around, all without having any idea when Christie would return home. At least, theoretically.
He couldn’t have tailed them and done this at the same time. He could have an accomplice, although Boone had never heard of any stalkers who didn’t work alone. Killers, yes, but not stalkers.
What mattered was that the geek had made it into the house. That was bad. He’d scared Christie just when she was starting to get a little confidence back. That was also bad. The question now was how to make the geek do it again, only on Boone’s terms.
Christie was another problem. Could he get her out, without the geek knowing? The chances of that were minimal. So they’d fight it out here, if they couldn’t ID the prick. But Boone was no fool. This was a lot more complex than he’d first imagined, and he wasn’t above getting help. He’d call Seth tonight, get him to take a look around.
Boone stopped. The red light was beeping, and the gadget was pointed at the edge of her blinds. He reached up and found the tiny camera, debated holding it for Seth, but decided it was too risky. He put it under his boot heel and squished it into mush.
Of course the geek knew that Boone wasn’t Joe Ordinary by now. He’d known that when the first bug was smashed. It hadn’t scared him off. It had spurred him on.
The geek had to be a spook. CIA, most likely, with cash to spend and incredible access, who was focusing all his energy on one woman. Why? Why her? What did he want? Was sexual obsession the whole story?
He finished the room fifteen minutes later, still with no strong theories as to how to obtain his objective. All he knew for sure was that he’d need help, and that he couldn’t leave Christie alone.
He put away his scanner, and went to the corner, where Milo was taking care of Christie. Boone crouched down so he was eye level with her. “It’s all clear in here now. You’re okay. What do you say we get you into a bath.”
She looked at Milo, rubbed him behind the ears. “I don’t need a bath.”
“Yeah, you do. You might need to move tomorrow. Without wincing.”
She continued to pet Milo, staring at his big, brown eyes.
Boone was gonna have to shift position soon, as his leg was gonna cramp, but he didn’t want to push. Tonight had given her one hell of a shock, on top of a whole lot of other shocks.
She leaned toward him slightly without lifting her gaze. “What if he can see me?”
“There are no cameras in the bathroom. I checked.”
“You checked the locks. You checked the windows.”
He was the one wincing, and not from his leg. “I know. I’m sorry. I underestimated him. I won’t do that again.”
Finally, she looked at him. “Will you come with me?”
“Oh, yeah. We’ll get the bath ready together. And then I’ll stand right outside the door. No one, nothing, is going to get through me, you got that?”
She sniffed, leaned over and kissed Milo on the top of the head, then she stood. It wasn’t the smoothest of moves. He knew her legs, her back, her whole body had to be hurting.
He stood, his knee popping loudly, and followed her into the bathroom. It was like something out of a magazine. Not that he hadn’t seen fancy baths before, but this wasn’t just for show. Everything in the room was designed to pamper. The multiple showerheads, the Whirlpool tub complete with neck pillow and a wide variety of bath salts and oils. She had candles, a boom box, a dimmer switch. The towels were thick and huge, with a matching rug.
He turned on the water, made sure it wasn’t going to scald her, then he looked under her sink for the Epsom salts. He found a box, and dumped a large amount into the tub.
When he stood, Christie was still standing by the door, holding the top of her robe closed with a tight fist. He got close and reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away. Dropping his hand, he stepped back, made himself look as harmless as possible. “Soak as long as you want. I’ll be right outside. I won’t move, I won’t need to get a glass of water. I won’t make a phone call. I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” she said, “but…”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any clothes. For after.”
“What do you want? I’ll go get them.”
“I’ll go.” She stepped to the door and opened it, but she didn’t walk into the hall. “Come with,” she said.
He walked next to her, not touching, and kept it up until they were back in her bedroom, inside her closet. She got underwear, jeans, a T-shirt, a bra. Socks and sneakers. Then she headed for the door.
“What about pajamas?”
She shivered. “I can sleep in these.”
He didn’t say a word. It was smart to be prepared for anything.
They got back to the bathroom, which was warm and steamy as the tub was almost full. He’d already made sure there were no new bugs in here, so she could soak in peace, although he doubted that would happen. “I’m going to be right outside,” he said. “No one’s getting past me. So don’t worry about it. Take as long as you want.”
She put her clothes down on the counter by the sink. For a long minute, she simply stood there, staring at her T-shirt, her back to Boone. Her hands quivered by her side.
“Christie?”
She didn’t turn around. “Go on. It’s fine.”
He approached her softly, but he made sure she knew he was there. “Tell me what I can do,” he said.
“Make it go away.”
He could barely make out the words, but he heard the soft sniff. She was crying. He fought back his panic and concentrated on her, on what she needed. He’d never been able to deal with crying women. Kids, sure. Give ’em a piece of candy and they shut right up, but that didn’t work so well with anyone over ten. “I will. I wish it could go faster, but trust me. He’ll be gone. For now, you’ll feel a lot better after a long soak in the tub.”
He glanced back and saw he’d better turn off the water.
As he bent over the spigot, he felt her beside him. When he stood, she stared at him with reddened eyes, her skin so pale she looked as white as her robe.
“Stay,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean in here.”
He bit his lip, not wanting to say the wrong thing. It was so quiet in the small room, not even the faucet dripped, and he wished he was someone a hell of a lot smarter. “Are you sure that won’t make you uncomfortable?”
“Maybe. But I’d rather be uncomfortable than so scared I can’t breathe.”
He nodded, trying to understand.
