He turned to her, didn’t go to her, didn’t touch her, but stood with that space between them.
“I’m telling you, Abra, I’m not going to let you down. I’m going to do everything, whether you like it or not, whether you sleep with me or not, to make sure nothing happens to you. And when this is done, I guess we’ll see where we are, and where we go from there.”
Because she felt a little boxed in, she rose. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Balance, or as you said, give-and-take,” she reminded him. “You fixed the meal, I clean up.”
“Okay. I want a copy of your schedule.”
She felt, literally, prickles of warning at the back of her neck. “Eli, it changes. That’s the beauty of it.”
“I want to know where you are when you’re not here. I’m not a goddamn stalker. It’s not about keeping tabs or trying to sew you in.”
She put the plate she was holding on the counter, took a breath. “I want to say I didn’t think that, or mean that. And I also realize something I didn’t until today, until all this. I realize I brought more baggage with me from D.C. than I thought. I think—hope—it’s down to a small hand tote. I hope I’ll figure out how to toss that out.”
“It takes time.”
“I thought I’d finished the time, but apparently not quite. So . . .” She lifted the plate again, slid it into the dishwasher rack. “I’m here most of the day. I have my morning class, church basement, and I have a massage at four-thirty. Greta Parrish.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She finished loading the dishwasher, began to wipe off the counters. “You haven’t touched me, not once since you came up the steps to my cottage. Why is that? Because you’re mad?”
“Maybe some, but mostly because I don’t know how you feel about it.”
Her eyes met his, held. “How do I know how I feel about you touching me if you don’t?”
He brushed a hand down her arm first, then turned her toward him. Drew her in.
She dropped the rag on the counter, locked her arms around him.
“I’m sorry. I was holding things back, holding things in. But . . . Oh God, Eli, he was in my house. He went through my things. He touched my things. Derrick went through my things. He touched my things, broke things while he waited for me to come home.”
“He won’t hurt you.” Eli pressed his lips to her temple. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
“I have to get past it. I have to.”
“You will.” But not alone. Not without him.
When she left the next morning, he told himself not to worry. Not only was the church less than two miles away, but he couldn’t think of a single reason for anyone to harm her.
She’d be back by mid-morning, and once he knew she was safely in the house, he could work. With his mind too busy to slide into the story, he went down to the basement, spent nearly an hour unloading the shelves, walking them back.
It took more time to open the panel from the basement side, and once he had, he decided to oil the hinges.
The creak added interesting atmosphere, but should he want to surprise anyone, silence served. Armed with a flashlight and a box of lightbulbs, he worked his way through the passage, testing each light, moving on, until he’d reached the third floor.
Once he’d oiled those hinges, he considered, then angled a chair in front of the panel, checked to make sure he could open and close it again, then backtracked.
He repositioned the shelves, again tested so he could easily move around them, in or out of the panel. Then he reloaded them.
Camouflage, he thought, should he want or need it.
Trap set, or nearly. All he needed was the hook and the bait.
Since working in the passages transferred dust, grime, he changed, washed up, then spent some time checking out video cameras and nanny cams on the Internet.
He was pouring himself his first Mountain Dew of the day when Abra came in with her market bags.
“Hi!” She dumped the bags, reached into one. “Look what I got you!” She turned to Barbie with a big rawhide bone. “This is for a good dog. Have you been a good dog?”
Barbie slapped her butt to the ground.
“I thought so. Have you been a good boy?” she asked Eli as she unsealed the bone.
“Do I have to sit on the floor?”
“I got makings for my lasagna, which is legendary, and for tiramisu.”
“You can make tiramisu?”
“We’re going to find out. I’ve decided to have a good feeling about today, and part—a good part—of the reason is balance. Or knowing we’re working on finding a balance. Another?” Now she wrapped her arms around Eli for a squeeze. “I found out you don’t hold grudges.”