Obsession

“Don’t do it.” Reina’s gaze turned serious and she put her hand on Emma’s arm. “I’ve heard things about him. He’s not what he seems.”

Emma’s pulse took a leap. “What do you mean?”

“There are rumors about him. Not good ones.”

“Do you think he’s—”

“I don’t know what I think, only what I’ve heard, and he’s someone to stay away from. He’s not your kind, sweetie.”

Reina might be the biggest gossip in town, but she never talked badly about people. “Have you met him?” Emma persisted.

“I’ve seen him. He came into our office, inquiring about renting a place. Another agent took care of him, but I saw him passing through. Later she told me who he was.” Reina met Emma’s gaze speculatively. “He’s a very nice-looking man.”

Emma nodded slowly. The smoldering, dark-eyed sensuality he possessed had struck her immediately, and she’d be a liar to disagree. And yes, she’d glanced in his direction more than once last night at the restaurant. Obviously she had more interest in him than she did in most of her clients. Not only had she e-mailed Leon about him, she’d now asked Reina about him. Still, it didn’t mean she was interested in Raul Santos. At least not that way.

It was purely professional, Emma told herself. Nothing personal.

She turned the conversation in a different direction, and Reina seemed happy to oblige. They chatted until they finished the lap, then the two said goodbye, Reina driving off in her pride and joy—a Toyota Four Runner she’d paid a fortune for, given the exchange rate—and Emma trotting down the street. The park wasn’t that far from where she lived, and she liked the extra warmup and cool-down time she got by walking there. Fifteen minutes later, she reached her street and then her house. Putting her key in the garden gate’s lock, she turned it, then realized with surprise the gate was already open. She stopped and stared at the key ring.

She’d locked the gate when she left. She always did.

Despite the warm November sun, a chill of uneasiness swept over her. She quickly glanced up and down the sidewalk. The street was empty, and when she turned back to her house, it looked the same. Nothing appeared disturbed. The front door was shut, and the windows were tightly secured, just as they’d always been.

Should she go on in or…or what? You didn’t call the police for things like this, not here. This wasn’t the States. The guard at the bank did double duty sometimes, helping people with private security matters, but this hardly seemed worth bothering him about. And what if it was nothing? The man would say she was a fool, and before she could blink, everyone at the bank would hear the story. She couldn’t afford anything remotely negative said about her at work.

She hesitated a moment longer, then resolutely pushed open the gate and stepped inside. Locking it securely behind her, Emma walked up the sidewalk to the entry. Her mouth suddenly dry, she reached for the doorknob and told herself she was being ridiculous. Everything was fine, and even if it wasn’t, what could a thief take from her that mattered? Material things meant nothing to her now. All she really valued was her bank balance, and no one could get to that.

The old-fashioned knob was large and heavy. Emma twisted it sharply to the right, but it held and she gave a huge sigh of relief. She must have just forgotten the gate, that was all.

Unlocking the door quickly, she stepped inside. Her pulse continued to race, though, and just to be on the safe side, she called out, feeling silly all the same. “Hello? Is anyone here?” She switched to Spanish. “La policía está aquí,” she warned in a loud voice. “Me entiende?” The police are here. Do you understand me?

The only answer was silence, so she closed the door behind her. Listening closely, she stood immobile and waited. She heard no soft footfalls, no stealthy departure, no hint of anyone’s presence. Finally, after a few more minutes of listening to her heart pound, she accepted what the stillness told her. She was alone.

Still spooked in spite of herself, she grabbed the wooden cane resting by the front door. She’d discovered it in one of the closets after moving in, and the heavy silver top, shaped like a bird’s head, had kept her from throwing it away. She’d check out the house just to make sure. With the walking stick in hand, she went into every room. Nothing was disturbed or missing. By the time she made the tour—living room, dining room, kitchen, then upstairs into the two bedrooms and the bath—she’d convinced herself everything was fine. Of course, someone could have circled behind her to hide, but why would someone even be there? A thief would run.

She went back downstairs and into the kitchen, and that was when she realized she’d forgotten the maid’s room. A tiny closet-size area with a separate bath, it had a door to the patio at the rear of the house. She gripped the handle of the cane and tiptoed to the closed door beside the refrigerator. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the handle and pushed open the door.

The room was empty. And the door leading outside was locked. Emma let out her breath in a whoosh and leaned against the wall, her legs suddenly trembling now that her foolish search was over.

There was no one inside the house. She was fine. She was safe. She’d simply left the gate unlocked, her mind on something else. Like Raul Santos.

She gave a shaky laugh and turned to go upstairs and shower. Just for good measure, she took the cane with her.

Over the running water, she never heard the back door close.

BY FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Emma was exhausted. The week had been a hard one, and she was looking forward to the end of it, despite the fact that on Saturday she had another party to go to. This one, a charity event, was out in the country at a club the expatriates favored called La Sierra. She didn’t want to attend any more than she’d wanted to attend the last event, but business was business. Reina had told her William Kelman would be there, and that was all it took. He had yet to come into the bank. If Emma had to woo him some more to obtain his account, then she’d do it. She didn’t have the luxury of being proud and hadn’t in quite some time.

She spent the morning doing paperwork, her only interruption coming when her phone rang at close to one. She picked it up and answered.

“You have a call from the States,” Felicity said. “A Mr. Leonard F. Davis III. Are you available?”

It took Emma a minute to recognize the name, but when she did, her throat went tight. “Put him through,” she said.

The minute she said hello, Leon said excitedly, “This guy is something, Emma, the guy you asked me to look up. How’d you hook up with—”

She made her voice as businesslike as possible as she interrupted him and halted the flow of words. “Mr. Davis! What a surprise. I thought you were going to e-mail me this information.” She glanced toward her open office door nervously. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“I was gonna mail you, but when I saw this, I had to make it direct. I’m calling on my lunch break. I don’t know what kind of bank you’re working for now, but this guy’s not like the customers we used to get here.”

“What do you mean?” she asked calmly.

“Well, for one thing, he’s into some serious money. Real serious. Most people don’t carry six figures in their local checking accounts, right? Out there in El Paso, he’s run more than that through on several occasions, some of it cash.”

Cash deposits of more than ten thousand dollars were always scrutinized. It meant tons of paperwork and hassle, but the banks complied; they had to or risk more than they wanted if the deposits were ever questioned.

“Did they check out?”

“All the forms were fine. Nothing fishy on the surface.”

As quietly as possible, Emma leaned forward in her chair, the phone in her hand. Felicity was at her desk, and as Emma watched, the secretary rose, picked up her coffee cup and walked across the reception area to the small kitchen that was concealed behind a screen.

“Could you find addresses for him?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, but…” His voice trailed off. She could hear the sound of paper being shuffled, then he spoke again. “There’s something weird about it, though. He lived in Washington, just like you said, but there’s a five-year gap.”

Emma waited for him to explain, but he said nothing more. “A gap? What do you mean?”

“I mean a gap. The guy just disappeared for five years. He lived at 1019 Oak Cypress Drive for seven years, Unit 302C. Took the paper, subscribed to magazines, had a credit card, then everything stopped. It was like he flew to the moon or something. Five years later he resurfaced.”

“That’s crazy. Are you sure you looked—”

“I checked everything. Nothing got past me, okay?”

Emma bit her tongue. She’d forgotten how defensive Leon was. “And you did a great job, I’m sure. I just don’t understand, that’s all.” She peered through her office door and caught Felicity going out into the hallway. She was heading for the main section of the bank, probably the offices out front. A new vice president had just been hired, and Emma had heard the secretaries giggling and talking about the man. Seeing the woman leave, Emma felt a moment’s relief and spoke again.

“What do you think the gap means?”

“I don’t know, unless…”

He didn’t say more, so she pressed him. “Unless what?”

“Well, he did live in Washington. Worked at a big law firm there—”

“He’s an attorney?”

“Yeah, passed the bar first time he took it, no problem.” His voice went up a notch. “But listen, Em, maybe that was a cover, you know? Maybe he’s one of the alphabet men.”

“Speak English,” she said impatiently. “What are saying?”