The winter sunset bathed the road in golden glory as Maggie drove the rattling van to Tammy’s trailer. She’d picked up a possible lead from her hectic day at the Chuckwagon, a name that she’d also gotten from Tammy’s garbled memory. A woman named Yoriko, an artist who lived near the beach.
Lost in her thoughts, Maggie finally noticed that the gas gauge in the old van was almost on empty. With a sigh, she turned into the impeccably neat station and fueled up. A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a swoop of sandy hair pulled in behind her. All of a sudden Maggie became acutely aware of how dark the night was, how lonely the empty gas station felt. She hadn’t seen Virgil clearly at the lighthouse. Could the unobtrusive man be him?
She tried to spy on him beneath the brim of her Chuckwagon baseball cap, but she couldn’t get a good look. She felt his eyes on her. Maggie hurriedly collected the credit card receipt and got back into the driver’s seat. It was almost completely dark as she left the station. The man with the glasses looked up as she drove by, giving her a friendly salute, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment too long.
Friendly? Or a friend of Virgil’s?
Was she being pragmatic or paranoid?
After a couple of miles, when his car did not appear in her rearview mirror, she relaxed a fraction.
Rolling into the trailer park, she noticed the nearest trailer to hers, a good hundred yards off, was dark, with a vacant look about it. Tammy’s was at the end of the row, near a thick cluster of oak trees standing in a cushion of tall grasses. The click of some concealed insect and the rustling of leaves were the only sounds as she exited the van. Shrugging off the prickle of unease, she strode, keys ready, to the trailer door. As she started to slide the key in, the door creaked open.
A glance told her the story. Furniture was turned over, cushions scattered on the floor with the stuffing ripped out. In the kitchen, the cupboards were open, their contents disgorged onto the worn linoleum floor.
Breath caught, she backed down the steps and rushed to the van, pulling her phone from her pocket. Whom should she call? Liam? Should she break her promise to Tammy and phone the police?
Just get away from here and decide.
She reached for the door handle when she felt a presence behind her. Whirling around, she found a man standing close, very close.
“Hello, Tammy,” Virgil said, the accent unmistakable.
The scream died in her throat as her back impacted the cold steel of the van behind her. He was dressed in dark slacks and a soft polo shirt, leather boots on his feet, hands gloved.
“You stay away from me,” she breathed.
He looked perplexed. “I came to talk to you. Talk, that’s all.” He waved a hand at the trailer. “I found your trailer door open, so I looked inside. It’s a mess. I figured I’d stay because you need my help. You’ve made an enemy out of someone, obviously.”
Liar. “Don’t patronize me. You tossed the trailer, Virgil, and if you don’t get away from me, I’m going to start screaming.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I want my jewelry back.”
“It’s not your jewelry, it’s Bill Salvador’s.”
Virgil nodded. “Of course. He’s really quite upset about the whole thing. I mean, he trusted you, believed in you, and he doesn’t want to think you’re a thief.”
“I’m not. I took the jewelry to keep it safe.”
He shrugged. “When I show him the security tape...”
“Go ahead,” she said, forcing courage she did not feel. “As a matter of fact, let’s go to the police, too, now. I’ll tell them everything I know about you.”
“That isn’t a good option right now.” He straightened, his gelled hair glinting in the starlight. “I have to get this resolved quickly. I...” He cocked his head. “I have a commitment that requires me to have the jewelry back.”
“I hid it,” she blurted. “Someplace you’ll never find it.”
“Then you’ll have to bring it to me, Tammy. Quickly.”
Tell him you’ll get it. Make up a story. Anything to get him away.
“I...”
He raised a hand. She flinched, but he did not touch her. Instead his fingers stopped before they skimmed her face. “It’s the perfume,” he said.
“What?”
“Your perfume. You’re not wearing perfume. Why? You always wear that floral scent.”
She fought for control as he leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
“I’m very in tune with you, Tammy. I know what kind of tea you drink, apple cinnamon, and the type of hand lotion you use, the lilac and shea butter.”
Her skin crawled.
“I find women appreciate it when you notice important details.” He smiled.
“Get away from me.”
When he didn’t retreat, she opened her mouth to scream but he fell back a step and pressed a gloved finger to his lips.
“Tammy,” he whispered. “There’s something different about you. We were friends, weren’t we? I convinced my uncle to hire you, didn’t I? I don’t understand why you’re being so obstinate.”
Now she edged away. A few more inches and she’d be out of arm’s reach. Run back to the trailer? Scream for help?
He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and her lungs quit working.
“It’s almost like you’re not the same Tammy,” he murmured. “But how could that be? You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you? I can’t stand liars—”
He had not finished the last syllable when she lunged away into the darkness.
Liam took the graveled road into the trailer park and slowed to the requisite five miles an hour, fighting himself to hold to it. He opened the window to let in a rush of cold air, dangling his arm into the night. For some reason it always calmed him to be able to feel the movement of the air. Here along the coast it was clean, pure, and his lungs craved it as much as when he’d been deployed to the desert.
He hit the brakes as a blur of white collided with his driver’s-side door.
Maggie’s outstretched palm impacted the metal, her eyes wide with shock, lips open as if in a scream.
He jammed the truck into Park and leaped out, wrapping her in his arms, her fear a palpable current. “Maggie, what is it?”
She said something he couldn’t hear. He pulled away and looked into her face, his fingers framing her cheeks. “Tell me again.”
“He’s here. Virgil,” she mumbled. “I got away.”
Something hardened like quick-drying cement in his gut. “Get in the truck and stay there,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Grabbing his rifle, he ran toward her trailer. He thought she’d said something, but he didn’t catch it.
Her trailer was quiet, the door ajar, so he crept inside, checking the rooms and closets. No Virgil. Outside again, he walked the whole perimeter of the structure with no sign of the guy until he saw the flattened track of mashed grass leading off into the trees.
Torso bent low, he followed the trail into the dripping woods. He listened, straining his good ear to its limit, but he caught no clues as to Virgil’s whereabouts. Before his hearing loss, the insects would have told him, their sudden silence indicating they’d been unsettled by an intruder. Now he was without any aid until he caught the flicker of taillights on the far end of the woods. Virgil had parked far enough away that he could approach undetected. The car drove off and Liam’s spirits plunged.
Muttering to himself, he retraced his steps to the truck where Tammy sat, shivering, arms wrapped around herself.
He got in next to her, realizing that he’d probably left her too hastily. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure you were okay before I bolted and left you alone.”
“I’m okay,” she said. “But the trailer is ripped apart inside.”
“I noticed. I figured it was either Virgil or you’re a terrible housekeeper.”
She didn’t smile. “He said it wasn’t him. He said...” She began to tremble harder.
He took her hand and squeezed. Her fingers were so cold that he instinctively pressed them between his palms, enjoying the strength there, hands that were used to hard work, but so much more delicate than his own calloused paws. “Police?”
“Not until I talk to Tammy.”
“They should see it, process any evidence.”
“I doubt there is any. He was wearing gloves.”
He sighed. “But...”
“I’m going back inside to check again for the jewelry. Maybe it really is in there and Virgil missed it, too. That’s why he scared me. I have to find it, for Tammy’s sake. I pretended I knew where it was, but I don’t know if Virgil believed me.”
Liam bit back another attempt to persuade her to loop in the police. “Let’s go inside, then. Assess the damage, get you something warm to drink first and then you can tell me everything.”
Without giving her time to argue, he put the truck in Drive and parked it near the trailer. She even allowed him enough time to shimmy around and open the passenger door for her. That wasn’t a good sign. Snaking his arm along her shoulders, he felt the shudders like electric shocks coursing through her petite frame. Anger rattled his insides.
Never, ever, disrespect a woman. It was one thing he’d learned from his dad. It probably explained why his father had sunk into an impenetrable abyss after he’d wrecked the car and killed Liam’s mother. It did not explain, not to Liam, why Richard Pike had wrecked his children’s lives, as well. Weren’t they worth trying for? Fighting against the tide of depression that made him throw away his own life as well as theirs? There was no profit in saddling up that old horse at the present.
Inside the trailer, he closed the door and louvered shut the blinds before taking a series of pictures. He figured since he’d been in the trailer previously, sharing a few meals with Tammy, his fingerprints were already present, so he wasn’t messing up any potential Virgil prints if the man had somehow decided to remove his gloves. Shoving aside a flattened fake plant, he set a cushion back onto the sofa and settled her on it. Up-righting a chair as he went, he entered the kitchen, located a mug that hadn’t been smashed and filled it with water from the tap. Though the microwave door was open, the unit hadn’t been damaged, so he zapped the water, snagged a tea bag from the littered tile counter, plunked it in and brought it to her.
She wrapped her palms around it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Tea is the only thing I know how to cook, so now you’ve experienced the entire Liam Pike menu.” A tiny smile quirked her mouth as she sipped. He grabbed the chair, straddled it and waited, as patiently as he knew how, until she was ready to talk. The story came out in fits and starts.
“So he needs the jewelry right away, huh?” Liam said after she finished. “It’s not enough to claim the insurance money for Bill so he can steal it, and frame Tammy for the jewelry theft?”
She stared without really seeing him. “He needs it for ‘some other commitment’ he said. And he...”
Liam leaned forward. “What?”
“He noticed I wasn’t wearing Tammy’s perfume. He knows all kinds of personal details about her. It was creepy.” She looked at him. “Let go.”
“Of what?”
“The chair. You’re going to break it.”
He realized he had the back of the chair in a stranglehold that was making the wood creak. He eased off. “I don’t like hearing he was that close to you.” Had that come off as too protective? Probably, judging by the look on her face, but it was true. The thought that Virgil Salvador had been within inches of Maggie made him want to hog-tie the guy. Not to mention the fact that he’d obviously been way too attentive to Tammy, as well. But Tammy knew how to handle obnoxious men; he’d never seen her intimidated by anyone male or female until recently. Maggie was a softer, gentler woman than her sister, he somehow knew. A woman who stirred up his protective streak. He forced his brain to focus. “He didn’t find the jewelry here.”
“No, but he found me.” She swallowed, the movement visible in her graceful throat.
When he reached for her, she stood. “I’m going to look again.”
“Okay. I’ll help.”
They searched for well over an hour. He stuck to the kitchen and common areas, leaving the bedroom for her. They met back in the kitchen with nothing to show for their efforts but a five dollar bill from under the sofa and a spare trailer key fallen into the crack between the sink and the cupboards.
He squared his shoulders and fired off another round of good, common sense. “All right. It’s two to zip now, and he’s won both rounds here and at the lighthouse. We should go to the police.”
She sighed and, to his great surprise, nodded. “I think you’re right. If he can get to me so easily, it will only be a matter of time before he discovers I’m not Tammy. I need to talk to Tammy first. You said you trust Danny Patron?”
“I do.”
“Tammy does, too, to some degree. I think it’s why she came here to Driftwood in the first place instead of going to the cops in Sand Dune.”
“Danny’s a good man. You won’t be sorry. I’ll drive you right after you pack up a bundle.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A bundle of what?”
He pushed the kitchen chair in. “Clothes and whatever you need to borrow from your sister. You can’t stay here.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. It will be fine once I...”
“Since the Lodge is booked, you can stay in the saddlery at Roughwater Ranch.” He kept his attention on the messy trailer floor. “There’s a little room with a bed and a tiny bathroom. Kinda rustic, but it’ll do. I can even loan you a ridiculous excuse for a dog.” He stopped and looked at her. “Well? Shouldn’t you be getting a move on?”
“You’re bossing me.”
“Aw, not bossing, motivating.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then the autumn hues of her eyes lit with a gleam of amusement. “Is that what they call it where you’re from?”
“Yes, ma’am, by practically everyone.”
He couldn’t hear her laugh, but he guessed it was small and silvery.
What is the matter with you, Liam? She’s Tammy’s sister, remember?
Just helping out, was all.
Motivating, he told himself as he waited for her.