Adelaide Upset (20 page)

I changed into dark,
sturdy clothes, preparing to switch my flip-flops for sneakers when
Smith arrived. I didn’t know it then, but his sudden appearance
distracted me, and I forgot to change my shoes. An oversight I
would later be thankful for.

At the time I was only
concerned with keeping Smith in the dark (I knew he’d disapprove of
my plan), so I moved through the loft casually as I sought to
distract him.

“I remembered something yesterday, something
Stephen said.” Mentioning Stephen always got his attention. “It was
about a watch I think, a... a pocket watch. He said it was
important to you, and the fact that Amy couldn’t find it after you
were gone convinced her that your absence was, well,
voluntary.”

He absently touched his front pocket, lost
in thought.

“
Think about it and get
back to me,” I said, hurrying down the stairs. I made for the
kitchen closet where the stun gun and pepper spray were squirreled
away in my washing machine. I transferred them into my purse and
booked it to the bathroom where I could inspect them without Smith
seeing.

The Taser resembled a
bulky gun, and I knew first hand how intimidating it could be. It
could also miss its mark, something else I knew from experience. I
decided to test it out, get a feel for it should worse come to
worst. I sat on the edge of my tub, the grip resting between both
palms, muzzle moving slowly as I sought a target. I settled for the
door and pulled the trigger. The black tip leapt away, wire coils
stretching taut as it thunked into the wooden surface. I waited for
the blue sparks, but all I got was a pathetic buzz that fizzled
out. Huh. Was I supposed to charge it?

Well there was always the
pepper spray. I pulled the bottle out of my purse and gave it a
good shake. Double damn. It was almost, if not already,
empty.

It took a bit, but I
rallied, thinking I never meant to use either of them anyway. They
were just a bluff.

Standing up with renewed
purpose, I made to stuff them back into my bag when Smith surprised
me. He swirled in through the mirror and sink, managing to catch me
red-handed. His eyes fastened to the cartridge whose electrodes
were still embedded in my bathroom door. He must have heard it
hit.

“Out!” I cried angrily. “The bathroom is off
limits!”

But he didn’t budge. In
one glimpse he managed to put things together, pointing a finger at
me in accusation.

His emotions were charged,
and they only served to set off my own. Throwing the pepper spray
back into my bag I rounded on him, consequently running right into
the corner of the counter. I slapped a hand to my stinging thigh
and said, “That’s right. I’m going to confront Marks! And for the
record this is
my
house
. I was sneaking around to spare
you but I’m done with that!”

I ripped the probes out of
the door, but I was too rough and the cartridge came off. That was
when I reached my limit.

“
Shit!” I screeched,
rolling the wires into a bundle before dumping them into the trash.
I didn’t need that part anyway, the Taser still looked scary, I’d
just flash it around a bit, problem solved. After giving it a
violent shove into my purse, I shrugged the straps over my shoulder
and prepared to leave.

Smith shifted, his image misting briefly as
he moved from place to place, forming solid in my path, blocking
the door with his arms crossed. I’d never seen him look so real. He
was just a man, no see-through parts, no glassy features, no
blinking out or dripping mist.

It was like putting on a
first pair of glasses, everything clear and crisp. His usually dull
hair was rich in hue, his skin taking on blemish, the pores visible
for once. He seemed less flat, as if his figure had gained depth,
the small details of him so intricate and fascinating. I couldn’t
help but stare, gaping like an idiot. I almost forgot to be
mad.

Almost.

“What? You think you’re going to stop me?” I
moved forward, preparing to brush past him.

A hand for each shoulder,
they landed heavy, holding me in place before firmly pushing me
back. I couldn’t believe it.

“
Did you just...” I
trailed off, unable to process. Smith—the ghost—was going to stop
me. I didn’t think so. “Move!” I yelled, ramming my shoulder into
his chest.

His arms folded around me,
settling tight as he shifted me away from the door and folded me
over, my back to his chest. Our struggle began in earnest then. I
made a noise of outrage as I tried to pull free, bucking and
twisting in his grip. He kept me pinned in place until I swept his
boot out from under him. Smith crashed down with me beneath him,
and trying to break the fall he let me go, bracing his arms to keep
me from getting crushed.

I turned onto my side,
elbowed him once, and crawled away, scrambling for the door. I
didn’t get far. Pressed flat, the air squeezed from my lungs as he
sprawled out on top of me, cinching me to the floor where I
squawked and kicked. By that point I was sure he was impervious to
pain, my blows nothing more than an assault in varied
pressure.

I spit out a stream of
swear words, the noise attracting unwanted attention. My pet ghost
joined the fray. It came through the wall, jumping on, over, and
through us, wagging and happy.

Feeling ridiculous I
continued to roll and thrash, my limbs growing heavy as I tired.
But it was Smith that gave out first. With no warning whatsoever he
simply dissolved, his form sort of splashing into an ectoplasmic
puddle. He’d pushed himself too far, exerted too much energy,
simply using himself up.

I shooed the dog away,
climbing to my feet as I brushed myself off. “Happy now?” I asked
the pathetic quagmire of see-through silver. “You’ve drained
yourself dry, and for what?”

Smith was too tired to answer, even his
feelings were muted. But his worry remained. It followed me out of
the bathroom and through the front door, trailing me all the way
off the island.

I couldn’t say why I
thought confronting Ed Marks was a good idea. It probably wasn’t.
But things had been so chaotic lately, I just wanted to put them to
rest. I couldn’t deny that it felt good to press forward, sort of
like that time I’d climbed into Beagban’s truck. Dangerous and
scary, yes, but I’d turned the tables, taking control of the
situation. And I was doing it again.

Besides, I wasn’t going
off half-cocked, I’d done my research. There was only one Edward
Marks listed within a fifty mile radius of SL&S. With Stephen
covering my shift I was free to face him alone, assuming he was
home on a Saturday night. It was worth a shot. And I had a few
defensive weapons if shit hit the fan, so what if they weren’t
working? Marks didn’t know that. Plus I had Reed’s ring with its
panic button should things get out of hand. It was all
sorted.

One thing I hadn’t planned
for was the miserable trip. Marks lived on the other side of
SL&S, so I had a long drive inland. It was hot and mucky, even
with the windows down. To be stealthy I’d worn a black hoodie,
thinking I might need to blend into the dark at some point in the
night. I couldn’t say whether it was the sweatshirt or anxiety that
made me perspire, but I was certainly nervous. So I stewed in my
sweat, uneasy and uncomfortable.

Marks lived on a back road
much like my own, only his area wasn’t confined to a tiny island,
so the houses were spread further apart. I slowed down, inching
along as I kept track of the house numbers. His vehicle confirmed
that I had reached the right place. I remembered the SUV, it was
chunky and clean, shining like a brand new toy. I had seen it speed
off at the picnic, big wheels churning gravel and dirt. I would
expect a logger to drive something more... well, used. A beat-up
truck, something to that effect. I guess it paid to sell company
information, though I observed that his house was nothing special,
so maybe it didn’t pay
that
much.

I coasted past, hoping my
car wouldn’t stall out, or worse, backfire. Lucky me, nothing
dreadful happened and I continued down the road, pulling off to the
shoulder when I found an inconspicuous place to park. It was that
murky time during sunset, when the waning dregs of daylight
flattened everything to gray. Soon it would be dark, until then I
just had to lie low.

I shouldn’t have left my
book at home. It was just getting good too, with the heroine
needing an urgent rescue. Rabid feminists would hate it, expecting
the woman to jump up and save herself. But I didn’t mind the damsel
in distress, sorry that the days of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
were long gone. The good old fashioned hero was an endangered
species too, being replaced by a more sensitive and considerate
breed. I was glad to have Lucas, rippling muscles and all. I was
concerned that Francesca had pinned him down as dense though,
thinking that because he said little and expressed less he was
somehow stupid.

I knew that while Lucas
wasn’t verbally or emotionally expressive, he had an articulate
mind. He thrived on challenge, whether it was piecing together one
of my puzzles, or the more intricate parts of a car. He was a
driven man, given to hard work and solitude. I felt privileged to
be invited into his life, and it made me want to
reciprocate.

So I pretty much
obliterated my boredom with thoughts of Lucas Finch. Thirty
sweat-filled minutes of Luke—which sounds sexier than it was. But
it served to occupy my mind, well, at least until I reckoned it was
dark enough. Then it was time to get down to business.

My plan was to confront him in a safe
environment, but other than catching him off guard and alone, I was
pretty much winging it. I let my car creep down the road until
Marks’ farmhouse came into sight. I quickly cut the engine, wanting
to go on foot from there.

The SUV was still parked
out front, and some lights were on. He appeared to be home—so good
so far. The wraparound porch was raised up high, and I climbed the
steps slowly. As I approached, I took notice of the front door. It
was solid wood, but there were narrow panes of glass on either
side, not textured or covered over with curtains, just glass. I
peeked through, holding my breath.

Truthfully there wasn’t
much to see. A long hall, one side comprised of a staircase that
faced away, the base and bannister all the way down at the other
end. Underneath of the staircase, opening into the hall, was a
little door. At first I thought closet, but in that case it would
probably be closed, so more likely a bathroom. The source of light
was beyond the stairs, from whatever was around the corner. My
guess—the living room or kitchen. That was where I’d find
Marks.

But a plan was slowly
forming, one a bit tricky and complex. Maybe I didn’t want to find
Marks, maybe I wanted to lure him to me. If I could pull it off
then I wouldn’t have to face him on even ground, and trust me, I
was all for tipping the scale in my favor.

I glanced down at his SUV,
measuring the distance from there to the porch and then comparing
it to the layout of his house. Just to be safe I took out the stun
gun, holding it ready. Now all I had to do was work up the
courage.

One fortifying breath
later and I was slipping down the stairs. I sidled up next to his
SUV and without further ado began to jiggle the handle. The alarm
blared straight away, startling me even as I expected it. That was
my cue to run. I sprinted up the driveway, up the stairs, and
around the porch, dropping to hide behind the hanging swing, its
rusty chains lolling back and forth.

My flip-flops had been
clacking, so I slipped them off, putting one in my purse while I
held the other ready. Then I waited. It took longer than I thought,
almost a minute before Marks jerked open the front door. He boldly
stepped through, his eyes scanning the dark driveway, peering into
shadows as his SUV flashed angrily back at him.

I waited, my own breath
rushing through my ears, loud as the pounding of my heart. I was
sure he would see me. But he didn’t even look in my direction, his
eyes scanning the boundary of his property and beyond, stretching
to the street. Nothing stirred but the palm fronds in his front
yard. The lack of obvious threat eventually made him relax, his
tall, burly frame turning slack as he ambled off the
porch.

I padded toward the open
door, slinking silently inside. I’d been too scared to look behind
me, hoping that Marks was quieting his car, but terrified that he
was chasing me indoors. With that thought I went tearing down the
hall, only pausing long enough to dip into the bathroom where I
turned on the faucets full blast. Then it was down the hall, around
the corner, and up the stairs. I collapsed there, the worn wood
digging into my ribs and hip.

The car alarm cut off, and
to me the sudden quiet seemed louder than the noise had been. My
breath came out in shuttering streams, the fear almost electric.
The front door slammed shut, and the boards beneath me
vibrated.

Steps. A pause.

I was moving before the
faucets shut off, knowing I didn’t have much time. Just seconds.
With both hands full I used my forearms to grab the banister,
flipping over, my shoulder first, my body following along until my
bare toes tapped down. I let go of the railing, slid my hand behind
the bathroom door and slammed it shut.