Fatal Charm. Aimee Thurlo
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TONY ARRIVED ALONE at Amanda’s less than fifteen minutes after her call. Raymond would come by shortly after handling a few necessary details. As he glanced around the living room, he measured the damage. The center of the wood-framed picture window that faced the front yard had been reduced to a pile of glass shards scattered over the tile floor. A large rock lay near the wall, where it had come to rest. The rough, porous surface of the volcanic rock left him convinced no prints could be lifted from it.
Tony glanced up at Amanda. Her face was gray, as if someone had dusted it with ashes, but she was still very much in control of herself. His admiration for her grew. “Do you ever have any vandalism in your neighborhood?”
Amanda shook her head but remained silent.
“Well, actually we do, but nothing like this,” Bernice volunteered.
“What do you mean?” Tony’s gaze fastened on Bernice. “If you know something, don’t hold back now.”
Bernice nodded, then continued reluctantly. “Last week someone slashed my tires. Right in front of my house, too. I thought it was Jerry, my neighbor’s son, since he and my husband had argued about his speeding down the lane.”
“Does he know you and Amanda are good friends?” Tony asked.
“Yes, but I doubt this had anything to do with that,” Bernice said. “It’s just too far a stretch.”
Amanda put her hand on Bernice’s arm. “I think the same would apply to us linking this to the kidnapper. It doesn’t make sense, not in that context.”
She started to say more, when a knock sounded on her open door. “Are you okay, Amanda?” Ricky Biddle came into the room. “I was out for a run, and I saw all the cars and the broken window.”
“Hello, Ricky.” Amanda forced a thin smile. “We’re all fine. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re going to need help fixing that,” he said, glancing at the smashed window. “I can call my brother’s hardware store. It’s late, but he’d open up for me. I’m sure I can get everything you need delivered, and we’d have a new window up in no time.”
Amanda looked tempted by his offer, but she hesitated. Tony watched her for a second, then his gazed shifted to Biddle.
Tony could sense the guy was interested in Amanda and wanted to get her attention. Though it was perfectly obvious to Tony that Biddle wasn’t her type he decided to step in anyway. “Don’t worry, Mr. Biddle. Amanda will have plenty of help here this evening.”
Amanda shot Tony an angry look. “I can speak for myself.”
Tony clamped his mouth shut realizing he’d made a tactical error and hoping she wouldn’t invite Biddle in just to spite him.
Amanda glanced back at Ricky and smiled. “I appreciate your offer, but it’s really not necessary. I can tape something over the opening for tonight. There’ll be time for a thorough repair tomorrow during daylight. I’ll have someone come and fix it.”
“But...”
Tony approached Ricky, eyeing him carefully. The guy bugged him. His neat blue jogging suit had been chosen more for style than practicality, and if the guy had ever actually worked up a sweat in it, Tony would have been surprised. “Do you always go jogging at this time?”
“Oh, yeah. I work mainly in the mornings and goof off in the afternoon and evenings.”
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Biddle?”
Ricky gave him a suspicious look. “Who are you? The IRS?”
“It’s okay, Ricky,” Amanda said. “He’s a friend.”
Ricky’s shoulder sagged slightly. “I develop and program computer games. Have you ever played Cannibal Cafeteria?”
Tony stared at the guy, wondering what, exactly, he found so irritating about him. “No, I’m not much into games.”
“Well, Cannibal is one of the most popular simulations on the market,” Ricky said with a shrug.
“Did you happen to see someone hanging around here earlier, or maybe notice an unfamiliar car speeding down the road?”
“No, I wish I had.” Ricky glanced at Amanda. “I’ll come by and check on you every once in a while, if that will help.”
“Thanks, but it’s really not necessary, Ricky,” Amanda answered. “I’m sure this was an isolated incident.”
Tony watched Biddle. He was continually glancing around, unable to stand still, like some hyperkinetic kid. Tony schooled his face into polite neutrality and used his best authoritative tone. “Everything’s under control here, Mr. Biddle.”
Amanda led Ricky back toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by, Ricky. I’ll make sure to call you later, okay?”
“Do that.”
“Okay. It’ll be just as soon as I have a free moment.”
Once Ricky left, Amanda went over to Tony. “What exactly were you trying to pull? Didn’t you think I’d have enough sense to know that Ricky would be in the way if the kidnappers called?”
“I was taking charge of the situation before any problems cropped up.” That was only a partial reason. The fact was he didn’t want Biddle around Amanda, though he was at a loss to explain why he’d taken such an instant dislike to the guy.
Bernice began working pieces of glass loose from the window frame in preparation for covering the hole. “Ricky makes me nervous every time I see him.”
“He’s okay,” Amanda said with a thin smile. “He just tries too hard. The poor guy works and lives all alone. All he seems to have for company is that rottweiler of his. He’s probably just lonely.”
Tony shrugged. “Does he come by your house often?”
Amanda shook her head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t encouraged that.”
Tony nodded, relieved to hear it. His possessive feelings surprised him. He certainly had no personal claims on Amanda. Yet somehow she’d managed to get under his skin in a way no one had for a very long time.
As Bernice left the room to find a broom and dustpan Hope came into the room. Amanda smiled at her reassuringly. “It’s okay, Peanut. I’ll be in your room in just a few minutes. Will you wait for me there?”
Hope nodded wordlessly then ran down the hall. Amanda’s gaze stayed on her as if she was torn between making her home safe for her daughter or rushing to her side.
Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, and as their eyes met, blood thundered in his veins. “Go take care of your daughter. I’ll clean up the glass.”
Tony bent down, gathering the pieces into his palm. He needed to put some distance between himself and Amanda. He was finally starting to hope he’d get his daughter back and his brain was going soft from the strain. The last thing he needed was any complications. He needed to stay focused on Carmen. That was all there was to it.
As Raymond’s car pulled up outside, Amanda returned and met him by the front door. With a wave of the hand, she invited him in.
“I stopped at a friend’s house and borrowed his caller ID device,” Raymond said. “Let me get it set up for you, okay?”
“Sure.” Amanda showed him to the phone in the living room.
Hearing footsteps and the clicking sound of a dog’s nails against the tile floor, Amanda turned around. Hope was standing in the hall wearing her pajamas, hanging on to Winston’s collar. The dog stared at both Tony and Raymond, then took a step forward, positioning himself in front of Hope.
“Mommy, come back. I’m scared,” Hope