Słownik bibliograficzny języka polskiego Tom 9 (T-Wyf). Jan Wawrzyńczyk
life before. Not even her work. Not even her face. That was where her safety lay, not in locks and alarm systems.
She heard Wade come down the stairs. This time she made herself look at him. He hadn’t changed, but she felt a shiver of fear anyway. This was still the man Gage had felt safe bringing into her life, and he might be big and appear ready to kill with his bare hands, but Gage trusted him. And she trusted Gage.
“I need to give you a key and show you the alarm code, Mr. Kendrick,” she said. Her voice sounded weak, but at least it was steady.
He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking at her. “You comfortable with that?” he asked.
How had he guessed? Was her terror written all over her face? “I … you live here now. You need to be able to come and go when I work.”
“No.”
“No?” What kind of answer was that?
“I can manage.”
She felt a bit stunned by his response. He could manage? He was paying what she considered to be an exorbitant rent to use that lousy bed and bath upstairs for a month, but he was willing to be locked out when she was gone? Had he read her fear so clearly? Or did she stink of it?
Probably the latter, she thought miserably. How would she know? She’d been afraid for so long.
“I’m going out to get sheets, towels, a few other things,” he said after a moment. “Which direction should I head?”
Another thought struck her. “Do you have a car?”
“I can walk.”
“I could walk, too,” she said, feeling a smidgen of her old self spring to life. The resurrection was almost as painful as the death, but at least it was only a small thing, and thus a small pain she could endure. “But if you need a bunch of things, then you might need an extra arm.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Yeah. You’ll manage.” Sighing, she stood up. “I’ll drive you. I need some food anyway.” And because of him she now had the money to buy it. Guilt, if nothing else, goaded her.
She went to get her purse. Before they stepped out, however, she insisted on giving him her spare key, and showing him the code for the alarm. If he thought it was odd there was such an advanced alarm system in such a ramshackle house, he didn’t indicate it by word or look.
Instead he asked just one question. “Motion detectors?”
“Down here at night. I turn them on separately. Same code. Did you see the keypads upstairs in your bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you need to come down here at night, you can turn off the entire system from up there, too. To turn off the motion detectors, use the small keypad beside the big one. The rest of the system is on the big pad.” She made herself look at him then. Another shiver passed through her as she realized this man could probably snap her in two if he wanted to. Once she had never had those kinds of thoughts. Now she had them all the time. “If you leave, for any reason, and I’m not here or awake, please turn on the entire system.”
He nodded. Nothing in his face said he thought that was strange.
She explained the panic buttons, which would direct a call instantly to police, fire or ambulance. Their mere existence reminded her of all that had happened.
And none of it would have done her a damn bit of good fifteen months ago.
Then she set the alarm. It gave them only forty-five seconds to get out the front door and close it. It was long enough.
The U.S. Marshals had also given her a car along with the house. It wasn’t a standout that might draw attention. In fact, it was practically a tank, four years old already, guzzling gas in a way that pained her conscience, but her protectors had insisted. The engine was new, as of a year ago, and was a full V-8 with more power than she would ever need.
Because if they came after her, they wouldn’t give her a chance to get in a car and get away. She was sure of that. Someday soon, she promised herself, as soon as she could find a way, she would try to trade it in for a smaller but reliable car. She didn’t need this steel cocoon.
If she could say nothing else for the Suburban, it gave Wade Kendrick plenty of room. She doubted he could even squeeze into the subcompact she hoped to have someday.
He didn’t say another word until she dropped him off in front of the department store. Then it was just, “Thanks.”
“When should I pick you up?”
He shrugged. “I won’t take long. I’m not picky. Whenever is good for you.”
Well, her needs were essentially meager, too. Not even with the extra money could she afford to be reckless. Cooking for one just depressed her, but she made herself buy something more nutritious, like vegetables, and salad fixings, and some chicken. She could shop for more after her next shift, but right now she was off for three days.
Three whole days, and now with a stranger in her house.
Evenings were long here in the summer, the sun not even hitting the horizon until after nine. But as it sank lower in the west, the dry air failed to hold the heat, and the early evening was starting to cool down by the time she emerged from the market with her two cotton bags of groceries. She drove back to the department store, and found Wade already outside on the curb. Apparently he’d bought more than one or two items, to judge by the number of bags, and she was glad she hadn’t let him walk. She suspected that if she had, he’d have made several trips because of bulky pillows and blankets as well as sheets and towels.
And he probably wouldn’t have said a thing about it. Gage had been seriously guilty of understatement when he said the guy didn’t talk much.
She waited while he put his purchases in the back next to her groceries, then he climbed up front beside her.
“Thanks,” he said again.
“You’re welcome.”
And not another sound from him. It was almost as if he were trying to be invisible in every way. Out of sight, out of hearing, out of mind.
If he’d been one of her students, she would have concluded that silence came from secrets, terrible secrets, because nothing about him indicated shyness. But he wasn’t a student, he was a grown man, and maybe the same metrics didn’t apply.
They reached the house and she pulled into the short driveway and parked. She never used the garage because it provided hiding places over which she had little control.
As soon as she put the car in Park, Wade climbed out. “I’ll get your groceries, too,” he said.
Part of her wanted to argue that she could manage, but she recognized it for what it was: a desire to exert some control, any control, over her life again. The man offered a simple courtesy, and maybe it was his way of expressing his gratitude for the ride. She knew better than to prevent people from offering such little acts of kindness, especially when they had just received one.
Ah, hell, she thought. She didn’t ordinarily swear, but this day was beginning to make her want to. Needing to take someone into her sanctuary to pay the bills was bad enough. But finding that the teacher in her still existed, lived and breathed even though it was now forbidden to her, actually hurt.
She felt surprised that it still hurt. After the last year she had thought she was incapable of feeling any lack except the lack of her husband. God, she missed Jim with an ache that would probably never quit.
Head down, she climbed the front porch steps, going through her key ring for the house key. She had keys from the store, keys for the car, a key for the garage … so many keys for such a narrow life.
Just as she twisted the key, she heard the phone ring. It was probably work, she thought, needing her to come in to cover for someone who was sick. Eager for those