Page 14 of Crash and Burn

Then he headed down the street, forcing himself to not look at Maggie and Rex again. They hadn’t seen him even if he’d needed to see them.

The problem was, it was barely nine am and he had the whole day in front of him. Six hours ago, he’d been watching Maggie’s house like a lovesick puppy. Five hours ago, Marina’s eyes had gone wide and made him think the jewelry box Maggie had found was maybe a serial killer’s trophies.

But Maggie had told him to go home and get some sleep. She’d said she was going to bed, exhausted. But now she was in Spill the Beans with Rex.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her. Sebastian knew that.

But he also knew he couldn’t stop his own feelings.

So the question was, did she abandon her inheritance tonight and stay in a hotel? If she did, she would leave the house open to whoever was on the loose. Her prowler could get in and find whatever he was looking for.

Or did she stay and hold the fort against all comers?

And if she did, would Sebastian play the lovesick puppy again and stay up all night watching over her?

Chapter Thirteen

It had been four days since the break-in. Maggie couldn't say she was sleeping well. She was staying up all night with the baseball bat and then napping her way through the daylight when she could.

She'd spent too much of the time doing research. She should have been seeing clients and fixing up the house—she was already so far behind.

She’d seen several clients, though one had insisted on an eight am appointment. The older folks were coming to her, many saying that if Sabbie trusted her, they could, too. But it wouldn’t be enough work to keep her afloat financially.

The combination of small town life and working in an office from her home was presenting challenges she should have foreseen, but hadn’t. She’d thought it would be an easy commute, a welcome respite from her hours in traffic in LA. And it was that, but there were no boundaries. Work existed every waking moment … or the obvious lack of it.

But once she’d finished up with Mr. Mackey’s land division, she’d napped, made coffee, and pretended she was starting her day for the first time. Some of her research about the house and the area had been comforting and some of it had been absolutely petrifying.

Maggie had not heard of the Blue River Killer before Mrs. Miller had decided it was excellent gossip. From what Maggie found online, Mrs. Miller needn’t worry as she was not the Blue River Killer’s target demographic. The upside was that Maggie didn’t fit the profile either.

This murderer pulled women and young men from nightclubs and apparently talked them into walking with him and maybe even getting into his car. There was never any sign of a struggle near the point where they were last seen. No one had been abducted from their own home. And none had been a red-headed lawyer in her mid-thirties newly arrived in Nebraska. This guy liked blondes.

Maggie had also been reading up on break-ins in general. She felt better knowing it was extremely rare for a burglar to come back to the scene. So when Sebastian had called that night and asked if she wanted him to stay, she’d been comfortable enough to say no.

If things got bad, she would head to a hotel. But she didn't really have money for a hotel. Redemption wasn’t booming with legal needs, and if it wasn't for her volunteer position at the fire station and the friends she was making, Maggie would have considered packing up and moving.

Hell, she was considering it anyway. She'd already contemplated selling the house, though it felt a little unfair to do so. Maggie had definitely been her aunt Abbie's favorite, though there had been three other grandkids related to Abbie the same way.

If she sold the house now, she would feel compelled to split the money equally. But Abbie had left the house to her because she thought Maggie had loved the house. The problem was that as a child she’d loved its twisted servants’ staircase from the kitchen. The slim space had always felt like it was just her size. She’d loved the big backyard and the porch that wrapped all the way around the house. Here she’d had blackberries that lined the back fence and Abbie had let her scatter wildflower seeds along the sides of the yard.

But what she’d really loved was spending summers with Aunt Abbie. Without her great aunt and her childhood adventures, the place wasn’t the same. The blackberries and wildflowers were still there, and so was the servants’ staircase. Though it was still really cool, cleaning the place was a bitch. As an adult, it wasn't quite as whimsical.

She had only been here a few months, but it was past time to admit that it was killing her to keep it. The problem was, what could she sell it for? It was in disrepair, luckily falling into the “shabby chic” phase, but probably barely worth anything in a town this small with no real tourism.

Maggie rolled out of bed Saturday morning thinking that the next day was A-shift at the station. She was going to go in and do her volunteer work and not interfere with her weekly work schedule. Filing the reports, making the dispatcher’s schedules and organizing the station house were at least tasks that were do-able. It felt good to be useful to the people keeping the town safe. She even looked forward to calling the medical cases from the week’s runs and seeing if they were doing okay. If she worked on her own house today, she could hopefully count more things checked off, and at least not be even further behind this week.

She pulled on cut off jeans and an old t shirt worn thin in the wash. Maggie was confident she would still get too hot and sweaty doing the work, though. She pulled on sneakers and tied them into perfect bows, as if going slowly now would make her day run a little more smoothly.

She hadn't heard any noises the past few nights. Though she'd woken up once around two am the night before, she had heard nothing but the wind and she’d managed to roll over and get back to sleep. Maggie decided to count that as a win.

She procrastinated a little more by lingering over a bowl of oatmeal and starting a pot of coffee. Eventually, she headed into the room where the loose floorboard still sat sideways, leaving a gaping hole. She would have to fix that. She couldn't stand seeing it each time she walked in.

But Maggie still hadn’t figured out the best method. So she wouldn’t touch it today. She didn't need the frustration of going down the rabbit hole of Do-It-Yourself videos. Plugging in the steamer, she decided to attack the wallpaper.

One wall was mostly stripped when she heard a knock at her front door.Who was knocking on her door at nine am on a Saturday?Given what had transpired the other night, she was no longer saying hello and pulling the door open wide. On her tiptoes, she checked the peephole and smiled. She wasn’t surprised to see Sebastian.

Now, she did throw the door open wide and stepped back as she said, “Good morning.”

She didn’t formally invite him inside. He’d become that kind of friend. Hell, anyone who showed up in the middle of the night when you had a prowler automatically qualified.

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