Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [171]
“It’s just that…well, I remember you mentioning that your mother lives in Richmond,” Tess tried to explain.
“Yes, she does,” she said in a way that told Tess there would be no further conversation on the topic.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” Tess suddenly felt awkward and anxious to leave. “I need to finish up the paperwork.”
She extended her hand, and Maggie politely shook it with a strong, firm grip that again took Tess off guard. The woman exuded strength and confidence, but unless Tess was imagining things, Maggie’s obsession with security sprung from some vulnerability, some deep-seated fear. Having dealt with her own vulnerabilities and fears for so many years, Tess could sense them in others.
“If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”
“Thanks, Tess, I will.”
But Tess knew she would not.
As Tess backed her car down the driveway, she wondered whether Special Agent Maggie O’Dell was simply cautious or paranoid, careful or obsessive. At the corner of the intersection, she noticed a van parked along the curb, an oddity in this neighborhood where the houses were set far back from the street and the long driveways afforded plenty of parking space for several cars or utility vehicles.
The man in dark glasses and a uniform sat behind the wheel, absorbed in a newspaper. Tess’s first thought was how odd to be reading a newspaper with sunglasses on, especially with the sun setting behind him. As she drove by, she recognized the logo on the side of the van: Northeastern Bell Telephone. Immediately, she found herself suspicious. Why was the guy so far out of his territory? Then suddenly, she shrugged and laughed out loud. Perhaps her client’s paranoia was contagious.
She shook her head, pulled out onto the highway and left the secluded neighborhood to return to her office. As she glanced back at the stately houses tucked away between huge oaks, dogwoods and armies of pine trees, Tess hoped Maggie O’Dell would finally feel safe.
CHAPTER 3
Maggie juggled the boxes that filled her arms. As usual she had taken on more than she should have. Her fingers searched the door, grasping for a knob she couldn’t see, yet she refused to put anything down. Why in the world did she own so many CDs and books when she had no time to listen to music or read?
The movers had finally left, after a thorough search for one lost carton, or as they insisted—one misplaced carton. She hated to think of it still at the condo, and hated even more the thought of asking Greg to check. He would remind her that she should have listened to him and hired United Movers. And knowing Greg, if the carton was still at the condo, his anger and curiosity would not leave it alone. She imagined him ripping off the packing tape as though he had discovered some hidden treasure, which to him it would be. Because, of course, it would be the one container with items she’d rather have no one thumb through, items like her personal journal, appointment calendar and memorabilia from her childhood.
She had torn her car’s trunk apart, looking through the few boxes she had loaded on her own. But these were the last. Perhaps the movers had honestly misplaced the carton. She hoped that was the case. She tried not to worry about it, tried not to think how exhausting it was to be on alert twenty-four hours a day, to be constantly looking over her shoulder.
She set the boxes on the handrail, balancing one with her hip, while she freed a hand to grab at the tightening knot in the back of her neck. At the same time, her eyes darted around her. Dear God, why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy her first night in her new home? Why couldn’t she concentrate on simple things, stupid everyday things, like her sudden and unfamiliar hunger?