chapter Seven
J.D. spun around, dipped his right hand into his pocket and thrust his hands above his head. That stance came a little too naturally to him.
Noelle tightened her grip on the shotgun. “What are you looking for? What do you want from me?”
His gesture turned to one of supplication as he held his hands out, palms up. “Take it easy. It occurred to me when I was lying there trying to get to sleep that if your stalker planted one spy camera, he might’ve planted others. I was just checking out the room.”
She licked her lips. “H-how were you looking? What were you looking for? I just happened to find the camera because the picture frame was crooked.”
“Looking at the same types of places—picture frames, the mirror, plants.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen a few spy movies in my day.”
Was he feeding her a line? Conning her? Ted had been the master of cons, and she’d learned to spot one a mile away. She didn’t get the sense that J.D. meant her any harm.
She blew out a shaky breath. “What did you have in your hand when I walked in?”
He dropped his arms and fished in the front pocket of his jeans. “My cell phone. I heard you could actually pick up frequencies with your cell phone.”
“You weren’t kidding about those spy movies, were you?” She leaned the shotgun against the wall. “I’m sorry I pointed a gun at you.”
“I understand. In fact, if it hadn’t been me that you were inviting into your home, I would’ve chastised you for allowing a relative stranger to spend the night under the same roof with you.”
“I surprised myself, but the camera scared me and you had already rescued me a few times today.” She tilted her head, searching for more words to explain the affinity she felt for him, the way he eased through the chinks of her armor.
She tossed her ponytail over one shoulder. Maybe Dr. Eliason had done enough head shrinking on her so that she could finally let down her defenses. Perfect timing—just when someone was stalking her for real. Maybe it had taken a real threat to break through her shell.
Maybe it had taken J.D.
“I don’t want you to be worried, Noelle. I’ll secure these locks tomorrow. You keep that shotgun close and you’ll be fine in this house by yourself. I’ll make myself comfortable in the guesthouse.”
She hoisted the gun. “Do you want me to help you look for more devices?”
“Are you going to shoot at them?”
“Not a bad idea.”
“It’s way past midnight. You get some sleep—” he held up his cell phone “—and I’ll continue the search.”
Sounded like a dismissal to her. Maybe she’d scared him off with the shotgun and her whiplash-inducing change of moods. She tucked the gun against her side and trooped down the hallway, calling over her shoulder, “Good luck.”
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the rich scent of coffee tickled her nostrils. She opened one eye, and her gaze trailed to the picture across the room. Ironic that the stalker had hidden the camera on the frame of one of Alex’s pictures—as if Alex himself was keeping an eye on her from the grave.
What would Alex think about the man in the other room?
She kicked her feet over the side of the bed and tucked them into her slippers. The sounds from the kitchen drew her down the hall, and she peeked around the corner.
J.D. raised a spatula in greeting. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I can handle something simple.”
“The coffee smells great.” She sat on a stool at the kitchen island, the tips of her slippers scuffing the tile floor.
He held up the pot from the coffeemaker. “Hard to screw up coffee.”
“But not toast.” She leveled a finger at the smoking toaster oven.
“Those are bagels.” He yanked down the door of the toaster oven and forked a bagel half onto a plate. “The edges are a little crispy, but I think it’s still good.”
She took the plate from him and scooped a knife into the tub of butter he’d placed in front of her. The butter melted on the warm bagel, running over the sides and puddling on the plate. She licked her fingers.
“Did you have any luck finding more cameras?” She glanced over her shoulder. “They could be watching us right now.”
“I think the one in your bedroom was the only one.” He splashed some milk in his mug of coffee and held up the carton.
She shoved her cup of coffee toward him and he poured a steady stream of milk into the brown liquid. She held up her hand when the milk had turned the coffee into a toffee color—not quite the shade of J.D.’s eyes.
“I’m going into town to talk to Sheriff Greavy today. I’d like to show him the camera I found last night.”
“Good idea. I’m going in, too, to pick up some supplies.”
“I’ll take you.”
He bit into his bagel and chewed, and she had to restrain herself from dabbing at the buttery crumb at the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s take my truck. Your vehicle has seen better days.”
“That was my dad’s truck. A neighbor, one of my dad’s friends, had been keeping it for me. I don’t even have a car in D.C.”
“What do you do in D.C.?”
“I’m a curator at an art museum.”
J.D. jerked up his head and twisted it from side to side, scanning the room. “Did you paint all of these?”
“Some of them.”
He half closed his eyes and tilted back his head. “There are two different styles—one cheerful and optimistic and the other darker, more introspective.”
She raised her hand. “I’m the dark, introspective one.”
“And the cheerful one?”
“My husband.”
“He was an artist, too?”
“A much better one.” Her words tumbled over each other. “He was the real talent in the family.”
“It’s in the eye of the beholder, I guess.” He nibbled on the side of his thumb. “I guess I find the moody stuff more interesting.”
Warmth crept into her cheeks and she dipped her head to sip her coffee. Yet another betrayal of Alex. Her art had been getting more attention than his toward the end. After he died, she’d given it up. To continue with her art when he was dead and gone seemed even more traitorous than the feelings she’d had toward him at the time of his death.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.” He brushed his hands together over the sink. “You did say the shower in the guesthouse worked, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then I’ll head back over there and get cleaned up before I take you into town. I need to stop by my hotel and pick up my bag and check out.”
She laced her fingers around her coffee cup. How had she allowed this man to take such complete control over her life in such a short space of time? She had to gain the upper hand. He worked for her, and yet he knew more about her life than she did about his. “J.D.?”
“Yeah?” He cranked on the faucet and held his plate under the stream of water.
“What brought you to Buck Ridge after you were discharged from the service? And what branch of the service were you in?” Holding her breath, she studied his reaction, but her questions didn’t seem to disturb him at all.
“Semper fi.” He flashed a grin. “I came out to Buck Ridge for the skiing. Thought maybe I could pick up work as an instructor, but I got here too late. I liked the look of the place and decided to stick around.”
She dug in her heels. “Where’s your family?”
“My parents are at their ranch in Texas. I have a couple of sisters who are busy getting on with their own lives.” He rinsed his cup and put the dishes in the dish drainer on the counter. “I’m wandering right now, Noelle. I want the freedom to pack up and leave whenever I want. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Me?” She ran her hands across her face, smoothing out the lines. “Not at all. Just give me a little notice before you pack up and leave.”
“Will do.”
She hopped off the stool to extinguish the disappointment that flared in her gut. Why should it surprise her that J.D. had plans to move on? “I’m gonna hit that shower now.” He tossed a dish towel onto the counter, snagged his backpack and strolled toward the front door.
She followed him and watched him cross the yard to the guesthouse, his long, confident stride eating up the ground beneath him. She didn’t expect him to settle in the guesthouse forever, but if he wanted to stay there until she felt safe, she wouldn’t mind that one bit.
* * *
J.D. FLICKED THE disabled spy camera he’d uncovered last night into an ashtray next to the one Noelle had found.
While Noelle had slept, he’d searched the rest of the house, but Zendaris seemed to have been satisfied outfitting just Noelle’s bedroom and her living room. What the hell did Zendaris think Noelle knew about Abby and where she’d hidden the plans for the anti-drone?
What did Prospero think she knew?
They were both wrong. She didn’t know anything. She still believed this harassment had something to do with her husband’s murder, not even connecting it to the disappearance of her roommate.
What had the D.C. cops told Noelle about Abby, anyway? He knew they hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Maybe that’s why Noelle hadn’t mentioned it to him yet. But then, she kept things zipped up.
After opening up about her husband, she’d stacked up her defenses again. She ran hot and cold. When she got the sense she’d told him too much, she’d shut down. Then she’d turned the questioning on him.
He didn’t mind. He had his story down—half-truths made it sound more believable. His sisters were getting on with their lives all right, but they were dragging him along with them by sending him pictures of their kids every two minutes. His parents were on the ranch, but they were joining his sisters every five minutes, begging him to come back to the ranch for a visit.
He couldn’t allow Noelle to see his phone or she’d wonder what the hell he was doing hanging out in a town where he didn’t know anyone except her when his family back in Texas was begging him to check in for a visit. Ever since his fiancée had dumped him, his sisters had been busy trying to set him up.
He didn’t need setting up. He could find his own woman.
Thirty minutes later, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, he clapped his hat on his head and sauntered into the yard. He spotted Noelle sitting on the porch railing, swinging one booted foot.
He cupped one hand around his mouth and yelled, “Be careful. That thing might collapse beneath you.”
She scooted off and landed on the dirt, pulling an oversize bag with her. “I think I found the one stable spot.” She tapped her head. “The hat looks new.”
J.D. ran his hands along the brim. He hadn’t had time to head home and pack clothes more appropriate for a ranch than the big city, so he’d picked up a few things to look the part. “Didn’t have much use for a cowboy hat in Iraq.”
“I wouldn’t think so. Did the shower and—” she waved her hand up and down his body “—everything else work okay?”
“Warm water and everything.”
“Where’s your truck? I didn’t even notice last night that it wasn’t inside the gates.”
“When I saw your brother heading onto your land last night, I pulled my truck over outside your gates so I could take him by surprise.”
“Well, you did that.”
He chuckled at the memory. He’d wondered why he was able to take down one of Zendaris’s guys so easily. “I did not break his nose.”
“Ted tends to get overly dramatic. He’s a great actor.” Her shoulder jostled against his as they walked out to his truck, and she took a step away from him.
“What’s his story?” He beeped his remote to unlock his truck, then got the door for Noelle. She climbed into the truck without answering.
He repeated the question when he slid into the driver’s seat.
“He’s a user, in more ways than one.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s clean and sober again. Maybe it’ll stick this time.”
“Did he depend on you a lot?”
Before pulling onto the road, J.D. checked his rearview mirror.
“Anyone following us?”
“I thought I was being discreet.”
“Why bother? It’s not like I don’t know I have a target on my back...for some reason.”
Noelle didn’t know the ones who had put that target on her back were expert marksmen. Should he scrap protocol and tell her?
“Maybe it’s not a bad idea to have your brother move in with you.” As unreliable as Ted Dupree seemed, it might work in Noelle’s favor to be surrounded by people.
“I’ve always helped out Ted. My ther...people have been telling me to stop enabling him. I want to see if he can stand on his own and stay sober before I open my life up to him again.”
“That’s probably good advice.” He tapped the inside of the windshield. “Looks like we’re getting a dusting of snow.”
“The skiers will be happy.”
“Do you ski?”
“Yeah, but I’m no expert. Spent a lot of my time here doing other activities. You must be good if you considered being an instructor.”
“I’ve done my share of skiing, but I’ve started snowboarding more lately. Does the Buck Ridge Resort allow snowboarders, too?”
“They had to if they wanted to attract a younger crowd.” She jerked her thumb to the side. “You can turn here to get into town. Are you going to talk to Sheriff Greavy with me or just drop me off?”
“I’ll come in with you. Do you have something to do while I pick up supplies, or do you want to come along?”
“I’ll leave the supplies to you. I have plenty to do.” She reached into her bag and held out a credit card pinched between her fingers. “Just don’t forget the lock.”
“What’s that for?”
“All the supplies. You’re just doing the work. You don’t have to finance it.”
“Maybe you’d better come along, then. I don’t want to go over budget.”
Noelle had a substantial sum of money in the bank. Prospero had already checked it out to make sure she hadn’t acquired it recently. She hadn’t. The money had been sitting in that account for a few years, and she hadn’t spent a dime of it.
“I haven’t done anything to that ranch since my parents left it to me, so it’s due for a face-lift. Spend what you need and give me the receipts.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She directed him to the sheriff’s station, and he pulled his car into the side parking lot.
J.D. put his hat on, protecting his head from the silvery snow flurries, and Noelle pulled her hood up; the white fur framed her face.
He shoved the door open for her and ushered her in first.
She greeted the sergeant at the desk. “Hey, Chris, is Sheriff Greavy in?”
“He’s on a call. It’s been a busy morning. Lots of skiers scrambling to get to the resort.”
“This is J.D. He’s going to be helping out at the ranch. J.D., this is Sergeant Chris Malone.”
J.D. pulled off his glove and shook hands with the sergeant, who gave him the once-over.
“Do you know about the break-in at my place last night?”
“I heard about it. I’ll be glad when the ski season’s over and we can get back to some peace and quiet around here. Crime seems to come with the tourists.” He shot a look at J.D. that seemed to include him with the criminals or the tourists.
Noelle smacked the little camera on the counter. “I think this is more than a simple crime.”
Sergeant Malone bent forward to inspect the black button. “Is that a minicamera?”
“Yep. On a picture frame. In my bedroom.”
The sergeant whistled. “Sounds like you got yourself a perv, Noelle.” He flashed another glance at J.D.
J.D. gritted his teeth and nodded. “You have any other reports of similar infractions, Sergeant?”
“Infractions?”
Damn. I’ll have to stop talking like law enforcement.
“Any other women reporting Peeping Toms or anything like that?”
“Not down here. A few incidents up at the ski lodge. Doesn’t mean the pervs didn’t make their way off the mountain.”
“That’s comforting.”
J.D. hunched over the counter and tried to sound like an amateur. “Do you think you can trace it? Get fingerprints?”
Pinching the camera between his thumb and index fingers, Sergeant Malone brought it close to his face and squinted at it. “No fingerprints for sure. If you had called us when you found it, Noelle, we might’ve had a chance.”
No, you wouldn’t have.
She lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t going to leave that thing in my room. Can you trace the model or something, like J.D. said?”
“You can buy these online.” Malone bounced it in the palm of his hand. “There’s no way we can trace this.”
“I’ll leave it with you. Let me know if you hear of anything else like this.”
The sergeant blew into a small plastic bag to puff it open. “I heard Teddy’s in town.”
“You, too?” She wedged her hands on her hips. “I might believe he’d steal some prescription meds, although he swears he’s clean, but sticking cameras in my bedroom? Not his style.”
“You always were one to defend that boy. I’m not saying he’s a Peeping Tom, but he might want to keep an eye on your comings and goings, your—” Sergeant Malone cleared his throat and flicked a glance at J.D. “—associations.”
“I don’t think Ted cared one way or the other that I got the ranch. It didn’t mean anything to him.”
Malone scratched his chin. “Maybe not when he was high as a kite but if he’s really clean, he might be more interested in the ranch now.”
“Ted expected to crash at the ranch. He wouldn’t have needed a camera.”
“And you turned him away?” Malone winked. “It’s about time.”
Noelle bit her lip, obviously not comfortable with the sergeant’s praise. “Tell Sheriff Greavy about this latest development, and let me know if you come up with anything.”
“Will do.” He waved the plastic evidence bag containing the camera.
As they emerged onto the sidewalk, J.D. squeezed Noelle’s shoulder. “Are you okay? The sergeant didn’t change your mind about Ted, did he? You were right. If he thought he was going to stay at the ranch, he had no need to plant a camera.”
“I’m still sure Ted had nothing to do with the break-in. I’m just wondering if I did the right thing by turning him away.”
He took her other shoulder and turned her to face him. “You have the right instincts. Let him prove himself before you make any commitments to him or he’ll suck you in again.”
Her lips began to curve into a smile.
“Noelle! Noelle!”
Her gaze skittered past his shoulder and the smile froze. Her body stiffened. She gasped.
“What’s wrong?” J.D. glanced behind him and picked out a man in a brightly colored jacket and a hat with earflaps jogging toward them.
“That just might be my stalker.”