Chapter Two
It was nearly midnight.
Aggie couldn’t sleep, not after the meeting with her new clients. She tried to relax by reading a magazine in bed and then watching a re-run of Bunheads, but it didn’t help matters, so she decided to get some stuff done.
She’d half-listened to a podcast as she did the dishes and laundry, laid out her clothes, and packed her lunch for the next day. Aggie even set the alarm on her phone, so she’d remember to eat the damn thing. Then she went through her mail and discarded all the junk, before paying her bills. Afterward, Aggie researched the price of a flak jacket she’d been meaning to buy, but closed the browser window after a few minutes.
Her mind was still spinning, thinking about Luna and Maria and where they might be. She could never quite rest while working a case. Aggie became enmeshed in the problem, studying it day and night, trying to put all the aspects together. There were always details to sort through, even if the stakes weren’t as high.
Aggie grabbed a broom and swept the kitchen floor. As always, there was a fine layer of dust which seemed to linger on every surface. She glanced around for a counter to wipe down, but everything was more or less clean.
Aggie did her best thinking when her hands were busy.
She lived in a small house at the edge of the city limits on three acres of property she’d inherited from her grandparents. The home had been in her family for a generation, and it wasn’t much, but it suited her needs. She’d inherited all of the furniture, too. The pieces were classic and built for durability, made of oak and sturdy as all get out.
Since nothing else needed to be done, Aggie decided to dance.
Sometimes she took a barre class, courtesy of YouTube. Many of the positions were based on ballet movements. Aggie exercised to clear her mind and sculpt her body.
Tonight, the music from Giselle blared from her Bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room. Aggie loved to pretend she was a prima ballerina with the Kirov Ballet. She’d taken “baby ballet” as a toddler, and she’d been dancing ever since.
Sometimes she wondered what would’ve happened if she’d pursued dance. At one time, she’d considered becoming a professional ballerina, but decided to obtain a degree in criminal justice instead, as a more practical way to pay the bills.
Her movements were small at first, controlled. She floated across the floor, taking her time, inching. Closing her eyes, she gave into the music, letting it take her wherever it would.
Somebody’s watching me.
Aggie felt a prickle on the back of her neck, an unmistakable sign she wasn’t alone.
She turned around to face the window but saw nothing in the shadows outside. It was open, and the wind rippled through the gauzy lace curtains. The night was cool, in the upper sixties, ideal for sleep. All she could hear was the mournful hoot of an owl, the sound of spring peepers, and the soft patter of rain against the glass.
And yet she knew someone was out there, felt the presence of another person. Had Diego sent one of his buddies over to harass her? Did he somehow know about her case? Or was she imagining things?
This is way too horror movie for me.
Aggie switched off the music and grabbed her gun from the nightstand. She took the safety off and kept her finger on the trigger, just in case.
And then a man stepped into the moonlight, nothing more than a dark silhouette.
“What are you doin’ outside my house?”
“Watchin’ you.”
She gasped. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”
“It would stain your driveway. The neighbors might get nervous if they caught you hosin’ blood off the blacktop.”
The tone was dry, a touch sarcastic. Apparently, her weapon didn’t scare him in the least, and Aggie was impressed by his brashness, even though she was concerned.
“Excellent point, but my nearest neighbors are nine miles away.”
“I stand corrected. Are you gonna put a hole in me then?” He held out his arms, daring her.
“Not yet, but you’re on notice.” She chuckled, amused despite herself.
“Trust me, blood is difficult to get out. Somebody will put it together, and you’ll end up at the police station answerin’ all kinds of awkward questions.”
“Step into the light, I want to see you better.”
“Curious about me, are you?”
“Nope, just takin’ a mental picture for the inevitable line up.”
He did as she asked, moving closer to the window, so his features were illuminated. Although his face was still wreathed in shadows, the man was familiar, even if she couldn’t place where she’d seen him before.
He was handsome too, despite his stalkerish tendencies. Dressed in a snazzy black suit, he stood well over six feet tall with a long, lean build. The man had thick, dark hair and sported a pair of sunglasses, at night. Aggie wondered what color his eyes were.
Since he’d been observing her, he couldn’t be blind, and she wondered if the shades were an affectation. Maybe he used them to hide from the rest of the world. He could see out, but others couldn’t see all of him.
“Who are you? And what do you want?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an easy answer for you.”
His voice was so familiar. “I know you, don’t I? Have we met before?”
He nodded. “Yes, we ran into one another at the hospital, a while back. We spent a few memorable moments together on the rooftop. You were dancin’ on the ledge. I’m Tennessee Ross, and you are Agatha Byrd, private detective.”
Aggie could feel a flush burning on her cheeks. She’d ran into him right after her mother died and she’d been a little nuts that night. The doctors at the hospital had even kept her for observation.
“I see you’ve done your homework.” She lowered the gun but didn’t put it away just yet.
“I’m very thorough.”
“And are you stalking me, Mr. Ross?”
“I prefer to think of it as checkin’ in on you from time to time, Aggie. May I call you by your first name?”
“Sure. Why not? As for the rest, you say tomato, I say felony, but whatever. What do you want?”
“Like I said earlier, it’s complicated, and please call me Ten.”
“Okay.” She shook her head. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take your assessment as a compliment.” He laid a hand on his chest. “Most folks think I’m crazy.”
“People have said the same about me.”
Aggie spotted a telltale bulge under his arm. Evidently, he had a gun tucked into a holster. So was he an officer of the law? Or a criminal? Aggie had a nagging suspicion it was that last one.
“And are you? Crazy, I mean.” Because she wasn’t sure.
He lifted a shoulder. “The verdict is still out.”
“So…what? You’ve been sneakin’ around my place? Watchin’ me dance?”
“Yes, and observin’ you while you slept.”
How creepy can you get?
“Why didn’t you announce yourself?”
“Because then you would’ve known I was there.” He said it, as though the answer should be obvious. “Besides, I have it on good authority, women enjoy a man who watches over them.”
From which source? The Stalker’s Guide to Unrequited Relationships?
Aggie didn’t know what to make of his comment. She couldn’t tell if his deadpan response was a joke, or if he was being deliberately dense.
Okay, let’s think about this rationally. If he wanted to hurt me, he could’ve done so at any point. I’ve been holding a gun on Ten, and he’s made no aggressive moves. Her training and experience told her the man wasn’t a threat, even if he was strange.
“And it didn’t occur to you, that’s, er, odd?”
“Yes, but I’m curious.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re interestin’, and I think I might care about you.” His eyebrows lifted, and he seemed as surprised by the admission, as she was.
“And again, I ask why?”
“I’m not rightly sure, but I do, so I’m not gonna question it.” He pointed to the speaker. “You were dancing to Giselle?”
“Yes, it’s my favorite ballet.”
Ten nodded. “I enjoy it as well. I found the story fascinatin’.”
Giselle discovers the man she loves is betrothed to another woman and she dies of a broken heart. She’s reborn as a Wilis, an avenging spirit, and they compell men who’ve wronged women to dance themselves to death. Giselle ultimately saves her would-be lover.
“Me too.” Or maybe Aggie just liked the thought of being reborn after dying young.
“And which part do you dance?”
“Giselle, of course.” Aggie never wanted to be one of the chorus girls. In her mind, she stood center stage taking bows before an adoring crowd.
“It suits you. You are…electric when you dance.”
“Thank you.” She lowered the weapon. “Tell you what, I can’t sleep anyway, so let’s have a talk. Just to be clear, if you come anywhere near me, I’ll shoot you.”
Ten nodded. “Your terms are acceptable.” And then he swung a leg over the window sill and climbed inside.
“Come on, let’s go into the living room. Want a drink?”
“Sure, what do you have?” He followed her down the hall and took a seat on her sofa.
“I’m a tequila kind of a girl, what about you?”
“I prefer wine, but whatever you have works.”
She poured them each a drink. Aggie drained hers and then had another. At some point in the near future, she’d have to stop drinking so much, but cold turkey wasn’t an option tonight. Ten took a sip of his and placed the shot glass on her coffee table.
“So what’s your story? What do you do for a living?” Aggie sat on the far side of the couch and faced him.
“I own a winery and bistro in Crimson Creek. It’s called Poison Fruit, ever heard of it?” Crimson Creek was another nearby small town and she’d driven threw it before, but never really explored the place.
She snapped her fingers. “Yeah, I remember seeing a write up about it in the local paper.” Apparently, the wine was very good, and the food was decent, too.
“Yes, we’ve had some good press.”
And yet her earlier assessment of him as either cop or criminal suited Ten more than being a businessman, even if he was wearing an expensive business suit.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like a restauranteur.”
“I don’t?” He laid an arm on the back of the couch spreading out, taking up space as if he owned it.
“No.”
“The term is vintner, actually. I’m a wine merchant.”
“Yeah, I still can’t picture it.”
“What profession would suit me better?”
“I’m not sure.”
Gunslinger popped into her head, but since this wasn’t a John Wayne movie, it was impossible. He had a dangerous aura, even though he was trying very hard to be charming, albeit in a peculiar way, but there was something off about him. Call it instinct.
His lips curved into a smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I make a fantastic cabernet. You should stop by sometime.”
“Maybe I will.” She bit her lip. “Why do you wear shades?”
“Habit, I guess. I’m used to them.” Ten touched the frames absently.
“Don’t you find it hard to see?”
“No, I’m used to the dark.” He cocked his head to one side. “What were you dreamin’ about the other night?”
“Hmm?”
“Tuesday evenin’, it seemed like you were having a nightmare.”
Evidently, he’d been scrutinizing her very closely. And he really didn’t like talking about himself. His comment about the dark had been telling. Aggie got the sense that Ten was every bit as broken as she was, and trying to mask the pain.
“See, that just ain’t right.”
“Maybe, but it’s peaceful, like watching fish swim in a tank.”
Aggie chuckled, surprised by his answer. “Well, I’m glad I provide you with entertainment.”
“Tell me about the dream.”
She thought about it. “I was trapped in the backseat of a car, and it was going to plunge over a cliff, but I couldn’t open the doors or windows.” Aggie had been having the same reoccurring nightmare since she’d gotten her test results back from the doctor. “Wild, huh?”
He mulled it over for a minute or two. “It sounds like a metaphor to me, you must feel out of control.”
She’d never thought of it that way, but it made a lot of sense. Aggie felt like everything was unraveling around her, pulling apart at the seams like an old sweater, but she didn’t want to think about the chaos.
Every time she got all introspective, that damned clock would start ticking in the background, counting down the hours, minutes, seconds she had left.
Aggie suddenly realized a handsome man was sitting on her couch and she’d had a few drinks, and she felt warm and tingly inside.
Maybe he could provide a much-needed diversion tonight.
Since her mother died, Aggie had been randomly hooking up with men. She was single and free to do whatever she wanted. There was little joy in it though, if anything sleeping with strangers was more of a distraction, something to do. It gave her the illusion of closeness to another person, and a way to take her mind off her crappy situation.
“Are you married? I don’t see a weddin’ ring.”
His brow knitted. “No, I’m not.”
Excellent. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Are you gay?” Aggie didn’t think so, but it never hurt to check.
He shifted uncomfortably. “No.”
“Want to have sex?”
He flinched. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Abruptly, Ten stood. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take you up on it.”
“Why not? You’re tellin’ me, you’ve been standin’ outside of my house, pullin’ a peepin’ Tom because you wanna be friends?”
Ten sighed. “I don’t know what I want us to be yet. Do you?”
Aggie didn’t know what to make of this.
“For me, sex isn’t somethin’ to be taken lightly.”
Aggie was stunned. She’d never heard a man say that either.
“And while I appreciate your beauty, and you are stunnin’ by the way, I haven’t earned my place in your bed.”
Aggie struggled to find a reply. She’d never had to talk a man into bed before, so it was a new experience. If anything, she found his reluctance a turn on.
“Thank you for the hospitality, but I’ve overstayed my welcome. It’s time I head home.” He finished his drink and then ambled toward the door.
“Goodnight, Ten.”
“See you later, Aggie.”
“Let’s make a deal, if you come over again, knock on the door, and I’ll let you in. No more unscheduled visits.”
After a moment, he nodded. “Once again, I agree to your terms, Giselle.”
And then her mysterious stranger was gone.