gun and tried to steady her pulse, already racing out of control. She slid against the wall, making her way to the kitchen, trying to listen and sniffing the air. The whining stopped as she got to the doorway.
She prepared herself, arms secure and close to her chest. Her finger pressed against the trigger. This time she was ready. She took a deep breath and swung into the kitchen, her gun pointed directly at Greg’s back. He spun around, dropping the freshly opened can of coffee, jumping backward as it crashed to the floor.
“Damn it, Maggie!” He wore only silk boxers. His normally styled blond hair stuck up, and he looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.
“Sorry,” Maggie said, desperately trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.” She tucked the Smith & Wesson .38 into the back waistband of her jeans in an easy, casual motion, as if this was a part of her regular morning routine.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he snapped through gritted teeth. Already he had a broom and dustpan and was sweeping up the mess. Gently, he lifted the tipped can, rescuing as much of his precious gourmet coffee as possible. “One of these days, Maggie, you’re gonna shoot me by mistake.” Then he stopped and looked up at her. “Or maybe it wouldn’t be a mistake.”
She ignored his sarcasm and walked past him. At the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and the back of her neck, hoping he didn’t notice that her hands were still shaking. Though she needn’t worry. Greg saw only what he wanted to see.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, keeping her back to him. “This would never happen if we had gotten a security system.”
“And we would never need a security system if you’d quit your job.”
She was so tired of this old argument. She found a dishcloth and wiped the coffee grounds from the counter. “I’d never ask you to quit being a lawyer, Greg.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Being a lawyer means just as much to you as being an FBI agent means to me.”
“But being a lawyer doesn’t get me cut up and almost killed. It doesn’t have me stalking around my own house with a loaded gun and almost shooting my spouse.” He returned the broom, slamming it into the utility closet.
“Well, after today I guess it won’t be an issue,” she said quietly.
He stopped. His gray eyes met hers and for a brief moment he looked sad, almost apologetic. Then he looked away, snatching the dishcloth Maggie had set aside. He wiped the counter again in careful, deliberate swipes as though she had disappointed him even in this small task.
“So when are the guys from United getting here?” he wanted to know, as if it were a move they had planned together.
She glanced at the wall clock. “They’ll be here at eight. But I didn’t hire United.”
“Maggie, you have to be careful about movers. They’ll rip you off. You should know…” He stopped, as if reminding himself it was no longer any of his business. “Suit yourself.” He started filling the coffeemaker with level, precise scoops, pursing his lips to confine the scolding he normally would have unleashed on her.
Maggie watched him, predicting his movements, knowing he’d fill the pot to the three-cup line and that he’d squat to eye level to make certain it was exact. She recognized the familiar routine and wondered when they had become strangers. After almost ten years of marriage, they couldn’t even afford each other the courtesies of friendship. Instead, every conversation seemed to be through clenched teeth.
Maggie turned and went back to the spare room, waiting, but hoping he wouldn’t follow her. Not this time. She wouldn’t get through this day if he continued to scold and pout or worse, if he resorted to telling her he still loved her. Those words should have been a comfort; instead, they had come to feel like a sharp knife, especially when he followed them with, “And if you loved me you would quit your job.”
She returned to the liquor cabinet where she had left the glass of Scotch. The sun had barely risen and already she needed her daily dose of liquid bravery to get her through the day. Her mother would be proud. The two of them finally had something in common.
She glanced around the room while she sipped. How could this stack of cartons be the sum of her life? She rubbed a hand over her face, feeling the exhaustion as though it had taken up permanent residence in her bones. How long had it been since she had slept through an entire night? When was the last time she had felt safe? She was so tired of feeling as though she was trapped on a ledge, coming closer and closer to falling.
Assistant Director Cunningham was fooling himself if he believed he could protect her. There was nothing he could do to stop her nightmares, and there was no place he could send her that would be out of Albert Stucky’s reach. Eventually, she knew Stucky would come for her. Although it had been five months since Stucky’s escape, she knew it with certainty. It could be another month or it could be another five months. It didn’t matter how long it took. He would come.
CHAPTER 2
Tess McGowan wished she had worn different shoes. These pinched and the heels were too tall. Every nerve ending in her body concentrated on not tripping as she walked up the winding sidewalk, all the while pretending not to notice the eyes that followed her. The movers had stopped unloading the truck as soon as her black Miata pulled into the drive. Sofa ends stayed in midair. Hand-trucks remained tipped. Boxes were ignored while the men in sweaty, blue uniforms stopped to watch her.
She hated the attention and cringed at the possibility of a wolf whistle. Especially in this well-manicured neighborhood where the sanctuary-like silence would make the whistles even more obscene.
This was ridiculous; her silk blouse stuck to her, and her skin crawled. She wasn’t close to being stunning or beautiful. At best, she had a decent figure, one for which she sweated hours at the gym, and she still needed to monitor her cravings for cheeseburgers. She was far from being
It wasn’t the men’s fault. It wasn’t even their primal instinct to watch that bothered her as much as what seemed to be her involuntary reflex to put on a show for them. The annoying habit clung to her from her past, like the scent of cigarette smoke and whiskey. Too easily she found herself reminded of Elvis tunes coming from a corner jukebox, always followed by cheap hotel rooms.
But that had been a lifetime ago, certainly too many years ago to trip her up now. After all, she was on her way to becoming a successful businesswoman. So why the hell did the past have such a hold on her? And how could something as harmless as a few indiscreet stares, from men she didn’t know, dismantle her poise and make her question her hard-earned respectability? They made her feel like a fraud. As if, once again, she was masquerading as something she was not. By the time she reached the front entrance, she wanted to turn and run. Instead, she took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy oak door that had been left half-open.
“Come on in,” a woman’s voice called from behind the door.
Tess found Maggie O’Dell at the panel of buttons and blinking lights that made up the house’s newly installed security system.
“Oh, hi, Ms. McGowan. Did we forget to sign some papers?” Maggie only glanced at Tess while she punched the small keyboard and continued to program the device.
“Please, you really must call me Tess.” She hesitated in case Maggie wanted to say the same, but wasn’t surprised when there was no such invitation. Tess knew it wasn’t that Maggie was rude, just that she liked to keep her distance. It was something Tess could relate to, something she understood and respected. “No, there aren’t any more papers. I promise. I knew today was the big move. Just wanted to see how things were going.
“Take a look around, I’m almost finished with this.”
Tess walked from the foyer into the living room. The afternoon sunlight filled the room, but thankfully all the windows were open, a cool south breeze replacing the stale warm air. Tess wiped at her forehead, disappointed to find it damp. She examined her client out of the corner of her eyes.
Now, this was a woman who deserved to be ogled by men. Tess knew Maggie was close to her own age, somewhere in her early thirties. But without the usual power suit, Maggie could easily pass for a college student. Dressed in a ratty University of Virginia T-shirt and threadbare jeans, she failed to hide her shapely athletic figure.
