"I don't want to hear this," Harlan said. "I had nothing to do with it. The less I know the better. In case the police question me."
"The police will never make a connection," Nick said, "but Maximillian Holt will. He's got a reputation for being very cunning; he has contacts that even we don't have." He paused. "And he has disappeared."
"What do you mean he has disappeared?" Reed asked.
"He's no longer in Beaumont, South Carolina."
"Maybe he got scared," Harlan said. "He could have left the country," he added hopefully. "Heaven knows he can afford to live anywhere in the world he likes."
Nick shook his head. "Max Holt is not the type of man to run. In fact, he could be looking for us as we speak."
"Do you know something we don't?" Reed asked, as though sensing there was more.
"I did not hire Vito whatever-his-name-is, and I'm not going to get involved in this sort of thing," Harlan said.
"Relax, Harlan," Nick said. "That's why you pay us. I just want you to be aware of the problem, that's all." When Harlan continued to look concerned, Nick smiled. "Haven't we always taken care of your problems in the past? Better still, we keep your dirty little secrets."
Harlan started to respond when the door opened and a young boy peeked through. He had Harlan's blonde hair. "Daddy play?" the boy asked.
Harlan literally bolted from his chair, grabbed the boy, and stepped outside the door, where his wife raced down the stairs, eyes bright with fear.
"I'm sorry, Harlan. I turned my back for one minute and he—"
Harlan didn't give her a chance to finish. He slapped her hard across the face. She cried out, at the same time using one arm to fend off another blow.
Harlan's voice was hard as he regarded his wife. "You only have one job in this house, Sarah," he said. "If you can't do it I'll find somebody who can."
The housekeeper joined them in the hall. "Shall I take Harlan Jr.?" she asked.
The lights flickered and came on; the generator had kicked in. Harlan paid scant notice as he passed the boy to his housekeeper. "Watch him closely." He turned to his wife. "You will spend the rest of the day in your room, Sarah, and you will not see my son until tomorrow." He looked at the housekeeper. "Is that clear?"
The woman nodded stiffly. "Of course, Reverend." She carried the boy away.
Nick waited until Harlan took a seat behind his desk before he spoke. "Nice-looking son you have there," he said. "The spitting image of his daddy. I'll bet he idolizes you."
Harlan's jaw grew rigid.
"Oh, look at the time," Nick said. "I fear I've overstayed my welcome." He got up slowly and made for the door. "Call me later, Harlan. Once you've had time to think about our discussion." He winked. "Oh, and I'll send somebody over later with something to help you sleep tonight. Something a little stronger this time."
Chapter Eight
When Jamie opened her eyes she found Max staring down at her. She sat upright on the bed, dragging a sheet to her breasts. "What are you doing?"
Max smiled. "Looking at you."
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to know you got the cutest behind I've ever seen."
Jamie snatched the sheet to her chin. "Don't you have anything better to do than ogle me in my sleep, Holt?"
"I was also thinking how peaceful you look when your eyes are closed and your mouth isn't moving. I could get accustomed to your quiet side. And finding you in my bed."
"Where have you been?"
"Taking care of business."
"Which means you're up to something. I know you." She got up and took the steps down. He followed. The clock in the kitchen pointed to eight o'clock.
"You hungry?" Max asked. "I grabbed a box of fresh donuts from the grocery store while I was out. You know how you like donuts."
Donuts. Damn. The man obviously knew how to work her. "I think I'll shower first," she said, hoping to show some self-control. Max grinned, and she knew she'd failed. "Just don't eat them all."
"You might need this." Max reached into one of the grocery sacks and tossed her a bar of soap.
Jamie was surprised to find a bar of scented Dove soap in her hand. She looked at him. "How did you know?"
"I've spent a lot of time in the car with you; I know your scent. I took a whiff of every bar on the shelf, and this is as close as I came. Was I right?"
Jamie was touched. She couldn't imagine a man like Max taking the time to smell every bar of soap in the store in order to find her brand. "Gee, Max, that was really nice of you."
"I keep telling you I'm a nice guy."
"You can be."
Max smiled as she walked away, her shirt barely concealing her behind.
Jamie showered and changed into cutoff jeans and a tank top. Max had already downed two donuts, but that still left her plenty. She peered into the open box. "Oh, there is a God." She started to reach for a vanilla-glazed donut with bright colorful sprinkles, then paused.
"Come on, Swifty, go for the chocolate-covered one," Max said. "You know you want it."
Jamie grabbed it. She took a bite and closed her eyes. "Yum." She opened her eyes and found Max staring. "What?"
"I like donuts, but I'm not sure I like them that much."
"OK, so you know my weakness."
"By the way, I prefer you as a blonde."
"You and me both. But the red wig is a good disguise." She sighed. "The things I do to keep from getting shot."
Fleas came up beside her and sniffed.
"Forget it, pal," Max told the dog. "You've got a better chance of getting a lung." He reached for a brown envelope and dumped the contents on the table. "Your new identification and—" He pulled two wedding bands from his shirt pocket. "Your ring."
"What? No diamonds?"
"Remember, the idea is to blend. This is not a wealthy area."
Jamie slipped the ring on her finger. "Perfect fit; how did you know?" He shrugged. She glanced at her new driver's license and other identification. "You took this picture of me late last night. How were you able to get all this back so quickly?"
"I asked nicely."
"I'm beginning to think you might have mob connections, too."
"Now, about the truck."
Jamie tossed the last bit of donut into her mouth and licked her fingers. "My truck?"
"Some men are arriving later today to install Muffin into the dashboard. After your appointment with Rawlins," he added. "Nobody will be able to detect the system."
Jamie arched her brow. "You're installing Muffin in the dashboard of my truck?"
"Yeah. We can't use my car. Oh, and you're going to need directions to Rawlins's place."
She looked up. "Why don't I just follow you?"
"What makes you think I'm going out there?"
"Like I said, I know you. You're dressed in your Bennett Electric uniform. Are they having electrical problems this morning by chance?"
He grinned. "As a matter of fact, they are. But you won't arrive until much later." He reached for a pen and paper and began writing directions. "You'll need a key for the cabin in case you get back before I do." He reached into his pocket and placed one on the table.
Jamie had finished her donut and was staring at the remaining ones. "Is that what I think it is?" She pointed to one.
"Yep. Chocolate-covered malted cream."
"Oh, man." She stared.
Max laughed softly. "Well, are you going to eat it or what?"
"This is between me and the donut, OK? It has nothing to do with you."
* * * * *
Tall wrought-iron gates circled Harlan Rawlins's property. The main entrance boasted a guardhouse where a uniformed man met Jamie, eyeing her truck and dog skeptically.
"Does the dog bite?" he asked.
"No, that would take effort on his part," Jamie replied.
The guard almost smiled.
"I have an appointment with Reverend Rawlins."
He checked t
he small notebook in his hand. "You must be Jane. The reverend is expecting you." He eyed the animal in the back. "You'll need to tie the dog out front."
"He's not as dangerous as he looks," Jamie said, "and it takes an act of God to get him out of this track. Try going to a pet store for a dog and having to buy a truck as well."
The guard hesitated. "I suppose he looks harmless enough. Just make sure he stays in the truck." He pressed a button, and the gate swung open.
Jamie followed a cobblestone road that was flanked by pines, tupelo, firs, and red maple, interspersed with dogwood, mountain laurel, and rhododendron, the latter of which had already lost their blooms. She rounded a copse of tall loblolly pines and caught her breath at the sight of Rawlins's bricked English manor house, surrounded by parklike grounds and stone courtyards.
Jamie spied a track with the name Bennett Electric on it. No surprise there, Max Holt was on the job, just as she'd suspected. She was relieved, but she would be slow to admit it to him.
She parked, climbed from the truck, and stood before Fleas. "How do I look? Do I have the word easy written all over me or what?"
The dog cocked his head to the side.
"Now hear this," Jamie said, trying to sound stern. "You so much as think about following me like you did at the motel and you're not getting any more table scraps, got it?" The dog actually seemed to sigh as he slid to the floor of the truck and propped his head on his paws. Jamie stroked one floppy ear and made kissy sounds before turning toward the house.
A brick portico sheltered the front doorway. The man who met her wore dark slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a burgundy tie. He was not smiling.
"I'm Ward Reed," he said, giving her a cursory glance, followed by a look of outright disapproval. "Reverend Rawlins is waiting for you." He opened the door wide to admit her.
Jamie stepped inside a large foyer of inlaid marble and ornate columns. She followed Reed down a long hall where he paused before a door and knocked. A voice on the other side admitted them.
"Hello, Jane," Harlan said, greeting her warmly. He took her hand in his, holding it longer than was necessary. "It's good to see you again. You can leave us now," he told Reed.
The man nodded and closed the door behind them. Jamie studied Harlan's office. It was large and paneled in teak. A triple window overlooked more gardens, a valley below, and in the distance purple mountain ranges. Rawlins's desk was tucked into one corner of the room. A stone fireplace with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side—mostly religious material—took up one wall. The opposite end was decorated in earth tones, with plump sofas and chairs and a multi-print rug that seemed to pull everything together.
"Very nice," she said, trying to commit it to memory. She would describe it later in her notebook.
"I spend a lot of time in here, so it was designed for comfort." Harlan smiled. "I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place."
"Not at all." Jamie met his gaze. She thought he looked tired. "I appreciate your inviting me to your home on such short notice, Reverend Rawlins. I hope this isn't an inconvenience."
"Of course not. Now, why don't we try to be less formal? You call me Harlan, and I'll call you Jane. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?" When she shook her head, he motioned toward one of the sofas. "Please sit down." He sat beside her.
"I was surprised to find a security guard out front," Jamie said.
He nodded solemnly. "I'm not crazy about the idea, but I'm afraid it's necessary."
She gave him an innocent, wide-eyed look. "Are you in danger?"
Harlan smiled gently and patted her hand. "There are people in this world who don't appreciate my spreading the Good Word. But don't worry; you're safe. Now, let's talk about you."
Jamie shrugged. "There's not much to tell. My husband and I just moved here and we were hoping to find a good church."
"You're married?"
"Just barely," she said. "My marriage is sort of on the skids right now because of my, um, indiscretions."
"Tell me a little bit about your problem, Jane. If you don't mind talking about it, that is."
"I trust you, Reverend Rawlins," she said. "I knew the minute I looked into your eyes and touched your hand last night that I could tell you anything."
"I'm glad you feel that way, dear."
Jamie sighed. "I don't know where to begin. I've just been wild as long as I can remember."
"Explain what you mean by wild."
"You know, loose as a goose."
"Would you say that you're promiscuous?"
"Oh, yeah." Jamie put her hand on his knee. "I can't seem to help myself."
Harlan glanced down at her hand. "Do you and your husband presently have, um, relations?"
"No. Which makes my condition worse. I'm like a walking time bomb, Harlan."
He sucked in his breath and glanced toward the closed door. "Jane, I am terribly concerned about your condition, but you must realize the danger you place yourself in each time—"
"I use protection," she interrupted.
Harlan shifted on the sofa. "Do you ever feel guilty afterward?"
"Sometimes. It doesn't stop me, though."
"Have any of these men ever hurt you?"
Jamie lifted her eyes to his. "Only when I ask them to."
* * * * *
"Holy crap!" Max said, listening to every word Jamie said. "What does she think she's doing?"
Lying next to Max in the crawlspace beneath Harlan Rawlins's house, Dave was busy shining his light in the dirt. "Sounds like she wants Harlan to slap her around. Some women are into that sort of thing. Can we go now?"
Max shot him a dark look. "Jamie's not like that. And we can't leave. You haven't even linked up the cameras."
"I can't believe you dragged me into this," Dave said. "This is a breeding ground for spiders and cockroaches. We're probably lying in cockroach feces at this very moment. Damn, my left eye is twitching."
Max glanced at him. "What does that mean?"
"Means I don't like it down here, that's what it means."
"Well, the sooner we get the job done, the better."
"I'm working as fast as I can."
"And you're doing a hell of a job," Max said. "You want something done right, you hire the best. That's you, Dave."
"You couldn't afford to pay me to do this," Dave grumbled. "I'm doing it out of friendship and nothing more. Hell, man, we wouldn't even know it if a spider bit us." He paused in his work. "Is it me or does the house seem to be getting lower? I feel like everything is closing in on me. I'm having trouble breathing."
"Trust me, Dave, it's you."
"Excuse me, what are the two of you doing down there?"
Max paused and glanced sideways. Ward Reed was peering beneath the house. "Man, you've got some serious problems down here," Max told him.
Reed frowned. "What kinds of problems?"
"The wires have been chewed in various places," Max said. "Looks like a raccoon did it."
"That's ridiculous."
"That's what I thought, but there's a dead raccoon down here, and he looks like he's been fried."
"Come out from beneath the house and talk to me. And bring the raccoon."
Max and Dave exchanged looks. "I don't think that's a good idea," Max said. "He looks nasty."
"I want to see him. Now."
Max crawled out from beneath the house, dragging a plastic bag with him. Inside was a dead raccoon. He dumped it at Reed's feet. "It's yours if you want it, although I don't recommend hanging it over your fireplace mantel."
"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."
"I agree," Dave said, shuddering. He stepped back, eye twitching furiously.
Reed looked from Dave to Max. "What the hell is his problem?"
"He'll be OK," Max told Reed. "Just a small case of claustrophobia."
Reed sighed.
"I think maybe the raccoon was rabid and looking for water," Max said. "I noticed t
he pond has been drained. That would have been the first place he would have checked."
Reed shrugged. "There was a lot of algae in it, so we emptied it two days ago."
"This is the way I figure it," Max said. "We've had no rain to speak of; the creeks and rivers are drying up. If this raccoon was rabid and couldn't find water, he probably decided to look beneath the house where it's cooler. You know how crazy they get. No telling what kind of damage he did under here." He paused. "Have you ever seen a rabid coon?"
Dave gave Max his undivided attention.
Reed shook his head. "Fortunately, no."
"I'm surprised nobody noticed it," Max said, pointing to the animal. "I saw a tricycle out back, so I assume there's a child on the premises. This coon could have attacked the kid. Or worse."
Reed automatically stiffened. "Get rid of it. Nobody else is to know about this, do you understand? I don't want to hear another word about rabid raccoons on this property."
Max nodded.
"I don't care what you have to do to repair the electrical system—"
"We'll have to run new lines inside the house," Max said. "Might take a while, but Dave here is an expert."
Reed closed his eyes as if he was trying to muster up a little patience. "You'll have my full cooperation. Just get the job done as quickly and quietly as possible, and you might find a nice bonus in your check." He walked away.
Dave waited until they were alone. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you thought the coon was rabid?" he demanded.
"I was trying to make Reed believe it. The coon died because somebody ran over him.
You were there when we pulled him out of the road."
"Oh, Jesus."
"What?"
"You don't know the coon wasn't sick. And I'm pretty sure he scratched me when I was trying to help you get him into that bag." He held out his arm and pointed to a faint red line.
"There's no puncture wound, Dave. You probably scratched yourself crawling under the house."
Dave grimaced. "On a rusty nail, no doubt. Let's see, which would be worse, dying of tetanus, a fatal infectious disease marked by rigidity and spasms, or having my central nervous system attacked by rabies and suffering a horrifying drooling death?"