A Stranger in Wynnedower Page 2

  Anger bubbled in her veins; the heat in the room faded by comparison. Someone had stood, watching, hearing her pleas for help, yet had abandoned her without a word. Adrenaline fueled her anger. She stretched her fingers forward again, beneath the door, and pushed half of her hand through. Her flesh tore, but she snagged the fabric between two fingers and pulled. The jacket came forward. The red fabric peeked through the gap below the door, but then stopped.

  Was it the phone or the keys? She didn’t know, didn’t care. A tight fit, but they would fit. She would make them fit.

  Rachel grasped the sleeve with both hands and tugged. She half-rose to improve her leverage and pulled harder. On her feet, she gripped the fabric in both hands and yanked for all she was worth. The scatter rug slipped. She launched, feet up and backside down, and smashed onto the floor.

  Stunned, winded, coated in sweat, she lay there gasping to refill her lungs. In her hand, she clutched one red sleeve.

  After a few minutes, the pain eased in her lungs and back. She rubbed her face. A coarse film of dirt covered her hands and cheeks.

  She’d saved her pantyhose, but the suit jacket—the expensive suit she couldn’t afford—was torn and no longer wearable for the reception.

  Her eyes burned. She closed them tightly forcing the tears to remain unshed.

  She’d hoped to get that job by going to the reception looking fabulously chic. It seemed a great idea while she was sitting amid H-frames stacked with plumbing fixtures and supplies, counting the stock and making plans. The intersection of daydreams and reality was a harsh, smack-you-in-the-face, experience.

  Lying there on the floor, she remembered she was resilient. The museum people hadn’t been expecting her tonight, and she might have said the wrong things and screwed it up, so maybe it was just as well. Her actual job interview wasn’t until tomorrow. After a bath and a good night’s rest, she’d make an unforgettable first impression. After she found an inexpensive hotel room for the night. After she got out of this prison.

  She needed to think, but first she needed to rest a bit, just long enough to stop her head from spinning, and to get her thoughts together.

  Rachel crawled over to the bed and hauled herself up onto the old bedspread. She stretched out flat on her back and tried to imagine ‘cold.’

  Eyes closed, she envisioned a tall glass of ice water with condensation gathering on the sides. Ice cubes, clear as crystal, filled the glass. She focused on the image and the chill radiating from it cooled her face. She held it, in her mind’s eye, and touched it to her forehead, her temples, and sighed.

  ****

  Her head was splitting, and it was dark. Sweat had soaked her silk shell. The fabric had dried and felt pasted to her skin. Rachel raised her hand and heard a male voice say, “Don’t move.”

  Her immediate reaction was to do exactly that, but her limbs felt sluggish. Where was she? Jeremy’s room? She remembered. She’d climbed onto the bed.

  “Lie still. I have a damp cloth.” He laid it across her forehead, and then stepped away. A soft light snapped on across the room. “What happened? Do you need an ambulance?”

  “No, it was just the heat.”

  “Then why didn’t you leave?”

  Was the man blind? “The door was jammed shut.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  Pushing the cloth higher on her forehead, she raised herself slowly upright and lowered her legs over the side of the bed. Beyond the window was night. What had happened to the day?

  “I don’t think you should stand yet.”

  “I fell asleep, that’s all.”

  His hair was disordered, some of it caught into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He looked a century out of date. Those dark, heavy eyebrows hadn’t improved either. He was probably angry and, honestly, who could blame him?

  She asked, “Did you see my jacket on the hallway floor? Or was it the car out front that got your attention?”

  “It was the open door. I keep them closed and locked. Your jacket is hanging on the bedpost.”

  He’d ignored her question about the jacket on the floor. She let it go, too weary to push.

  “Thanks for picking it up.”

  “I didn’t. It was already hanging there.”

  The cool washcloth against her face helped. Was she dreaming? Had she been hallucinating? No. Her legs were bare. She knew what had happened. If this man would lie about a door being jammed, then there was no point in asking why he’d ignored her plea for help.

  Rachel pushed off the bed and onto her feet. She handed him the dirty, but neatly re-folded washcloth.

  “I’ll give you my cell number. If you hear anything from Jeremy, please contact me. I have an appointment in the morning. If there’s no word from him by that time, I’ll go to the police and file a report.”

  “The police? A report?” He stopped in the open doorway, seeming to fill it.

  “Of course. To file a missing persons report.”

  “Do you believe he qualifies as missing?”

  Her heart said ‘yes.’ “He’s not here, he doesn’t answer the phone, and neither of us knows where he is. I have to do something.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  All he needed was her cell number. The creepiness of knowing he’d watched her from the hallway without speaking a word rankled. For heaven’s sake, she’d groveled on the dirty floor with a stupid plastic hanger.

  “I’ll find a hotel in town. Do you have something to write my number on?”

  “Just say it. I’ll remember it.”

  In the dresser mirror, Rachel caught sight of herself and every other thought was swamped. Her silk top was stained with dirt and sweat. Her dark hair was frazzled and stuck to her grime-coated cheeks.

  Bitter words overwhelmed her self-control. “You act so concerned now. Where was that concern when you stood in the hallway watching me trying to force my jacket through the crack? I’ll bet that was quite a show. Did you have a good laugh? Why didn’t you open the door?”

  He drew back. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please. Who else could it have been?”

  “Your imagination? Or a trespasser like you?”

  She stormed past him, then paused at the top of the stairs. “What’s your name?”

  “Call me Jack.”

  “I don’t want to call you anything. I want to know what name to give the police when I file the report.”

  His face hardened. He crossed his arms. “Do what you have to do. I doubt they’ll be interested. Jeremy—is that his name? Jeremy’s a grown man and single. He probably moved into town with a girl. There’d be a lot more to interest him there, and maybe he didn’t think it was his sister’s business.”

  He held out her jacket. “Don’t forget this.”

  Rachel grabbed it from him and went straight to the stairs. She didn’t stop until she reached the bottom where she paused to put on her shoes.

  He called down. “Wait, I’ll walk you out.”

  “No thanks.” She took the keys from her pocket and entered the night.

  Dark. Breathless dark. It hit her like a wall. She stopped. This was not city dark.

  An exterior light switched on with a puny glow.

  Thanks for nothing, Jack.

  Jack? The owner? She wasn’t surprised. At some point, she’d figured it out even though he’d denied it earlier. Or had he denied it? Her brain was mush.

  She held on to the iron stair rail as she descended. The car was parked a few yards away where she’d left it hours ago.

  The lower level of the house, that area behind the bushes, was black as pitch. It was unnerving to look into the void. No sight. No sound.

  Rachel hit the door unlock button on her key fob. Nothing happened. She hit it again and again.

  Desperation rising, she fumbled the key trying to fit it into the lock, but finally got it and the door opened. Once in the driver’s seat, she pushed the manual door lock. Only then was she
able to draw in a deep, cleansing, calming breath.

  Refusing to accept the car was dead, she inserted the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing happened. The darker than pitch area ahead of her seemed to swell. It swallowed the world beyond the windshield.

  A light flickered from within the bushes.

  Too much. It was too much.

  Calm down. Think it out, Rachel.

  Should she call a tow truck? If she could get to a hotel, she could deal with the car in the morning. But the expense of a cab…costly, either way.

  She hadn’t dialed information in years. Hoping information was still 4-1-1, she punched the number in and hit dial. No ringing, there was only an unfunny series of beeps. She read the screen. The battery was low. The message suggested charging the phone immediately. What next?

  Phone dead. Car, too. The heat. The dirt. The manicure. Tears squeezed from Rachel’s eyes. How shallow was it to cry over a manicure? It was the safest thing to cry about. Not her missing brother. Not the events in the house. Not home. Not her aloneness.

  If she returned to the porch and knocked on the door, would he answer? Or had he already vanished into whatever cave he hid in when he wasn’t frightening lone women and trespassers?

  Pull yourself together. You’re an adult.

  Things happened. Everyone knew that.

  Suddenly, she wanted to speak to Daisy, to hear her friend’s sympathy and common sense. Daisy would say, ‘You just need a bath and a good night’s sleep.’

  Daisy was right.

  She’d deal with one thing at a time.

  Tonight, she needed a place to stay and a mechanic or tow truck. She’d call Martin Ballew at the museum in the morning and reschedule the interview for later in the day. He’d understand. Meanwhile, she’d do what she had to do.

  The porch light still burned. She removed the keys from the ignition.

  Something brushed the side of the car. Her side, but nearer the back seat.

  She was overwrought; she pushed away panic.

  Consider it rationally. Strip away the emotion.

  Rachel closed her eyes and tried to visualize a well-lit, secure hotel room.

  Remove the extraneous. Identify the true need.

  Something hit the window next to her head. She screamed. A huge shapeless dark mass grabbed at the door, yanking at the exterior handle.

  Skirt, heels, and all, she scrambled over the gear shift and to the passenger side seat. Her fingers scrabbled at the door, desperate to exit and forgetting it was locked. She heard a voice, Jack’s voice, shouting from the far side, his face close to the glass, wild and scary. Her heart slammed almost through her chest.

  “Stop yelling. Are you hurt? Unlock the door.”

  Should she? It was hard to take that giant step back into sanity. She hit the manual unlock button and opened the passenger door. Sliding out, clinging to the door frame, she yelled at him over the car roof, “You startled me.”

  “Startled? What do you do when you’re terrified? You scared the crap out of me. I thought something was attacking you in there.”

  “So did I.” She sniffled. “My car won’t start.” She crossed her arms to stop the shaking. “My phone died. Can I borrow yours?”

  His hands were on the roof of the car. He thumped them lightly against the thin metal. The porch light edged the side of his forehead, his cheekbones and the long line of his jaw with a narrow glow. “You can come in and use the phone.”

  Not back inside. “Do you have a cell phone? I don’t want to put you out.”

  He laughed rudely.

  “I mean more than I already have. I apologize for trespassing, although I didn’t believe I was. I thought I was visiting my brother, or looking for him. I should’ve left when you told me to, but then….”

  “But then you still wouldn’t know if your brother was here.”

  “Yes.”

  “I only have a landline.”

  He walked slowly around the car, his fingers trailing across the hood. Her knees were quaking, but she held her ground, refusing to appear weak. Afraid? Yes. Hysterical? Maybe. But weak? Never.

  He stopped a few feet away and glowered. Her heart raced.

  With a small, sardonic bow, he said, “After you.”

  Chapter Two

  Nothing lay beyond the wide arch on the far side of the huge living room.

  Rachel froze as she stared at the pitch-dark opening. “Where are we going?”

  “The only phone is in my room.”

  One phone and it was a landline. This man lived in the Dark Ages. “What about your tenants?”

  “Tenants? You mean the caretakers? Like your brother? They have cell phones or no phones. There are some old phone lines in the house, but so far you’re the only one who has raised the question. And, frankly, you are a....”

  “Trespasser.”

  “Right. Do you want to stand here and discuss it?”

  She didn’t. She followed him into the dark place. They turned a corner into a hallway. Here, there was light, not much, but welcome. Weak bulbs in sconces lit the back hallway and created deep, distorted shadows that climbed the walls and festered in the corners.

  They passed doors on the right and a row of windows on the left, but no moonlight made it through the clouds tonight and there was nothing to see outside. Rachel caught the lingering smell of food. It reminded her of Daisy’s diner and her own, small apartment over the restaurant. She pressed one hand to her midsection willing her stomach not to rumble.

  Near the end of the hall, he opened a door and gestured for her to enter. Again, she paused. Following him into his room warred with every iota of common sense she possessed.

  “It’s here or nowhere,” he said.

  The lighting was stronger in his room. It revealed old furniture, cheap area rugs and general clutter. A lamp scattered light across a desk stacked with papers and cast a halo on the ceiling. The phone was on the desk. Belatedly, Rachel thought of getting her phone charger from her suitcase in the trunk. A quick unzip would’ve put it in her hand where, now that she was near an outlet, she could’ve plugged it in for a fast charge.

  “I have a phonebook somewhere.” He waved his hand in the general area of the desk. “I’ll find it. Why don’t you use the bathroom? Wash your face or something.”

  She should wash her face?

  Rachel held her breath, forcing the ungrateful words to stay unsaid. His bad manners didn’t justify the same from her. She touched her face, remembered, and gasped. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “A few steps down that hallway. Door on the left.” He resumed opening desk drawers.

  She wanted to yell or throw something, but she didn’t. Impervious to her stare, he stayed turned away. She gave up and went to the bathroom.

  Old and shabby, the floor and walls were patterned with tiny black and white tiles. The claw foot tub had an aluminum frame attached that draped the shower curtain around it. Rust stained the drain of the worn porcelain sink, but it was clean. The mirror over the sink showed her reflection.

  The view in the dresser mirror upstairs had been tempered by the low, soft light. This light was bald and harsh. Sooty dirt, sweat, and tears streaked her face. She reached up to touch her cheek and saw the ragged fingernails again. A sob rose to choke her.

  Rachel closed her eyes and her mind. She didn’t want to keep this image in her head to be stuck forever.

  Her sad state was fleeting. With soap and water it would pass. With the help of a good nail file and clipper, her nails could be repaired. Her clothing? The silk shell had been vanity, as had the suit. She should never have indulged herself. A waste of money. Live and learn. As punishment went, fate had been gentle.

  Calmer, she turned on the hot water and started splashing her face and arms.

  When she returned he was bent over the phone book. The lamplight framed him as he ran his finger down the listings. Dark curls, free of the pony tail, fell forward across his cheek.

&
nbsp; “You found the phone book.”

  The finger stopped and he looked up. “Yes. I called a couple of local tow companies. But it’s late. Mike’s garage is nearest. He’s also a mechanic and he’s reliable, but he can’t get out here until the morning.”

  “What else?”

  “Pardon?” He frowned.

  “What else can go wrong?” She rubbed her temples. At least, the grit was gone. “I need a taxi then. I can leave the car here overnight, right?”

  He stared. The moment stretched out long and taut. Surely, he wouldn’t refuse.

  She prompted, “Which hotel is closest?”

  “You’re talking going all the way into Richmond. At least to Short Pump.”

  “Is it far?”

  The moment stretched out again. This man didn’t owe her anything and she didn’t want to be in his debt, but she was fresh out of options. Rachel met his eyes and watched thoughts play across his face. She read reluctance in his tight jaw and resignation in his sigh.

  “Don’t mistake this for hospitality.” He pushed up from the desk chair.

  “What?”

  “I could give you a ride into town, almost two hours of my time there and back, and then what will you do in the morning? The car will be here, but you won’t. It’s too late to hunt down another tow or a mechanic tonight. As for a cab…from out here….”

  He uncrossed and re-crossed his arms. He scratched his five o’clock shadow, already well-underway.

  “I hope I won’t regret this. Stay here tonight. You can have a room up near where you were trespassing. Lock yourself in and get some sleep.”

  His great sacrifice of allowing her to stay the night annoyed her. Rachel skipped the customary thank you.

  “You’ve been trying to throw me off the premises since we met this afternoon. Now, you’re inviting me to stay the night? Why the change of heart? Aren’t you afraid I’m going to run off with the copper pipes?”

  He frowned. “If you knew how hard it was to keep a hulk like this from getting ransacked, you wouldn’t be so flip about it. Let’s just say it’s inconvenient for you to stay, but more inconvenient for me to drive you into town.”