As planned, Maribel did leave early the next morning. Wynn and Mick met her at the hotel to say goodbye then watched as she drove away, to make very certain no one was following her. They were all well aware she could be a possible target if Deacon decided to play more games before coming directly for Wynn. As a result, they’d set it up that she would call every ten minutes for the next hour, using a coded phrase to let Wynn know she was all right.
“Paranoid, I know,” Wynn said when they made the plan the previous evening.
“But practical, all things considered,” Mick replied, getting an affirmative nod from Maribel.
After Maribel left, Mick went on to work while Wynn headed up to his studio where he was to meet Mr. Grimes, the man who was installing the security equipment for the cabin. Mr. Grimes was already there and after Wynn introduced himself and unlocked the cabin door, the man set to work.
Wynn watched for a few minutes then began setting up his easels and emptying the boxes on the work table, laying out some things on it, putting the rest away on the shelves along the wall opposite the new windows. While he did that, he received three calls from Maribel.
After the third one, Mr. Grimes chuckled. “You’re a popular fellow, Wynn.”
Wynn rolled his eyes. “My agent. She’s still not happy I’ve moved up here and keeps coming up with new questions on how we’re going to handle everything.”
“Women are like that. My wife will have me help her rearrange the living room then spend the next hour asking me if it looks okay or should we go back to the old way. I just nod, smile, and tell her it’s perfect.”
Wynn chuckled and they went back to what they’d been doing. By noon, Mr. Grimes announced he’d finished and spent a few minutes explaining the system to Wynn. Wynn paid him, thanked him, then watched from the doorway as Mr. Grimes drove away.
Are you out there somewhere, Deacon? He wondered, scanning the area for any signs of him. If he was, he wasn’t making his presence known, which didn’t surprise Wynn in the least. He hardly expected Deacon to walk out of the trees surrounding the cabin and introduce himself. Still, he stepped quickly back into the studio, closing the door firmly behind him. He knew Mick had been right. A couple of well placed shots and he’d be dead.
I just don’t see it playing out like that, though. He finished putting everything away and set up one of the unfinished paintings on an easel. If he just wanted me dead, he could have taken me out at any time. He likes the game. He wants to escalate my fear. Wynn chuckled softly. Not happening, Deacon. I don’t scare that easily.
* * * *
Wynn almost abandoned his thought when he arrived home that evening. He knew Mick was still at work, having talked to him minutes earlier to, among other things, reassure him Deacon hadn’t shown up at or around the studio. So when he walked into the house and heard music playing, he stopped dead in his tracks.
He knew he’d turned off the CD player when he and Mick left to meet Maribel at the hotel. The only way it could be on again was if Mick had stopped at the house for lunch, something he rarely did. Unless…
Very cautiously, Wynn made his way into the living room. Other than the music, the room was quiet and empty, as was the kitchen when he checked it. There were no signs Mick had been there during the day.
Only one way to find out. Wynn realized he’d been stupid not to call Mick the moment he’d entered the house.
When Mick answered, Wynn told him what was happening. Mick immediately ordered him to get out of the house and wait in his car until he got there. Wynn agreed, although he only obeyed the first part, opting instead to circle the house to see if there was any indication how the intruder had gotten inside.
Mick arrived, squealing to stop behind Wynn’s car, just as Wynn made it back to the front porch.
“This is not what I meant when I said to wait in the car,” Mick growled as he joined Wynn. He relented a bit, asking, “Did you find anything?”
“Nope. No footprints in the flowerbeds, no scratches on the back door by the lock.” Wynn smiled slightly. “That is what I should have been looking for, right?”
“Among other things, yeah. When you got here was the security box activated?”
“I…” Wynn frowned. “No, damn it. I didn’t think about that. I just unlocked the door, heard the music, and, well, did a quick check of the living room and kitchen before calling you.”
Mick sighed. “Next time, don’t enter if it’s off and I’m not here. For now, let’s see if our prowler did anything more than turn on the CD player.”
Wynn followed Mick inside, noting Mick’s hand was resting on his gun. “You know whoever it was, he’s long gone by now,” he pointed out.
“Undoubtedly, but I’m taking no chances.” Mick went to turn off the music, careful not to touch anything but the ‘off’ button. Then they went through the downstairs, finding nothing, and headed up to the second floor.
“Damn it to hell,” Mick said angrily as he stepped into their bedroom.
Wynn had to agree with that sentiment when he looked past him and saw the bed. The covers had been stripped back, leaving the bottom sheet visible. It was liberally spattered with red paint, some of which had made it to the wall behind the bed. Mick held up his hand to keep Wynn from coming into the room, as he placed a call to John to tell him he was to pick up the forensics kit and ‘get your ass over here’.
“What good is that going to do?” Wynn asked after Mick hung up. “We know who’s responsible.”
“It’s still a crime scene and we’re playing it by the book. Not that we’ll find anything. I suspect Deacon’s too smart to leave any fingerprints behind.” Mick surveyed the rest of the room. “From the look of it, the paint is the only damage. What I don’t get is why he left the music on.” He frowned as he stepped back into the hallway. “And he had to have done that, and this—” he pointed to the bed, “—not too long before you got here.”
“How do you figure?” Wynn asked.
“Because if he hadn’t, the CD would have reached the end and stopped before you arrived. By the way, is it one of yours, because it wasn’t anything I recognized?”
Wynn shook his head. “That’s not my sort of music.”
Mick managed a smile as he started downstairs. “And you thought it was mine?”
“Well…maybe, if you get into really dark moods.”
Mick opened the CD player, carefully removing the disc by its edges. “I am for damned sure not a Tool fan,” he said adamantly, reading the label. “Which one was playing when you got here?”
“Like I’d know? It was something weird.” Wynn frowned, trying to remember. “Something about no quarter.”
“Definitely sending you a message then, even without the paint.”
Wynn was about to reply when there was a knock on the front door. Mick went to answer, his hand once more on the butt of his gun, only relaxing when he saw it was John.
“Someone has a real hate on for one of you,” John said a few minutes later as he dusted the bedroom for fingerprints. “Any guesses who?”
Wynn glanced at Mick, barely nodding when Mick gave a slight shake of his head. “No clue. I saw it and figured it was some kid who gets off on vandalizing,” Wynn replied.
“How’d he get in?”
“Through the office window, I think,” Mick said, before Wynn could answer. “It was there or through the basement window just below it, which is hidden by the bushes.”
“Okay, I’ll dust them both. I’ll need prints from the two of you for comparison purposes. However, and I’m not an expert, as far as I can tell, all the prints here come from one of you. If it was a kid then he’s watched enough TV to know to wear gloves.” He shot a look at Mick. “Did you forget to turn on the alarm box when you left?”
“We must have, because it wasn’t on when I got here,” Wynn replied.
“And you still came in.”
“Yeah, I know. Mick’s already lectured me about that.”
“Why the hell have one if…” John chuckled. “Okay, one lecture was probably enough.
When they returned to the ground floor, Wynn almost suggested John dust the CD player. Then he realized doing so would put paid to the idea it was just a vandal, one who had only vandalized the bedroom. If John thought about that…
Apparently Mick had the same idea because he said, angrily, “This was more than just a kid. They’d have done their dirty work down here too.”
John nodded slowly. “So maybe someone who doesn’t like the fact the two of you are living together. I’d sure hate to think we had anyone in town who felt like that—and acted on it. Okay, let me dust the office window for prints while you all check to see if the basement window has been tampered with.”
As Mick and Wynn headed down to the basement Wynn asked softly, “Do you think he bought that explanation?”
“Yeah.” Mick’s mouth tightened in anger. “I hate that I had to suggest it but he’d have thought about the situation and come up with it himself soon enough, I’m sure.”
“The question is how did Deacon get in?”
“The same way he got into your studio in the city to play his games. He apparently has a fair knowledge of how to do a B&E since you said he got through a locked and bolted door there. And he managed to disarm the security system here, because I know for certain I armed it. It’s second nature for me.”
“So the cabin’s no safer now than it would have been if Mr. Grimes hadn’t set up security there. Somehow that doesn’t make my day.”
“Doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy either, so from now on, I go up there with you.” When Wynn started to protest, Mick said, “Not to stay, just to be sure it’s safe.”
“Not happening. I’m quite capable of doing that myself.”
“And if he’s inside waiting, or had booby trapped it somehow, then what?”
“If he’s waiting I can handle him. If he’s set a trap, your being there too won’t keep it from going off.”
“I guess,” Mick said slowly, obviously not liking the idea. “But you’ll call me when you get there, before you go inside, and again when you know it’s safe.”
“Shades of Maribel.” Wynn laughed low.
“And for the same reason, damn it, so don’t argue with me.”
Just then John came down, asking, “Anything?”
“Not that I can tell,” Mick replied. “The window—” he pointed to it, “—is still latched from the inside.”
“Okay. Then I’ll take off. There were several different prints on the office window so maybe we’ll get lucky and find the son-of-a-bitch who did this.”
“I hope,” Wynn muttered, knowing that wouldn’t happen.
“Just be careful and aware,” John told them as they all headed back upstairs. “And, for the love of God, make sure you set the alarm when you’re not here.”
“We will,” Mick replied.
“Better,” John muttered. “The next time he might not stop at vandalism and I don’t feel like breaking in a new sheriff.”
Mick chuckled, telling him that wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll see you in the morning. Now go home before Carly begins to wonder where you are.”
As soon as John was gone, Mick and Wynn went upstairs to clean up the bedroom as much as possible. As Mick surveyed the paint-spattered wall, he grumbled that they’d have to repaint to cover the mess.
“Redecorating. Hot damn!”
Mick glared at Wynn before chuckling. “You going to do a mural for us?”
Wynn surveyed the wall. “Hell, why not? How pornographic can I get?” He grinned at the look of horror on Mick’s face. “Just kidding. I’ll figure out something though. But for tonight, I suggest we use the other bedroom and order a new mattress tomorrow. We’ll never get the paint smell out of this one.”
“Definitely. And let’s get some supper. I’m starving.”
“When aren’t you,” Wynn said with a grin.
“Right after I’ve eaten?”
“Yeah, true.”
They both laughed, then sobered. “We are going to stop the bastard, before…” Mick spat out angrily.
Wynn nodded, wrapping his arm around Mick’s waist as they left the bedroom. “Yeah, we are, and the sooner, the better. I’ll go up to the cave in the morning to set our plan in motion. With luck, things will be back to normal before we know it.”