She replaced the receiver and sank back to the bed, only then realizing that she hadn’t even asked how he was doing. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to. Maybe she’d been afraid he’d give her an evasive answer. He hadn’t spelled out the reason for his abrupt return to San Francisco—if indeed he was there. Was his business on the West Coast shrouded in mystery, or was her imagination at work again?
After tossing and turning for better than an hour, she finally fell back to sleep. When she awoke on Sunday morning, she felt weary and tense. Even Beth’s light-hearted chatter didn’t lighten her mood; irrationally, perhaps, she blamed Beth for having planted the seeds of doubt in her mind.
Driving to Lincoln in broad daylight was accomplished comfortably. Lauren arrived there moments before Thomas Gehling pulled up. She liked him instantly, finding him easygoing, intelligent and polite. As they walked through the house, they discussed a wide range of possibilities. She hired him on the spot.
That was the high point of her day. The tension, the confusion, the worry, were back in full swing by the time she’d returned to Boston. Work at the shop was a blessing, but a short-lived one. All too soon she was headed back to Lincoln. This time around, she was a bundle of raw nerves.
A confrontation was imminent. She felt it in every fiber of her being. By nature she was a peaceful, accommodating sort, but the events of the past few weeks had upset her equilibrium. It was one thing to suspect that an unknown lunatic was after her, yet quite another to suspect that it was Matt. He was either with her or against her. She had to know one way or the other.
Arriving home at dusk, she was assailed by every one of the fears she’d been free of that morning. Glancing anxiously from side to side, she inched her way up the drive. Her first thought was to leave the car outside, but she knew that its protection, and hence her own, came from the trap that was set inside. Dashing quickly from the car to the garage, she fumbled to disengage the alarm and raise the door. That done, she quickly brought the car inside, lowered the door and reengaged the snare, then tackled the front door of the house. Beads of sweat were dotting her upper lip by the time she’d finally closed the door behind her and reset the alarm.
Then she made dinner, ate practically none of it and waited. She picked up a book, turned page after page without absorbing a word and waited. She dozed on the living room sofa, awakening with a jolt at the slightest sound—though most were in her dreams—and waited.
Midnight came and went. Then one o’clock. It was nearly one-thirty when she finally heard a car approach. This time she didn’t rush to the window. She didn’t so much as shift on the sofa. She sat quietly in the dark, waiting.
Chapter Eight
Lauren held her breath when she identified the click and scrape at the front door as the disengagement of the makeshift electrical alarm. Her eyes pierced the darkness, never once leaving the broad oak expanse as, with an aged creak, the door slowly opened. The man who came quietly through was tall, very tall, and large-set. Though he could have doubled for the man she’d seen behind her in Boston on the previous Friday night, there was no doubt in her mind that this time it was Matt.
“You didn’t honk,” she accused in a voice that shook.
His head twisted. “Lauren!” Setting his suitcase on the floor, he groped for the light switch. The weak glow that subsequently filtered into the living room from the hall was enough to reveal her position on the sofa. “What are you doing up, sweetheart? I thought for sure you’d be in bed.”
“You didn’t honk.”
He paused, turning his head slightly. “The thought of it seemed jarring at this hour. I really didn’t want to wake you up.” He stood backlighted in the archway of the living room, his face in shadows. “But you weren’t sleeping, were you?” Crossing the room, he hunkered down and curled his fingers lightly around her arms. Her skin was cold. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked softly.
“We have to talk.”
“You sound strange. What’s wrong?”
She didn’t move. “I’m not sure. That’s one of the things we have to discuss.”
He frowned at his hands, dropped them to the sofa on either side of her hips, then met her gaze. “What is it, Lauren?”
“I’ve been sitting here thinking. I’ve spent most of the day thinking. And last night, too.”
He sank back on his heels, hands falling to his sides. “About what?”
“You. I want the truth, Matt.” It was a struggle to keep her voice steady when so much was at stake, but she managed commendably. “I want all of it. No evasion. No seduction. I want to ask questions and have them answered.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve always given you answers—”
“They were never enough, but that may be my fault. Maybe I haven’taskedenough.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
She tucked her legs more tightly beneath her. “Three weeks ago I was happy. My life was shaping up so beautifully that I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real. Then certain things started happening, and I’m suddenly stuck in the middle of a nightmare. Someone is after me. I don’t know who or why.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“You showed up right after it all began, Matt. By some coincidence, you appeared out of nowhere. You claim to be a friend of my brother’s, but my brother has been dead for a year, so I can’t ask him about it. You have biographical facts about Brad, any of which you could have picked up by reading a standard job resume. You have insight into his character, most of which you could have gained in one night of heavy drinking with him, even if he’d been a total stranger up until then.”
“I don’t believe this,” Matt muttered, but Lauren was just beginning.
“That first night when you introduced yourself to me, you said you’d been in Boston for a week. It was during that very week that I was nearly run down by a car on Newbury Street. Nothing about the car registered with me. It could very easily have been a nondescript rental, just like the one you’ve been driving.”
“Lauren—”
