Stopping once again, Bart handed him the keys to the Jeep, which was a few steps away.
“You’re not going back?” he said in surprise.
“No.”
“But how will you get home?”
“If you’ll send two members of my security staff with a vehicle and have them leave it here, I’ll drive back when I’m ready.”
It was so late…. “What do you hope to accomplish tonight?”
Bart turned to stare at the trailer, and Ethan glanced in that direction, too. When the light in the kitchen winked out, he imagined Rachel going to bed.
“I just want to poke around,” Bart said. “And it’s probably best to do it while Nathan’s gone.”
Nate was back. At least, Rachel thought he was. Something had awakened her.
Raising her head, she checked her cell phone for the time, which was all it provided in this part of the state. It had only been half an hour since he’d driven off.
He couldn’t have gone far….
Yawning, she rolled over. God, what a night. It’d been hard enough getting to sleep the first time in this heat. Now he’d awakened her twice. What was wrong with him? Why was he so agitated?
Holding her breath so she could hear better, she thought he might be in the hall. But when she got up and peered out the window, she didn’t see his truck. Odd… Could he have had a flat tire and walked home? Or, heaven forbid, wrecked the truck in a ditch or something?
“Nate?” she called hesitantly. “You home?”
There was no answer. Even the subtle sounds of movement that she’d heard before were gone. Was someone really in the trailer? Or had she imagined it?
Opening her door, she peeked out. The hall was dark and shadowy. She wanted to turn on a light, but the switch was too far away—another inconvenience with this particular rental. And she knew it wouldn’t do any good to turn on the light in her bedroom. That would just make the kitchen and living room more difficult to see.
Getting her gun from inside the drawer where she’d put it when she unpacked, she inched her way down the hall. If Nate was home, he would’ve answered her.
Footsteps and the slap of the door against the outside of the trailer told her she’d definitely had a visitor. But was it Nate? She didn’t think so. Whoever it was had heard her coming and taken off.
Determined to catch up, she started to run—only to stumble over an obstacle in the hallway that hadn’t been there before. By the time she was back on her feet, the intruder had gone. She stood on the front stoop, gazing out into the desert, which seemed as quiet and empty as it had before.
What was going on? Thoroughly spooked, she sank onto the doorstep. She wasn’t about to let this person, whoever it was, draw her out of the trailer, where it would be harder to defend herself. But she hated giving up the idea of catching him.
The intruder had cut the screen and jimmied open the living room window. Unless she or Nate had left it open. The swamp cooler wasn’t much help, and she hadn’t been worried about unwanted visitors. Not so far from civilization. And not with a gun at hand.
She had a different opinion about her vulnerability now. Closing the window, she locked it, then double-checked to make sure the rest were secure. She locked the door, too, all the while wondering what whoever it was had hoped to accomplish. Had it been a robbery attempt? There wasn’t anything in the trailer worth stealing. Except, perhaps, the camera equipment or their guns.
Remembering the soft feel of the obstacle she’d tripped over in the hall, she turned on the lights and went back to see what it was.
Nate’s leather duffel bag. Someone had dragged it from his bedroom and rummaged through it. His gun was gone, but she couldn’t tell if it had been stolen. He generally had it with him.
Afraid her visitor might return, she sank onto the couch to keep a vigil until Nate returned but, eventually, lack of sleep began to wear on her and she dozed off.
Nate was carrying her to her bed when she woke again. “Someone cut the screen and broke into the trailer while you were gone,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.
He froze. “Say what?”
“Someone broke in.”
“Here?”
“Yep.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did they take anything?”
“Do you have your gun?”
“I do.”
“What about your computer, your tools and your other gear?”
His breath stirred her hair. “Locked in the toolbox in the bed of the truck.”
“Good.”
“You were here?”
“Where else would I be? You took the truck.”
He cursed. “I’m sorry about that. Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“No. They ran away when I called out.” She covered a yawn as he deposited her on the bed. “Who do you think it was?”
He pulled the blanket over her, but didn’t answer.
“Nate?”
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
The knock came just after Rachel got back from her morning jog. Since Nate was still sleeping, she left her coffee at the kitchen table and headed to the door.
“Who is it?” Nate stepped out of his bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts.
“I have no idea,” she murmured, opening the door.
A man stood on their small stoop dressed in the Middle Eastern robes the Covenanters liked so well. That would’ve given him away even if the brand on his forehead hadn’t already proclaimed his affiliation.
After a formal bow, he handed her a note. “The Holy One sends his felicitations,” he said, and walked back to a military-style Jeep idling in the drive.
Nate folded his arms and leaned against the partial wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Rachel didn’t know where he’d gone last night. She hadn’t asked when he’d brought her to bed. But if he’d been drinking, it didn’t show. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t had much sleep, but he didn’t seem to be suffering from a hangover. “Alpha and Omega is sending you something? You must’ve made quite an impression.”
His sarcasm indicated that his mood hadn’t improved since their argument. They needed to talk about what had set him off—and about the break-in—but first Rachel wanted to know what had motivated “the Holy One” to send her a note. She tore open the envelope, pulled out a card and immediately recognized the handwriting she’d seen in the letters to Charles Manson.