Brenda walked intoher house and waited while Ben had a look around. The survey took longer than she’d expected, but she was tired. She wasn’t so sure she could trust her judgment of time. Her body needed sleep, but her mind would not allow it.
Not until she had Janey home.
Once he was satisfied the house was clear, he gave her arm a squeeze. “Good night. Try to get some sleep.”
“I’ll try,” she promised. His suggestion was for anyone who might be listening. While they were gone more listening devices could have been planted in her home.
He left, and she closed the door, locked it and just stood there wondering what to do next.
It had been four hours since Mallory called.
What if she never called back? What if…
Brenda couldn’t do that to herself. Deep breath. She needed a way to keep herself occupied until whatever was going to happen, happened. A cup of tea would be good. She had a variety of teas. She used to drink it every afternoon, but in recent months she’d basically given up all those small, simplepleasures. She had to get back to that. When Janey was back home, things were going back to the way they should be. No more dwelling on Scott…
Dear God, she had to bury him again. Explaining that to Janey should be fun.
As she lit the flame under the kettle, she considered that at some point in the next day or two she needed to let her agent know that her next project might be a few weeks late. She’d always been on time—surely she was due one failure to meet her deadline.
On top of that there were upcoming meetings about the movie. She so wanted to be celebrating…but how could she?
A soft knock at the back door drew her attention there.
Had Ben forgotten something? She walked to the door. Didn’t dare turn on an exterior light. She peered through the glass, hoping the stars and moonlight would be enough…
Janey stood on the porch staring up at her.
For a moment Brenda was certain she had imagined her, then she waved and said, “Mommy, open the door.”
Heart thundering, Brenda yanked at the door. It was locked. Her fingers fumbled with the lock. She wrenched the door open, reached down, and her daughter ran into her arms.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she murmured, her eyes closing in relief. She inhaled the familiar scent of her child’s hair and held her soft body close against her.
“Take it inside.”
Brenda’s eyes flew open. Mallory stood maybe two feet away, a gun in her hand.
A new surge of fear had Brenda moving quickly, Janey in her arms. She stepped back into the house. Mallory came in, closed the door behind her.
“You have your daughter,” she said. “Now where’s that list?”
Ben had beenwaiting for the moment when he heard Mallory’s voice.
Once he had checked Brenda’s home when they arrived and left the listening devices necessary for keeping him apprised of whatever was happening inside, he’d come home. Made a show of turning on lights and the television. He’d grabbed a washcloth and tucked it into his back pocket just in case. Then he had slipped out a window on the side of his house that was blocked from view of the street by a neighbor’s side gate and rear privacy fence. He’d eased along the mature shrubs and trees, using them for cover until he was at Brenda’s picket fence. Stepping over the short fence was simple enough, then he’d embedded himself in her landscape and waited.
He hadn’t needed to wait long. Mallory showed up only fifteen or so minutes after his settling into position. She had driven into the alley, headlights off, and parked behind Brenda’s garage. She and Janey had emerged from the car and gone to the back door. He had spotted no one else arriving.
He eased from his hiding place and started for the back door.
The nudge of something cold and hard against the back of his skull stopped him. “I was wondering where you were. Hands up, Mr. PI.”
He recognized the voice.Ginger York.
She patted him down thoroughly. She hummed a note of surprise. “First PI I ever met who doesn’t carry a gun.”
“I didn’t notice your arrival,” he said when she nudged him in the back with her weapon.
“That’s because I was here hours before the two of you came back. Crouched between those damned hydrangeas. But I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to appear the way you did—emerging from those crepe myrtles.” She nudged him again.“Now start walking. We’re going inside through the back door.”