Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (19 page)

“What else would you like to see?” Lorna asked, to dismiss Cristy. “It’s a quiet house, but perfect for relaxing.”

“Well, Baby Duck—that’s what I call my wife—isn’t much for socializing. She prefers my company to anything I can give her. Except maybe diamonds. She’s a regular fool for diamonds. But I guess I’m still a lucky man.”

Lorna looked perplexed again, as if she really didn’t know what to say to the odd comment. Cristy could feel bile rising in her throat.

“So I guess I’ll just be going,” Jackson said. “I have another place I have to check, but I’ll call you the moment I make up my mind.”

“We have that weekend free for now, so hopefully it will still be free if we hear from you.”

“Morning, Miz Cristy, Miz Lorna. I’ll just show myself out.”

Despite saying she was heading for the kitchen, Cristy hadn’t moved. Jackson brushed past her, and in a minute she heard the front door close.

“Are you okay?” Lorna asked, with a sliver of annoyance in her voice. “You’re as white as a pillowcase.”

Cristy knew better than to tell her employer that the man who’d left had come to the Mountain Mist purely to show Cristy he was still keeping an eye her. Mr. Bond. The spy. The
married
spy with a wife who loved diamonds. All her hard-won confidence drained away. Jackson was always going to be just one step away. She wondered how many nights he had driven by the Goddess House, or worse, walked the grounds. She often heard noises after dark and told herself raccoons were scuttling by, or a fox was prowling for supper.

But all along, the noises might have been Jackson.

“I almost hope Mr. Bond doesn’t call back,” Lorna said.

For a moment Cristy thought she had given herself away, that her connection to him had been plain and, worse, suspicious, but Lorna went on.

“Every once in a while I get a guest I don’t feel comfortable with. When they leave I feel like I ought to count the silver, if my silver was anywhere they could find it. There was something about him I just didn’t like. Know what I mean?”

Cristy felt a sigh escape, as if Lorna’s words had given her permission to breathe again. She had done nothing to warrant this intrusion, made no attempt to contact Jackson, to go home to Berle, to get in touch with anyone who had known them both. Yet here he was, his very presence the threat he had intended it to be.

He was never going to leave her alone. No matter what she did.

And with that thought and Lorna’s observation came a stab of courage. Because if Jackson wasn’t going to leave her alone, she had to do something about it.

“Lorna, may I use your telephone? I need to call somebody who lives out of town, and the sooner the better. I’ll gladly pay.”

“Don’t worry about it. Use the phone in the office.”

“After I clean up this mess,” Cristy said. “You can take the cup out of my paycheck.”

Lorna turned to head back upstairs. “Are you kidding? I know what a bargain I’m getting with you. Don’t give that cup a second thought.”

* * *

For dinner Cristy cooked fresh eggs Lorna had given her from the B and B’s hens, and warmed leftover muffins and sausages that hadn’t been eaten for breakfast. When she’d taken the job at the Mountain Mist she hadn’t realized that leftovers came with it, but Lorna was generous that way. More than once Cristy had realized the baked goods she was given to take home would have been fine for the next morning’s breakfast. Lorna was trying in the best way she knew to supplement her wages.

Someday she might grow sick of breakfast food, but for now, as she prepared her meal, she was simply grateful she had food to eat, fresh, tasty food, at that.

As she cooked she tried to forget Jackson. To demonstrate how many different ways information was available, Georgia had given her a selection of books on CD. Georgia had been frank. Cristy would learn to read, but it might never be easy for her, and cultivating other ways to learn was a good thing, too. Now, to distract herself, she debated which of several CDs she would start tonight.

She had already listened to disembodied voices reading
Alice in Wonderland,
a biography of Abraham Lincoln and a novel titled
The Hunger Games,
about a young woman who managed to survive in a society crueler than the one Cristy found herself in.

Cristy might not be able to read, but she understood why Georgia had brought her that one.

As she set a place at the table, she was debating between an audiobook about life in the American West or another novel when she heard a car in the driveway. Her first thought was of Jackson. Had he stayed in the area all day, just waiting for her to get home so he could torment her?

Or worse?

Her hands began to tremble. She went to the magnetic strip where knives were kept and pulled down the bread knife, which was the longest one in the house, although certainly not the sharpest. Since it was unlikely she would actually find the courage to stab him anyway, intimidating seemed best for her purposes.

She carried it by the hilt into the living room and peered beyond the porch. From that angle she couldn’t see much, but she heard a car door slam below, and in a minute she saw a man climbing the steps.

There was just enough light to see that the man was Jim Sullivan.

She looked down at the knife, then hurried back into the kitchen to return it.

“I got your message,” he said, taking off his cap when she opened the door.

She tried to gauge what he was thinking until she realized she needed to invite him in. She opened the door wider and stepped aside.

“It smells good in here,” he said. “Did I get you from supper?”

“I was just about to sit down.” She debated. “There’s enough for two. Would you like to join me?”

“You don’t need to feed me.”

“I don’t need to, no, but there’s extra, and it’s yours if you’d like it.”

He relaxed a little, as if the offer had altered the dynamics. “I’m starving.”

“You were nice enough to come all the way out here to help me.” She started toward the kitchen and waved to the spot across from her lone place setting. “Sit yourself down. Shall I make coffee?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

Clearly he was over what had passed for reticence. She was calmer now, and she felt herself smile a little. “It’ll take a minute and so will your eggs.”

“Yours are going to get cold.”

“And then they’ll be warm again because I’ll put them in the microwave.”

She started the coffee first, then turned on the stove and wiped out the frying pan, added a new pat of butter and waited for it to begin sizzling. She took out two more sausages and set them at the edge of the pan to warm before she broke two eggs into it to keep them company.

“Sunny side up?”

“Flipped, if you don’t mind. Medium cooked.”

She finished in silence, warming her own plate as she slid his food onto another. In a minute she was sitting across from him.

“Coffee will be ready shortly,” she said.

“I had the early shift this morning, so I might need something to keep from falling asleep on the way back.”

“You could ask Jackson how he stays awake on the trip here and back. He’s an expert, I guess.”

“So he came to the B and B where you’re working today?”

As she nodded, she watched him, looking for any sign he might not believe her. He was dressed in jeans again and a stretched-out T-shirt that still managed to look good. The black cap with the blue Tarheels insignia hung on the back of the chair beside him. His expression was as blank as humanly possible.

“He told my boss his name was Mr. Bond, like 007. Said he was looking for a place to celebrate his wife’s birthday.”

“Did he tell her he knew you?”

“No, he was just there to intimidate me and see what I’d do. He told Lorna that his wife loved him almost as much as she loved...” The word caught in her throat. “Diamonds,” she finished.

Something flickered in Sully’s eyes. He shook his head, as if that reaction had just been one too many to control.

“I hear noises at night,” Cristy said. “And now I don’t know if they’re an animal or the wind—or Jackson.”

“But this is the first time he’s shown up since the night I followed him?”

“That I know of, yes.”

“And you haven’t done anything to rile him?” He held up his hand. “I don’t think you’re trying to. I just mean maybe you contacted somebody about something else, for instance, and he saw it as a threat. Any connection at all to your life with him?”

“Nothing.” She swallowed her anger because she realized he wasn’t trying to blame
her.
“No contact at all.”

“He hasn’t gone to see the baby?”

“Berdine wouldn’t let him near Michael, and she’d call me if he tried. She hasn’t said anything when we’ve talked.”

“Then I wonder what’s set him off, because clearly, something has.”

“You don’t know him very well, do you? Jackson doesn’t need anything to—” she made quotation marks with her fingers “—set him off. He was playing with me. He was showing how powerful he is, just in case prison didn’t make the point. He doesn’t want me to forget it.”

He didn’t dispute that, and he didn’t nod. He seemed to be thinking as he ate one egg, then the second and finally started on the sausages.

“You were right to call me.”

She’d waited for that? While her own food went cold on her plate? She’d expected a great pronouncement, a new piece of information, an apology. Disgusted, she got up and took her plate to the microwave to warm it again while she poured him a cup of coffee.

“Well, thanks for validating me,” she said.

“No, I mean it. You can’t ignore him. It’s not safe.”

That was better. She set the coffee mug on the table, then she crossed her arms over her chest and stared as he lifted it to his lips. “You don’t think he’s safe? You mean Jackson Ford might actually be dangerous?”

“I know
you
think he is.”

“And apparently, you think so, too.”

“I think he ought to stay out of your life.”

She saw that was the best she was going to get. “Well, you tell him so, okay? I mean, you talked to him last time, and look how well that turned out. I’m sure telling him the same thing again will take care of everything.”

“That’s not all I’m going to do.”

The microwave dinged, and she joined Sully at the table once more. “So what else?”

“Right now I’m going to sip this coffee and make sure you finish eating before you have to warm up that plate again.” He took another muffin and held it up. “I guess these are finer than frog hair. Thank you for feeding me.”

She finished her dinner without asking him anything else, although she was curious about Jim Sullivan. She wondered if he’d gone to college, and why he’d settled back in Berle. She couldn’t imagine playing Barney Fife in their own little mountain Mayberry had been his life’s goal.

She cleared the table when she finished, but refilled his coffee. He thanked her.

“I’m done eating now, so what else do you have planned for Jackson? You’ll want to tell me before you go in a few minutes,” she said pointedly.

“I’ve got something for you in my car.”

He’d piqued her curiosity.

He stood and drank another couple of swallows. “Want to follow me down?”

When he put his cap on and started through the house, she followed behind.

Outside the sky had darkened and night was falling fast. She hoped this wouldn’t take long. She didn’t feel comfortable out here, not with Jackson on the prowl again. Sully seemed to sense her discomfort because he turned.

“I’ll see you back up to the house. I’m not going to leave you out here.”

“Let’s just hurry.”

They had reached the parking area, and she saw he drove a small nondescript sedan, the ubiquitous murky silver of half the cars on the road. She imagined if he spent any time tailing suspects, it was the perfect vehicle, because no one would notice or remember.

He unlocked the driver’s side and sat, so he could reach the floor beside him. When he got back out, he had something wrapped in a towel, and he unwrapped it as she watched. In the fading light she saw what looked like a fancy voltage meter, but she knew exactly what it was. Jackson loved weapons of every kind, and he’d shown her his collection, explaining everything in it down to the last detail.

“I can’t take that,” she said. “What are you doing? You’re going to give me a gun, then arrest me for having it?”

“It’s a
stun
gun, and perfectly legal for you to have, as long as you don’t carry concealed.”

She stared in horror. “I hate guns of any kind!”

“You can’t kill a person with this, Miss Haviland, but you might hurt one enough to give you time to get away.”

She didn’t know why, but the only thing that came to mind was foolish, under the circumstance. “Call me Cristy. You’re giving me a stun gun. Call me by my first name.”

“I’m going to show you how to use it and hope you never need to.”

“Don’t bother.”

“You’d rather be beaten or raped, I take it?”

She looked at the gun, then back up at him. “I don’t think I could do it. Hurt somebody that way, I mean.”

“Even if your life was hanging in the balance?”

The stun gun wasn’t even as large as a dollar bill and looked relatively harmless lying in the palm of his hand.

“You put the strap around your wrist after you put the battery in,” he said. “That way it’s harder for somebody to get it away from you. It won’t work without the strap attached, and it has a safety switch.” He pointed so she would know where it was. “You aren’t going to shock yourself by mistake. I’m going to show you how to put the battery in.” He demonstrated, attaching it easily, then pushing it inside. Next he put the cover back in place and inserted the strap.

“Now it’s ready,” he said, and he flicked it on. The air sizzled with electricity, as if lightning had just struck a power line, but on a smaller scale. “It has an alarm.” He held it up so she could see, then hit a button to demonstrate and a siren sounded. “You can set it for alarm only, alarm and stun, or off. It’s only four hundred thousand volts, so it might not take down a crazed druggie, but it will stop most men in their tracks. It’s not the best model out there, but I think it suits your needs.”