For The Love Of Laurel Page 5

  Dylan sat in the SUV, thinking. There was probably a perfectly valid reason she wasn’t home. There had been no calls from the police about an accident, and Mari was right. Laurel was an adult. So why did he feel something was amiss?

  He went over their conversation of last night. She was obviously curious about her father and why he would keep his muscle retained to protect her. He couldn’t blame her. Under ordinary circumstances, it would seem unusual. But, where Gerald was concerned, ordinary circumstances weren’t the norm. She had to know that. Her childhood hadn’t exactly been normal. Before she was allowed to have a friend over or go to a friend’s house, Gerald demanded a complete file on the family of Laurel’s friends, Dylan’s predecessor, Ben Carruthers, had warned him. Luckily, she didn’t have that many local friends after she returned from college, so Dylan didn’t have to spend much time doing background checks. But it got to be so awkward for Laurel to invite a new friend to the house, only to be told she had to wait a few days. She was never told why. Dylan could see it bothered her, but she never questioned her father. Maybe her intuition told her not to. Finally, Gerald had the good sense to let her be. Once tracking equipment was available and installed, he could keep an eye on her himself.

  Dylan checked his laptop again. Still no Laurel. God knows what mischief she had in her pretty head. Maybe she was still at work. He started the SUV. Wouldn’t hurt to drive by and see if the lights were on.

  When he got to her office building, he parked in the empty employee lot. Since he could tell she wasn’t here, he would pay a visit to the office and see if she left any clues to her whereabouts. He wondered what story he’d tell the security guard in the lobby, but as he entered the building, he saw the guard asleep in his chair while a television on his desk blared a commercial.

  Dylan slipped past him to a bank of elevators. The security was appalling. Somehow Dylan would have to warn Laurel not to work late by herself without alerting her to the fact that he’d seen the slacking guard firsthand.

  Laurel’s floor was quiet. The lights in the hallway were dim, and he checked for light coming from under any of the office doors. The floor appeared deserted.

  When he got to the door of Avidon Investigations, he checked the hallway in both directions once more before donning gloves and removing his lock pick set from his shirt pocket. Within seconds, he had the door open. Really sloppy security, he thought. Worse than he remembered. He moved into the office and shut the door quietly.

  He flipped the light switch and headed toward the file cabinet. It was empty. She obviously had moved her files onto the computer since his last visit. He turned around and glanced at the secretary’s desk. He turned on her computer, concentrating as the machine booted up. He was greeted by a picture of the New York City skyline. It was set so only the administrator could use it. What would she use for a password? He opened the drawers on her desk. Pens, pencils, paper clips, and other tools of her job were packed haphazardly inside. If he removed them all and checked for a paper with the password then threw everything back, she probably wouldn’t even notice. Maybe he should try Laurel’s. He knew her better and might be able to guess.

  He turned off Sue’s computer and went into Laurel’s office. Her computer was in sleep mode but not turned off. He touched a key and the computer came on. He wouldn’t need her password because he didn’t plan to look at her emails. He sat in her chair and clicked on Documents. There were a few files, but nothing stood out.

  He brought up her calendar. “Beautiful.” She’d had an appointment with Gloria Gunderson here, and then one at Miles Gunderson’s office. Maybe that brochure was no mistake after all. But why both of them?

  He went back to the secretary’s desk and looked for a bankbook. He found it in another drawer. Opening it, he saw a carbon copy of a deposit slip: G. Gunderson, $1,000 on acct./Div. Div? Dividend? Divorce? Divorce! Oh, God. He thought he knew where Laurel was, and if he was right, he’d better get to her before Gunderson did.

  Laurel checked her watch. Ten o’clock. She was about to give up. She’d seen no indication there was anyone home and she seriously had to pee. Stupid idea to drink all that coffee.

  Just as she was about to turn the key in the ignition, the porch light went on and the front door opened. She grabbed her binoculars. A man and a woman walked out. It was definitely Dr. Gunderson, but all Laurel could tell about the woman was that she was not Gloria. She was taller, and her hair was dark. Laurel picked up her digital camera but she was too far away and it was too dark to use it. She looked through the binoculars again just as the woman turned toward her. The woman looked vaguely familiar. She took Gunderson’s arm and the two of them went down the stairs to the car.

  Laurel waited until the MG disappeared down the street before starting her own car. She pulled away from the curb and began to follow Gunderson. He came to a main intersection and stopped for a red light. Laurel pulled up behind him. She knew she was just another car on the road. Even if he looked in his rear view mirror, she doubted he could see anything but a silhouette because of her headlights.

  The light turned green and he headed toward the freeway onramp. Laurel followed, taking care to keep enough distance so another car could pull in between them. Luckily, none did until he was on I-5 North. He moved to the left lane. Laurel stayed two lanes over. He drove seventy. She stayed at sixty-five. Traffic was unusually light, so she had no trouble keeping him in sight.

  At last he signaled and began to move to the right. She moved right as well. She knew they were coming up on Via de la Valle. Is he going to Rancho Santa Fe? She was far enough behind him that she could make a move if he did. He pulled all the way to the right lane and took the off ramp. She slowed to give him time to get to the bottom of the ramp and signal his intentions. She started down the ramp just as he turned right.

  So his paramour lived in Rancho. Interesting. She followed well back until he signaled to turn into a driveway so well hidden by shrubbery, she would never have seen it. She continued driving.

  May as well go home. She knew where the woman lived. That was all the information she needed for now.

  A few minutes later, she pulled into her driveway. She noted the SUV was gone. She hoped that meant Dylan was out having a good time, but she suspected otherwise.

  Poor Dylan. She smirked.

  Dylan drove up and down the streets around Gunderson’s but didn’t see Laurel’s car. Gunderson’s house was dark. Maybe Laurel lied to Mari about the concert or maybe Mari just lied to him. At least Laurel wasn’t trying to get into Gunderson’s house. What about Gunderson’s office? He hadn’t thought about that, though it would be a good reason to want to know how to pick a lock. Dylan reasoned as late as it was, even if she had gotten into the office, she was undoubtedly gone—or arrested. He found himself almost wishing that were the case. She deserved it.

  He decided to swing by the doctor’s office before calling it a night, but first he’d try Laurel one more time. To his surprise, she answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Dylan. Is there a problem?”

  He swore he heard amusement in her tone. “Not at all. I just wanted to thank you again for dinner last night and apologize for my behavior.”

  “You’re welcome for dinner. As for the other, it’s already forgotten.”

  Maybe by you. “I called earlier and Mari said you went to a concert. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Sometimes you are so transparent. I’m sure you know, Mr. Thorough, there were no concerts tonight. She misunderstood me. I just got together with some friends for the evening, but I’m home now—which I notice you are not. Where are you?” Her tone told him she enjoyed turning the tables on him for a change.

  He was silent for a few moments, and then chuckled. “Touché.”

  Chapter 6

  Laurel bought a lock pick set online and had it shipped overnight to her office. When it arrived, she spent every free moment practicing on her office door, her bedroom door, the front, and back d
oors of the house. It was time consuming for a novice. First she had to figure out what type of lock she was dealing with, and then read the directions. Even then, it was a daunting chore. It was several days until she felt semi-confident she could open Gunderson’s office door, but getting up the courage to actually go there and try wasn’t so easy. Maybe first she’d try Dylan’s apartment. Now where did that thought come from? She had no idea how he would react if he caught her.

  She wouldn’t go in. Just unlock it and lock it back up. Will I need a key to lock it or can I just push a button on the inside knob and it will lock when the door closes? Only one way to find out.

  It was Dylan’s day off and he usually went somewhere but was always back at night. She would have to do it in daylight. The thought didn’t thrill her, but if she went to the back door of his apartment, she couldn’t be seen from the main house. A high fence covered in vines kept anyone else from seeing her.

  His car was still in front of the apartment so she picked up a novel she was halfway through and went to sit in the porch swing. She tucked her feet under her and opened the book.

  She read a chapter, barely registering what it said. “Leave, Dylan,” she whispered. It would be just her luck to have this be the day he decided to stay in and read one of those books on his shelves: War and Peace in Russian or Mein Kampf in German. She wondered how many foreign languages he might know. She figured he knew at least one.

  He watched her through the kitchen window. She appeared to be reading, but she looked up from the book too much. Either it was boring or she was waiting for something or someone. What or whom? He had an urge to think up an excuse to go talk to her, but in the end, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He needed a long run on the beach to clear his head, angry at himself that Laurel had wormed her way into his thoughts. She didn’t even look up as he drove down the long driveway.

  As soon as Dylan’s Jeep disappeared, Laurel got out of the swing. She went to her bedroom and tossed the novel on her bed. She opened the drawer in her dresser where she kept her nightgowns and pulled the lock pick set out from underneath them.

  Mari had gone grocery shopping so she had the grounds to herself. She knew even if Mari saw her going to or from the direction of Dylan’s apartment, she would never ask why. She wished she knew where Dylan had gone so she knew how much time she had, but realized if she was in back of the apartment, she would hear him when he returned. She had every right to be on the grounds, even behind his apartment, so she should be fine.

  She walked quickly on the grass until she was at the back of the apartment. She let out the breath she’d been holding. Going up the two steps to the backdoor, she studied the lock. It looked sturdier than some but not impossible to pick.

  She began to work on it, but it didn’t want to budge. Maybe he never used it, and it had rusted, or maybe she was just too inexperienced. She refused to consider either option. After trying several different picks, at last, it gave. But she heard something snap. Oh God. She fumbled as she tried to lock it back up, but it wouldn’t lock. She had no choice but to go in and see if it had a button she could push to lock it from the inside.

  She went to the side of the apartment and poked her head around the corner. She wanted to make certain he hadn’t returned and she’d been too preoccupied to notice. His Jeep was still gone.

  “Now or never, Laurel.” Back at the top of the steps, she tried the door handle. It turned and the door opened slightly. She’d never been anywhere but his living room. A quick peek told her she was looking into his kitchen. Slowly, she pushed the door open more. She walked in, feeling like a thief. What was the penalty for breaking and entering? Nothing if you didn’t get caught.

  She checked the doorknob inside and dismay hit her as she saw it had to be locked with a key. Damn! She went out the door and closed it.

  She jogged back to the house and put the lock pick set in the bottom of her purse. What the hell was I thinking? I left his apartment unlocked. Not that they had many robberies in Rancho, but still, it made him vulnerable and he didn’t even know it. It seemed funny in a way to think of him and vulnerable in the same sentence, but he bled just like everyone else—especially if he didn’t know the circumstances had changed.

  She recalled seeing a trash can and a recycling bin near the fence, but her thoughts had been so focused on committing a crime she hadn’t thought about them until now. Of course he went out the back, probably every day or so, to empty his garbage. The thought made her feel much better until it hit her that he would know soon someone had been tampering with the lock. “Damn.” She had to make it right, as much as she hated the thought.

  Chapter 7

  Dylan jogged along the beach in Coronado. It was a long way from Rancho, but as a former Navy SEAL, he felt at home here where the SEALs trained. He jogged five miles before stopping to take some deep breaths. He considered pushing himself harder, but there was no reason to. What with his home gym, his martial arts workouts, and his five-mile jog on the beach twice a week, he knew he was fit. He acknowledged running faster still wouldn’t erase Laurel from his mind.

  He wished he’d never put his arms around her, fully intending to kiss her. He should have listened to his inner voice—the one that warned it would affect his ability to think straight. At the same time, he didn’t believe it. He never lost control of his emotions. He’d been trained better than that and it embarrassed him to think some slip of a woman could turn his world upside down without even trying, without even knowing she was doing it. He was still baffled at her reaction. She acted like some nineteenth-century virgin who’d been kept locked in her room all her life. Gerald had been over-protective, but the woman had gone to college. He’d bet she’d had plenty of opportunity to experiment then, not to mention her once-frequent forays into some less than desirable environs in San Diego. Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t like.

  He arrived back at the Jeep as the sun set, casting a fiery orange glow on the ocean. He watched for a few minutes, loving the constantly changing colors and hoping to see the green flash, a phenomenon he’d seen once before on the Indian Ocean—a time he would just as soon forget. As usual, he didn’t see it. There was always tomorrow.

  He punched in the numbers on the gate at the Avidon property. As it opened, he saw Laurel’s car pulled up to the garage. No lights were visible in the house. She and Mari were probably in the kitchen and Mari wasn’t one to leave lights on in a room that was unoccupied. He drove up to his apartment.

  His stomach growled and he wondered what he had in the freezer, wishing he could think of a way to get himself invited to the main house for dinner.

  He showered then grabbed a beer from the fridge and some chips from the pantry.

  Maybe he’d make a salad later, but now he had work to do. He sat down at his laptop and logged on to his email account. An email he’d been waiting for from m78r01d20@gmail.com was there. He opened an encrypted message:

  z1Y2UuTk5OSJPXIMsDv11KR2vYT6HBWNxgIId==

  He decrypted it, sent an encrypted reply, and then logged off and chugged the beer.

  He went to the kitchen for another, and decided to fix a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches and a fruit salad.

  He took the cheese out of the refrigerator. He also grabbed some fresh grapes and berries. As he turned around to put the food on the counter, he noticed the back door was ajar. He shoved it with his foot to latch it and continued to the stove. He put the food on the counter and opened a cupboard to retrieve a frying pan.

  His hand froze. Slowly, he turned toward the door. It was still ajar. It hadn’t been latching for weeks, and he kept forgetting to go to the hardware store. But it stayed closed when it was locked. Ergo, it wasn’t locked. What did that mean? He tried to recall the last time he had used it. Yesterday when he took out the garbage. Had he failed to lock it? Doubtful. He didn’t make mistakes like that.

  He checked the door thoroughly, but nothing seemed amiss. He must be letting down his guard
with Gerald gone. No way could he let that happen. The stakes were even higher now. He locked up and went about preparing his dinner, all the time thinking about the door. Something wasn’t quite right. He could swear he locked it.

  What was it? He checked every inch. His mind went back to last evening when he had emptied the trash. He tried to picture walking back up the steps, going through the open doorway into the kitchen, turning to close and lock the door. But he couldn’t remember. It was so much a habit from years of doing the same routine. If he had failed to lock it, why? He knew his thoughts had been too much on Laurel and that, in itself, was a break in routine, but would that be enough to make him careless? He made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

  After making his sandwich and salad, he grabbed a bottle of vitamin water, took everything into the living room, and set it on the TV tray. He sat down and picked up the sandwich in one hand and his novel in the other. As he ate, he became engrossed in the book. A noise in the kitchen grabbed his attention. He rose from the chair and went to his desk. Quietly, he opened a drawer, took out his Glock and headed toward the kitchen. He stepped into the doorway, ready to fire.

  The kitchen was empty.

  He frowned, certain the noise had come from here.

  He glanced at the door. It was ajar. That’s what he’d heard. But he’d locked it. He lowered the gun, went to the door, and removed the key. It appeared to be fine. He locked the door and pulled on the handle. It opened. There was only one explanation: something had damaged the locking mechanism. Someone had broken in.

  His heartbeat sped up. Who had been in the apartment and why? Even though Laurel had asked about picking locks, he couldn’t believe she would have tried it on his apartment. Had some unauthorized person also been in the main house?

  He went out the door and jogged to the main house. Laurel answered his knock.