Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Miguel

I don’t get much sleep that night. I lie awake for hours wondering if the asshat was going to throw more rocks at Ruby’s window. If he does, I’m going to nail him. What kind of loser throws rocks at a girl’s window in the middle of the night for the purpose of scaring her?

I wish I’d been able to grab him last night in the parking lot. If I had, this assignment would be over almost as soon as it began. Ruby would probably be relieved to get me out of her apartment. As for me—I guess I’d be glad to give Ruby some answers and put an end to her torment. I’d move on to my next assignment, of course. But I’d be disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to know her better.

I check my watch—it’s six-thirty. Normally, I’d get up about now and put in a quick workout in my apartment, but I can’t do that here. No equipment. If it looks like I’m going to be here a while, I should ask Ruby if she’d mind me bringing some free weights over.

I’m still lying on the sofa when I hear a muted thud coming from outside the apartment door. I get up and walk to the door so I can peer out the peephole. I see nothing. But I can’t discount the sound I heard, so I turn off the security system, unlock the door, and open it just a few inches with the chain still in place.

On the welcome mat below is one of those cheap plastic shopping bags, filthy and dripping wet. That sure as hell wasn’t there last night when I returned from my reconnaissance out in the parking lot.

I release the chain and step out into the hallway and look left and right. There’s no one out here.

Then I look down at that damn plastic bag. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling. Crouching, I pinch the end of one of the bag’s handles between my index finger and thumb and carefully lift. Putrid air wafts up into my face and just as I feared, there’s something dead in the bag. From the little I can see, it looks like roadkill—a raccoon. It’s old roadkill. The carcass is already mostly decomposed. I consider saving the bag and its contents, but the chance of getting any meaningful forensic evidence out of this mess is low.

I hear a soft gasp behind me and look back to see Ruby peering outside her apartment from several feet back from the door.

“There’s something dead in that bag, isn’t there?” she asks.

I nod. “Roadkill. Looks like a raccoon.”

She steps back. “I’ll grab a trash bag. Would you mind throwing it down the trash chute?” She points toward the end of the hall.

“Sure. Just let me take a couple of pics.” When I pull my phone out of my back pocket, she disappears from sight.

She brings me a heavy duty black trash bag, and I bag it up. After I dispose of the bag down the chute, I head back into the apartment and lock the door behind me. I find Ruby in the kitchen making coffee.

“I’ll call my boss and let him know about the rock throwing and the package left at your door. What about your dad? Do you want me to call him with an update?”

Ruby’s expression tightens and she shakes her head. “He’ll just say I planted it.”

“I can vouch for the fact that you didn’t. There’s no way you could have put that there.” For one thing, she couldn’t have snuck past me in the night to open the door. And obviously, she couldn’t have gone outside to pick up a dead raccoon off the street.

“My father thinks I’m making this up. Nothing we say will change his mind.” She opens the fridge door, closes it, then opens the freezer. “How about waffles today? I feel like having something different.”

“Sure. That sounds great. Can I help?”

“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

I end up sitting at the little kitchen table with my coffee and keeping her company while she toasts the waffles. When the food’s almost ready, I look in the fridge for the maple syrup and hold up the bottle to her. “We have enough for this morning, but you’re about out of syrup.”

“We can’t have that,” she says with a laugh. “I need my syrup.” When the waffles are ready, she says, “Butter’s on the counter.” She points at a covered white ceramic dish. “I’m getting low on eggs and bread, too. I’m not used to feeding two. I’ll have to place a grocery order soon. If there’s anything specific you want, just let me know, and I’ll add it to the list.”

Before she sits down to eat, Ruby puts Pumpkin’s food in his bowl and sets it on the floor. He literally pounces on the food, scarfing it up like he’s starving.

“Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” I ask, laughing.

“He always eats like it’s his last meal,” Ruby says. “He was a stray kitten when I got him. He has food scarcity issues.”

“How did you end up with a stray kitten in the first place?”

“It was Darren’s doing actually. He found Pumpkin in the parking lot one morning, hiding underneath his car. The kitten had clearly been on his own for a while. He was filthy. His fur was matted, he had infections in both eyes, and he was skin and bones. Darren brought him up to me. He said he thought I could use a friend. He was right. I found a vet who did house calls. The rest is history.”

After we eat, I help with clearing the table and washing the dishes. I wash this time, Ruby dries.

“Mind if I grab a quick shower?” I ask her when we’re done.

“Go right ahead.”

I grab my toiletries from my kit and a change of clothes and head to the bathroom. Despite being outdated—with its pink tiles on the wall and white steel tub—it’s clean and uncluttered. I strip off my PJ bottoms and T-shirt and step beneath the hot spray. Five minutes later, I’m out of the shower, after a quick scrub and a hair wash. I dress quickly in jeans and a T-shirt.

When I return to the living room, I find Ruby seated in the armchair, looking at her phone. “Everything okay?” I ask her.

She nods. “I’m reading.”

It’s a little after eight o’clock, so I figure Shane’s in the office by now. I call him with an update.

“Miguel, how’s it going?” he asks as he answers my call. “Jake tells me the security system has been installed.”

“Yes, thanks. We had a couple of interesting developments overnight.”

“Such as?”

I tell him all about the rock throwing last night and the roadkill on her welcome mat this morning. “Someone’s definitely terrorizing Ruby.”

“I see. I’ll call Edward and give him an update. Keep me posted on any further developments.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

As soon as I end the call, Ruby asks, “Do you think he believed you?” She sounds a bit skeptical.

“Of course.”

She frowns. “My turn to get ready, and then I need to get to work.” After she gets dressed, Ruby disappears into her art studio.

At ten, there’s a loud knock on the door. I peer through the peephole to see a very pissed off older guy standing there. “Ruby? Someone’s at the door.”

The man knocks again, this time harder. “Ruby, open the damn door, right this minute!”

I turn as Ruby enters the room. She rolls her eyes. “That’s my father.”

“Should I let him in?”

Looking resigned, she nods. “Might as well. He won’t go away until we do. He’ll just get louder and more obnoxious the longer he waits.”

I open the door. “Mr. Foster, come in.”

The man glares as he brushes past me. “Who the hell are you?”

“Dad!” Ruby cries. “Don’t speak to Miguel like that.”

Allen Foster ignores his daughter. “I asked you a question, son. Who the hell are you?”

“Miguel Rodriguez, sir,” I say, hoping to keep things civil for Ruby’s sake. “I was hired to find out who’s terrorizing your daughter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Foster says. “She’s making it up for attention.” He eyes me from head to toe. “Hired? Who hired you? I sure as hell didn’t, and Ruby can’t afford to hire security.”

“Edward did,” Ruby says.

At the mention of Edward McCall’s name, Allen Foster’s expression darkens. “What the hell? He had no right to do that.” Foster turns his attention back to me. “Where are you from?” he asks me.

“He’s from McIntyre Security,” Ruby says, completely misunderstanding the nature of his question.

I know what he’s getting at. I’ve heard this question a million times. “Chicago.”

“No, I mean where were you born?”

“Cook County Hospital.”

Foster’s frown deepens and he practically growls. “Don’t play stupid with me, son. You know exactly what I mean.”

Yeah, I do. “My grandparents emigrated to Chicago from Mexico City back in the sixties. Both of my grandfathers were structural engineers who came here on employment visas during a construction boom. Both of my parents were born in Chicago. I’m the oldest of eight kids, all born and raised right here in the Windy City.”

When Ruby steps between me and her father, my heart melts. It’s sweet of her to want to protect me from her father’s prejudice, but completely unnecessary. I’ve heard and experienced far worse. “Ruby, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She points to the door. “Dad, I think you should leave.”

Foster scowls at his daughter. “After everything I’ve done for you, you ungrateful little—”

Now it’s my turn to step in. “Mr. Foster, Ruby asked you to leave. I think you should do as she asks.”

He turns his scowl on me. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you.”

Ruby makes a sound of exasperation. “Dad, why are you here?”

“Edward called to tell me he’d hired security. I wanted to see for myself.” He gives me a disapproving look. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for a strange man to be staying in my daughter’s apartment.”

“It’s fine, Dad,” Ruby says.

Foster ignores Ruby and glares at me. “Get your stuff and get out—now!”

This is escalating quickly. “Mr. Foster—”

“No, don’t you Mr. Foster me. Edward had no right to go behind my back. I’m Ruby’s father, and I’ll decide what’s best for her. I’m telling you to get out. Your services are no longer needed.” He glances at the neatly folded bedding and the pillow piled at one end of the sofa and sneers. “Frankly, I think it’s unseemly for you to be staying here.”

“You can’t fire Miguel,” Ruby says. “You aren’t the one who hired him.”

Foster turns to his daughter, clearly aggravated. “If you’re so worried about your safety, then come back home where you belong.”

She shakes her head. “I told you I’m not moving back home.”

“Mr. Foster,” I say, hoping to redirect the conversation. “Someone is terrorizing Ruby.”

“You have proof?” he asks me, clearly skeptical.

“Yes.”

“You listen to me, young lady,” Foster says, directing his comments back to Ruby. “This guy is feeding right into your paranoia. It’s job security for him if he convinces you you’re in danger.”

I glance at Ruby and find her eyes on me, wide and uncertain. She’s scared. She’s afraid I’m going to up and leave her here to deal with this alone. I give her a subtle shake of my head, and she relaxes.

“You should go now,” Ruby tells her father. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Fuming, Foster opens the door and walks out, slamming it behind him. Ruby rushes forward to lock it. She turns to face me, watching me expectantly.

“I’m not leaving you, Ruby.”

She gives me a relieved smile, but then her lips flatten, and she swallows hard. “I want to apologize for the things my father said to you. He has a tendency to be suspicious of anyone who looks a certain way.” Her arms cross over her chest, and she’s practically hugging herself. She’s afraid, and she feels alone.

I step forward and hold out my arms to her, giving her the choice to accept comfort from me or not. She hesitates for only a split second before she walks into my arms. As I run a hand up and down her back, I can feel her trembling. “You have nothing to apologize for, Ruby. I hear stuff like that all the time. It means nothing. And you’re definitely not responsible for anything your father says.”

She slips her arms around my waist and hugs me back. “I’m so sorry about all of this.” Her voice is muffled against my shirt. “This isn’t your problem. I’m not your problem. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to leave.”

I tighten my hold on her. “I’m not abandoning you, Ruby.”

After Ruby returns to her work, I call Shane back to give him a heads up about Foster’s visit, just in case the man tries to cause trouble for Shane.

Shane sighs. “Don’t worry about Foster. If he causes problems, I’ll have a talk with him. In the meantime, keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll get to the bottom of this and make sure Ruby’s safe.”

After we end the call, I walk down the hall to Ruby’s studio and poke my head through the open doorway. “You doing okay?”

She turns in her chair to face me. “Yeah. I just feel crappy for the things my dad said to you.”

“I mean it, you don’t need to apologize.” I come into the room and check out the painting of a calico cat and compare it to the photograph clipped to her easel. “How do you do that? You’ve got a real gift.”

When she smiles, tiny dimples appear. “Thanks. I appreciate the compliment.”

“I came to ask if you like enchiladas.”

She lights up. “I love them. Why?”

“Because I want to make you dinner tonight. How about it?”

Her smile deepens. “I would love that. But we’ll need some ingredients. I probably don’t have a lot of what you’d need.” She hands me the notepad on her worktable. It’s a grocery list already in progress.

Eggs

Milk

Bread

Cheese

Toilet paper

Bananas

Apples

Avocados

Syrup

“Add whatever you need for the enchiladas to the list,” she says, “and anything else you want. I’ll place an order later this morning, and we’ll have it in time for dinner.”

I glance down once more at the tiny painting she’s working on. “I’d like to commission you for a painting.”

“Really? What would you like me to paint?”

“My grandma’s dog, Sugar. She’s a tiny long-haired Chihuahua—so small she fits in the palm of my hand. She’s the sweetest little dog I’ve ever known. She’s mi abuelita’s baby.”

“I’d be happy to. I just need a good photo of the dog.”

I pull out my phone and scroll through my camera roll until I find a good photo of Sugar.

Ruby studies the photo. “That is one seriously cute dog.”

“Can you do it?”

She nods. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll fit it into my queue.”

“Perfect. My grandma’s birthday is coming up. This would be the perfect gift.”

After I add the ingredients I’ll need for dinner to the list, Ruby places the order.

“We’ll have it by four o’clock,” she says. “Will you teach me to make enchiladas?”

“Of course, but if you want to learn from the best, you should let my grandma teach you.”

Ruby’s smile quickly falls, and immediately I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. She’d have to leave her apartment to meet my family, and that’s obviously not going to happen. “Ruby, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

She shakes it off. “No, it’s fine.” She nods toward the painting she’s working on. “I’d better get back to this. I’d like to finish it today.”

“Sure.” I motion toward the living room. “I’ll let you work now.”

It occurs to me that, if I can’t bring Ruby to my grandma’s house, maybe I can bring my grandma to Ruby. Ruby seems fine having me here. I think she might be open to having visitors. Maybe I could get one of my female friends to come over. They’re all around Ruby’s age, and they’ve all dealt with serious traumas. If Ruby won’t go out into the world, maybe I can bring a little bit of the world here to her.