Thorns of the Past Read online

  Getting up, Darcy took her laptop and walked back to the front desk. Lacey nodded and greeted her with a smile as she helped a tall man get a visitor’s pass. Darcy continued into the office area and placed her laptop on the desk. As she poured herself some coffee, she wondered about Sabrina’s comment about the police. Not her forte? What was that supposed to mean? Surely someone like Sabrina hadn’t been arrested or anything? This woman was a mystery, and the best Darcy could do was to keep it professional and not imagine Sabrina’s long legs or curvy, full lips. Such fantasies wouldn’t lead to anything but trouble.

  Chapter Four

  Sabrina started driving toward her condo and had to force herself to focus on the dense traffic along Main Street as her head spun with thoughts of today’s incident. After a few minutes, she couldn’t take any more of the busy midday center-of-town life. Her beach house was located forty-five minutes north of East Quay, and she might just as well work from there. She craved the solitude of the old stilt-house where a sea captain once lived with his family. Built to survive flooding and storms, it had a breathtaking view of the ocean.

  Sabrina recognized her gut reaction to stress from years back. Whenever she felt crowded, whether physically or mentally, she withdrew. If it wasn’t possible to recoil back to her house, then she found that place her therapist had taught her to create, deep in her soul. Professor Taylor had called it “her happy place,” which Sabrina found utterly ridiculous, but going there did help once she got the hang of it.

  The radio was set to a soul, jazz, and blues station. Billie Holiday’s voice filled the car, and that alone was enough to soothe the darkest of thoughts. So much had hit her from all directions today, she’d found it almost impossible to breathe. Having to deal with law enforcement was the absolute worst part. Sabrina was sure it was because Officer Ivers, who had shown such a bad attitude, especially toward Darcy for some reason, gave her instant flashbacks from college. What had the officer said? Something about Darcy trying to do police work. That was a strange thing to say to someone. Perhaps they’d run into each other under some unusual circumstances. Sabrina could easily envision how someone like Darcy could upstage Ivers.

  Today, Darcy had kept her cool, which Sabrina admired in people who were clearly being goaded. Instead it had been Sabrina who had been torn between chopping Ivers off at the knees or simply putting as much distance as she could between herself and the police. She truly hated them all.

  As soon as she had passed all the newly constructed subdivisions around East Quay, she was almost alone on the road. It was broad daylight, and she began to relax as she let Ella Fitzgerald’s voice embrace her when she sang “God Bless the Child.” The soft timbre combined with the power of Ella’s voice even made Sabrina smile. She sang along with the famous lyrics. Her singing voice was brighter than her speaking voice. In college, she had belonged to an all-female barbershop quartet with her two best friends and another girl. They had performed almost every week, and though some of their peers thought it was something of a geeky thing to do and called them nerds, they had a faithful audience and were always booked.

  Sabrina pulled off the main road and onto the smaller one that would eventually lead to her beach house. After a few minutes, she noticed movement in her left rearview mirror. Adjusting the larger mirror inside the car, she spotted a dark sedan, a Chevrolet. It drove at a respectable distance from her, but her heart still jumped painfully and began to flutter. She kept looking into the mirror and debated whether she should turn around and head back to East Quay. What if the car followed her all the way to her house? Would she be able to move fast enough and get indoors before the person or persons in the strange vehicle stopped? Sabrina thought about the alarm system she had installed a few years ago and upgraded every year. Would she have time to engage it?

  She reached a fork in the road, and if the car was local, the driver would know the road to the right led only to three houses by the water. Hers was the last on the road. Sabrina swallowed against the dryness in her throat as she turned the wheel to the right and then sped up. She didn’t see the car and began to relax, thinking how stupid she was for getting so worked up about absolutely nothing. She hummed along with the melody on the radio while rolling her shoulders in small circles, trying to loosen her rock-hard trapezius.

  As she passed the second house a slight movement to the left caught her attention and made her go rigid again. She snapped her eyes to the outside mirror and saw the sun reflecting in the chrome of a vehicle. Squinting behind her glasses, she tried to see past the glares. The vehicle was a dark sedan: the same one, she would swear it. Why would anyone follow her all the way down here toward the beach house? Could it have something to do with the messages and the break-in? In broad daylight? That made it all seem pretty foolhardy, but then again, her beach house was out of view where it sat among the dunes.

  She decided to trust her instincts, which made her question everything about this situation. If it was a civilian police vehicle, the officers would know better than to scare a person like this, wouldn’t they? Why tail her in this obvious manner if it wasn’t meant as intimidation?

  Equal parts afraid and angry, Sabrina pushed the accelerator, confident she knew this road well. The dunes towered to the left of the sand-dusted road, and on the right side, a long white beach stretched all the way to her house. She felt with her hand in the pocket between the seats and found the remote connected to her state-of-the-art alarm system provided by Al Karimi, grateful to her brother, who had insisted she get the best one out there. He was one of the few individuals who truly understood her and what she went through on a daily basis. Now she clutched at the remote and pressed the button to unlock her front door that was made of some metal alloy said to prevent home invasions. She didn’t want to risk standing there fiddling with door keys or alarm codes now when she might be in danger. The remote could lock and unlock her doors and windows in a fraction of a second.

  Stopping next to the pillars that kept her house from being washed away during storms, Sabrina jumped out of the car, her remote in her right hand and her computer bag and purse in her left. Having kicked off her pumps already, she rushed toward the door. Her throat ached with each gasp, but she refused to panic. This wasn’t like the dunes at Crane Beach. That was entirely different, and all she had to do was slam the door shut behind her and press the lock button on the remote.

  Sabrina flung the door open and closed it behind her as she heard the sound of tires sliding against sandy asphalt outside. Loud male voices rang out, and she pressed the close-and-lock button and then tried the door handle. The door was locked, which meant so were her other doors and all the windows. She rushed upstairs, tossing her briefcase onto the couch on her way through the living room. Entering her study, she flung open the door to the closet, where eight monitors with accompanying surveillance and recording equipment were located. Pulling the safety door closed behind her, she slammed the panic button as she zoomed in on the driveway where the car following her had just pulled up. Her hands shook as three men left the vehicle. Dressed in black bomber jackets and black jeans, they moved lithely around her property, the tallest of them approaching the front door.

  Sabrina heard a muted ping, and a familiar face showed up on the eighth monitor. Al Karimi, the owner of a renowned security company, frowned as his dark brown eyes scrutinized her. He was in his office, judging from the binders behind him, and he tucked a tress of his long black hair behind his ear and began typing as he spoke. “What’s going on, Sabrina?”

  “Three men are at my door at the beach house. They followed me here.”

  “Any idea what they might want?”

  “No. They’re closing in now.”

  Karimi’s eyes darkened to almost black before he averted them to what might be another screen. “Four of my staff are on their way to you. One on a motorcycle and three in a company car. You will recognize Bill Davies, as you met him last time we upgraded your system.”

>   Sabrina zoomed in more on the camera mounted slightly above the man by the door, but she couldn’t spot his face as his baseball cap was pulled down and covered most of it. Cursing under her breath, Sabrina frantically punched in commands on the computer, wanting to see all angles around her house. She knew it was impossible to climb up along the stilts and reach the large balcony due to the electric fence and the way Karimi had set it all up. He came highly recommended, and given the way he had transformed her beach house into a virtual fortress and her condo into yet another bastion, she trusted him as much as it was possible for her to do so.

  “Do you see them, Al?” Hating how her voice trembled, Sabrina curled her fingers into fists.

  “I do. I have all your screens pulled up on mine.” Karimi’s calm voice was welcome. “The system is recording and saving everything to the cloud.”

  “Ms. Hawk?” The man by the door spoke with a lethally soft voice. “My client has a message for you.”

  A message that took three men to deliver? Sabrina knew a direct attempt at intimidation when she saw one. She wanted to press the button to the communication system and scream at them to fuck off, but she knew better. As soon as she engaged in conversation with this bastard, she would lose her thinly veiled mystery. Right now, he had no way of knowing if she was listening or not.

  “My men are going to disconnect your alarm system, and then we will enter your house and make sure you understand.” The man nodded at someone to the left. Sabrina shifted to panoramic view and saw one of the other men, this one clearly with dark hair since it poked out from underneath his baseball cap. “All done?”

  “Sorry. We can’t find the wiring.” The dark-haired man shook his head. “The house has a smooth concrete surface with not one wire in sight.”

  “Fuck.” The man closest to her door scanned the area around the door. “Can you find the camera? She’s bound to have several. The dossier stated she’s one skittish bitch.”

  “Someone needs to teach these men some manners,” Karimi muttered, and Sabrina agreed. What dossier was that man talking about? And who would have thought they knew her well enough to call her a skittish bitch? Who the hell knew if she was skittish or not? Was the client someone she was acquainted with?

  The third man joined them, his face obscured by a similar cap. “I think it may be behind that thick glass. See there, next to the door frame. Looks like some fucking thick safety glass. I think I see a lens in there. It’ll be impossible to shatter the glass without bringing out the toolbox. Want me to spray-paint it?”

  “We don’t have time for that. This visit.” The man closest to the door growled. “I’m sure you’re listening, Ms. Hawk. My client wants to remind you they have found access to your email and your office very easily. Surely you can imagine that this is merely the beginning if you don’t cooperate?”

  His face was now in view, and Sabrina pressed her hand to her mouth, nausea threatening to overwhelm her. Why did it feel worse to actually see his face? He wore sunglasses, a dense Ray-Ban style, that covered half of it. She would study the video and footage later, when her heart was back to a normal rhythm and frequency. Sabrina rubbed her hands on her skirt. Her fingers were cold, yet her palms were slick with sweat.

  “I hope I make myself clear, Ms. Hawk. This is serious business, and my client wants to make sure you realize this fact.”

  Oh, she did. This escalation was terrifying. Why was this happening to her? She led such a reclusive life. Yes, she was well-off, but nowhere as wealthy as her parents. After her freshman year in college, she had refused to have them pay her way. Scholarships and two jobs had seen her through the next two years. After starting her firm, she had invested carefully, which made it possible for her to afford the security and privacy she needed. Nothing of what was happening made sense.?

  “When will your team be here?” Sabrina looked at Karimi and drew a trembling breath. “I feel safe in here right now, but if they’re persistent enough—”

  “They’re less than five minutes out. Luckily, they were on their way back from another job.” Karimi squinted at her. “We’ve known each other for, what is it, five years, Sabrina. You do my personal taxes and I take care of your personal safety. Is there something you haven’t informed me about?”

  “I thought it was nothing. Or…maybe I was in denial. I’ve received emails. And the office was broken into last night. My desktop computer was taken.”

  “I wish you’d allowed me to install additional security in your office.”

  “How could I know it would come to this?” Sabrina flung her hands up. “I thought the security company in charge of the financial center was on point with that.”

  “These guys may well have a lot to do with the break-in. I don’t believe in coincidences.” Karimi was still typing.

  “Neither do I.” Sabrina’s chest ached. Reaching behind her, she made sure the door was locked even though she knew it was, or the computer would have alerted both her and Karimi.

  Karimi glanced up. “Who’s the detective in charge?”

  Sabrina gave him what information she could recall from the last few days. “Actually, the security guard on duty this morning, Darcy Flynn, helped me more than the police did. She mentioned she’s met you.”

  “Darcy? Sure. She’s a good person. Her cousin’s investigation firm really took off after she hired her. They’ve done a few jobs for my company, and I know she works part-time for SecLife. Glad she could be there for you.”

  “Wait.” Sabrina saw movement on one of the screens. “They’re leaving. All three of them.” Could this be true?

  “I see that on my screens as well. I’ll warn my guy on the bike. He has the best chance of catching up with them. Let me see if I can get the…Damn. They’ve done something to the plates. I thought it was just the angle they’d parked at, but I couldn’t get a good view even when they were properly aligned toward the camera.”

  Relieved the men were leaving, Sabrina was still upset at what she had to do. “When your team gets here, I’ll catch a ride with them back to East Quay,” she said darkly. “Until I know what’s going on and who’s behind this, I can’t stay out here.” No matter how much she loved her sanctuary on the beach, she was far too vulnerable. Compared to this place, her condo was a fortress. It had proved useful, given this stressful matter, to live in one of the wings of the building owned by the Belmont Foundation. The security there was top-notch, and Karimi’s additions gave Sabrina the extra sense of safety she craved right now.

  “I’ll let them know. They’ll help you with anything you need. And I don’t have to tell you to not leave the safe room until they arrive and have scanned the area. We don’t know what the intruders might have left behind.”

  “I hear you. Thanks.” Sabrina nodded briskly, and as they disconnected the video link, she wondered if something was waiting for her outside. More threats, intimidation…or worse? Swallowing, she stood as if her feet were locked to the floor, her thoughts whirling. How was she going to get through this? She didn’t want to bother her brother, but perhaps she could call her friend Eryn—or it might be better to talk to someone who knew some of what was going on. Someone whom she could trust. Perhaps the helpful security guard at work? Darcy. Something about the woman had helped settle the worst of the panicked feelings earlier today.

  Flinching when she heard a car pull up, Sabrina glanced at her monitors and saw Bill Davies wave toward the camera facing the driveway. Relief shot through her, and she unlocked the door. Pulling her computer bag with her, she shoved her feet into another pair of pumps while grabbing her purse. Staying efficient was the only way she knew how to exist.

  Chapter Five

  Darcy hugged her bowl of popcorn, immersed in the old Katharine Hepburn movie she was watching.

  After getting back to the small house where she grew up in the less-posh area of East Quay, she’d seethed about Officer Ivers and his comments. Working off some of her frustration and, yes, hurt, in her
basement gym, she’d battered the bag. The gym was her pride and joy, and she found it much more sensible to spend her hard-earned cash on a treadmill, cross-trainer, bag, and a bench than an expensive facility. One wall consisted of mirrors and a bar that she used for stretching. It was one of the few things left of what her father had made for her when she was little and dreamed of dancing. The dream had caved in when her mother would only allow ballet and Darcy wanted to break-dance. She never became the ballerina her mother dreamed of, nor had she applied herself at the ridiculous pageants Violet had dragged her to.

  When Darcy had proved to be a natural tomboy, who loved her jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers as a kid, Violet Flynn hadn’t hid her disappointment. Instead, she’d focused all her love and attention on Darcy’s younger sister, who remained the girly-girl Violet wanted. It was of little surprise that she’d moved to California to live with her youngest daughter Bethany when Darcy’s father passed away. As it turned out, Davy Flynn knew his wife well. He left the house to Darcy and his life insurance for Violet and Bethany.

  Now Darcy watched Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant try to maneuver a black panther and giggled at their attempts to drag the dangerous animal around. Movies from the forties and the fifties fascinated her—the cornier the better, depending on her mood. In juxtaposition, Darcy also enjoyed contemporary film noir, but considering the way she felt today, she needed comedy.

  Her cell phone played the theme to Casablanca so she knew it was a private call. If it had been Meghan or any of the security companies where she temped, the melody would have been the theme from David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive.

  “Hello?” Darcy lowered the sound on the TV and put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. The total silence on the other end made her wonder if she’d accidentally managed to disconnect the call. A quick glance at the screen showed this wasn’t the case. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Darcy tried again.