Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) (15 page)

Eighteen

“Wh
y is someone following me?” I asked Max.

He looked up from his monitor. “Should I not ask you this question?”

“I have no idea. I’m not really stalker worthy.”

We watched the car for a moment, but nothing happened. Max rose from his chair, clasped his hands behind his back, and sauntered to one of his Old Reb cases for an introspective gander.

“Do you think the stalker is a fan of my art?” I said excitedly. “A deranged fan?”

“I suppose anything is possible,” said Max. “Perhaps you have other ideas, though?”

I dropped into Max’s vacated chair and spun in a lazy circle. “The only deranged person I know is Shawna Branson. But that’s not her vehicle. She’s got a yellow Mustang convertible. And if she swapped it out, she would have done it at the Branson dealership and I’m pretty sure they’re not doing European imports.”

“She has the success in your humiliation without the need to follow you. No, I do not believe this is Miss Shawna Branson.”

“Maybe it’s not following me. Maybe they are stalking you and it’s just a coincidence they drove up at the same time as me.”

“Possibly,” Max turned from the case and faced me. He pushed forward his shoulders and stood with his legs spread apart, head raised. He was in full-on Bear mode. “It would be helpful if you had been aware of them while you were driving.”

“Why would I check to see if I’m being followed? I live in Halo. Everyone knows what I do without following me.” I took another spin in the chair. “Maybe they are following Casey. I am driving her Firebird.”

Max grunted. “That is even more unbelievable than someone following you.”

“True,” I said. “She’s more of the stalker type than the stalkee.”

Max unclasped his hands and strode to the desk. “We have several options. I can confront the individual. You can drive home and see if you are followed. I can drive you home in a different vehicle and see if we are followed.”

“You don’t want to confront one of my lunatic fans. What if they throw paint on you?”

“Why would they throw paint on me?”

“I’ve just been imagining what a crazy art fan might do.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You must take this seriously.”

“Then let’s call the Sheriff’s Office.”

“No,” said Max. “No police.”

“You’re so touchy when it comes to the law. If you’d stop trying to straddle the line, the cops would be your friend.” I took his chair for another spin and jerked myself to a stop. “Why don’t I sneak out and see if I know them first?”

Max nodded. “Let’s see who is this bozo.”

“You’re coming, too?”

“Of course. One moment, please.” He moved around the desk, pulling a key ring from the pocket of his robe. I scooted the chair back as he leaned over me to unlock a bottom drawer. Before I could peek inside, Max pulled out a handgun, slammed the drawer shut, and relocked it.

“Is that a Glock? Forty-five or forty?”

“Forty has a bigger magazine.” He dropped the speedloader into his hand, checked for bullets, and then slid it back inside the grip. Satisfied, he nodded at me. “Let us go.”

I waved a hand at the robe which now fell open to his waist. “You want to put some clothes on first, Cowboy?”

Max was a lover of security. A gated, iron fence circled his beautifully landscaped lawn. Acres of undeveloped forest surrounded his property on three sides. An inner fence cloistered his pool and backyard. Small security cameras were scattered throughout, and every exit and floor had an alarm panel. There was also a big-ass cannon sitting in his front yard, which possibly worked. However, stealth was not his forte. Max’s idea of sneaking up on the stalker? Walk to the end of his drive, cross the street, and stick a gun in his face.

In his robe and flip-flops.

My idea? Don cat-prowler gear and ninja our way to the car.

Our compromise was to exit from a side gardening gate and use the wooded area bordering his property as cover. Once we started, I could tell Max enjoyed playing G.I. Joe. He spoke with his fingers and jerks to the head. He had slipped on a black t-shirt, jeans, and a shoulder holster for his Glock. I could not convince him to wear a ski cap to cover his thick brown hair.

Likely worried about getting hat head.

Hell, I was excited, too. The boys used to let me follow them on deer stakeouts, otherwise known as covert juvenile drinking missions, and we’d play sneak attack while tromping through the woods. Sometimes we brought paint guns, although I often wasted my pellets making designs on trees. Tonight, I had borrowed a dark hoodie from Max, thirty-seven sizes too big, but it kept me warm and covered much of my body.

My vertically challenged legs scrambled after Max. After covering half a football field in long strides, Max halted. I slammed into him and cursed my lack of peripheral vision in the hoodie. He barely flinched, while the brick wall effect ricocheted throughout my body. Before I could slide to the ground, he grasped my elbow and jerked me to my feet. His fingers flew to give me the shush sign, and he jerked his head toward the little Beamer parked across the street.

I rolled my eyes and nodded. I was glad Max found skulking entertaining. However, he seemed to overstate the obvious. I pulled my elbow from his grasp and snuck around a magnolia planted near the street. The broad, thick leaves offered wonderful cover. I peeked around a branch, but was still too far to see anything.

A cluster of pines stood across the street, creating a wooded belt between two properties. If I could sneak across the street, I might have a decent chance of spying unseen. I glanced over my shoulder at Max and made a few finger gestures indicating my intention. He made a few gestures back at me, showing his disapproval. I spun around and showed him another finger.

While we finger argued, the mounting rumble of an approaching vehicle reached our ears. I hopped away from Max and peered around the tree. Headlight beams flickered in the distance. The vehicle would give me a chance to cross the street unseen.

While I watched for the oncoming car, Max crept behind me and breathed into my ear. “Let me speak to this person. While I distract, you see if you know them.”

I angled a look back at him. “What if the stalker is coo-coo for you and not me? What if they see you’re packing and they pull out a pistol and shoot you?”

“I have more fear of you getting hit by this car than getting shot by a sleepy intruder.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ll run across right after this vehicle passes. The oncoming headlights will give me cover.”

“Have your way,” he nudged me toward the street. “Just be careful. If you get smashed by car, I will have to call police. They will find our alibi strange.”

“Alibi? Why are you worried about an alibi?” I said, but the growing headlights didn’t give me time to finish the thought. Across the street, the stalker had cranked his ignition. The BMW readied to leave in response to the oncoming vehicle. I crept closer to the street and squatted within the lower magnolia branches.

The rumble grew louder and the headlights grew brighter. I pulled the hood on my sweatshirt forward to ward off their glare. The vehicle, a large truck, slowed as it approached, bathing me in light. The tree blocked the stalker’s view of my squat and the tall headlights would momentarily blind him. I looked over my shoulder. Max had disappeared.

I rose, stepped out of the tree’s cover, and stared into the oncoming headlights. Orange and yellow orbs swam in my vision. I waited for the red glare of the tail lights to pass and stepped off the curb. Light brightened the street, confusing my already spotty vision. I took three springing steps to dart across the street and realized I had a spotlight trained on me.

A squeal broke through the sound of the truck motor, and everything went haywire. I froze. Red lights spun to one side. Bright lights washed over my still form. A motor gunned. I couldn’t see what was happening. Exhaust and rubber fumes filled my lungs. The lights grew brighter. I flew off my feet.

Airborne is an odd feeling. Particularly if you’re not sure where you’ll land.

Nineteen

Beneath the magnolia, Max clutched my waist while we watched the truck finish its donut spin. The BMW had taken off.

“I understand better the frustration of your deputy,” Max panted.

“I couldn’t see. I didn’t know the BMW was fixing to run me over.” I was still sprawled over Max’s lap, where I had landed after he had snatched me from the oncoming car. “You just saved my life.”

“The truck is stopping,” he said and jerked us both to our feet. His arm remained circled across my body. His shoulder holster dug into my shoulder blade.

“I’m not planning on running out in the street again,” I said. “You can relax your grip.”

“Quiet.” His thick fingers tightened on my waist, and he reached across me with his other arm to unsnap his holster, effectively blocking my view. And my mouth.

I inhaled the spicy cologne he wore and thought about biting his arm, but worried about breaking my teeth on the packed muscle.

Brakes screeched and a motor cut off. Max dropped his hand from the gun grip. I could see once again.

His other hand remained positioned across me, but his fingers had relaxed slightly. My body concealed his gun from the driver’s view.

I vaguely wondered if all this body clutching was for his protection or mine. However, considering our difference in size, I’d make a crappy shield.

The driver’s door to the dark pickup swung open and the cab light illuminated the driver.

“Oh shit,” I said. “This isn’t going to be good.”

“You seem to have more than one stalker,” said Max.

“What in the hell,” bellowed Luke. He jumped from his cab and stomped around the truck. “You crazy woman. You almost got hit by that car.”

He stopped in the street before us, the Raptor’s headlights now shining a spotlight on him. “What are you two doing?”

“May I ask you the same?” Max said with a casual air of indifference. He might have spent every night snatching women from oncoming traffic and rolling them under magnolia trees.

“What do you mean? I’m not the one standing in the street in the middle of the night.”

“Well,” I said, “you kind of are. Standing in the street. In the middle of the night.”

The look on Luke’s face made me ease back into Max’s body. I felt his gun press into my back. At least I hoped it was his gun.

Max’s hand released my hip. “Is there an explanation for your decision to drive by my home at this time of night?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” said Luke. “The roads are public property.”

“I see,” said Max. “Good night, then.” He clamped a paw around my hand, pivoted, and walked back through the trees, yanking me behind him.

“Hey,” yelled Luke. “I’m not done with you.”

Max ignored Luke and trucked along, easing us back to his fence line. I strode triple time to keep up with his pace.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Luke followed us. “You are making an enemy in the Sheriff’s Office.”

“I am not a fan of police,” said Max. “We did not break the law. We have no reason to talk to him.”

“Common courtesy?”

“You speak too much,” he slowed and let me catch up to his side. “This is your problem. Too much talking. If we had stayed to chat with your deputy, what would have happened?”

“He would’ve yelled at me for almost getting hit by a car. Then yelled at me for coming here tonight when he told me to leave you alone. And probably yelled for some other stuff I can’t think of.”

“Always the yelling,” said Max. “Why do you want to be with someone who yells at you?”

“He yells because he cares. He fears for my safety overmuch,” I said. “But you do have a point.”

Max opened the gate for me to stumble through. “Unfortunately, I did not see the driver before he missed squashing you with his BMW.”

“I didn’t see him either. Do you think he accidentally tried to kill me or was it more on purpose?”

“Very difficult to tell, given the situation.” Max fell silent as we trudged through his yard. Reaching the driveway, he stopped. “Perhaps it is nothing but coincidence.”

“I’d like to think so,” I yawned. “Why would anyone sign my death warrant? Unless it’s some extreme anti-nudist folks who caught wind of my
Greek Todd
paintings.”

“You spoke of a hijacking and the murder of the witness. May I see this sketch?”

“I don’t see why not. The Sheriff’s Office is showing it to everyone.” I felt for my keys in my pocket and realized I had left my purse in his house. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow. I’ve got a busy day, so I can’t promise what time I’ll stop in.”

“I would expect nothing less,” said Max, giving me his ubiquitous eyebrow raise. “I will drive you home. The perpetrator may wait for you. Tomorrow morning I will bring Casey her car.”

“Good. Stop in for coffee and you can explain to Todd why you’re rehiring him for the SipNZip. He can start immediately.”

Max’s mouth quirked. “You are like my childhood dog. He would also not give up the bone picking.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but thanks. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“You are mistaken.”

“On which part? The compliment or changing your mind?”

By way of answering, he abruptly turned and strode toward the house.

“I see how you work,” I said. “When you don’t want to have a conversation, you just walk away. Is retreat the only maneuver you know?”

Max stopped and shot a dark look over his shoulder. “I know many maneuvers. Some of which may surprise you.”

That statement gave me a pause. And a shocking flutter through my stomach. Whatever maneuvers he wanted to try on me, that one certainly shut me up.