For the remainder of the afternoon, Claire met with Mike and Lauren. She nearly filled an entire notebook with the information she gleaned from the two agents. For the most part, they felt that Rhonda had brought the problems on herself. She was not very dedicated, and her attendance was poor, as well as her attitude.
Claire felt confident that she could improve on those problems quickly.
She would do whatever was within her power to satisfy Tristan.
Not merely because her job depended on it, but there was something within her that wanted to please the dark-haired woman whom she could not shake from her thoughts. It had been a long time since she had met anyone who excited her this way. Had 22
Robin Alexander
anyone else treated her the way Tristan had the first day, Claire may have very well been on her way back to Houston.
23
Murky Waters
CHAPTER TWO
The drive home that afternoon was the same as the drive in.
Claire merged onto the interstate and came to a complete stop.
Fortunately, she had been wise in choosing her apartment. She was only on the busy interstate for a few miles. Upon reaching her exit, she would go one mile before arriving at her complex.
She smiled and leaned back in her seat. The day had gone well, despite the rocky start with Tristan. With the exception of the tall, dark, and lovely woman, everyone had been kind and made her feel welcome. And it was a bonus to work with Mike and Lauren again; they were good agents, and she knew she could depend on them.
The terrain was not all that different from Houston, just on a much smaller scale. Baton Rouge seemed like a quaint sleepy little town and was just what she needed at this point in her life. She looked forward to having time to explore the new area in which she now lived. Perhaps if Tristan would get her underwear out of a wad, she might make a decent tour guide.
Claire parked in her designated spot, gathered her things, and made her way up the stairs to her second-story apartment. She was reluctant to leave Houston, but the cost of living was significantly cheaper in Baton Rouge, which had afforded her one of the nicest places she had ever lived. Walking into her two-bedroom apartment, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was home.
Dinner consisted of a pork chop, salad, and a huge glass of white wine. After which, Claire started her laundry and took the bottle of wine into the bath with her. She was bent on relaxing and forgetting the stresses of her first day on the job. She sank down in the warm water and read the latest edition of her favorite 24
Robin Alexander
magazine. Two glasses of wine later, Claire emerged, feeling relaxed and refreshed.
One of the things Claire loved most about her new abode was the spiral staircase in the corner of the living room that led to a small loft. With its skylight, the loft would be the perfect place to put her potted plants. Ivy would be placed close to the ornate wrought iron railing, so the long vines could hang down over the living room.
Had her mother still been alive, she would have loved Claire’s apartment. Claire sighed and wondered if things would have been different for her if her mom were still around. She missed having her to console her when life got tough. Mom always made everything right, but now, she was on her own and had to stand on her own two feet.
“First things first,” she muttered and went into the spare room that would become her office. This was the last of her things to be sorted and put away. She took a healthy gulp of wine and began to tackle the piles of papers and folders occupying her desk.
Claire had positioned the desk to face the big bay window that graced her makeshift office. She sat briefly in her chair and stared out the large window at the oaks that the apartments had been built around. She appreciated that the builders had the forethought to leave the majestic trees.
After her home computer was set up, she went about arranging things in her little sanctuary. This would be the only room in which she would smoke. She tried to avoid having the rest of her home smelling like cigarettes, and this room would accommodate her vice.
She opened her window a bit and turned on the overhead fan.
Leaning back in her chair, she propped up her feet, lit her cig, and basked in the fact that she had finally gotten the room the way she wanted it. With everything squared away in here, she could put her mind on other things. She opened the right-hand drawer and took out a large brown envelope. Claire took another sip of wine and stared at the package. This was one thing that she hoped stayed back in Houston and would not come to haunt her here.
She sat for a long time contemplating opening the envelope.
After putting out her cigarette, she lit another and refilled her wine glass. She took a stress-relieving breath and opened the envelope.
Slowly, she withdrew the pictures inside. The first few were of her 25
Murky Waters
getting out of her Cherokee and going into her old office in Houston. Others were of her and friends having dinner in a restaurant. There were even a few of her doing such mundane things as grocery shopping and picking out a movie at the video store.
Claire felt cold chills run up her spine, making her shiver. She never knew who the person was who took such an interest in her life. It was extremely unsettling to know that someone made it a point to follow her around capturing her on film. What she found even more disturbing were the intimate photos taken of her through her open windows while she was at home. For the first six months, she received only photos. But when one was taken of her kissing a date good night, the letters began, each one accusing her of being a slut. It made Claire ill to look at them.
She had suspected her ex-girlfriend Lisa of sending them at first.
The breakup between the two had been tumultuous. When Claire confronted Lisa with the pictures and letters, Lisa begged her to take them to the police. She still remembered the shocked look on Lisa’s face and her trembling hands as she looked at each photo and letter. Her persistent pleas for her to go to the police made Claire strike her from the list of possible suspects.
She never did involve the police, leery of the scandal it would cause to have them question everyone she came in contact with.
She had reasoned that the letters were really not threatening, and by moving away, she might escape her stalker. It was a decision she hoped was right.
With all the lights on in the room where Claire worked, she was unable to see the dark figure who stood across the parking lot hidden in a cluster of oak trees. The stranger watched Claire’s every move with interest through the telephoto lens of the camera, randomly clicking the shutter. Only when Claire turned off the lights and left the room did the stranger lower the camera and leave the safety of the well-chosen hiding place.
Later, as Claire lay in bed waiting for sleep to claim her, she found herself wondering about Tristan. She had no problem admitting to herself that she found the dark-haired woman attractive, even though she was an asshole. Unfortunately, she couldn’t resign herself to simply enjoying the visual attributes of 26
Robin Alexander
the obnoxious woman she wanted to know more of. ”Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment,” she muttered to herself.
She wondered if Tristan were taken. She was one of the prettiest women Claire had ever laid eyes on. “She’s probably got a girlfriend who looks like a supermodel, or worse, one who could beat me to a pulp,” Claire mused. Tristan’s hand in hers earlier that day was her last fleeting memory as she drifted off to sleep.