Beach Rental(34)

Her old apartment smelled stale. With no one around to open a window or sweep the floor, her two rooms appeared forgotten, almost lost in time. It looked unwanted and it was. The chipped vinyl and scarred Formica counter were leftovers from the past, all but forgotten. Like she wanted her past to be—forgotten. The vehemence of the feeling surprised her.

She looked through the cupboards and the drawers. The apartment was rented furnished. A few boxes—or trash bags—would take care of her belongings. She grabbed some shirts, then dropped them onto the bed. She’d come back with those bags and give all this to Goodwill or some other charity.

Leaving this time felt like goodbye.

As soon as she returned to the Glory, she knew. She smelled the cheap scent Frankie sometimes wore. He’d been in the house and he might as well have left his calling card on the kitchen table. A faint trail of sand marred the carpet near the front door. She stood immobile. Shocked.

“Ben?” She spoke softly, then more loudly, she called out, “Ben?”

No answer. She hadn’t expected one. Ben had been napping when she left, but Luke was supposed to have picked Ben up soon after. They shouldn’t be back yet.

Juli searched through the house, eyes sharp for signs of where Frankie had wandered and what he’d been up to. Papers might’ve been shuffled on Ben’s desk. Maybe. Upstairs in the bedrooms things might be slightly out of place, but it was impossible to be sure. It could’ve been heightened imagination. At least, he’d tried to be discreet. Clearly, he intended no one should know he’d been here.

Suppose Ben had come home and surprised him? Or had still been home asleep when Frankie broke in?

Juli couldn’t identify anything as missing. Perhaps some things had been moved in the closets? Perhaps. Maybe. Maybe not.

She checked the front and side doors for signs of tampering and found none. How had Frankie gotten inside? She checked the windows and they seemed secure. Frankie had either jimmied the locks or Ben had been careless with locking the doors. Frankie wasn’t above taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity.

What should she tell Ben? She had to tell him something. Valuable items she didn’t know about, or important papers, could be missing.

Had Frankie seen the contract?

She rehearsed the story: ‘Ben, there was sand on the carpet when I came home. I can’t be sure, but I think someone was inside.’ She’d get him to check his study, just to be safe.

It sounded totally reasonable—a reasonable lie. Well, not entirely a lie, but close enough. She was doing it for Ben’s sake. She wouldn’t do anything to put Ben or his home in danger.

The scene played out as planned. Ben found nothing missing. He didn’t say it aloud, but she could tell he believed she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Perhaps the side door didn’t latch properly?” He placed his hands on Juli’s shoulders. “The wind might’ve blown it open and then blown it shut again.”

“Maybe,” she said, but she knew the truth and this wasn’t it.

“We’ll be more careful. Okay?”

“As long as nothing’s missing, you’re probably right.” She’d done what she could to warn him short of getting into the whole Frankie mess. “Could we have some slide bolts installed on the doors? I’d feel more secure.”

Ben studied her face. He brushed her cheek lightly with his fingers. “I don’t want you to be worried about anything. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”

She laid her head against his chest. His arms crept up around her and held her close.

When they separated, Ben frowned. “You look so serious. You aren’t afraid, are you?”

“No, I’m fine.” She was more than fine—she was moved by his kindness.

Ben hadn’t argued that the doorknob locks and deadbolts were enough security. Without a second thought, he agreed to add those old-fashioned slide bolts—solely for her peace of mind.

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and went to begin cooking supper.

Later, standing at the porch rail and watching the evening pass into night, Juli reviewed the facts and was still certain Frankie had been the uninvited visitor. Ironic that he’d come snooping while she was at his place looking to confront him. He was taking a risk. He must believe, in a big way, he could profit from what she was doing. If he had intended the intrusion as a message or warning, he would’ve left obvious signs of his visit. The faint scent of cologne and the bits of sand from his shoes showed how careless he’d become.

Slide bolts couldn’t be jimmied with a credit card or opened with burglar tools. It was good old-fashioned manual hardware that provided extra assurance, at least while she was at home.