Chapter 7
Walker pulled into the now-empty parking lot of The Menagerie and shut off the truck’s engine. He scanned the building, taking a moment to really look at it now that he wasn’t having a heart attack over an assailant fleeing.
The building was still the warm yellow of his youth, trimmed in terracotta red reminiscent of the mountains of Sedona a few miles away.
The iron fence still enclosed the half-acre grounds, topped by fleur de lis, copper finials and colorful old glass electrical insulators, along with whatever else had struck Madeline’s fancy.
The lawn area between the fence and the house was really another kind of parlor.
It was filled with art, of a sort, though he would suppose that some people would call it junk.
But even he, who didn’t have much of an artist’s eye, thought it had whimsy.
It was also safe enough from a tactical standpoint. None of the art was large enough to hide someone lying in wait.
He turned to Serena who sat silently by his side while he assessed the building.
“Where’d you get the art?” he asked, ready to assuage his curiosity now that he’d visually secured the front of the house.
He was a bit disappointed in himself that he hadn’t asked before now.
A friend would have. “I don’t remember seeing it when we were building the ranch and came into town to resupply. ”
She looked at him with an appraising glance, one he wasn’t used to seeing from her, even back in the day. She was thoroughly taking his measure.
“What?” he asked, wondering if she’d read his mind and was judging him.
“Sometimes people don’t see art, they see scrap.
A bunch of that welding is from one of the students at the high school,” she said.
“And those totems over there?” she gestured off to the right of the front door where the trio of three-foot-tall spindles stood, resembling stacked rocks and smooth ceramic and twisted metal.
He nodded, so she continued. “Those were a collaboration between the ceramic shop downtown, the welding class and the hiking group sponsored by the Red Rock Coalition, one of the nonprofits that’s trying to keep a bunch of the red rock land out of the hands of developers.
It made sense to approach them when I decided to make over the business.
Fostering a bit of an alliance, if you will. ”
That made sense to him. Even though it might seem completely opposite his military training, he’d seen enough of the world to know that art mattered.
It mattered a lot. It pulled together cultures and income levels; it helped people celebrate and made them think.
But he didn’t need to tell Serena that, since she already knew.
“Well, I like it,” he said and pushed open the door.
He wasn’t really in the mood to get into a deep philosophical discussion about art.
He wanted to get her back to the ranch where he was certain she’d be safe, and then start walking Kujo through their operations, so the Brotherhood Protector liaison could see beyond the paper and video plans they’d submitted.
Serena followed him and they approached the front door where a string of caution tape still fluttered across the entryway.
As per Garrett’s request, they followed the curving path around to the back, where Serena pulled out her keys and opened the door into the mud room and kitchen.
He thoroughly approved of the heavy-duty lock and deadbolt on the door and now understood why the attacker’s initial foray had been curtailed.
He did a quick assessment of the kitchen, even though he knew it was damn close to impossible someone laid in wait.
Just like his review of the front of the house, the kitchen surprised him.
He hadn’t been able to see this part of the building from the customer area and was surprised at the industrial appliances and gleaming stainless steel.
He guessed it made sense, given that she had to pass a health inspection.
Hunter would have a heart attack if he ever saw it and then immediately figure out a way to weasel in here to try it on for size.
He preceded her through the double doors into the main area, and was struck once again by how what shouldn’t have meshed, did. It was chaos, a complete and utter chaos of color, of texture, of vibe. But it worked.
He made quick work of clearing the parlors and with each step he felt his hind brain relax as no new threat emerged until it was only him and Serena in the space, not the ghost of assailants past.
She turned and headed upstairs and when he followed, she threw an arch look over her shoulder. “I don’t need help in picking out my underwear.”
He grinned up at her, happy that they were on this footing, happy that they could sink back to a level of familiarity that was two decades old, even with everything that’d happened this morning. Happy that he’d stopped scrutinizing everything as if it was a threat.
“Are you sure?” he asked, not wanting an answer, simply wanting to lighten the mood even more. The last time she’d been here she’d been assaulted. He’d do everything he could to banish the shadows he could begin to see blooming in her eyes.
“At least let me clear the upper floor,” he said. “I know the cops were just here, but better safe than sorry.” Even with his relief, it was still ingrained in his DNA to ensure her safety.
She halted in front of the closed door at the top of the landing and waved him forward with a flourish, handing him her keys. “Be my guest then,” she said. “The bedroom to the left is locked. I put the more valuable stuff in there.”
Those words put him back on alert. He didn’t like the fact she had valuables up here.
While it made sense to move it from the first floor, away from the flow of foot traffic, if a thief were to discover that tidbit, it moved the target from the public areas to where she lived.
Increased the odds of a physical encounter, like what’d happened downstairs.
Garrett needed to know about that room, and pronto. It could be the motive for this morning’s incursion, and the thief hadn’t thought to come up to the living area, or had run out of time.
He’d planned on having Quentin leave her living areas off camera. It was a step too far when it came to invading her privacy. But that room wasn’t serving as part of her day-to-day living, so he’d advocate strongly for camera coverage, just in case.
The door lock to the living quarters was opposite the one in back. Standard, so fairly flimsy, but the door itself was as solid as the house, and would easily take an upgrade that could make all the difference if someone was trying to get in.
He made short work clearing the rooms nearest the stairs.
The layout was standard for a home this age, with three secondary bedrooms, a sitting room that’d been converted to a den with kitchenette, and a shared bathroom.
Two of the bedrooms were set up for when someone came to visit, and the storage area was clean and carefully laid out, almost like a small showroom in a boutique.
From what he could see it was mostly jewelry and general knickknacks that he couldn’t even begin to evaluate for value. But yeah, it could have been the driver between someone trying to get in, first at the back door, and then eventually succeeding this morning.
He headed toward the last room at the back of the hallway, the main suite.
She’d taken over what he had to assume had been Madeline’s bedroom.
He’d bet the enormous old mahogany four-poster bed was original to the house since he couldn’t imagine moving it up the stairs and through the narrow doorways.
It was draped in a feminine, cloudlike sheer of white fabric, softening the entire room around it, and covered with a forest-green comforter reminiscent of the pine stands on the Mogollon Rim to the southeast. Topped with white fluffy pillows and a comfortable looking throw, it looked like heaven.
He suddenly realized how damn tired he was. He could sink down on that bed and sleep for a week. He knew why; it was today’s worry over Serena’s safety and his attempt to be as transparent as he could for Kujo, in addition to remaking the ranch into the latest incarnation.
He pulled his gaze away from that decadent bed and poked his head in the closets, behind the shower curtain of the old freestanding clawfoot tub and all the other places an intruder might be lurking, but there was no one there, as both of them had suspected.
He gave her the green light to proceed, then made himself comfortable on the ornate padded bench in the hallway. She could pick out her underwear on her own--at this point he didn’t know if his heart could take it.
She came out a few moments later with a backpack slung over one shoulder. “I need to grab my laptop from the office downstairs,” she said. “I still have to answer some emails and do businessy things, regardless of whether I’m here or not.”
He followed her downstairs, watching as she locked the door that led into the private rooms. Yeah, that was going to be first on his list of things to upgrade. Plus, it would give him something to do with his hands while she ran the café downstairs.
He walked with her as she grabbed her computer and did a quick inventory of the items in the parlor the assailant had been searching but found nothing amiss.
Things moved around, sure, but nothing missing.
Then she did a spin through the other parlors and found the same, ending at the counter holding the register.
The till hadn’t been tampered with, so the assailant hadn’t been after money.