5:12 p.m., Potomac Maryland, Special Agent Cruz’s house
Located at the end of Cripplegate Road in Potomac, Maryland, the traditional two-story all brick center hall colonial home sat on nearly two acres of private land, a short distance from the Potomac River. Forest green shutters on either side of the windows accented the red brick, and the white house trim seemed to offset the home’s lavishness and create a more basic and down to earth feel for the occupants. A large and striking bow window was centered in the front of the house. The window immediately became a focal point for visitors. A two-car garage was attached to the right side of the house, while a patio with glass windows on three sides, overlooking the wooded property, was on the left side.
The inside of the home was equally beautiful; hardwood floors throughout, four bedrooms, four full-size bathrooms, a fireplace on the main floor and a second fireplace in the upstairs master bedroom. A wooden staircase, leading to the second floor, bisected the main floor. The main floor consisted of a living room with a fireplace, a large kitchen and dining area, two bathrooms and a combined library and den. The second floor had four bedrooms and two bathrooms.
Special Agent Cruz was extremely fortunate to be living in this home in one of the most affluent towns in the United States. The home was owned by an elderly man who had lost his wife a few years ago. The couple owned a real estate company and had amassed a small fortune, including several homes scattered throughout the country. After his wife had passed, the man moved to a warmer climate in the Southwest. Cruz had met him through a friend of hers. He did not want to sell the property, because it held special memories for him and his late wife. He had been searching for someone he could trust to live in it for a greatly reduced monthly rent. After a luncheon meeting with Cruz, he offered her the home on the spot.
Having already seen the home and the neighborhood, Cruz could not turn down the generous offer. The man had two conditions. One, she was required to maintain the home. If anything needed to be repaired, she was to take care of it and send the bill to him. He would pay for all repairs. Two, the home’s furnishings were never to be moved. She could use anything she wanted, but the home was to stay exactly as it was. She could have personal items as long as they could be easily removed.
Hardy opened the glass doors on the living room fireplace and added a couple pieces of firewood to the dying fire. Re-positioning the firewood, he watched the fire for a minute. Seeing the flames growing, he closed the doors and replaced the poker in the tool stand. Standing, he took his place next to Cruz on the couch, facing the fireplace.
She threw half of her blanket toward Hardy. The outside temperature was in the mid-thirties and the weather girl had said to expect an overnight low in the upper teens. Cruz was wearing a pair of satin shorts and a sweatshirt with a large star on the front, the symbol for the Dallas Cowboys. Never one who wanted to wear long pants or sweatpants when she was lounging around at night, she was cold, quickly tucking the ends of the blanket under her bare legs.
After arriving in Washington, D.C., Hardy and Cruz had picked up her Dodge Charger from the Hoover Building and drove to her home, stopping only to pick up a six-pack of Redd’s Strawberry Ale for him and a bottle of wine for her. Tired from flying from one end of the country to the other and back again, they took a nap as soon as they had entered the house. Hardy stretched out on the couch, while Cruz slept in her bedroom.
Two hours later, they awoke to a cold house. The thermostat had been turned down for the trip to visit Hardy’s mother, and neither one of them had touched the dial when they came into the house. Cruz rotated the temperature dial, while Hardy built a fire in the fireplace to get some instant heat. Staring at the fire, neither one spoke. They had been trying to shake the grogginess from their nap, but the dancing flames proved counterproductive. Hardy’s eyelids went up and down. As soon as he gave in and closed them, the doorbell rang. He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward Cruz.
“Are you expecting company?”
Shaking her head, she replied, “Nope.”
Hardy stood, walked to the front door and stuck his eye up to the peephole in the door.
“Who is it?”
Hardy stepped back with his hand on the doorknob. “It’s Dahlia.” He opened the door.
Dahlia lifted her head and smiled, when the door swung open. She had a large gift bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She was dressed in a long and heavy wool overcoat that came below her knees. Black high-heeled boots were partially exposed beneath the coat. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. “Merry Christmas,” she said. Eyeing Cruz, who had come up from behind Hardy with a blanket wrapped around her waist, Dahlia acknowledged her. “Merry Christmas, Cruz.”
“Where’ve you been?” asked Hardy.
Cruz added to his question. “We’ve been worried about you.” She jerked her thumb toward Hardy. “Hardy’s been calling you non-stop, since you took off on us.” She stepped outside and pulled on Dahlia’s coat. “Get in here. It’s freezing out there.”
Dahlia protested. “No, I can’t stay.” She was gently forced into the house. “I don’t want to intrude on your—”
“You’re not intruding on anything.” Cruz took the bag and the bottle of wine from her, while Hardy helped her with her coat.
“Thank you.” Dahlia rubbed her upper arms. She was wearing a long-sleeved red velvet dress that stopped at her knees, an inch above where her boots began. Cruz set the bag on the floor and put the wine on a nearby table. Feeling his eyes on her, Dahlia glanced over her shoulder and caught him studying her backside. “I’m fine, Hardy. You’re not going to find any bullet holes back there, so you can stop looking.”
Hardy grinned. “I’m glad to hear that.” He hung her coat on a coat rack behind the door. “Cruz was right. I’ve been trying to reach you for twenty-four hours.” He held out his hands, palms up. “What gives?”
“I apologize.” She turned her head back and forth to include Cruz in her apology. “I shut my phone off. I just needed some down time. I should have called.” She held her arms out at her sides. “All I can say is that I’m used to answering only to myself.”
“Well, the important thing is that you’re all right.” Cruz took Dahlia by the arm and led her into the living room.
Hardy grabbed a straight-back chair and placed it near the fireplace before he and Cruz resumed their positions on the couch.