A surge of adrenaline pumped through him, prodding him to more speed.
He pulled even with the driver’s door, catching his fingers under the handle and jerking it open, losing his balance and almost tripping. If he fell now, he would almost certainly be caught under the back wheels.
Barely hanging on, Harm jumped into the driver’s seat, grabbing the wheel with one hand, stomping on the brake and forcing the gearshift into “park.”
Unable to get a grip in the loose gravel, the anti-lock brakes struggled as the SUV slid toward the shallow drainage ditch, transmission whining in protest. Slipping and bumping, it finally came to rest, the front end about forty-five degrees to the left, the engine stalled.
Shaken rudely back to consciousness, Elgin sat up, blinked groggy eyes and looked around. “What happened?”
“It’s all right,” he lied, gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and forcing his voice to remain calm. “I got out to open the gate and I guess I didn’t set the brake right. Car rolled down the hill a little. Stomped on the brakes too hard and kind of fishtailed in this gravel. Everything’s okay now.”
Taking a deep breath, he restarted the car and they drove the rest of the way in silence.
“You go on up and go to bed,” he told her, “I just want to check and make sure everything’s all right.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night.”
With Elgin safely in the house, Harm turned on the overhead light, illuminating the interior of the car. The emergency brake lay flat against the console. Except that he’d pulled it upright when he’d set it before getting out of the SUV to open the gate. And he’d had to jam the gearshift from “Drive” back into “Park” to stop the car. Except that he’d left the car in “Park.” Having turned the wheels to the right, even if both the gear and the brake had failed, the SUV should have rolled into the ditch after only a few feet, the driver’s side door remaining open.
The realization sent a cold chill through his body, and he shivered.
He was here, and Harm had been careless enough to let him get within striking distance of both of them. Lulled by the peaceful beauty and tranquil surroundings, he’d let down his guard and Elgin had almost paid the price for his blunder.
But he’d tipped his hand. Tomorrow, under the pretext of taking the car in to be checked for damage, he’d make sure his forensics people gave it a good going over. A fingerprint. A stray hair, fiber sample. Anything that might give them a clue. And he’d personally search the area by the gate. A footprint, a cigarette butt. Anything that didn’t belong.
Yes, the stalker was here. But now, he was in Harm’s Way.
Chapter Ten
“Greetings, neighbor,” he grinned. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Elgin smiled warmly. “Of course not, Chad. I hoped you’d drop by. Please, come sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks,” he told her, taking a seat at the deck table where she’d been finishing a second cup of coffee. “I just came by to give you this.” He brought a small package wrapped in bright yellow paper from behind his back.
“For me? What is it?”
“Open and see.”
She ripped open the paper and squealed with delight when she saw the contents, a pastel drawing of her house as viewed from the lake. About eighteen by eighteen inches, it showed the deck and windows and the trees.
“Oh Chad,” she breathed, “it’s beautiful! I love it!”
“Look on the back.”
Turning it over, Elgin saw he’d written something. “To Elgin,” she read. “The beautiful lady of the lake.”
Crimson rushed to her cheeks. “That’s very sweet, Chad.”
“Well, it’s the least I could do. I gave Marty a whole slew of the charcoals and watercolors I did from your dock and he put them up in the mercantile and he said they all went right away. He wants to know how soon he can have more and he’s already had several inquiries about whether there are any large oils for sale. Marty says the stench of money dying to be spent is absolutely overwhelming.”
“That sounds like Marty.”
“As I told you that first day, I’d like to drive down here with my oils and easel and use your beach and deck to do real paintings. The light on the water and definitely a couple of sunsets. They’re gorgeous from here. I promise you the pick of the litter.”
“You don’t need to do that, I’m happy to have you here. Just drive down and open the chain. But be careful when you get out. We almost had an accident last night coming home from the marina.”
“Oh? Nothing serious I hope?”
“No, nothing like that. It was late and Camp’d had a couple of beers and I’d fallen asleep in the car. I guess he forgot to set the emergency brake properly and when he got out to open the gate, the car sort of rolled down the hill.”
“Are you both all right?”
“Yes, we’re fine. I slept through all of it except when Camp slammed on the brakes to stop us. Now I know how James Bond’s martinis feel. Shaken, not stirred.”
Comstock grinned. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt. That gravel slope up there and that sharp curve…it could have been serious. You should tell your secretary to be more careful. By the way, where is he this morning? Out walking again?”
“No, he said he thought the SUV was fine but he wanted to be sure so he took it into town to have it looked at. Said he had some errands in town and would probably be gone the rest of the day.”
“Excuse me, but I need to avail myself of your facilities. Could I ask you for a quick tour of this wonderful old house?”
“Sure,” she told him cheerfully as they both rose. “Both bathrooms are upstairs. Don’t know why they didn’t at least put a half bath downstairs but they didn’t and I’ve never quite been able to figure out where to put one after seventy some odd years.”
Inside, he stopped to admire the huge stone fireplace.
“God, I love this,” he gushed, gazing around the room. “And this fireplace is magnificent. Now I know I have to paint you a sunset. On cold winter evenings you can sit in front of a roaring fire and remember the beauty of summer.”
“I’m afraid I don’t get up here in the winter. I actually haven’t used the cabin very much since I bought it. Work keeps me pretty busy. This summer trip is the first time I’ve been here in almost a year and it’s the longest I’ve stayed.”
“So what is it you do?” he asked, as they made their way upstairs.
“I’m a writer,” she replied as they came into the master bedroom. “Bathroom’s through there.”
“So what do you write?” he continued, his business in the bathroom finished.
“Nothing you’d be interested in.”
“How do you know what I’m interested in? Come on, tell me.”
“I write women’s erotica. You know. Soft porn for the lovelorn,” she joked lightly but feeling suddenly somewhat embarrassed. “Not exactly Agatha Christie but it pays the bills.”
“I haven’t read any of it myself,” he answered seriously, “but only because I don’t have a lot of time for reading of any kind. Personally, I think it’s terrific that half the human race is finally waking up to their own sexuality and the enjoyment thereof. You’ll have to give me the names of your books so I can get them. Maybe even get an autograph.”
“Check with Marty,” she laughed nervously. “They’re in that little book rack right by the cash register. I autographed a whole bunch of them.”
“Done. I’ll pick up one the next time I go into town.”