Читать книгу Stranger in a Small Town - Kerry Connor - Страница 10

After a nearly sleepless night spent waiting for trouble that never arrived, Maggie really would have liked to see a friendly face first thing in the morning.

The man climbing out of the car he’d parked behind her truck most certainly did not qualify.

Gritting her teeth, Maggie fought the urge to turn around, walk back up the steps she’d just come down and go back inside. She knew better than to think Dalton Sterling would be so easily put off. In his early seventies, the builder had the demeanor of someone who’d spent his life getting his own way, and he’d been a pain from virtually the first moment she arrived in town. Even if she were the kind of woman to run and hide, she figured he’d just follow. He wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted.

Too bad there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to give it to him.

Spotting her, he raised a hand, a phony smile stretching across his face. “Morning, Maggie. I was surprised to hear you’d checked out of the motel.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she raised a brow. “Checking up on me, Dalton?”

He walked up to her. “It’s a small town. People look out for each other around here.”

“Are you really looking out for me, or for your own interests?”

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re one and the same,” he said smoothly. “I was hoping you’d given some thought to my offer.”

“And I was hoping you’d taken me at my word when I told you I’m not selling and never will. It looks like we both have reason to be disappointed.”

“The way I figure it, eventually you’re going to realize you’re wasting your time. No matter how many coats of paint you slap on the place, nobody’s going to want to live here.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I plan to do a lot more than paint the place.”

“All by yourself? It’s an awful big job for one woman. I hear you’ve had some trouble finding anyone to help you work on the place.”

Maggie pinned him with a glare. “Did you hear about my trouble, or did you cause it?”

He made a baleful face. “Now that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“And keeping people from working for me isn’t a very nice thing to do.”

Dalton held up his hands in a helpless gesture. “You can’t lay that at my door, Maggie. The house did that all by itself.”

She barked out a laugh. “I know this town has a weird thing about this house, but it’s not a living thing.”

“It doesn’t need to be. You might have spent summers here with your grandparents, but everyone else lived here, and they all know about this house. Nobody wants anything to do with it. It would be best for everybody if you figured that out now.”

“My grandfather didn’t keep the house all these years just to have it torn down as soon as he was gone. He believed it was worth saving and someday people would live here again.”

“You’ll have to excuse me for saying so, but your granddad was a fool.”

“Now why would I excuse you for saying that?”

His smile couldn’t have been more patronizing. “It would be the neighborly thing to do.”

“I’m not sure that matters, considering you’re not interested in being my neighbor.”

“Now, Maggie—”

Whatever response he’d been about to offer was cut off by the sound of footsteps slowly crunching toward them. Maggie immediately lifted her head toward the noise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy for an interruption.

Then she spotted the man walking toward them and her apprehension returned. This was a small town, and she knew most of the residents, at least in passing. She’d never seen this man before.

He was big, with broad shoulders and long limbs, but also leaner than she might have expected for a man of his size. Beneath a faint dusting of light stubble, his cheeks were lean to the point of gauntness. But it was still a nice face, she noticed almost in spite of herself. He wasn’t bad looking by any means, his features blunt and masculine, his skin fair with just a touch of the sun. His dark blond hair was thick and shaggy, more, she suspected, because he didn’t bother cutting it that often than for style reasons. She could easily imagine it being tucked beneath a cap, which would certainly fit the regular button-down work shirt, jeans and scuffed work boots he was wearing.

As he approached, his eyes met hers. They were blue, a bright, deep blue, the color rich enough that she had no trouble recognizing it even from several feet away. Nor the emotion swimming in them.

Sad, she thought, the strange thought floating through her mind. He had sad eyes.

It took her a moment to realize who he was. She didn’t recognize his face. In fact, she was certain she’d never seen him before. Then the shape of his body sank in, and it hit her that she had seen him before. Last night.

It was John Samuels.

The realization sent another jolt of surprise through her. He wasn’t anything like she’d imagined. And she had imagined, during the long stretches of the night when enough time had passed that she’d let down her guard slightly and her thoughts had wandered. She’d pictured someone dark, no doubt influenced by the way she’d first met him, when he’d been nothing more than a shadow. This man wasn’t dark, but despite the fairness of his hair and skin, she couldn’t quite describe him as light, either. She wasn’t sure how to describe him at all.

“Morning,” he said, the low rumble of his voice offering additional confirmation.

“Morning,” she echoed faintly.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded tersely. “Fine.”

He’d come to a stop just behind Dalton, who scowled up at him. She half wondered whether the newcomer’s presence alone or the fact that he was significantly taller than the older man was the cause of his irritation. “Who are you?”

The demand in Dalton’s tone brought her annoyance back with a vengeance. She could tell John didn’t much care for it, either. Eyes narrowing, he hesitated a beat before opening his mouth to answer. That split second was all it took for the impulse to take hold within her. Without even thinking about it, she answered before he could.

“This is my new employee.”

Two sets of eyes shot to her, one startled, one appraising. She stared back at the latter, ignoring Dalton. There was no hint of what he thought of her statement, no surprise or relief or happiness. Whatever he was feeling, he was keeping it to himself.

Uncertain how she felt about that, she turned to Dalton. The older man was glaring at John, his face bright red. She didn’t know if it was from anger or frustration at being foiled. She didn’t really care. Either way, she liked it and had to do her best not to smirk.

“Dalton,” she said, clearly startling him. He jerked his head toward her. She fought a smile. “You’ll have to excuse us. We have a lot of work to get to. Thanks for stopping by, though. It’s nice to know you’re looking out for me.”

She couldn’t entirely keep the sarcasm from her sickly-sweet tone. From the look he shot her, he hadn’t missed it. With a sharp nod, he turned from her, ignoring John, and stomped his way back to his car. She and John watched in silence as he backed out of the driveway and pulled into the street.

Once there, his car paused briefly just behind John’s truck. No doubt Dalton was taking note of the license plate. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was planning on checking up on her new employee at the first opportunity.

“Does that mean I’ve got the job?”

The sound of his voice pulled her attention back to his face—and the decision she’d made so rashly. She had to admit that it had largely been spurred by the desire to stick it to Dalton. So much for his claim that she wouldn’t be able to find anyone to work on the house. The impotent rage on his face had made it worth it.

Of course, now that he was gone and the moment had passed, she had to face the consequences. She knew nothing about this man beyond the vague suspicion he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her. He could be dangerous. He could be a killer. And she would be alone with him for hours on end if she gave him the job. Most days passed without her seeing a single soul.

But rescinding the offer would only make her look like a fool, and give Dalton a satisfaction she in no way wanted to grant him.

“On a trial basis,” she said quickly, watching his expression. “That okay with you?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t have a problem with proving myself.”

It was the right answer. She liked people who were willing to let their work speak for itself.

Besides, she’d bet anything Dalton was planning on running a background check on her new employee, saving her the trouble of doing it herself. He had enough connections to get it done, certainly more than she had at her disposal. If he found anything shady in the man’s past, she had no doubt he’d be back to rub her nose in it as soon as he could.

Of course that wouldn’t do her much good if the truck was stolen, or she was already murdered and her new employee ran off to parts unknown by the time the background check came back. But even as she thought it, she found herself dismissing the idea. She had the feeling she was the last person who should be judging anyone’s character, but there was just something about him that made her think he wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t seem dangerous or creepy or dishonest. He seemed—

Sad, she thought again. He seemed sad.

She felt an uncomfortable pang of recognition in her chest. She watched him tilt his head back and scan the house, those deep blue eyes sweeping over the exterior. The emotion wasn’t just in those eyes. It seemed to cling to him like an aura, something weighing heavily on him. And as someone who still had her share of sad days, she could relate.

She did her best to shake off the wave of empathy, definitely not wanting to go there. Whatever was haunting this man wasn’t her concern. All that mattered was that he was the right man for the job.

She watched him scrutinize the house. If he wondered why it was in such bad shape, he didn’t show it. Suddenly it occurred to her that he probably didn’t know the house’s history. She didn’t doubt that the first person he met in town would waste no time enlightening him. It would be better if she told him herself up front. Despite his claim that he didn’t scare easily, she might as well find out for herself. Her big show in front of Dalton would ring awfully hollow if her new employee changed his mind in short order.

“Come on,” she said with a jerk of her head. “Let me show you the house. Then you can let me know if you still want the job.”

THIS was it.

His insides clenching, Sam watched his new boss head up the steps and took a deep breath before doing the same. Her words and the ominous note in her voice might have given another man pause, making him wonder exactly what it was she was about to reveal that might make him second-guess working for her. Not him. He already knew everything he suspected she was about to tell him. Despite her words, he already knew he wanted the job.

No, it was the very act of setting foot in this house again that made him hesitate. This was all happening too fast, before he was ready. He didn’t normally act so quickly and without thinking things through first, having long ago learned the cost of impulsive choices. But it felt like he’d jumped on board a moving train and was being carried away much faster than he’d anticipated or was comfortable with. He’d made the decision to come here on the spur of the moment, getting into the truck and just driving. Then he’d seen that flyer, then he’d come here, then he’d been hired, and now he was about to walk into a house he’d never wanted to see again. It was too fast. He’d barely had time to absorb what was happening.

“You coming?”

He jerked his head to see the woman standing just inside the doorway, a curious and none-too-reassuring expression on her face. The corners of her mouth were turned down as she stared at him. He had the feeling he was blowing this. She looked distinctly wary.

She. That’s how fast this was happening. He’d been hired by this woman and he didn’t even know her name.

“Sure,” he said. “I was just wondering what the polite way was to ask for your name.”

She blinked at him, her caution fading into embarrassment. “Oh,” she said, “I guess that would be a good place to start, wouldn’t it?”

“I could just go with ‘Hey, you.’”

A faint smile flickered across her lips. “That won’t be necessary. It’s Maggie. Maggie Harper.”

It was a nice smile—and a fleeting one. Within seconds, it had faded, her mouth forming a thin line.

For the first time, he looked at her, really looked at her. She was an attractive woman, probably in her early to mid-thirties. Her dark blond hair was pulled up in a no-nonsense knot at the back of her head, a few loose wisps hanging around her face. Like him, she was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the clothes fairly worn, the wardrobe of somebody ready to work. Her body had a kind of ropy leanness, the kind earned from activity and labor, and he knew without question that this was a woman who knew how to work and get a job done.

He only hoped she didn’t get in the way of the job he had to do.

“Good to meet you, Maggie.”

She nodded tightly and turned her back to him, stepping inside. Drawing in one last breath, Sam forced his legs to climb the steps and follow her into the house.

The first thing that struck him was the stillness. Other than the motion and sounds caused by Maggie herself, nothing moved, and the silence was absolute. The entryway opened into a room on either side, both of them almost completely unfurnished. There was a sleeping bag rolled up in the room on the right. Otherwise it was empty. He could see a basic attempt had been made to clean up a little, but it was very much a house where work was in progress. Sunlight poured through the windows, revealing a multitude of dust particles hanging in the air.

In front of him was a steep staircase leading up to the second level. And beside it, a hallway leading back to where the kitchen was. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see that room from where he stood. He knew it was there, as a sudden tension gripped him, holding him in place just inside the doorway, unable to do anything but stare in that direction.

His heart began to pound, slamming against his chest wall like it was demanding to get out. The noise rattled through him, filling his ears with the heavy beat. Except he thought he heard something else over it, something distant emerging from the echoing silence of the house to fill his head.

Screaming. Someone was screaming.

Frantic cries. Desperate pleading. Sounds of raw, gut-wrenching agony.

It wasn’t just anyone, either.

It was a little kid.

A child was screaming. Crying. Pleading.

Endlessly screaming.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of her voice jolted him into awareness. He glanced over at where Maggie stood in the room to the right. She was frowning again, that same appraising look in her eye.

He didn’t let his expression shift in the slightest, even as he swallowed hard and tried to slowly pull in a breath. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I guess I didn’t figure just how much work this place would need.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. I could use the work. It just seems like most people would save themselves the trouble and tear it down to build something new.”

Her face hardened. “Yeah, well, people tend to throw things away too easily.”

There was an angry note in her voice, something almost like bitterness. “I take it you like old houses.”

“I love them.”

“Have you restored one before?”

“More than one. I used to own a restoration business back in California. With my husband,” she added after a noticeable pause.

A husband. She wasn’t wearing a ring, not that that necessarily meant anything. Someone who worked with her hands as much as this woman had to probably wouldn’t bother with one. But something about the way she said it made it clear she no longer had a husband, and the subject wasn’t a happy one.

There was a story there. And it was none of his business. He had too many secrets of his own to go poking around in anybody else’s. It had nothing to do with why he was here, and that was all that mattered.

“This is a long way from California,” he noted, just to fill the silence.

“My grandfather owned this house,” she said. “He died last year and left it to me. I decided to come back and fix it up.”

“I guess he had a hard time keeping up with the place.”

“The last few years he didn’t get around as well as he used to,” she said with a trace of regret. “And he actually didn’t live here, but the place meant a lot to him. He designed it himself and had it built for him and my grandmother. It was their dream home. They’d lived here only a few years when she was injured in a car accident and had to use a wheelchair the rest of her life. This house was no longer suitable for their needs, with all of its stairs, both inside and out. They moved into another house, but my grandfather couldn’t bring himself to sell this one. He rented it out for a while.”

An image emerged from the recesses of his mind, the face of a man. His first thought was that it was an old man. No, he’d thought the man was old when he’d seen him, but he’d probably only been in his fifties. Ancient to a child, but only a decade or two older than Sam was now.

Maggie sighed. “I might as well tell you now. If you decide to stay, you’ll hear it soon enough from just about anyone in town.” She drew a breath. “Two people were murdered here. The people my grandfather rented the house to, they were a young family. Two parents, something like three or four kids. One night the parents were murdered here in this house.”

Five, he silently corrected. There’d been five kids, though not all of them had been home that night.

He saw she was waiting for his reaction. He simply nodded. “I know.”

She started. “You know?”

“A guy at the truck stop told me when I picked up the flyer.” It was the truth, not that he’d needed the story.

She sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Of course. I forgot to ask how you knew where to come. I should have known someone had told you, though I would have thought he’d warn you off. I’m a little surprised he gave you directions.”

He hadn’t. Not that she needed to know that. “Maybe he thought I needed to see the place myself to be scared off.”

She eyed him closely. “And the history of the place didn’t make you think twice about asking for the job?”

“A lot of places have had bad things happen in them. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the place itself.”

He had the feeling he’d said exactly the right thing. Both her expression and her posture eased, leaving her looking far more relaxed toward him than he’d seen her in the brief time he’d known her.

“That’s what I think, too,” she said. “Unfortunately, it’s very much the minority opinion around here. Most people just want to see it torn down. That’s what that guy was doing here. He’s a local builder, Dalton Sterling. He’s been offering to buy the property from the moment I came back to town. He wants to tear down the house and build a new one in its place.”

Dalton Sterling. The name was familiar, though he hadn’t immediately recognized the face. “You didn’t like the price he offered?”

“I wouldn’t like any price he offered. There’s nothing wrong with this house. It doesn’t deserve to be thrown away for no reason.”

Interesting choice of words. Thrown away. The fierceness, the anger in her words made him eye her closely again.

She’d turned away from him, not looking directly at him. Her jaw was clenched, her face tight with that same anger in her voice.

There’s a story there.

None of your business, he reminded himself. Stick to the reason you came here.

She glanced up at him. “I guess it’s not even worth asking if you already knew all of this before you even came, but do you still want the job?”

“I do.”

She nodded. “Then it’s settled. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

He braced himself for her to move toward the kitchen, somewhere he still wasn’t entirely prepared to go. Instead, she moved back to the entryway, to the stairs. His tension eased slightly, allowing a hint of relief to creep in, along with determination.

It was done. He was in. The first step in his hastily formed plan was complete.

Now it was time to get started on the rest.