“The big picture I see is of an arrogant jerk who thinks the term ‘security expert’ is synonymous with God!” she shouted.
“Um, excuse me.” A voice spoke from the doorway.
“What?” Mac and Raine snapped the question simultaneously.
Sarah smiled, took one look at both their faces and said, “On second thought, I think I’ll just leave you two alone a while longer. Since you’re getting along so well and all.”
She retreated, and Raine took a deep breath. No doubt their raised voices had reverberated through the house, even with the sound of the work being done there.
“Look,” Mac said, forcing a more even tone. “I’m not saying you have to turn into a recluse. I’m just trying to limit your visitors to a small enough number that I can do an adequate job of ensuring your safety.”
“I suppose I should be grateful that you’ve at least eliminated my closest friends from your list of suspects,” Raine replied caustically.
Mac said nothing, just looked at her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You don’t trust them, either.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” he said flatly. “And neither should you. At least not until this is over.”
Her anger began to ebb as she digested his words. They were easy enough to believe. He didn’t trust anyone, and she’d been able to tell that the moment she met him. It was in his guarded manner, his expressionless eyes. What was more difficult to understand was why that realization would make her heart ache. She’d wondered on occasion if he was capable of human emotion at all. And then she would remember the sight of him pacing her small patio in the middle of the night. Something rode this man, and that fact assured her at least that he felt
something
. A man totally without conscience didn’t have trouble sleeping at night.
He was regarding her with those startling blue eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts. He must think she was the most difficult client he’d ever had, and she couldn’t totally blame him. She knew how contradictory it seemed, her making him fight for every inch he gained in his efforts to protect her. She just didn’t know how to explain the renewed fear she felt in the process. It was as if each gain he made came at a cost to her hard-won battles against the terror of her past. Each concession she allowed made the fear stronger, her defenses weaker.
“I understand what you’re trying to do,” she said, looking away. Her voice was almost a whisper. “But, Macauley, I made a choice a long time ago not to let a lousy experience dictate how I live. I tried it your way once, tried to go through life keeping people at a distance, to shield myself from possible hurt.” She hesitated for a moment, then met his gaze squarely. “It nearly suffocated me. I can’t live that way. It’s not who I am. And it wouldn’t guarantee that I’d be totally safe, either. There’s always a possibility that some crazy who’s going to tear my life in two is right around the corner. And if that happens, what would I have gained by not allowing anyone to get close to me all those years?”
Something in her eyes caught his gaze, held it. She was an enigma, this woman, and he’d never much cared for enigmas. They always nagged at him until he’d figured them out. This wasn’t the first time he’d wondered about her, about what made her tick. He already knew she wasn’t a daddy’s girl, content to live off her father’s money until a suitable match came along to support her. And at times like these he was unable to assume that she was little more than a slightly ditsy artist. She sounded wise beyond her years, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with what she was saying. That ancient look was back in her eyes, the look that was a match for the darkness in his soul. And because it reminded him of things he’d much rather forget, he deliberately turned away.
Her cell rang again then, and he answered it, his gaze returning to her. “Who is this?” he asked bluntly. After a moment, he looked at her questioningly. “Harold Bonzer?”
She snatched the phone out of his hand. “Hello, Harold,” she said, her voice warm. She walked away from Mac, talking softly.
He sat down in front of his desk, listening to the one-sided conversation. He was able to discern that the man had something to do with the art world. They were discussing Raine’s paintings and the upcoming show. He didn’t remember hearing the man’s name before, however. It was impossible to tell from Raine’s manner just what the man was to her. Her voice was cordial, but she seemed to treat everyone with the same warm manner. As a matter of fact, she usually behaved as though she was the hostess at some damn dinner party—except, on a few notable occasions with him.
His lips twisted in a sardonic little smile. He’d bet Raine Michaels had experienced a broader range of emotions since he’d come into her life than she had in years, but somehow he thought she wouldn’t appreciate that fact.
Her conversation with Harold over, Raine disconnected the call.
“Who’s Harold Bonzer?” He held out his hand for her cell. After a brief hesitation, she handed it back to him.
“He’s been my benefactor. I owe the success I’m enjoying largely to him. I met Harold through Sarah, when he was sponsoring a show for her, and he offered to take a look at my work.”
“He can’t be the only reason you’re successful.” Mac surprised her, and himself, by saying it. He nodded toward her paintings on the wall. “You’re good. At least Trey seems to think so, and he knows a little about that sort of thing.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there are lots of starving artists out there who are good,” she observed wryly. “I’m lucky Harold took a liking to my work. I don’t think André would have been interested in me otherwise.”
“Just what does a benefactor do?” he asked, leaning back in his desk chair.
“Harold got me hooked up with André. Together they arranged a show for me at a local gallery.” She shrugged. “Some of my things started to sell. It helped that people knew Harold Bonzer was buying my paintings himself. He’s a well-known name in the art world, and when he takes an interest in an artist, it usually helps launch a career.”
“What about Sarah Jennings? Did he help launch her career, too?”
Raine nodded. “He’s helped get her shown, and she’s doing very well. She’s had it kind of tough. She’s been raising her brother since her parents died.”
“How did Sarah feel when her benefactor started taking an interest in you?”
Her gaze flew to his, startled anew at his perception. “I think,” she responded slowly, “that it hurt her feelings at first. But she’s okay with it now. And she had a show last year that he was instrumental in arranging. Of course, she’s a very talented sculptor. That’s one of her pieces on the mantel.”
Mac’s gaze flicked in the direction she indicated, then to her. “Where’s Bonzer live?”
“In L.A.”
“Mac.” They both turned when they heard the voice. One of the workers stood in the doorway, Raine’s mail in his gloved hands. “I thought you’d want to take a look at this.”
“Bring it over here and put it down, Mike.” The man obeyed, while Mac pulled open a desk drawer and withdrew a pair of plastic gloves. He drew them on, then flipped through the mail deliberately. He handed all of it to Raine except for one long envelope.
She peered over his shoulder. “It has a postmark,” she said, half to herself.
“But no return address.” Mac looked at the man. “Thanks, Mike.” The man nodded and left the room. Mac opened the letter cautiously and withdrew the single sheet of paper.
The room seemed to grow eerily quiet. Even the hammering outside had momentarily stilled. From the corner of the room, the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed intrusively loud. Raine’s heartbeat sped up until she was convinced that the sound of its pounding was discernible in the near silence. Her palms grew clammy, and she had to force herself to watch over Mac’s shoulder as he unfolded the letter. Time crawled interminably as he unfolded it once, and then again.
Her breath came out in a rush, the first she’d been aware that she’d been holding it. “An invitation to visit my aunt’s cottage in Maine,” she said, aware of the note of relief in her voice. Now that the moment was over, her foreboding seemed silly. “Pretty dangerous.”
Mac folded the letter up, then handed it and the envelope to her. `Not this time,” he reminded her soberly.
She stared at him silently, reading his meaning. No, not this time. And maybe not the next. But one of these days, another threat would arrive, couched in terms just a bit more sinister than the last. That certainty remained unspoken between them.
His cell rang then, and Raine turned as he answered it. She wandered away from the desk to stare sightlessly out the front window. The bright California sunshine, the lush green grass, the walnut trees on the edge of her property—they all seemed so ordinary. Cars drove by occasionally on the ribbon of road in the distance, and with even less frequency on the road in front of her place. Even the men working outside could seem harmless, as if they were involved in a normal construction job, if she didn’t know the events that had triggered their presence here.
Her eyes went toward the line of trees. They signaled the end of her property line. She had five acres, most of it covered with a soft blanket of green grass, and it was an open invitation to bare feet. As a child she’d loved to slip her shoes and socks off and just run, flat out, as fast as she could on just such a stretch of grass. She’d run as far and as hard as possible, until she would drop, panting and laughing, into the grass. Then she’d roll to her back and watch the clouds float by until she got enough breath to do it again.
She’d tried that when she was older, when she felt weighted by problems with no solutions except those that would come from within. But the feeling wouldn’t die that she’d been running away from something, something she carried with her always. The day she’d finally faced that fact was the last time she’d indulged in that particular fancy.
Aware that Mac had hung up, she turned to him quizzically.
“That was Trey,” he said soberly. “He had some information for me, and I’m sure you’re not going to like it. You may as well come over and sit down.”
She didn’t immediately obey. Anything Macauley thought she wasn’t going to like, she was pretty sure she was really going to
hate
, and she was suddenly loath to hear it. She ran a hand over her hair in an unconsciously nervous gesture. Then, biting her lip, she drew herself up straighter and headed over to him.
Mac observed her closely. She’d had to visibly gather her defenses, and he wondered for a moment if he was doing the right thing in sharing this information with her. He still didn’t know just how strong Raine Michaels was, how much she could withstand before she broke down. He’d already witnessed her upset once, when he’d deliberately pushed her.
But he had the feeling that that time had been unusual for her, just as her temper of today had been. And he guessed that she wouldn’t welcome him hiding something from her, at any rate.
She returned his gaze with one of her own. “Well, you may as well get this over with,” she said, striving for lightness. “Unless, of course, you’re trying to rack up extra popularity points for drawing out the misery.”
He didn’t crack a smile. Holding out a piece of paper on which he’d jotted down notes, he said, “These are two of the names from the list of art students you gave me.”
Raine looked down, then at him. “I remember. Why?”
“Trey has been doing some checking on all the people on the list.”
Raine frowned. “Do you mean to tell me,” she said, her voice ominous, “that you’ve been prying into these students’ lives?”
He didn’t blink. “That’s exactly what I mean. And it’s fortunate he was able to get to it so soon. Both of the people on that list have been in trouble with the law.”
She stared at him, momentarily at a loss. She was caught between renewed anger at the lengths he’d gone to and a sudden sense of unease. “What . . .” Her voice sounded rusty. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What did you find out?”
“Andy Radcliff was accused of date rape three years ago, when he was a freshman in college. The case never went to trial because the girl abruptly refused to testify.”
“You mean she recanted?” Raine asked slowly.
“No, I mean that she suddenly changed her mind about going through the trial process.” He watched her carefully. “That’s not the same thing.”
Her face was completely composed, but he noted that one of her hands clenched and opened, over and over. “What else?”
“Sally Jessup is on probation for vandalism. Seems she got angry at one of her professors and did about a thousand dollars’ worth of damage to his car.”
Raine took a deep breath as she absorbed the news. She didn’t know Andy and Sally any better than she knew the other students. That was to say, she was on speaking terms with them, but they were acquaintances. This news was a surprise to her, but it shouldn’t have been. She’d been warned often enough of the dangers of taking people at face value.
But it had been a conscious decision to ignore that advice. She hadn’t intended to take foolish risks, but she’d wanted to live her life free of the kind of suspicion of people that could choke spontaneity from her. And she had felt alive again, making her choices based on what was right for her and not necessarily on what was safest, what was smartest.