Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sybil sat the breakfast table the next morning and tried to check her email on her phone using the Wi-Fi password Clarice had given her. She had just managed to download it all before the Wi-Fi had given out. She looked at the email and nothing appeared pressing enough to use cellular data to answer, and she glanced at her watch. Almost eight o’clock.

She left the table and pocketed her cell phone in the belt bag. Before she could leave the kitchen, her phone rang. She grabbed it out of the pack and looked at the screen. A name came up.

Taggert Heming.

Her ex-boyfriend. Her stomach dropped, and she grimaced. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Her heart picked up speed, anger tightening the muscles in her throat until she thought she might choke. She drew in a breath. The call went to voice mail. She stared at the screen, at the little red number one that showed she had a message. Her hand shook as she opened the voicemail. A minute and a half long. What the hell was he saying?

Why was he calling after six months? She hadn’t forgotten him, but she’d tried. Most days she could. She almost put the phone up to her ear to listen. Instead, she hit the trash symbol, and it was gone.

She opened her contacts and didn’t hesitate to do what she should’ve done six months ago. She blocked his number.

Still vibrating with anger, she entered the Great Hall. The grandfather clock bonged at the same time the knocker on the door banged out a demand. She almost yelped in surprise. Sybil halted for a second, and Pauline came out of the parlor.

“Must be the security guy,” Pauline said. “No one else with any brains would want to come here.”

Sybil ignored her and went through the octagon entryway. At the front door, she looked through the peephole. Yep. The guy matched the photo Candice had sent. She opened the door and this time it opened with hinges that shrieked.

Douglas MacKenzie smiled broadly. “Hi. I’m Douglas.”

“Hey there,” she said, returning his grin. “I’m Sybil.”

He put his hand out, and she shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

She stepped back. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

He smiled again, a teasing in his eyes. “No, actually. I’d like to see the outside first.”

“Oh?”

“I like to take note of what sort of ingress and egress points a structure has.”

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

Once outside, he walked toward the dirt road just beyond the circular drive. She followed and stood beside him when he turned back toward the house. He stared at the mansion while she took out the notepad she kept in a pocket on the side of her painter’s style pants. He scanned the area. After he’d done this for some time, she wondered if he’d ever speak again.

He retrieved a cell phone and used a stylus to write a few brief notes on the phone. He took photos.

“Any verdict?” she finally asked.

He glanced at her and smiled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ignore you. I’ve got some ideas for outside cameras and where to put them. I’ll need to go around the rest of the outside to make sure.”

As they moved around the rest of the exterior, he discussed his suggestions with her. His professionalism impressed her. She knew he understood securing a building, and it made her curious.

At one point, she asked, “How did you meet Clarice?”

He snapped a photo of the back of the house with that big phone. “I met Clarice when I moved into this neighborhood. She drove up to my cabin one day and introduced herself. She asked if I knew anyone who could do good security systems on houses. I thought she meant this one, but she was talking about her little place in Estes Park. I told her I could help and gave her my references. She hired me and there you have it.”

Sybil nodded, happy Clarice trusted him. “Awesome.”

They continued around the building. When they reached the back door leading into the kitchen, she used her key to let them inside.

Letisha stood at the sink, her hands on the countertop.

Letisha’s head snapped up as Sybil entered first, with Douglas following behind. She gave Sybil a wan smile, but she straightened up. “Hey. Pauline said you guys were surveying the outside.”

“We did.” Sybil frowned as they moved further into the kitchen. “You okay?”

Letisha put her arms over her head and did a stretch. “I’m fine. I just took my last painkiller. My fibromyalgia flared up.” She nodded at Douglas. “I’m Letisha Baker. Sybil’s business partner.”

Douglas shook her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Letisha. Douglas MacKenzie. Sorry to hear about the fibromyalgia. My mother and sister both have a bit of that.”

“Then you have an idea how it is.”

“It can be rough.”

“If you ever need anyone to talk to about it, they belong to this online group that’s really helpful. I’ll put you in touch with them.”

She grinned. “Thank you. I’ve been thinking about joining a support group.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, what do you think? Do we have a security problem around here, Douglas?”

“The windows and doors are in good shape. But I have some recommendations based on the outside of the house. Once I see the inside, I’ll have a better idea of what the house needs.”

“I’ll show you around,” Sybil said.

“Nice to have met you, Douglas,” Letisha said with a warm smile.

His smile reached his eyes. “Doug, please.”

“Doug it is.” Letisha moved stiffly across the room. “Later.”

Douglas said, “Hope you feel better.”

He turned away to look at the room.

Letisha waggled her eyebrows at Sybil as she left, and Sybil shook her head and smiled at her friend.

Douglas started making notes about the kitchen. Before long, they’d made their way to the parlor, where it was obvious Pauline had cleaned and dusted the room thoroughly. The room smelled lavender fresh. The parlor’s decoration was, like so many other rooms on this floor, a testament to Italianate and other Victorian influences.

One tall window to the left of the fireplace gave a view to the east. She looked out that window just as a man stepped into view outside.

For a second, both she and Douglas seemed frozen in place. The man looked into the window, his face a mask of horror.

“What the...” Sybil said involuntarily.

The man walked away and disappeared.

“Who is that?” Doug asked.

“I don’t know...I...”

“Come on.” Doug left the room quickly, and she was right behind him.

Concern propelled her, and when they exited the front door, she half expected the man to either come up to them or she’d see him walking away in the distance. They looked all around the front, then made a circuit of the house.

Nothing. As they stood back at the front door, she shook her head. “That was weird. Did I see what I thought I saw?”

Doug crossed his arms. “What did you think you saw?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “That sounds like a police officer questioning someone.”

He gave her a warm, engaging smile. “Sorry. Old habit.”

She said, “That’s okay. I get it. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair, receding hairline with a droopy long mustache and a suit that looked like something from the late Victorian era. And he looked petrified.”

“That’s what I saw. But I’ll be damned if I know why a man would walk around outside in Victorian clothing.”

“Thank God. I mean...” How much did she tell him? “There are a few weird things that have happened around here. That’s why Clarice wanted to hire you.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that, but she didn’t say what the weird things were. Do you mind telling me? I mean, it might help me make sure exactly what system you need. And if there are guys dressed in Victorian costumes lurking around...”

He looked puzzled, then a little more concerned.

“What are you thinking?” Apprehension rolled over her.

He looked around again. “I’m not sure. My cop senses are on alert. This whole situation is making me think there’s a lot I didn’t hear from Clarice. So I think I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Well…where to start. We haven’t been here long, and weird stuff started happening right away.” She sighed. “Would you like something to drink? I mean something hot.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold.

“Sounds good.”

Once in the kitchen, she made coffee, and within a short time, they enjoyed the hot brew.

“Like I said, I don’t know where to start.” Sybil sipped her beverage and leaned against the kitchen counter. Awkwardness and uncertainty crept into her, as well as the perception that everything had slowed down and couldn’t be quite real. “But I’m glad you saw that guy, or I would’ve thought I was crazy.”

Doug took a drink from his own coffee as he stood next to the refrigerator. “Yeah...like you said, that was weird.”

He looked stern, and she noted the soldier and the cop combined inside him. Those deeply intense green eyes caught hers and held. His appearance had changed little from his military photograph. Well, the ladies were right. If he had long hair, he’d be Thor personified. Although she stood five feet eight inches tall, he was at least six four, and she felt tiny whenever she stood next to him. It was obvious from his build that he worked out.

She pulled her attention back to the subject at hand. She gave him the entire story, up to and including her door opening itself, and added on the bit about the sheriff’s deputy investigating the house twice. She looked at his face the whole time, sure she’d pick up something about what he was thinking. When she couldn’t, it disturbed her.

You are too nosy.

Her father’s voice rang in her head. Something he used to say to her often when she asked questions he didn’t want to answer. Of course...now she knew why her father hadn’t answered them. Why her mother’s questions had gone unanswered. Until they’d discovered the ultimate reason, he hadn’t told them the truth. Her stomach tossed a little, remembering how her parent’s actions had imprinted on her so thoroughly they still had control over her.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowed a little.

She sighed. “God, I’m sorry. I started thinking about something and drifted off in that direction.”

His intent gaze said he wanted to understand, too. “What were you thinking, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My father used to say I was too nosy. That I’m always looking for the answers to things. He told me once I might be a good cop. But I only want to figure out the answers. Not chase people in police cars. I want to know all the things. He once told me he hated that about me.”

He frowned. “Hated it? That’s…”

“Awful, right?”

“I sense there’s more to that story.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

A smile lit up his face. “I’m happy to talk about it with you someday if you want. Take it from a former cop. Maybe forensics would’ve been an excellent career for you.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t want to venture too deeply in that direction, but a keen appreciation for what he’d said filled her. “But thanks for the vote of confidence. What did you do in the marines?”

“Nice segue.” He threw her yet another smile. “Ever hear of Force Recon?”

She nodded. “I have a cousin that had something to do with that, too. He’s retired now, though. My mother’s side of the family.”

“Anyone else in your family with military experience?”

“No. My dad was a long-haul truck driver for a lot of years.” She continued with, “What do you think we’ve got here? A brilliant intruder? Someone who is in here trying to drive us nuts?”

“It’s possible, I suppose. But they’d have to be pretty damned good at it.”

She set her mug on the counter and crossed her arms, cold despite the coffee. “What does your cop sense tell you?”

“That there’s something really strange going on.”

“Tell me something I don’t know already.”

“I need to think about all of this while I’m putting together what the house needs for security.”

“Fair enough.”

She wondered, as she showed him the second and third floor and introduced him to the rest of the crew, if she’d told him way too much. He hadn’t looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, but how could she say for certain what he thought? Her spooky sense couldn’t tell her everything all the time.

She walked him out to his truck after he’d finished assessing the house. The mid-sized silver truck screamed regular ordinary man. No dice hanging from his rear bumper, no strange bobbleheads on the dashboard. No political stickers anywhere. She couldn’t help but welcome that.

“Do you have a business card?” she asked.

“No.” He grinned. “Clarice has tried to convince me I need to obtain a business license and do this work full time. But I haven’t decided yet if I want to even stay in this area much longer. I moved into my grandfather’s cabin after he left it to me in his will. Once I left the police department, I needed the time out here in the woods to decompress. I’m also considering a private investigator license. If I do that, I’d move to Denver.”

“That makes sense.” That nosiness made her ask, “Why did you leave the police department?”

He leaned back against the driver’s side door. For a moment she thought she might have pushed too far, but then he said, “After I decided I didn’t want to make my entire career in the military, I decided law enforcement sounded good. My dad was a cop in Denver for twenty years and my mother was a dispatcher. So I was familiar with that world from the time I was a kid. I enjoyed the job, but three years later...well, things took a dangerous turn. I was shot four times in an ambush, and unfortunately, another cop lost their life trying to save me. So, I was medically retired.” He pointed to his left shoulder. “Someone shot me once in the shoulder and once in the right biceps. A third one was in my vest and the other in my right knee. The knee still gives me trouble when it rains.” He looked up at the sky. “It’s aching right now. Those clouds over the mountains to the west will dump a lot of moisture soon.”

She glanced at the thunderheads building to the west. “Wow. That’s horrible. I mean…being shot.”

“It’s been about a year since all that happened, and I moved into the cabin trying to figure out what I’m doing for the rest of my life.”

He tilted his head somewhat to the side, his expression dissolving into heart-stopping handsome. No way she could ignore the way his broad shoulders filled out the red and black flannel shirt, or the affectionate way his jeans curved over his muscular legs. Even his hiking boots...something about those caught her attention as well. Her face heated.

She said, “I’m sure you’ll make the right choice for a new career.”

“I hope so.” He opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll call Clarice and make security recommendations.”

“Thank you for coming out so quickly.”

“My pleasure.”

They traded smiles. The man was hot, and she could pretend she didn’t notice, but it wouldn’t change the attraction that swamped her whenever she was around him.

“I’d better get to work on this security system, but I’ll talk to you soon,” he said.

“Thank you. See you.”

As he drove away, she stood in the circular drive and watched his truck fade into the distance and disappear around a corner. She lingered in that pleasure, enjoying the first genuine interest in a man she’d experienced in months.

Thunder rumbled from towering clouds to the west and sheet lightning flashed. Wind barely moved the stalwart trees around the property.

The breeze rustled the hedge near the front door, and she hurried inside. She locked the front door, then turned to find Letisha exiting the office.

“Hey there,” Sybil said, but she stopped when she caught her friend’s expression. Letisha looked worn out. Used up. Dark circles under her eyes. Worry hit Sybil. “Fibro still bothering you?”

Letisha stretched her arms above her head and leaned back a little. She groaned. Sybil had seen her friend do this stretch many times over the years.

“Yep.” Letisha lowered her arms and looked at the huge smart watch on her wrist. “I’ve been cleaning the office, and it’s kicking my ass. You wouldn’t think it would, but...” She waved one hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time. But it will calm down soon.”

Sybil winced in sympathy. “And you don’t have the prescription stuff anymore?”

Letisha’s eyes turned cool. Almost mad. “I told you I ran out.”

Sybil’s ego stung a little, but her anger threatened to reach the same height. She put up one hand. “Whoa. No need to be mad. I just forgot.”

“Sorry.” Letisha sighed. “I slept like shit last night, so that’s part of the problem.”

“Because the fibro hurt that much?”

Letisha walked toward one couch at the far south end of the Great Hall, and Sybil followed her.

Letisha sank down on the couch. “Not really. I had weird dreams. Kept me awake most of the night.”

Sybil sat on the couch facing the massive fireplace. “Why don’t you take a load off and try to catch up on sleep? Relax.”

“I’ll do that and call my doc in Denver and see if I can get meds in Estes Park. Look, I’m sorry,” Letisha said. “I don’t know what started this fibro crap.”

“Doesn’t matter. Shit happens, right?”

Letisha smiled. “No. I mean, I’m sorry that I’ve been a little on edge lately.”

“No problem. It’ll work out.” Sybil put on her best face, the one that she used for calming people when they came unglued about something, or maybe needed soothing. Anything to make sure they didn’t dislike her.

Pathetic. Simply pathetic, Sybil.

Mrs. Recrimination echoed in her head, the voice tinged with her mother’s voice.

Here we go again. You can’t stop being triggered by shit.

“I’ll take a nap,” Letisha said, her expression lifting back to her usual can-do, enthusiastic tone. “I’ll set my alarm for thirty minutes, then I’ll be back down here working.”

“I’ll check on Maria and Pauline.”

“Sounds good.”

Letisha left the Great Hall and took the stairs, and Sybil watched from her position on the couch. Letisha walked like a much older woman when fibromyalgia attacked.

Sybil lingered on the couch, trying to gather her thoughts. She still had a job to do. She didn’t have the luxury of wondering too much about a strange man with a mustache lingering around the outside of this home. Nor did she have the time to wonder about muddy footprints no one could explain. Her mind ran in circles. She’d forgotten to show Doug the photographs of the muddy footprints, but she’d sent those photos to Clarice.

She halted. It didn’t matter. Clarice, as the client, was the one to satisfy. Not Doug.

She closed her eyes and sighed. This lasted only a moment before she stood and turned to her right.

The mustache man from the late nineteenth century stood outside one window facing west onto the terrace. She froze for a moment. Unsure. So the man hadn’t left the area. He faced away from her, looking westward to the tree line. She skirted past the piano and impulsively reached for the door handle. She unlocked it and pulled. It resisted.

“Damn it.”

She looked up.

No one. The guy was gone.

She pulled on the door, and it opened this time. She rushed out onto the terrace. Sybil looked in every direction and didn’t see anyone. She ran down the path that circled the mansion. As she slowed to a trot, she continued scanning the area and looking into the thick woods. Where the hell had he gone?

Fear crawled up her spine. A white flash lit up the surrounding sky. Thunder roared. Staying out here any longer could prove stupid. She charged around the east side of the house on her way to the front door, but didn’t see anyone.

She reached the front door, and as she came through, she almost ran into Pauline.

Pauline made an exasperated noise. “Wow! Where’s the fire?”

Sybil hesitated. After all, if she kept seeing things...well, that wouldn’t work out very well, would it? The past had proven that fact.

“I saw you running in the backyard. What the hell’s going on?” Pauline asked.

She explained what had happened, and that Doug had also viewed the strange man when he was here.

“No, he didn’t,” Pauline said.

Sybil blinked. “What?”

Pauline shook her head. “I mean...maybe he was humoring you. After all, you’re the client. He’d say anything to get your business.”

She’d had enough of Pauline as irritation rose within her. “I don’t think he’s dishonest like that.”

“Maybe he’s more like you. Says what you need to say to appease people.”

Sybil felt the burn rise and her breathing quickened a little. She took a single step toward Pauline and tried to employ her famous composure. The reputation she had for never losing her cool. It didn’t matter that conflict stressed her out, she could mask it until hell froze over.

Sybil drew in a steadying breath. "I’m not his client. Clarice is. She’ll hire him or she won’t.”

Pauline planted her hands on her jean-clad hips. Her hair was wild, as if she’d run her fingers through it or a strong wind had taken control of it. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

Unspoken words hung between them. All the things Sybil should’ve said a long, long time ago to Pauline. She needed to speak to Letisha about letting Pauline go after this job was finished. She hoped Letisha would agree with her, although her friend always gave people way more chances than Sybil would.

Now was not the time to let the stress of this conversation lock up her brain. Before she let loose with heinous words and told Pauline to go screw herself with a rusty knife, Sybil employed the one thing that had driven some people out of her immediate sphere. She stared Pauline right in the eyes.

Held. Held.

Pauline stared back, but only for a moment. She looked away, and Sybil enjoyed a rush of satisfaction.

When the woman walked away, Sybil decided she’d head into the office and see if the man with the 1890s clothing would reappear.

When she walked into the office, her mind filled with all the things that had already happened today.

You need to talk to Pauline about the attitude. Stop avoiding conflict.

She would. Soon.

Sure you will, Sybil. Sure.

Her mother’s doubt rang in her head.

“Shut up,” she said.

She shrugged off the internal conversation and irritation.

After she’d completed more work, she headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. She stopped at the doorway and stared.

“What the actual hell?” she asked.