Deadly Obsession (7 page)

“Miss Taylor, I'm glad you're here. I wasn't sure who else to call.” Bob stepped down from the leaning porch and joined her on the front lawn.

“You called me and I called the police.” Jillian shook the man's hand. “You did right.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't recognize the vehicle sitting in the drive. I didn't think it was yours, but I didn't know who to call about it.”

Jillian frowned and turned toward the SUV in the driveway at the side of the house. She'd forgotten Chance had ridden with her to drop off the trailer and truck the night before. Which meant his rental had been at the house overnight.

Once again, her heart dived into her belly as she crossed the grass to the rental, sitting in the shade of an evergreen. At first she didn't see the damage, but when she got closer she could see the bright red paint that graced the house was also sprayed in broad swirls over the hood, windows, doors and side panels.

She pulled out her cell phone and cursed. No reception. “How did you get a call out to me from here?”

Bob laughed. “I had to drive halfway to town before I got a signal.”

Heading for her SUV, Jillian paused when she heard the sound of a vehicle crunching gravel along the drive into her secluded homesite.

A Cape Churn Police Department SUV pulled up beside her vehicle and stopped. Gabe McGregor got out, shaking his head. “Yeah, I'd say someone did a number on your house.”

She sighed. “That can be fixed. I'm more worried about the damage to Chance's rental car. Can you radio in a call to him and let him know what's happened?” She held up her cell phone. “No reception.”

“I can do that.” He touched the key on the mic clipped to his shoulder and gave the dispatcher instructions to call Chance at the McGregor B and B. When he was done, he reached into his SUV and pulled out a camera. “Let's get started.”

“Begin with the house. The sooner my contractor can get back to work, the better. I'm sure an adjuster will need to be called about the car.”

Besides the paint on the walls inside and outside the house, a few more broken windows, and paint on the lumber that had been scattered across the yard, the house was intact. Jillian was glad she'd locked her belongings in the back room using one of the skeleton keys she'd found in the back of a drawer in the kitchen. Otherwise, her furniture might have fallen victim to the graffiti artist.

Gabe completed a thorough investigation of the premises and dusted for fingerprints on the doorknobs and the sill of the broken window on the first floor, the probable source of entry into the house. Since Bob's crew had been all over the house for the past few days, Gabe also took all their fingerprints so that he could rule them out. Once he finished his work on the house, he cleared the contractor to start working again.

Gabe had just started photographing the rental car when an SUV pulled up next to Gabe's vehicle.

Nova climbed out of the driver's side and let out a long low whistle.
“Madre de Dios.”

When Chance exited the passenger seat, Jillian's pulse quickened and heat rose up her chest into her cheeks.

He took one look at the house and then headed straight for her, pulling her into his arms.

Jillian melted against him. Something about him made her feel protected and unnerved all at once. Damn. He was already getting under her skin and she'd only known him a day. This had to stop.

Chapter 7

A
s they'd driven up to Jillian's house, Chance saw the paint first, dripping like blood on the faded and peeling white paint. As soon as he was out of Nova's truck, he went straight to Jillian and pulled her into his arms. She'd been gone when he'd woken that morning and he'd been thanking his lucky stars at the same time as he missed her presence. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her fingers curling into his shirt. “I'm fine, but I'm afraid your rental car isn't.”

He shook his head and glanced past her. “That's what insurance is for. I'm more concerned about you.” He stared at the house.

A man in a police uniform who had been snapping photos of the damaged vehicle joined them. “Me, too.” He held out his hand. “Gabe McGregor.”

“Chance McCall.”

Gabe grinned. “The best man?” His grin faded. “Sorry about your rental.”

“It's just paint,” Chance said and rested a hand against the small of Jillian's back. “I'm not worried about it.” But he was worried about the owner of the house. His gut was talking to him, telling him the situation was more dangerous than he'd originally thought.

“This house has been empty for seventeen years. Why would someone choose to vandalize it now?” Jillian asked.

“Have you been through it thoroughly? Does it appear as if someone was living in it before you started the rehab?” Gabe asked.

“It was completely empty.” Jillian pushed her hair back from her face. “No sign of inhabitants, except maybe mice.”

“It doesn't make much sense.” Gabe tucked the small camera into his front pocket. “I'll run a check on the fingerprints. My advice to you is install security cameras.”

She shook her head. “I don't have the money in the budget for that.”

“You know the staffing of the police department. We can't position an officer here 24/7.”

“And I don't expect it.” Jillian smiled at Gabe. “Thanks for coming out. Just find the bastard who did this.”

“I'll do the best I can. In the meantime, I'll notify dispatch and the guys on the night shift to swing by periodically to check on things. But until we catch the culprit, it could happen again.”

“Maybe they won't try anything once the house is occupied at night.” Jillian chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the old structure. “I'll be moved in before they start painting the exterior.”

“All the more reason to install a security system tied into the police department,” Chance added to Gabe's argument.

Her lips twisted. “I'll look at what I can take off the renovation list. I might have to wait to remodel one of the bathrooms.” Jillian sighed. “I thought Cape Churn was one of those places where you could leave your doors unlocked and not worry about it.”

Gabe's jaw hardened. “Like most communities, we've had our share of pranks and a couple of real criminals. I don't recommend leaving your doors unlocked anywhere.”

“Don't worry,” Jillian said. “I don't. I lived in Portland long enough to make it a habit to lock up even when I'm home during the day.”

“Good.” Gabe glanced once more at the house. “I'm sorry about the damage. I'll do my best to find the one responsible.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” Jillian said. “Say hello to Kayla for me, will ya?”

“I will. We're looking forward to Molly's wedding. Let us know what we can do to help.”

“Just be there with your tux on and Kayla in her bridesmaid dress. The rest should be taken care of.” Jillian hugged the man.

Once again, Jillian's friendly hug sent a brief spike of anger through Chance. If he wasn't mistaken, that feeling was something akin to jealousy. Jillian was free to hug anyone she felt like. He had no say in the matter.

“I'll be fine,” she was saying. “Go on. I'm sure you have better things to do than chase after punks with cans of spray paint.”

“This is serious, Jillian,” Gabe said. “If they're targeting your house, who's to say they won't target you? Be aware at all times.”

She nodded. “I will.”

Gabe climbed into his SUV and drove off. Nova walked around the house, inspecting the damage, leaving Jillian alone with Chance.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess I'd better clean up what
can
be cleaned and live with the rest until the windows arrive and the painter does his magic on the exterior.”

The electrician's truck arrived and Mitchell got out, giving a low whistle. “Damn. Someone either doesn't like you much or doesn't want you moving into this house.”

Jillian's eyes narrowed and she stared at the house. “I can't remember making anybody mad enough to vandalize my house. Do you think someone doesn't want me to move in?”

“I don't know. I just wire houses.” Mitchell opened a side panel on the back of the truck and pulled out a toolbox and a reel of electrical wire. “Speaking of wiring, if all goes well, I should have it done this afternoon. Is it possible to get paid for the job today?”

Jillian smiled. “Thank you, Mitchell. You just gave me one bright spot in an otherwise crappy start to the day. Yes, I can pay you this afternoon.”

“Thanks. I have to pay my workers and it helps to have the funds.” Mitchell entered the house.

“All I've been waiting on to move in is electricity and running water.” Jillian glanced up at Chance. “Depending on the plumber, I could move in as soon as the day after tomorrow. Then maybe I can keep this kind of thing from happening again.”

“I'm not sure a lone woman is going to scare off whoever did this to your house.”

“How about a lone woman with an HK .40 caliber pistol and the skill to use it?”

Chance chuckled. “That might help if you post a sign on the exterior of your house stating it.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the house. “I think Gabe's right. You need a security system installed.”

“Those are really expensive.”

“Not if you do some of the work yourself.”

She tapped a finger to her jaw. “Assuming I can get one and install it immediately. I'm serious. As soon as the water and electricity are on, I'm moving in. Besides, Molly has a pile of people coming in for the wedding. I don't want to tie up one of her rooms in the B and B through next week.”

“Then get a room at one of the hotels in town,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “And leave my poor house to these vandals? That's not happening.”

“I take it your mind is made up.” He shook his head. “You're a stubborn woman.”

“Damn right, I am. It's one of my better qualities.” She smiled. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paint to scrape off.” With those parting words, she marched into the house.

Chance stood where she'd left him, admiring the sway of her hips and the tilt of her chin. The woman was a fighter. Not much could get her down. He hoped whoever had done the paint job wasn't interested in harming the woman who owned the house.

He got in his ruined rental and drove to town, where he was able to get a cell phone signal. The first call he placed was to the car-rental company, advising them of the vandalism and assuring them the vehicle was drivable. They promised to send a representative out to trade vehicles and take the damaged one back for repairs. Chance told them not to bother for a couple of days. With the vandals still on the loose, it didn't bode well for a second rental car.

The next call he made was to Royce Fontaine, his boss.

“Chance, how's the wedding plans going?” Royce answered without a real greeting, which was his style.

“Fine, but we have a little bit of a problem with the wedding planner.”

Royce chuckled. “Can't you stay out of her way until the wedding's over?”

He wished he could, but Chance was genuinely worried about Jillian more than she was worried for her own safety. Her lack of concern made him feel he needed to be concerned for her. “That's not an option.” He explained the situation and asked, “Could you put Geek onto this and see what he can discover about that house and anything that might help us find who's responsible for the vandalism?”

“I'll do that, but have you considered that it could be local teenagers making a nuisance of themselves?” Royce offered.

“Yeah, but my gut is telling me there's more to this than meets the eye.”

“I'll put Geek on it. He likes sleuthing, and things are a little slow around here right now.”

“That's a good thing.”

“Or it means something big is about to happen. We rarely have downtime.”

“What is it you're always telling us? Don't borrow trouble, but be ready.”

Royce laughed. “You've got that right. I'll have Geek do his magic and get back to you as soon as we have anything. Meanwhile, you're supposed to be resting and relaxing. I'll probably have something for you in a couple of weeks.”

Chance ended the call.

Rest and relax. That was what he'd had in mind when he'd come to Cape Churn. Somehow that wasn't how it was playing out. He hoped the vandalism was nothing more than a teenage prank. But to make sure Jillian remained safe, he had other plans.

* * *

Thankfully, Jillian had an extra set of work clothes in her SUV. After changing from her skirt and blouse to jeans and a flannel shirt, she went to work on the inside of the house, scraping off old wallpaper. She liked performing the manual labor required to restore a house to a livable state. Not only did it burn off nervous energy, it had a positive result.

In this case, the red paint wasn't coming off. She applied several coats of primer to the walls that would be painted soon and peeled a couple of layers of wallpaper off the walls that needed to be stripped anyway. She'd planned on returning to her office to check messages but ended up staying at the house all day.

The workers banged, hammered and ripped out sections of drywall to get to the plumbing and electricity. A couple of men were removing the rotted railing and floorboards on the porch. Bob was in the basement with another worker studying the supports.

Things were moving along on her house. It wouldn't be long before she could move in.

Jillian wadded a long band of wallpaper under her arm and walked through the house with the intention of carrying it out to the huge bin Bob had positioned in front of the house for the refuse generated from the demolition. As she passed a window overlooking the backyard, she noticed one of the men emerging from the woods. She stopped, wondering why he'd chosen to relieve himself out there when Bob had provided a portable toilet for the men, as required by state law.

As the man got closer, she recognized him as Daryl Sims. Everyone in Cape Churn knew Daryl. He was a big guy with the mental capacity of a five-year-old. Those who had the work employed him to perform easy manual labor. Bob had hired him on a regular basis to help with the demolition and cleanup on construction sites.

Jillian smiled. He probably hadn't considered using one of the portable toilets. When he got close enough to the house she could see him more clearly. He appeared to be holding something in his hands. If Jillian wasn't mistaken, it was gray, furry and small, like...

She looked left and right. During the time she'd been cleaning, she'd forgotten about the kitten. Now, she hurried through the house, looking, but couldn't find the little guy. The men in the basement had been careful to keep the door closed to keep the kitten from going down there, but it was possible someone had left one of the main floor doors open while carrying pieces of drywall and lumber in and out.

When she couldn't find the kitten, Jillian stepped outside.

Daryl had just reached the porch and, as she suspected, he carried the kitten in his hands. He'd admired the feline earlier when she'd carried it outside to do its business.

“Thank goodness you found him.” Jillian held out her hands. “I hate to think of the little guy getting lost in the woods.”

“He went for a walk.” Daryl deposited the kitten in Jillian's hands. “I like kittens.”

“Me, too.”

“I have four.”

“I bet they're as cute as this guy.”

He nodded.

“Daryl!” Bob shouted from the other side of the house.

“I'm here!” Daryl shouted back.

“We need you up front!”

“Coming.” Daryl patted the kitten again and smiled at Jillian. “You're pretty.”

Jillian gave Daryl a gentle smile. “Thank you. You better go. They need you.”

He shuffled off, looking back at Jillian and the kitten several times until he rounded the corner of the building.

Tucking the kitten into the crook of her arm, Jillian hurried back into the house. She'd been tearing wallpaper out of the living room. She decided to stay out of the way of the workers on the main level and climbed the stairs to the first bedroom at the top of the landing.

She closed the door behind her and set the kitten on the floor. This room had wallpaper, much like many of others in the house. Something about the tiny rosebuds and ivy struck a chord with Jillian. She could imagine a little girl growing up in this room with frilly curtains rustling in the breeze of an open window. She almost hated tearing the paper from the wall, but it had yellowed with age and was peeling on the edges.

If she married and had a little girl, she'd paint the room in a soft pastel pink, and stencil roses and ivy in a lovely border pattern. With that promise in her mind, she went to work removing the brittle wallpaper from the wall.

Images of a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes like hers flashed in her mind. She'd love to have a little girl to hold and love. And a little boy with black hair and blue eyes.

She couldn't help thinking of Chance. He'd make beautiful babies. But Jillian wasn't in the market for a relationship. She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. She'd only known the man a day. The thought of making babies with him was silly and nonproductive. Nevertheless, her core heated and she couldn't get the bare-chested secret agent off her mind.