Solid as Steele

When he turned back to her, tears sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t know exactly where they came from. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

“Sweetheart, what is it?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t resist when he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She should duck away. Instead, with her eyes closed, she leaned against him, breathing in his scent, absorbing his strength. His hands stroked her back, her hair. It felt so good to be held after so long. And not because it’s Mack, she told herself.

When his hands began to knead her tense muscles, she sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder. After Craig died, she’d worked hard to be self-sufficient. That resolve seemed to melt away as she nestled into the strength of Mack’s arms.

Despite herself, she let a little fantasy play through her mind. If she lifted her head, he’d lower his, and their lips would meet. She could imagine what they felt like. Imagine what he tasted like.

The two of them swayed together, and she wondered if he was sharing a similar fantasy. If he—

She stopped her wayward thoughts and summoned the resolve to ease away.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

Instantly, his hands dropped to his sides.

Taking a step back, he dragged in a breath and let it out as he stood looking at her. While she tried to figure out what his expression meant, he said, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Could she?

Talking to Jo had seemed like such a logical move. Talking to Mack didn’t have the same appeal.

To keep from blurting anything right away she said, “Let’s have a cup of tea.”

“Okay.”

He followed her into the kitchen and looked around in surprise at the flour, sugar and other ingredients spread around on the counter. “You’re baking?”

She flushed. “After we talked, I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep, so I started making some of those baking jars we’ve been selling in the Lobby Shop.”

“I see,” he answered, though she was pretty sure the gift items weren’t on his radar.

“They were selling so fast before Christmas that Sabrina asked me for some more,” she answered. “She’s paying me up front for the ingredients and giving me a commission on every sale. Maybe we can make them into a feature at the shop.”

When she realized she was babbling, she stopped. Instead she asked, “What kind of tea do you want? Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Don’t go to the trouble of making coffee. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“You’re into green tea flavored with ginger?”

“Maybe not. You got any… Earl Grey?”

There was a moment of silence when they both remembered that Craig had liked Earl Grey.

Turning quickly away, she filled the kettle and set it on a burner, then got tea bags out of the pantry and put them into mugs. As she waited for the water to boil, she finished up the jar she’d been making, then started putting away the rest of the supplies, aware all the time of Mack sitting at the kitchen table watching her. He didn’t sit in Craig’s chair, she noticed. Probably he knew which one to avoid.

As she wiped spilled flour from the counter, he said, “You’ll feel better when you tell me why you called the office.”

“Probably not.”

“Give it a shot.”

The kettle whistled, and she snatched it off the burner, then poured water into the mugs.

“Sugar?”

“No, thanks.”

She added sugar to her own mug, keeping her back to him. After taking a breath and letting it out, she blurted, “I had a nightmare, and I think it’s real.”

“You mean, like you dreamed someone was outside, and you woke up and heard rustling in the shrubbery?” He glanced toward the darkened window. “Do you want me to check around the house now?”

“No. Not someone around here. Someone in Gaptown. Someone in trouble.” She swallowed. “Someone who was calling out to me.”

Long seconds passed before he answered. “That’s your hometown?”

“Yes.”

“They called on the phone?”

Obviously, he didn’t get what she was trying to say. More likely, she wasn’t being very clear. She set his mug on the table in front of him but remained standing.

He shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes on her.

Her throat had turned dry, so that she had to swallow before she could speak. “Not a phone call or anything like that. It was a dream. But…I’m pretty sure it was real.” Absolutely sure. But she wasn’t going to say it that way. Not to Mack Steele.

He turned his mug around on the table. When he spoke, his words were measured. “Dreams aren’t reality.”

“Yeah. Right,” she agreed too quickly. “Everybody knows that.” Rushing on, she added, “It was a mistake for you to come over. I think the best thing for you to do is leave.” As she spoke, she knew that her voice sounded sharper than she’d meant it to be.

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY miles away in Gaptown, Maryland, the man who now called himself Fred Hyde took off his fright mask and black cape. Still wearing a black shirt, pants and boots, he looked down at the lifeless body of the woman sprawled on the floor of the Funhouse.

Another one punished for her sins, even when she claimed not to know what she had done.

Her name was Lynn Vaughn, and she’d suffered before she’d died. Not so much physically, but mentally. He’d known how to feed her terror and enjoyed every moment that she’d run desperately through his private amusement park, trying to get away from the relentless pursuer behind her.

He’d told her more than once that she had a chance to escape, but that was just part of the fun for him. Really, he’d known all along how their private drama would end. Well, not which of his clever setups would stop her. But there was no question he would get her in the end, because that was his goal. When he set his mind to something, it always worked out the way he wanted.

He clenched his teeth. Except once. One damn time. In this damn town.

Asserting his will, he drove that thought from his mind. He would not think about failure. Not now.

He went back to contemplating his masterpiece. Everything had been planned. Down to the smallest detail. Like the place where the floor had been slippery. And then the hallway where she’d stubbed her toe on an unexpected rock sitting in the middle of the passageway. And it had all worked out the way he wanted. Yet…

He dragged in a deep breath and expelled it sharply. While she’d been running from him in terror, he’d had the strange feeling that someone else was watching the whole performance. Someone he couldn’t see.

But that was impossible, of course. No one else was here. Not an invisible person or anyone else. Only himself and Lynn Vaughn. And he wasn’t going to tell anyone what had happened to her. By the same token, she wasn’t going to call up her friends and relate the nightmare either. He laughed at his little joke, then stopped abruptly.