“It was convenient that the security camera was down, don’t you think?” Meg asked.
“Beyond a doubt,” Jackson replied.
Matt squinted back at the house. “I’m convinced there’s something not right here.”
“I feel the same way—but at least we have an in now. We have plenty of reason to be around, which will give us a chance to discover what’s going on. I’ll call the minute we know anything. You need to get up north.”
“I agree,” Matt said. “We still have no idea what the hell’s going on and how it all connects, but if anyone’s planning anything big, it’ll be at Gettysburg. A speech on hallowed ground? What better place to strike?”
*
Matt drove straight to his house, not even thinking to ask Meg if the plan he’d settled on was all right with her. When she asked where they were going and he told her, she just nodded. “I packed for a week, so I’m fine. But I do want to get Killer.”
Killer jumped all over Meg when they collected him from the office and he also lavished his affection on Matt. In fact, the little dog seemed so gratified to see him that it was almost embarrassing. “Hey, mutt,” he whispered. “I called you ugly—I guess you’ve forgiven me. Or you don’t care.”
As soon as they reached his house, Matt dug in his refrigerator; he’d hoped his place would be decent, and it was. He had Mrs. Briar clean for him once a week, and she did his shopping, too. He was pleased to find a good selection of groceries and offered Meg her choice.
He felt her standing behind him as he studied the refrigerator, felt her arms come around him, and he turned to face her.
“I think you’re showing your age, Special Agent Bosworth,” she teased. “I thought you were considering another activity before dining.”
He smiled and kissed her, glad she’d initiated the contact. He’d been afraid she’d obsess about the object left on the Walkers’ doorstep, afraid she’d worry that it belonged to her missing friend.
“Showing my age, eh? Well, I suppose I’ll have to totter around and prove myself!”
He pulled her hard against him, his hands sliding along her body.
Killer barked.
“Upstairs,” she whispered against his lips.
“He is a dog, you know.”
“Yes, and he’s watching!”
She freed herself from his arms and headed for the stairs, warning Killer, “You behave, young man, and we’ll have something delicious very soon—although I’m sure they were giving you treats all day!”
Matt recognized that she could be as determined as he was. Following her into bedroom, he closed the door. Apparently, Killer knew the rules; there was no more barking.
He looked at Meg; she looked back at him. All admissions were out in the open, and they were ready for this. Ready for each other.
The Glocks had to go first, and then they removed their own clothing and each other’s.
It had been a long day. Naked, they fell together on the sheets, entwined like a pair of desperate teenagers.
He loved it when she moved beneath him. Loved the sounds she made.
“Showing my age?” he whispered. “Old?”
“Yeah, but you’re managing,” she teased in return.
They were soon spent, breathing hard. He glanced over to find her huge blue eyes on him.
“A little late for this question, but...is there someone in your life?”
He shook his head. “No. And I figured the same for you. Or we wouldn’t be here.”
She smiled. “What faith you have in me.”
“I think I’m a good judge of people.”
“Me, too, but...your cabinet is supplied with everything.” Including condoms.
“I’m not involved, though. That doesn’t mean I haven’t had a woman stay on occasion,” he said.
“Ah,” she murmured. She smiled and curled against him. He stroked her face and then kissed her, and they made love again, more slowly, more thoroughly, sensuously and seductively... Then Meg pulled away from him and rose. “You have a robe somewhere?” she asked.
“I do indeed. Closet. Seemed like a good place for it.”
She grinned and took his terry robe from the closet. He liked the way it looked on her. She told him, “I’m going to dive into your fridge and see what you’ve got. I’m starving. In fact, I’m going to find something to munch on while I’m cooking!”
“Right behind you,” he said, and he was. Rolling off the bed, he reached into a drawer for a pair of sweatpants, dragged them on, then started down the stairs. He almost called out to her, some joking remark about her cooking, but the words froze in his mouth as he hit the first-floor landing.
There was...someone in the house. They were not alone.
Meg stood, completely still, in the parlor, staring at Killer—who sat at the feet of an apparition.