Thick as Thieves(34)

“In answer to the first question, not much. No thank you on the coffee. I stopped a couple of times along the way.”

Lisa said to her assistant, “Everything is on hold until further notice.”

“You have a meeting at—”

“Move it back an hour.”

“If someone’s schedule doesn’t allow for the change?”

“Then they’re to rearrange their schedule to allow it.”

“Yes, Ms. Bishop.” The woman, seemingly accustomed to Lisa’s directives, smiled at Arden, then withdrew and pulled the door closed.

Lisa took Arden’s hand and led her to a seating area in a corner of her expansive office. The Bishop Group occupied the two top floors of a glassy contemporary high-rise, which Lisa’s late husband had developed. The glitzy skyline of downtown Dallas was on full display outside the wall of windows.

Inside, the office was exquisitely furnished and decorated with treasures from around the world, which Lisa and her late husband had acquired on their frequent trips abroad.

As Arden took her seat, she said, “I know you’re busy, so I’ll be as brief as possible. But I didn’t want this to keep any longer, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“You look upset.”

“Apprehensive.”

“All right, apprehensive. Is this about Ledge Burnet? You told him he won’t be working for you, and he didn’t take it well?”

Arden still felt the imprint of his lips on hers. The pressure points where his large body had aligned with hers quickened with the memory. “No. That call to him is pending. But I do need to tell you something troubling that I should have shared weeks ago. Months, actually.”

They had taken adjacent chairs. Lisa reached across the space separating them and clasped both Arden’s hands in hers. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not that scary. Just—”

“Tell me, Arden.”

She took a steadying breath and told Lisa about her nightly drive-by. As she talked, she watched Lisa pale, the color literally draining from her face. But to her sister’s credit, she didn’t interrupt. By the time Arden had finished, Lisa was visibly shaken.

“Someone’s been stalking you, and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not exactly stalking.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t know, but not stalking. I haven’t seen the person, so I don’t even know that it’s a man. It could be a woman.”

“Whoever it is, he, she is spying on you.”

“Monitoring.”

“There’s a negligible difference between the words I’m using and the ones you’re substituting. When did you become aware of the spying?”

“Shortly after I moved back.”

“Good God, Arden. I cannot believe you’re just now telling me.”

“Please don’t lecture me about my timing. You were already dead set against my moving into the house, I didn’t need you harping over another issue. Besides, I didn’t want to add to your worry.”

“Well, I’m worried now.”

A quarrel over semantics, or anything else, would be contrary to why she’d come seeking Lisa’s opinion and counsel, so she took a moment to let them both cool down before resuming.

“At first I thought that our property was on someone’s route to and from work. Something like that. But now…” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s gone on for so long, the person is so dedicated to it, I don’t know what to think. Who would be that interested in me?”

“Someone glaringly obvious springs to mind.” Lisa’s arched eyebrow was as eloquent as if she’d actually named him.

Arden said, “I’ll admit, I wondered.”

“What made you wonder?”

“When I contacted him, he knew who I was and where I lived even before I told him.” Before Lisa could speak, she rushed to say, “But then if everyone who knows who I am and where I live were to drive past the house, it would be a nightly parade.”

“That doesn’t make him innocent.”

“I realize that.” She didn’t dare tell Lisa about Ledge’s being in the supermarket or of his unorthodox visit to her house last night. Once again, she found herself staving off her own misgivings and, rather, defending him, even to herself. “But nor does it make him guilty.”

“Have you accused him?”

“I inquired. He denied it.”

“But he would, wouldn’t he?”

Arden gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Have you reported it to the police?” Lisa asked.

“I’ve been reluctant to.”

“Why?”

“Because it could be, and probably is, someone who routinely drives that road and slows down to gape out of curiosity. Because I don’t have a description of the car, or the person, and I’m disinclined to sit on the roadside and wait for him to come by so I can get a description.”

Nor was she prepared to camouflage herself as Ledge had.

“Because the individual has never stopped or posed any overt threat. And because if I did report it, it would create another brouhaha, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.” Softly she added, “Mainly that.”