He bustled us out of the store then, making sure Daisy had suitable time to hand over her masterpiece, and accept the praise and payment of half a dozen Kelly King Penguins in return. Then he made sure I was buffered from the harried and hurrying customers, even the pedestrians out on the populated sidewalk, until he could safely deliver us to his car.
I wasn't sure if I should be scared of Detective Pierce. Not like I'm scared of Roan McLaren. Or scared of a stranger touching me uninvited. Or scared of appearing less than confident. This fear was all for the way he made me feel. For the brief moment of peace he brought me. The sense of security and safety I could become accustomed to.
That was a fear that threatened to spiral out of control.
He slipped into the driver's seat beside me, turned to check on Daisy with a dazzling and comforting smile, then flicked his glance to me. He held my eyes a little longer than necessary, then cleared his throat and started the car, pulling out into heavy traffic.
"Their names are Ben and Abi," he said out of nowhere. "They both work for a security and private investigations firm aptly called Anscombe Security and Investigations. Have you heard of them?"
I shook my head, he caught the movement out of the corner of his eyes.
"They are well trained, excellent at what they do, good people," he further explained. "Ben's local, Abi's from down South. They're good friends and like I said earlier, I trust them implicitly with your safety." He glanced in the rear view mirror to check on Daisy, who with a flick of my gaze over my shoulder, I could see was staring out of her window intently. Pierce lowered his voice, "They'd lay down their lives, if need be."
I wasn't sure how to feel about that. These people would be strangers, why would they protect us at the risk of their lives? Why would Pierce think this would make me feel better?
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," I said, just as quietly back.
"Marie," he said, reaching over to wrap a large palm around my hand. I did jerk at that. Habit. In the closed confines of the car, it was harder to pretend the move wasn't necessary. He tightened his grip, denying my escape. His eyes on my face, not on the road in front of us.
I forced myself to lift my head, from where I'd been staring dumbly down at our joined hands, and looked at him. I'm sure there was a message in his eyes, in the intense look he was giving me, but right then I couldn't decipher it. I was too on edge, too wound up. About to break down from the sheer terror of it all. The situation. The danger. Him.
"It's going to be OK," he said gently. "You've done the right thing. The only thing you could have done. Now all you have to do is let us help you."
I nodded. What else could I do? The ball had been set in motion, I just had to watch where it rolled to.
The house Pierce brought us to was a large looking 1950's weatherboard bungalow, which had been extended significantly at some stage. A double garage sat detached on the rear of the section, a concrete drive leading to it down the side of the house. The garden in the front had been culled recently. Whatever had existed beforehand had been pulled out and not yet replaced. Empty parcels of dirt represented former patches of someone's hard work, and looked decidedly forlorn in their current state. But the picket fence along the front of the property had been newly painted a deep green, to match the newly painted deep green trim under the windows.
It was clear this was a project in progress.
Pierce drove his vehicle into the driveway and coasted it down the side of the house. Loud music could be heard thumping behind closed windows. Someone was yelling, and receiving a shout in reply.
Then the back of the section opened up and I suddenly knew where Ben and Abi had been focusing their renovation and gardening skills. The garden was complete, with a large expanse of green grass, trimmed immaculately. The fenced area bordered by colourful Azaleas and flax bushes, Bougainvillea and tall stemmed, blue and white Agapanthus. A large flowering Cherry Tree sat pride of place in the centre, big enough to sport a wooden swing seat.
Behind the house itself was an enormous wooden deck, still unblemished by New Zealand's harsh sun. Deck chairs and loungers spread out in a circle on one end, and the largest barbecue I'd ever laid eyes on, complete with outdoor fridge and a sink, sat at the other. A man, with Māori features, stood at the open back door, his arm casually hanging over the shoulder of a petite platinum blonde woman to his side. Both were smiling, but I noticed the woman, Abi it must have been, was shuffling nervously on her feet. The man, Ben obviously, pulled her close and laid a reassuring kiss in amongst her hair, then murmured something to in her ear. She nodded, sucked in a deep breath, and turned her attention back on us as we climbed out of the car.