34. Same Place, Different Dimension

Chapter 34

Same Place, Different Dimension

"That's a damn shame." Deputy Shane O'Brien shook his head as he stood in Charlie's home office. Charlie was seated, and they were both staring at the computer screen. Charlie replayed the video, but it didn't help them make out the culprits.

He threw a pen down on the desk. "Fuck it all to hell! I thought putting up those cameras would be the answer." He hadn't told Joy what he'd done because he hadn't wanted to freak her out and let her know how bad the problem had become. Hence, his "ulterior motive" for getting her over to his house. Not that he hadn't had other ulterior motives, like getting to sleep through the night with her.

And he wasn't going to tell her just yet—she had enough to deal with.

Shane pointed at the screen. "Well, you would have stood a better chance if they had actually worked."

"No shit, Sherlock." Shane cocked an admonishing eyebrow. "Sorry. I'm just so damn frustrated. Did anybody see them peel out?"

"Surprisingly, we had a volunteer firefighter dropping off a girlfriend at her house and old Mrs. Danvers watering her tomatoes. "

Charlie whipped his head up, and Shane raised his hand. "Believe me, I asked. She said she couldn't sleep, and it was better for the plants to water them while it was dark. First time I'd heard that." He shrugged. "She wasn't wearing her glasses, so she heard more than saw it race past. Said it was a dark blur."

"What about the firefighter?"

"He didn't get a good look at anyone in the truck because they almost ran him off the road, and he was trying not to get hit. He's fairly certain the windows were tinted, though, and, like you, he thinks the tags were either removed or blacked out. He would have given chase, but with the girlfriend in the car, he decided against it."

"Was he able to ID the make and model?"

"He thinks it was a late-model Dodge, black or dark blue."

Damn it! The guy's description was as useless as Charlie's.

"You're covered by insurance, right?"

"Yeah, but I still have to front the money until they cut me a check. What's worse is that we're delayed—again—and I don't know how soon I'll be able to replace everything. Can't you do tire impressions or some CSI shit to catch these guys? Fibers and hairs and skin cells? Those fuckers had to be shedding them all over the damn place, didn't they?"

One side of Shane's mouth quirked. "Don't believe everything you see on TV. But yeah, we'll get some impressions. You've got a list of what was taken?"

Charlie handed him a printed sheet of paper with multiple line items and their values. "That's my best guess. I took inventory and compared what was there against what my bill of materials says I should have."

"Do you think it's an inside job? Do you know where I should be looking to compare tracks?"

"A few days ago, I would have pointed you to Jimmy Culbertson, but he drives an old beater S-10 that's got about every color on it except black or navy blue. Come to think of it, no one on my crew drives a truck that new."

"Have you thought about putting up chain link with a locking gate?"

"Yeah," Charlie groused, "but I was hoping to catch the damn thieves and not have to spend time and money doing that. Besides, the supplies are backordered, and the chain link isn't going to keep out whoever's screwing with the work we're doing inside." Charlie filled him in on the electrical panel and some plumbing "alterations" that had occurred right before—of course—the plumbing inspection. And naturally, none of the inspectors had had time to return and re-inspect.

"You said stuff's disappearing from the other site?"

"Yeah, but not as much, and I don't have cameras set up there. They're backordered, like everything else. I don't have a structure to attach them to or hide them in yet. Which explains why we haven't lost as much. There's nothing to steal."

"Before your cameras stopped working, did they record the Haven's comings and goings?"

"Yeah, but there's nothing unusual to see."

"Show me."

Charlie cued up the footage from days ago, when he'd first installed the cameras. He pointed at the computer screen. "See? All normal activity. There hasn't been too much happening when I'm not around, and I'm not seeing anything that stands out."

Shane chuckled. "Except maybe you mauling your girlfriend. That kinda stands out to me." Charlie sped past that part and didn't bother telling Shane he wasn't sure he had a girlfriend anymore. "You're sure the cameras were active the whole time? No one messed with them?"

"No, I'm not. But they're practically invisible. You gotta know what to look for, and even then they're hard to pick out. Plus, I didn't tell anyone I put them in. You and I are the only ones who know."

Shane picked up his hat from the corner of Charlie's desk and spun it in his hands. "Sounds like you're doing all the right things, but someone's a step ahead of you."

"The question is why?" Charlie looked up at him. "Hey, wanna beer?" Suddenly, he didn't want to be alone.

"Some other time. I still have to see about those impressions, and I've got an early shift tomorrow."

Charlie walked him out. "Thanks for coming over and looking at this with me."

"Yeah, no problem." Shane settled his hat on his head. "You let me know if you hear or see anything else."

"Will do. I don't suppose you have any updates on who slashed my tires? "

"No, but I have a feeling that when we find the person or people who lit out of your place tonight, we'll have the slasher too."

Joy didn't waste any time getting back to the office Sunday morning, even though she hadn't gotten much sleep.

As she punched in the office key code, her chest constricted, her throat tightened, and a ball of dread that had been expanding in her stomach since she'd left Fall River suddenly filled her like a sixteen-pound bowling ball. With a big gulp of air, she willed herself through the door.

She had donned casual clothes from the Vogue Vault that she'd managed to cram into her bag. Out of her entire wardrobe in every closet, drawer, or shelf inside her condo, they were the only ones that fit comfortably … if one didn't count her bath robes, which of course were wholly inappropriate for the office. After climbing on the scale this morning, she had to admit she had added a few pounds in Colorado. The scale might be off by a few pounds, but not a whole twelve. Later today she would shop, though the prospect was more daunting than exciting.

The sound of fingers clicking a keyboard electrified the hairs on her arms and neck. As she crept down the hall leading to her corner office, she spied Estelle craning her neck toward her computer screen.

Estelle looked over her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" they both yelped at the same time.

"I work here!" Estelle barked.

"So do I!"

Estelle lowered her glasses down the bridge of her nose. "Do you, though?"

Joy was mid-eye-roll when Estelle jumped up and threw her arms wide. "I'm only kidding. It's so good to see you!" She pulled Joy in for a tight hug.

"Uh …" Oh, what the hell? Joy hugged her back. She was so breaking the rules about employer-employee physical contact, but the warm touch felt surprisingly good. Joy hadn't been held in the last twenty-four hours, and she missed it.

Estelle pulled back, her hands grasping Joy's upper arms. "Look at you! You look fantastic! That mountain air obviously agreed with you."

"It did?"

"Yeah. You look … healthier. Your skin absolutely glows."

Joy was about to suggest it was her makeup but quickly remembered she'd skipped the face paint because she hadn't expected to run into anyone on a Sunday morning.

Huh.

"Ooh, and I like the casual vibe of the jeans and the fluttery top. This is a very different look for you, but it suits you." Estelle released her.

"So it's Sunday, yet you're here."

Estelle bobbed her head. "I wanted to be ready when you came back."

What had Joy done to deserve this woman? She decided not to put the question to the powers that be in case they realized they'd goofed and they plucked Estelle and reassigned her elsewhere.

"I've got something for you." Joy rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a bubble-wrapped block. "Sorry the packaging isn't prettier."

Estelle's hand flew to her mouth. "You bought me something? What is it? What is it?" She flapped her hands excitedly.

Joy's cheeks heated. It wasn't that big of a deal. Then again, she'd never brought an assistant—or anyone else—a gift before. "You'll need to open it to find out." She tried to mask the embarrassment in her voice.

Estelle tore into the bubble wrap. "Oh my God! You got me soap!" She stuck one of the chunky bars to her nose and inhaled. "I love this!" She threw an arm around Joy's shoulders while simultaneously sniffing the soap. "I don't ever get presents. Thank you," she whispered with a quaver.

Joy had no idea how a few simple bars of handmade soap could elicit such an emotional response, but it made her tuck away a mental note to learn more about Estelle's backstory—something she'd never even considered exploring before.

When Estelle calmed down and stashed the soap, she cleared her throat. "How did it go yesterday?"

Terrible. Awful. I miss him so much. An unwelcome sting pricked Joy's eyes. She realized Estelle wasn't talking about Charlie. "Oh, you mean about the client? "

"Yes. Who else?"

Who else, indeed? "After a little bit of groveling, he forgave me, and we got down to business. We're back to smooth sailing." Salvaging the relationship had been a feather in her cap for sure, and while it would have been cause for celebration before, Joy hadn't even gotten so much as a spark out of it. That reaction hadn't been so different from the one that had thudded inside her when she had climbed into her Lamborghini Huracán to drive to the office. Dull. Uninspiring. No sizzle.

"That's good to hear. But heads-up: you've got a whole lot of bowing and scraping ahead of you when Sterling gets here."

"He's not coming here today , is he?" Avoiding him was one reason Joy had chosen to show up this morning. Besides, throwing herself into work would prevent her wallowing at home and thinking way too much about one very hot, very sweet contractor in Fall River.

"Not that I know of." Estelle canted her head. "Does he know you're back?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd catch up a bit before he finds out."

"Ah. You're arming yourself with a to-do list with its boxes checked."

"Something like that." Chalk up more points to Estelle.

"How did you leave the Fall River project?"

"It's coming along."

"And what about that yummy contractor?" Estelle's eyebrows bounced with mischief, and a ping of jealousy pinballed inside Joy's chest.

"Yummy as ever." Joy struggled not to pull out every image of him stashed in her memory banks. "I left him in charge."

"Well, good. I'm glad that all worked out. Are you going to have to go back out there anytime soon?"

"I don't have any plans. The project's in capable hands." During the long sleepless hours she'd spent tossing and turning in her own bed, she had looked at the calendar on her phone repeatedly but had been paralyzed thinking about how soon she would return to Fall River.

She had also re-read her brief text exchange with Charlie, where she let him know she'd arrived home safely. While the right words had escaped her , his return texts had hit her right in the feels. He hadn't said much, but the words he had used were thoughtful, along with goofy emojis and a ridiculous selfie of him with the dogs. She had burst into tears .

For someone who hadn't cried in decades, she was making up for it in spades. She'd become a total sap incapable of controlling her own waterworks. Her chest had been laid wide open, her heart exposed to the elements, and she wasn't sure she would ever be stitched up again.

Sitting at her desk, she sifted through papers and emails but couldn't concentrate, so she reluctantly took some Adderall she'd tucked into her purse. Her mind slowed and grew a film over itself, but she didn't have the bandwidth to direct its focus anywhere but on the familiar nausea that killed her appetite. She hated the stuff. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn't need a new wardrobe after all.

Shopping had been torture, and not because she had to confront her weight gain again, but because her energy and mood had been at a low ebb. She'd been completely uninterested in boring navy and black. She'd felt a spark when she'd spotted a rack with bright flowy blouses and flouncy sundresses, but she'd had no idea where she would wear them, so she'd passed. When she arrived home with her new wardrobe and a takeout salad, she lay on her sofa, crafted from the finest Italian leather, and stared at her pale gray walls. A shiver ran through her, even though it was hot and humid outside and the inside temperature was a comfortable seventy-two.

Maybe she was coming down with something.

She picked up her phone and studied the selfie Charlie had sent her. His eyes were crossed, his smile wide and bright. Sunny sat stoically beside him, grinning like her dad, while Luna was up on her hind legs holding out her front paws, tongue lolling from one side of her mouth. She had a crazy-eye thing going on that matched Charlie's cross-eyed stare. A trio of cheesecakes.

Missing them was akin to a white-hot poker piercing her breastbone. Why did being in love hurt so damn much?

She needed to hear Charlie's soothing baritone, so she picked up her phone. Her finger hovered over his number. She'd been so abrupt with him when they last spoke. What if he was done with her grumpy ass? They'd been together less than a month, and the first half of their relationship had been contentious at best, with them snarling at each other from completely opposite sides of the renovation project. The last half, though? No words could describe it. Amazing? Stupendous? Fantastic? All inadequate. Then again, she'd never been here before. If she'd had any experience falling in love, maybe she would be better equipped to wax on with the right sort of poetic eloquence.

Another thought struck, this one more disturbing. By leaving him as she had, had she destroyed their fledgling love affair? Reduced it to little more than a fling? Though Fall River's oddballs and its mountain pace had definitely left their mark on her, she wasn't a small-town girl, and he wasn't a big-city boy. On top of that, he was drop-dead gorgeous— hello, cover model material —and while she might be confident in the boardroom, she was on shaky ground when it came to her personal life. Why on earth would he want to stick with her?

She always had her career, though. She loved the satisfaction that came from closing a deal and earning the bucks. She loved the security she gained. Wealth had been her life's ambition throughout adulthood, and if she tried to make herself fit into small-town, she would have to be satisfied with the riches she had accumulated and no more. No more performance cars. No more fine leather couches. No more Jimmy Choos. And what if that hard-earned wealth was compromised? Would she be able to weave herself a new security blanket?

God, she hated being in this position. Betwixt and between what used to make her happy but no longer fulfilled her. What made her happy now didn't fit the dreams she'd dreamed her entire life.

Maybe if she could talk him into moving here … She had a huge place; he could find lots of work. Oh, the opportunities in Chicago for a passionate preservationist! He would never be bored. He would have access to oodles of buildings that would speak to him and reveal their past.

Her chest inflated with optimism. She had a plan she could pitch. Yes, this could work!

Spirits buoyed, she stabbed his number. It rang and rang and rang. Went to voicemail. As she was trying to figure out what to say, his number lit up her phone screen. She answered right away.

"Hey, princess," came his cheerful voice. "Sorry about that. I was in the middle of something. Miss me? "

"Yes," she laugh-cried with relief. She gulped in air to keep the breathlessness from her voice. "I wanted to hear your voice."

"Well, you're hearing it. What's up?" He sounded distracted; people laughed in the background.

Not what she'd hoped to hear. "Where are you?"

"Miners."

"Oh. Um, well, I'm home. I had to go shopping for new clothes for work this week." She followed this up with a high-pitched laugh. Ugh.

"Yeah?" His tone was less than enthusiastic. Of course it was! The man was no shopper unless it involved lumber or grout.

"Yes. You know, for work tomorrow." She told him about going into the office, seeing Estelle, and trying to cut down her work pile.

"And how did you do with that?" The noise faded away, as if he'd moved someplace quieter.

"Barely made a dent."

"Which means you're not coming back here anytime soon, are you?" Did she detect a note of irritation in his question? That could be a positive sign. Yeah, she'd go with that.

"I don't know. Do you need my help on the project?"

"Always. How soon can you get back here?" His tone swooped upward as if on a wing of hope.

"Um, not in the foreseeable future." She could practically hear him deflate on the other end. "I loved the selfie of you and the dogs." The comment sounded lame, desperate even.

"I'm glad." He sounded anything but glad, and it lanced her that she was doing that to him. "I should probably get going. We're celebrating the anniversary of Neve opening her practice, and I'm on margarita duty. Call you later?"

"Um, yeah. Sure."

"Or sooner if something comes up with your mom's place, of course."

"Right. Of course."

Their good-byes were stiffer than the rest of the conversation had been, and she flopped backward on her couch. If only she had a dog to curl up on her chest, it might not feel so hollow right now.

She hadn't even been gone two days. Why had the conversation been so awkward? Crap, she needed a manual to navigate this stuff! Her mind wandered to a different, darker, more suspicious path, and she pictured Lauren or Germaine batting clumpy eyelashes at him. Pouring beer on his shirt so he had to take it off. Worse, a real femme fatale. Maybe a tourist, eager to cheer him up after Joy had brought him down, who would be in and out—literally—no strings, easy-peasy.

Stop it, Joy!

With a heavy sigh, she swung her feet to the floor and padded to the butler's pantry, where she pulled an unopened bottle from the Viking wine cooler and poured herself a hefty glass of her favorite white. She stared at the label, reminded of the open bottle in Charlie's fridge. If she was hoping to drown the massive ache in her heart, she would need to drink the entire bottle—and then some.

Joy arrived at the office early the following morning, armored up in a brand-new power suit that was a full two sizes larger than the older suits hanging in her closets.

"Looking good, boss," Estelle encouraged.

"Thank you, Estelle."

Before she could sit behind her desk, Sterling materialized in her doorway. "Nice of you to finally join our little party."

"Hello, Sterling." Her tone was as crisp as a chilled apple.

"Well? What happened with the client?"

She slid into her office chair and steepled her fingers. "Fully on board. All systems go." She didn't miss the surprised quirk of Sterling's brow. "You doubted me?"

He shoved his hands into his front pockets. "If I'm being honest? I've been a little worried about your commitment to the firm."

"That was time wasted."

He helped himself to one of the chairs in front of her desk. While it was an everyday move she wouldn't have registered weeks ago, it grated today. But everything grated, including the restrictive clothing and the heavy layers of makeup suffocating her skin .

While Sterling droned on, she felt as if a colony of ants were setting up shop in her body, and she continually pulled herself back to the conversation, getting derailed along the way. She should have been able to follow easily—she was back on her meds. Maybe they hadn't kicked in yet.

The debriefing over with—finally!—Sterling stood to leave but wheeled around. "And you saw that we have an investor dinner Friday night?"

No, she hadn't. "I must have missed that."

"How could you have missed it?" he blared. He craned his head toward the exterior of her office. "Estelle! I thought I told you to note—"

"Sterling," Joy chirped, "Estelle did her job. I simply didn't see it. So lay off."

"No, Joy. You lay off." He shook an accusing finger at her. "You don't have the same privileges around here anymore, not when you go gallivanting off to Bumfuck, Colorado, and are too busy screwing your cowboy toy to do your fucking job!" An unattractive shade of purplish-red seeped into his skin from his neck to his forehead.

She tucked in her chin and lowered her brows. "You want to keep it down so only half of the building hears you?"

He slammed the door and speared his fingers through his hair. "I'm not putting up with your shit anymore."

"Sterling. Have we lost any deals? Are we on the verge of losing any business?"

"We were ," he barked.

"I took care of it. Anyone else I should know about?"

"No." He almost sounded disappointed.

"Look, I know my being absent has caused a strain, but you've been very capable, like I knew you would be. That's why you're my partner."

"You're my partner."

"So we agree." She fought to stuff down a tickle of anxiety that began building. She hadn't had an attack since … not for weeks.

"No, I meant I picked you , not the other way around."

Dismissing his churlish behavior, she checked herself before her anxiety could mushroom. "I've been holding up my end. Granted, it might have sagged a bit, but I didn't drop it. This is no different from the times you've taken off for two weeks and left me holding down the fort." Except I've held it down far more than you have. "Tit for tat. Even Steven. You're simply not used to being on the receiving end." She softened her tone. "Sterling, being partners means sometimes you do the heavy lifting and sometimes I do. That's the nature of a partnership. I appreciate that you've let me have the time I needed to get my mother's estate squared away. I'll probably need more. For now, I'm here and we're on track."

"You need to be there Friday night," he gritted out.

"I'll have to check my schedule. If I'm not available, I'll be happy to meet with them that morning and smooth things over." She smiled at him sweetly, though her chest was tightening.

She truly hadn't checked her schedule, but she couldn't imagine anything interfering with the business dinner. Why she was holding out, she wasn't sure. She'd never resisted before. Maybe she was tired of being bullied, tired of these triggers that left her breathless and dizzy.

"Joy—"

"I need to get back to work." She glanced down at her desk, pretending to be absorbed in a report whose title she didn't even register.

She felt more than saw Sterling huff out of her office. The crushing weight on her chest eased, and at last, she could pull in a huge breath and let it whoosh out of her.

She owed Sterling a lot, and that burden pressed heavily on her shoulders. But she also felt the tug of what she wanted, and it had nothing to do with work or riches or closings.

How the hell was she going to strike a balance between her desires and the obligations that squeezed the air from her lungs?