime. They wouldn’t be much help.

This morning, when he’d been touring the property, he’d debated requesting that Hope take a more secure room in the house. But had ultimately decided it wasn’t necessary. If anybody tried to access the balcony, he’d hear the movement and motion outside and have time to respond.

After five minutes, he followed Hope into the house and walked upstairs. He was okay with stashing his stuff in the guest room, but he sure as hell didn’t plan to sleep there. He’d sleep downstairs on a couch or in a chair, somewhere where he could easily respond if the home were breached.

It took him just minutes to unpack. He left the room, but instead of going downstairs, he started opening doors. It was one thing to study a blueprint, an entirely different thing to walk through and get a feel for the layout of the rooms.

The big staircase split the upstairs, with two bedrooms and two baths on each side. He and Mavis were sharing a side. When he opened her door, he saw that the bedrooms were laid out much the same, although it was clear that Mavis had a special fondness for giraffes. They were scattered all over the dresser and chest, in all materials and sizes. There was an especially beautiful one in glass and a real ugly one made out of burlap. In the corner, there was a metal one that was tall enough that it looked him in the eye.

He crossed the hallway and checked out the bedroom next to Hope’s. It was another guest room and quite frankly, based on the dust that was on the dresser, it hadn’t been used recently. He avoided Hope’s room, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate him knocking on the door.

Next he went downstairs. Archibald and Patricia Minnow’s room was just off the kitchen. The bedroom was spacious, with a king-size bed. There was a separate sitting space, with a desk and several comfortable chairs. Then a huge bath and two walk-in closets, both jammed with clothes.

He glanced into the kitchen, which was painted a nice pale green and had lots of stainless steel. Hope had rinsed her dirty dinner dishes and neatly stacked them in the sink. Somebody had made a loaf of what smelled like banana bread and left it cooling on a rack near the stove.

Other rooms on the first floor were a family room with a wall of books and a big-screen television, a formal living room with overstuffed leather furniture and expensive artwork and, finally, the study. Nice windows, more books on built-in shelves and a desk that he recognized. In the center of the desk was a big Bible. Every week Archibald Minnow recorded his weekly television show from this room. He started and ended the program with his hand on the Bible. Mack had watched a few episodes in preparation of the assignment.

The camera liked Reverend Archibald Minnow. No doubt about it. The man came across as passionate about his faith and committed to his flock. In the segments Mack had watched, Reverend Minnow had spoken lovingly about his wife. He had not mentioned his daughter.

Mack searched the basement next. The house was almost eighty years old and the basement showed it. The walls were big blocks of white stone and the space had not been remodeled or fixed up, like in so many of the newer homes. The floor was cement. There was a treadmill and a weight bench in the largest space. The rest was storage and at the far end, the furnace and water heater.

Confident that he understood the house, he went back upstairs and settled in on the couch. Mavis would return shortly. He’d met the woman earlier in the day, when he and Bing had first arrived. She’d shown them into the living room, where they’d waited until Reverend Minnow had come to get them. Bing had met the woman before and the two of them chatted easily. Mack’s impression of Mavis was that she was competent and fiercely loyal to the Minnow family, especially Patricia.

Mack heard a car approach shortly before nine. He went to the window and pulled back the curtain. Mavis parked her Toyota next to his BMW and came in through the front door. When the alarm went off, the woman entered the code on the keypad to shut it off. Then she reset it.

“Mr. McCann,” she said, turning to greet him. “I’m glad to see you. I was hoping Hope wouldn’t have a change of heart and run you off.”

Mack smiled. “I’m not that easy to shake.”

Mavis shrugged. “And Hope Minnow is tougher than she looks.” The woman put her foot on the bottom step. “I’m tired so I think I’ll turn in right away. What time would you like breakfast, Mr. McCann?”

“It’s Mack, please. And don’t cook for me. I can take care of myself.”

“You sound just like Hope. Looks as if these next ten days are going to be a vacation for me, too. Good night.”

Mack watched the older woman walk up the stairs and listened for her room door to open and shut. Then he rechecked the security system to make sure it was on. Finally, he shut off the television and followed her upstairs.

He took a quick shower and pulled his jeans back on. They were comfortable enough to sleep in and he didn’t want to get caught with his pants down or off. Then, cognizant that Mavis and Hope were asleep, he very quietly left his room, walked downstairs and stretched out on the couch in the family room.