LuAnn looked at him, confusion on her face. “What are you talking about?”
Riggs blinked and stepped back. “The car that was chasing you.”
LuAnn looked over at Charlie. Riggs watched closely but he saw no discernible signals passing between them. Then LuAnn pointed over at Riggs’s truck. “I saw that truck and another car driving erratically, but I didn’t stop to ask any questions. It was none of my business.”
Riggs gaped for a moment before he responded. “The reason I was doing the two-step with the Honda was because he was trying his best to run you off the road. In fact, I almost took your place as the wreck of the week.”
“Again, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you think I would know if someone were trying to run me off the road?”
“So you’re saying that you always drive eighty miles an hour around curvy, mountainous roads just for the fun of it?” Riggs asked heatedly.
“I don’t think my driving methods are any of your concern,” she snapped back. “However, since you happen to be on my property, I think it is my concern to know why you’re here.”
Charlie piped in. “He’s the guy who’s building the security fence.”
LuAnn eyed Riggs steadily. “Then I would strongly suggest you concentrate on that task rather than come up here with some outrageous account of my being chased.”
Riggs’s face flushed and he started to say something, but then decided against it. “Have a good day, ma’am.” He turned and headed back to his truck.
LuAnn didn’t look back. She passed by Charlie without a glance and walked quickly into the house. Charlie stared after Riggs for a moment before shutting the door.
As Riggs climbed back in his truck another car pulled up the drive. An older woman was driving. The back seat of the car was stacked with groceries. The woman was Sally Beecham, LuAnn’s live-in housekeeper, just back from early-morning grocery shopping. She glanced over at Riggs in a cursory fashion. Though his features were laced with anger, he curtly nodded at her and she returned the gesture. As was her custom, she pulled around to the side-load garage and hit the garage door opener clipped to the car’s visor. The door in from the garage led directly to the kitchen, and Beecham was an efficient person who detested wasted effort.
As Riggs pulled off he glanced back up at the massive house. With so many windows staring back at him he didn’t catch the one framing LuAnn Tyler, arms folded across her chest, looking resolutely at him, a mixture of worry and guilt on her face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Honda slowed down, turned off the back road, then made its way over a rustic wooden bridge spanning a small creek, and then disappeared into the thickness of the surrounding forest. The antenna clipped some of the overhanging branches, sending a shower of dewdrops onto the windshield. Up ahead, under an umbrella of oak trees, a small, ramshackle cottage was visible. The Honda pulled into the tiny backyard and then into a small shed located behind the cottage. The man closed the doors of the shed and walked up to the house.
Donovan rubbed his lower back and then worked his neck around some in an attempt to overcome the aftereffects of his early morning escapade. He was still visibly shaking. Donovan stamped into the house, threw off his coat, and proceeded to make coffee in the small kitchen. Nervously smoking a cigarette while the coffee percolated, he looked outside the window with a slight feeling of apprehension, although he was fairly certain no one had followed him. He rubbed his brow. The cottage was isolated and the landlord didn’t know his real name or the reason he had decided to take up temporary residence here.
The guy in the truck, who the hell had he been? Friend of the woman or some guy who had happened by? Since he had been seen, Donovan would have to shave off his beard and do something with his hair. He would also have to rent another car. The Honda was damaged and the guy in the truck could’ve gotten the license plate number. But the Honda was a rental, and Donovan had not used his real name in leasing it. He wasn’t worried about the woman doing anything about it, but the guy might put a crimp in his plans. He wouldn’t risk driving the Honda back into town to exchange it for another rental. He didn’t want to be spotted driving it, and he didn’t want to have to explain the damage to the bumper right now. Tonight, he’d walk to the main road and catch a bus into town, where he would pick up another rental car.