Without Any Warning (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

What Were The Odds?

“Now? What do you mean, now?” I asked, trying to process her words. “Where are you?”

She laughed. “I’m parked outside your courtyard.”

I hustled over to the window overlooking the gate area, opened it, and called down to her, “Mona!”

There she was in the flesh, waving up at me. I waved back, calling down to her, “I’ll open the gate so you can park.” My earlier instincts resurfaced and skepticism suddenly kicked in.

How would she explain her untraceable disappearance?

She parked, we hugged, and I led her inside. After a quick tour of the house, we sat comfortably fireside. It took the edge off the unpredictable March weather, but not her visit. I was still wondering why she’d contacted me after her long silence as we sipped our coffee.

“I don’t know where to begin,” I said. “It’s been such a long time, Mona, but first things first. How has married life been treating you?”

“I really wouldn’t know… I never got married,” she offered slowly.

I was taken aback by her response. “What?” That’s when I noticed for she wasn’t wearing a ring.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” she admitted, shaking her head and averting her eyes.

Why had she deceived me from the beginning?

“What happened?” I asked.

Mona was embarrassed. “The truth? Joey lied to me and left me dangling out there in the wind.”

“Why didn’t you let me know? Or anyone, for that matter?”

“I was too humiliated.”

“But I’m your friend. That doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand why you ran instead of facing it head on. I can tell you from my own experience, it doesn’t work. You’re only postponing the inevitable.”

She half smiled. “I decided to run away, emotionally and physically. I even changed my name so no one could find me. Wasn’t that the craziest thing to do? But I was a basket case, Sam, and desperate. I felt I had no other option. So I fled and left everyone—including you—completely in the dark.”

“Wasn’t that a little extreme?” I asked.
Strange
was what leapt to my mind,
excessive and bizarre
. As she leaned away, her body language confirmed that any further probing at that moment was off-limits, so I let it go.

“Sounds crazy, I know,” she confessed, “but believe me, I had to. Look, I need someone I can trust right now, and you fit the bill. Samantha, I have no place to go. How about it? For old time’s sake?” She was teary-eyed.

I sat there, staring at her, on the fence. Were those crocodile tears? I wanted to believe her, but I was still trying to wrap my mind around her startling news and process her odd explanation.

Mona waited silently, fidgeting nervously with her purse strap in her lap. She couldn’t keep her eyes trained on one spot, and she constantly shifted position in her chair.

Was she playing me with this desperate plea?

A gut feeling finally kicked in full-force as a smile took hold of me. “Of course, and as long as you need to,” I replied, drawn in by her intriguing behavior, figuring, why fight it?

This might be the exact storyline I needed for my next book
.

Mona let out a sigh and leaned back, visibly relieved. “I knew that I could count on you, Samantha.”

“Where are your bags? What hotel are you staying at?”

Mona gave a sly smile. “In the back of my car.”

I smiled back. “Don’t assume I’m still the same old soft touch. Believe me, I’ve changed… a lot.”

She drew back slightly, but recovered in a flash. “Then why are you helping me out like this?”

I bottom-lined it. “Stephen’s death taught me to go with my intuition whenever possible, and you’ve piqued my interest. Now, let’s go and get your bags so you can unpack. We’ll have time to talk some more at dinner.”

A little while later, I left Mona to freshen up, and headed to town to buy some food, still wondering about what she was holding back. I knew there was more to her story, but I would bide my time trying to weasel it out of her. Caution was kicking in, too, but as usual, I was impatient to know what her visit was really about. My fingers were already itching for my laptop, but first, I needed her story.

Unfortunately, dinner was a non-event, with Mona avoiding the subject of what had happened to her. So, we focused on me. I explained that I was currently renting out my log home in the mountains of North Carolina, where I also owned an antique shop in town. My employee, Martha, a gray-haired, seventy-year-old, rambunctious whirlwind, who managed to run circles around me, was currently overseeing it. I also mentioned I was still unsettled about how my life had turned out.

I deliberately didn’t mention others, as I was still unsure as to where they fit into my future. With my last book, I had learned to reveal as little as possible when dealing with the unknown factor.

Why?
You always lost your edge.

Mona sipped her coffee. “So, you decided to come here temporarily to write without any more emotional distractions. I bet staying in Highlands didn’t help, either.”

“You’re right. Too much to process; Stephen’s death, relationships, and my questionable future. I had to get away to try and concentrate on what
I
wanted for a change. No strings attached and no emotional commitments whatsoever, for the moment. I know I’ll keep in touch, though, and eventually go back there when I feel I’ve had time to adjust mentally, but all the rest? I’m not so sure anymore. I need some time to think it all through.”

Mona sighed sympathetically. “Now, I ask you, Sam: Could our lives get any more complicated?”

I shrugged, thinking about my past and all the crazy possibilities of the future. I shook them all off. “I doubt it,” I finally replied. “As far as I’m concerned, my life has played out for a lifetime.”

More complicated? Come on!
What were the odds?

Chapter 3

The Sands Of Time

After dinner, we bundled up and headed to the beach. The winds had eased, so I figured the walk might do us both some good; I needed to clear my mind, and she, hopefully, would speak in confidence to her former friend. Mona seemed her old self most of the time, but now and then she was withdrawn and quiet.

She listened attentively to the stories of my misadventures in the mountains, and laughed at the appropriate intervals, but she also seemed distracted, as though she was nervous about being outdoors.

Why?

As twilight slowly settled in, the boardwalk lights cast ghostlike shadows on the beach. Every so often, I caught Mona stealing glances all around us, confirming my suspicion that she was worried, about what? Without knowing more, how could I help her? Was she running away from someone or something?

What had happened to Mona?

Again, I tried to get her talking. “You know, Mona, I still can’t believe you’re here. Remember our nightly walks on the beach during our college breaks?” Hearing no response, I looked over at her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I remember… In a way, I guess we’re still the same. Like you, I’m a survivor, too. But to tell you the truth, lately everything’s going south because my resources are tanking right along with my employment prospects.”

What did that have to do with her disappearance?

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? My credentials aren’t good enough? I’m tired of the job-rejection thing, too.”

I still didn’t get it. “You’re a competent financial analyst. I would think any hedge fund company would be glad to snatch you up. I don’t know of anyone more conscientious or detail-oriented. Where have you been since you left? Doesn’t experience count for something?”

“I guess they weren’t impressed with my current track record. I’ve been bouncing around a lot from here to there. You know, sort of restless over the last few years. Obviously, it doesn’t look so great on my résumé.”

 
“Why didn’t you try going back to work for your old boss? Surely that firm was pleased with your performance. Plus, you really got a kick out of all the challenges it offered. Right? Couldn’t they at least recommend you?”

“No!” Mona said tightly. “It was sort of complicated. I didn’t go back because I was Joey’s subordinate. I’m afraid my comfort level with him constantly around bordered on the impossible.”

So, this Joey was her fiancé and her boss.

I looked over at her as we walked.
“You’re right. It would have made me uncomfortable too, working for someone who left me at the altar. Have you seen or heard from him since then?”

Mona shuddered. “No, and I hope I never see him or hear from him again.” She turned and looked behind us as we walked, her eyes scanning the horizon.

Searching for what? For who?

“It must have been pretty bad. I can understand.”

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sand, turning to me. “You don’t understand anything. At least your husband died on you, he didn’t humiliate you. Joey is the absolutely last person I ever want to see again. Period. End of conversation.”

“Well,” I replied, “I guess that was stated plainly enough, even for thick-headed me.” We continued walking.

What went wrong? Why such animosity?

What disturbed me was the hint of apprehension intermingled with anger that seemed to stick to every single word that related to this guy Joey.

Why?

Mona’s voice cut through my jumbled thoughts.

“…Listen to how I’m carrying on, when you’ve had your own problems. I’m so sorry all this had to come to the surface. And as usual, my timing is lousy.”

“No worse than mine,” I said, waving off her apology. “Don’t worry. Forget it.”

This Joey business is more complicated than I originally thought
.

She made a feeble attempt at another smile before looking behind us once again.

Fear was sticking to her like the sand to our shoes. “Hey,” I said, “It’s time to head back.”

Chapter 4

Strike Three You’re Out

I woke with a start, bolting upright in my bed. Someone was down in the cabana. Most houses on the beach had reverse living. The ground floor had a cabana, leading to the beach patio, second floor was the bedroom level with a deck off the master, and the top floor had the kitchen, living room and another deck with spectacular views. Distracted by Mona’s visit, I must have forgotten to lock the cabana
again
.

I tiptoed through the bedroom, hefting my weapon of choice, Stephen’s old heavy metal baseball bat. Why? Because I hadn’t worked up the nerve to arm myself with a gun yet. I had come close in the past, but then figured I might do more harm to myself than to an intruder. Now I found myself reconsidering that former hasty decision.

I quietly opened the bedroom door, which led to the hall and stairwell that spiraled up and down. The moonlight gave a sliver of visibility, barely allowing me to see where I was walking without turning on the light. That was a good thing. The bad thing?

You know, there is always the bad thing
.

What would I do if confronted by an intruder? Bunt? My nerves were making my hands shake. I stared down the hall. Apparently the noise hadn’t woken Mona yet. Good. I might not have been able to shut her up. She tended to get talkative in stressful situations. I focused my attention back on the stairwell and glanced down. I heard it once again. Now what?

Well, news flash!

I’m no hero. Someone was in the house, rummaging around in the cabana. After that, the intruder would most likely come up to the bedroom level, where we were. Damn, I realized I had left my cell phone on the night table.

Brainless.

I stood there, considering a strategy for my predicament.

It was sort of iffy.

My floors were hardwood. But if I made it this far, couldn’t I just as easily go back undetected? I hesitated, and took a chance, pivoting quickly to retrieve my cell.

Unfortunately, I lost my balance with the sheer weight of the metal bat and toppled a statue that smacked into the stair railing. It flew down the stairwell, creating a racket all the way down to the cabana, hitting the marble floor at the bottom. Did I mention the railing was metal, too? It echoed like a bomb detonating, with a final explosion at the end.

Gripping the bat tightly, I raced for my cell phone, punched in 911, and returned to the stairwell, peeking over the railing. That was when I heard the cabana door open.

No!

I raced out to the deck off the master to catch a glimpse of who it was, but only saw a leg and foot in the moonlight. They vanished near the corner of the house. Breathless, I quickly called in to report the intruder, giving my address to the dispatcher.

A commotion broke out in the hallway, and it sounded like it was coming my way. I was still leaning over the railing, so I turned to look back as Mona raced out onto the deck.

“What the hell is going on?” she shouted, hefting a large black umbrella.

What a sight she was: disheveled brown hair, bathrobe half-on, half-off her threatening, substantial frame. She was breathing heavily. A smile tugged at my mouth.

“What happened?” she asked. “It sounded like we were being attacked. Are you hurt? Did someone break in?” She came to an abrupt halt. “What are you doing on the deck in this cold weather, carrying a bat?”

I was trying hard not to laugh, and slowly losing the battle.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” said Mona. “You’re not gonna jump, are you?”

I turned around to face her completely, gripping my bathrobe tighter around me. “And what were you going to do with that umbrella of yours? Stab somebody? Or were you expecting rain?”

We stood in the shadows, weapons drawn, ready to go, and then we both broke out laughing.

“Hey, let’s get inside,” I suggested as I pushed off from the railing. “The police will be here in about three minutes.”

Mona took a swing with her umbrella. “Damn! That’s not fair. I was itching to strike somebody out!”