Chapter 4
Lucas parked in front of the Hyde Park house within a half hour of receiving Marisa’s call.
Lights in all the rooms burned bright and set the house apart on the darkened, quiet street.
Out of his SUV, he put on his hat. Hand on his gun, he surveyed the porch that stretched across the front of the house, the tall windows, and the brick facade.
It was a fine house, no doubt expensive, but it was in need of work.
He saw no signs of a threat, but still kept his hand on his gun as he moved to the front steps and knocked.
He could easily imagine Marisa meaning to tend to the house just as she’d meant to buy those presents before it was almost too late.
Cracked brick and peeling shutters weren’t enough to pull her from work.
Footsteps inside the house ran to the front door and hesitated. “Marisa, it’s Lucas Cooper.”
The rattle of chains scraped against locks and the door opened.
Light from the interior shined behind Marisa, casting a glow on the long black hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
Her skin was pale in the light, and the spark of annoyance had vanished, making her look a bit fragile. “You had some trouble.”
She pushed open the screened door, which squeaked and groaned. “I’m feeling just a little foolish right about now. It’s been quiet since I called you. Not a rattle or a text.”
He stepped inside the foyer, removing his hat as he surveyed the living room.
As worn and neglected as the exterior, it was furnished with just a few brand-new outdoor chairs and a table that looked more suited for a picnic.
One chair still had the red clearance tag dangling from an arm.
He guessed she’d sold her furniture before her Mexico trip, likely still angry over Bradley’s affair, and believing she’d not return to her life in Austin.
What she couldn’t bring herself to sell had gone into storage. What Marisa valued enough to keep, fit in a half-dozen dusty boxes. One box marked CHRISTMAS had a loose top flap as if she’d pried it open and stopped. He doubted if she’d ever get around to putting up the decorations.
He closed the door behind him and eased his hand away from the gun. “I’m glad you did call. Can’t be too careful.”
“I’m not the nervous sort. Not at all.” She scrolled through her phone and showed him the messages.
“I’ve camped in the jungle and dealt with unsavory characters and wild animals.
But these texts . . . they were creepy. And then someone came to the door and rattled it as if they wanted to get inside.
I kind of freaked.” An apology hummed under the words.
“Like I said, glad you called. There a backyard?”
“Yes. Not big, but it’s through those double French doors.”
He strode across the small home, his boots thudding steadily against the rough pine floor. In the backyard, there was a nicely built deck in need of refinishing and no furniture. No potted plants. “Looks clear.”
She hovered fifteen feet from the door. “I ran around the house checking all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked. I also checked under the bed and in the closets.”
He frowned. “I’d rather you’d have waited for me to do that.”
She grimaced. “I felt a little foolish after I talked to you. I don’t panic.”
“No trouble. No trouble at all.”
She hugged her arms around her. “Can I get you a coffee at least?”
“Sure. That would be nice.”
He followed her into the kitchen and noticed the scattered papers he’d given her earlier this evening. Red marks covered each page. He tried to read her comments but found her writing just as elusive as the ancient language. “Looks like you were working.”
She pulled a UT cup from the cabinet. “It pulled me right in. I lost total track of time.”
“Come up with anything?”
“I think your encoder pulled symbols from two ancient languages. Mayan and Aztec. Very clever to mix the symbols. Both languages have been dead for thousands of years, and only a half-dozen people in the world can read it.”
He studied the spark in her eyes. “But you can.”
“I can.” No bravado. Just stating a fact. “I will break it in the next few days.”
He thought about the hours and hours experts had spent on the letters. “I can’t believe it.”
She shrugged. “I have a very defined skill set. Most days those skills are as useless as a relic. But in this case, it’s the perfect skill.”
The coffee gurgled and she moved to open a refrigerator. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harass you?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I dated a guy a couple of years ago and we went out a couple of times. This was before Bradley. I ended it by the third date. We had nothing in common. He didn’t take it well.”
When had her pattern of leaving men begun? “What did he do?”
“Sent me a few annoying texts and e-mails after I ended it. It was getting really tiring. Finally, he stopped bothering me. I quickly put him out of my mind.”
He reached for a notebook he always kept tucked in his coat pocket. “What was his name?”
“Reed North. But do you really think it could be him? It’s been almost two years and I’ve not heard a word from him in eleven months. Odd he’d just forget about me and suddenly pop back up.”
“You never know what’s happening in his life. He could have been traveling out of the country, in jail, or dating someone else. We don’t always know why stalkers reactivate.”
“Stalker. Sounds dramatic.”
“They’re a real danger.” He glanced at the papers. “And the texts could be connected to those. Mayans did their share of sacrifices.”
She shook her head. “ ‘Sacrifices must be made.’ Sounds too generic.”
He wasn’t so sure, but didn’t want to spook her any more tonight. “Good coffee.”
“I can only cook a few dishes, but I cook them well.”
“Part of that defined skill set.”
“Yeah.”
Remembering something else she did real well, he rubbed his index finger over the mug’s handle. “I’ve called DPS and they’re going to step up patrols in the area.”
“Thanks.” She skimmed her palms over her jeans. “You don’t have to stay.”
He took hold of the mug and sipped his coffee. “I can stay.”
She met his gaze. Her cheeks brightened with color, and the look in her eyes reminded him of Merida.
Clearing her throat, she pressed her palm to the base of her neck as if calming a racing heart. “I’m fine. And I’ve kept you long enough.”
He glanced at the papers while hiding a smile, wondering if she remembered the warm, musky air of his Mexican hotel room and the way she’d sucked in a breath when he’d trailed his hand over her flat belly. “You going to sleep?”
She rose. “I’ll sleep some. Got to get my act together and get myself to my dad’s house later tonight.”
He stood up, in no rush to leave. “You wrapped those trucks?”
“Not yet.”
“Life does get in the way,” he said.
She swallowed as if realizing he wasn’t talking about Christmas now. “Thanks for coming. I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”
He heard the stress weaving through the words. “Call me tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
Ignoring the cool night air that seeped through the thin jacket, the figure stood in the shadows, waiting and watching Marisa’s house.
There’d been a rush of excitement when the rattling door had made Marisa shriek and pace in front of the sheered windows.
That moment had been better than any Christmas present.
When the Ranger had shown, he’d moved with quick precision, closing the gap between his SUV and her front door in quick, purposeful strides. She’d let him in immediately, and when she’d looked up into his face, her relief had been palpable.
Clenching chilled fingers, the figure stepped back farther into the shadows. Frustration ate at him, and for a moment, thoughts swirled as anger boiled.
Finally, several deep breaths calmed a racing heart. This job was going to be far tougher than first imagined. The next move would have to be more aggressive. Marisa needed to be stopped. She needed to be taught a lesson. Needed to be brought down a peg.
This battle might be lost, but the war was far from over.