Читать книгу A Deadly Game - Virginia Smith - Страница 13

“I’d fallen asleep on the couch,” Susanna told the policeman standing in her living room, “and a noise woke me up. I’m almost positive it came from the car trailer in the driveway.”

The young man wasn’t one of the officers she’d seen at Ingram Industries last night, nor his partner, who at the moment was investigating the backyard with a flashlight.

He nodded. “Have you checked the trailer?”

“Are you kidding?” Susanna clutched Lizzie, whose arms and legs were still wrapped tightly around her even though the child was starting to drift back to sleep. “We shoved the dresser in front of the bedroom door and hid in the closet until you got here.”

“That was a smart move, ma’am.”

She glanced toward the window. “I’m worried about the car, though. It’s extremely expensive, and it doesn’t belong to me.”

“I’ll check it out.”

When he turned toward the door, she stopped him. “Here. You’ll need this.”

She scooped up the trailer key, which was still where Jack had left it on the coffee table. As he left the house, she considered putting Lizzie back to bed so she could check on the Corvette. But the child had been terrified to be awakened by Susanna’s panicked shrieks, and she didn’t want to risk her waking up alone while everyone else was outside. Instead, she scooped up a throw blanket from the armchair, bundled it around the little girl and followed the officer outside. Bitterly cold air slapped at Susanna’s face as she hurried down the porch steps and across the short walkway to where the officer stood at the rear of the trailer.

“The lock appears to be intact.” The man pulled on a thin rubber glove and, with a finger and thumb, carefully tested the handle.

To her surprise, the lever pushed all the way down.

The officer’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure you locked it?”

She thought back, picturing the scene in the auction house’s rear parking lot. Jack had locked the door after they’d loaded the car inside, hadn’t he? She couldn’t remember. “Well, no, I’m not positive. But I’m pretty sure we did.”

The officer pulled on the handle, and the door swung open. Breath caught in her chest, she peered inside.

The sight of the red sports car sent a wave of relief flooding through her tense muscles. “It’s still there.” Maybe Jack had simply forgotten to lock the door.

The policeman climbed into the trailer and unclipped a small flashlight from his belt. The Corvette’s body gleamed in the powerful beam.

He gave a low, admiring whistle. “This is a beautiful car.”

“Is it all right?” Susanna asked.

The beam flashed around. “Not a scratch on her.” He dropped down on his haunches and peered beneath. “The straps are still in place, too. I don’t think anyone’s messed with this car.”

“Thank goodness.”

The officer circled to the passenger side, still examining the unblemished paint. Susanna turned toward the house. Now that she’d satisfied herself the Corvette was safe, she could go back inside where it was warm. Obviously the noise that had woken her earlier hadn’t come from the trailer. She took a step as the officer opened the passenger door and aimed his flashlight inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pull the seat upright and heard a distant snap as it clicked into place.

Her foot halted. Was the passenger seat pushed forward when they put the car in the trailer?

No. It wasn’t. She was positive about that.

She returned to stand at the rear of the trailer. “I think someone’s been in there.”

The officer’s head emerged from his examination of the interior. “What makes you think so?”

“I’m sure that seat wasn’t pushed forward. And why would Jack make a point of giving me the key if he was going to leave the trailer unlocked?” Her arms tightened around Lizzie. Detective Rollins’s warning left an ominous echo in her mind. “What if the person who killed Mr. Ingram came after his car?”

A noise behind her made her whirl, but it was only the second officer coming from the backyard.

“Nothing back there, ma’am. No signs at all of an intruder.” His gaze rose from her face to his partner’s inside the trailer.

Did she imagine it, or did a secretive look pass between them? She could almost hear the older officer’s thoughts. Woman without a man around for protection. Panics over nothing. Despite the frigid air, heat flared up her neck. “I know I heard a noise outside, and I know someone jiggled the knob on my back door.”

Before the silence became uncomfortable, the officer in the trailer hopped down to the ground. “I have a theory. I think it was teenagers.”

His partner nodded, as though in agreement.

“Why do you say that?” Susanna asked. “Did you find something inside the car?”

He shook his head as he slid his flashlight back into place on his belt. “If it was a car thief, they would have been more prepared. They would have come with a truck and hauled off the trailer with the car inside. We’ve had trouble with teenagers prowling around town late at night. Some gang activity. Instances of vandalism. My guess is the trailer caught their attention. Since there’s no sign that the lock was forced, we have to assume the door wasn’t locked to begin with.”

Susanna would have argued that point, but without a call to Jack she couldn’t say for certain. And there was no way she was calling Jack at three in the morning. At least the officer believed her that someone had been here.

He nodded toward the Corvette. “Taking a car like that out for a joyride would be almost irresistible. They probably searched the interior to see if they could find the keys.”

“But then why try to break into my house?”

The other officer answered. “They probably figured someone who would leave a car like that in an unlocked trailer wouldn’t be too careful with their house, either. They may have just been checking to see if they could get inside the house and get the keys. You scared them off when you screamed.” His expression grew sober. “It’s a good thing you locked your doors. If they were on drugs, you never know what could have happened to you and your little girl.”

Susanna turned to look into the deep shadows of the backyard. The scenario did seem feasible, assuming Jack had simply forgotten to lock the trailer. She certainly intended to ask him about that the next time she spoke with him.

Still, having someone try to break into her house the same night Mr. Ingram was killed seemed like an awfully big coincidence. What would that detective think? She almost hated to bring up the man’s name, because he reminded her so much of the detective she’d spoken with during that awful business back in Tennessee. “I don’t know. Maybe we should contact Detective Rollins.”

“Oh, don’t worry, ma’am.” The first officer closed the trailer door. “We’ll give him a full report.”

He turned the key in the lock, tested the handle to be sure it was secure, and handed her the key ring.

She held Lizzie in place with one hand and took the key with the other. “So you think we’ll be safe the rest of the night?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” The officer glanced at his watch, then smiled at Lizzie’s sleeping form. “You should take a cue from your daughter and try to get a few hours’ sleep. We’ll make some extra patrols up and down this street for the rest of the night, keep an eye on things. Just to be on the safe side.”

The two officers headed for their cruisers. Susanna watched them for a moment, until an icy breeze blew against her back. Lizzie should be inside, where it was warm. She hurried up the walkway, climbed the steps and let herself into the house.

Sleep, the officer had said. After all she’d been through? Right. The two hours she’d managed to doze on the couch earlier would have to last her a while. No way she’d be able to sleep any more tonight.

When she’d deposited Lizzie in bed—Susanna’s, not the little girl’s—she returned to the front of the house. A peek through the curtains revealed one of the cruisers still parked at the curb. The sight eased the mounting tension a fraction. A light illuminated the younger officer, his head bent over something on the seat beside him. Typing his report on a computer, probably. Good. Hopefully he’d have a lot to say, and it would take a long time. If the teenagers returned, the presence of a police officer would be a strong deterrent.

But the cruiser would leave eventually. She tried to ignore the panicky feeling that made her breath shallow. She was not normally the hysterical type, but the events of the past several hours would make anyone paranoid. If only she had a weapon of some sort. Not a gun, because she wouldn’t know how to use one if she had it. But a baseball bat, maybe, or a crowbar. A glance around the room revealed no likely weapons. She went into the kitchen, opened the knife drawer and examined the dangerous blade of the butcher knife.

No. Someone would have to get far too close for a knife to do any good. Besides, she was a weakling. If anyone got into the house, she and Lizzie were done for. Her best defense was to make sure nobody got in to begin with.

She slid out one of the sturdy wooden chairs from the dinette set that had belonged to her mother, tilted it on its back two legs and wedged the backrest under the door handle. There. They’d have to chop through the door with an ax to get past that. She’d use another chair on the front door and a third for her bedroom door. She and Lizzie would be safe inside.

Before she left the room, she returned to the drawer and grabbed the butcher knife, too. Just in case.

Susanna awoke Friday morning to Lizzie’s happy chatter.

“I slept with you, Susu!” The child hopped like an excited frog on the mattress. “We had a sleepover.”

Morning sunlight filtered through the yellow bedroom curtains and filled the room with a cheery glow. Susanna stretched and glanced at the clock. Eight twenty-seven. In all the chaos of last night she had forgotten to set the alarm, and now they’d overslept. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept until eight-thirty on a weekday. Of course, she hadn’t expected to sleep at all, and couldn’t remember dropping off. Exhaustion must have finally caught up with her.

Lizzie bounced once more before settling on the mattress beside her. “Is it Cartoon Day?”

At three years old, Lizzie had yet to learn the days of the week. She knew she went to her babysitter’s house on workdays, and on Saturday she was allowed to spend a couple of hours in front of the television watching her favorite cartoons.

Susanna shook her head. “No, sweetie, it’s not Saturday. It’s Friday, a workday.”

Although, after what she’d been through, nobody would blame her for taking a day off. They could lounge around the house in their pajamas and watch one of Lizzie’s favorite Disney DVDs. Filling her mind with images of princesses in beautiful dresses sounded far more appealing than the somber faces she would encounter at Ingram Industries today.

Guilt immediately flared. The employees would be shocked when they showed up for work to discover Mr. Ingram had been killed. Everyone loved him, and they’d all be saddened by his loss. They’d be worried, too, about the status of the company and their jobs. Plus, the board members would need to make some decisions. No doubt there would be an emergency meeting to organize. As Mr. Ingram’s executive secretary, she needed to be at work today.

With a resolute hand, she peeled back the blanket and slid out of bed. Lizzie bounded after her, then caught sight of the chair wedged against the door. The room filled with childish giggles as she pointed.

“Susu, you brought a chair to bed with you.”

“Silly me, huh?”

In the light of day, her paranoia of the night before did seem a little absurd. But only for a moment, until she remembered the horror of that rattling doorknob and the unlocked car trailer.

Before falling asleep, she’d come to a decision about the Corvette. It couldn’t stay here. She wanted no part of the kind of attention a car like that attracted. Selling it to Jack’s father without talking to Mr. Ingram’s daughters was out of the question, but it had to go to storage or something until they could decide what to do with it. That was at the top of her To Do list this morning.

On her bedside table lay her cell phone, the key to the trailer and Jack’s business card. He expected her to call when she knew whether or not Mr. Ingram’s daughters were willing to sell the Corvette. Would he mind transporting it to a storage facility instead?

Probably not. Regardless of his father’s reputation, he seemed like a nice guy. Certainly friendlier and more helpful than… She steeled her thoughts away from the direction they wanted to take. The little girl jumping with glee on the mattress provided a constant reminder that she couldn’t be too careful when it came to rich bachelors like Jack Townsend.

Still, she had no choice. Much as she hated to do it, she needed to ask him for a favor.

Resigned, she reached for her phone.