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The whole place was a run-down mess. Half the fence line had either fallen over or was in the process of doing so. The garden had long since turned to weeds, and the driveway had ruts deep enough to lose a football in. The house itself was in little better shape. The kitchen was decorated in orange and green, and it didn’t even have an autocook. Apparently, the old couple who’d owned the house had preferred to do their own cooking and had installed an old-fashioned stove. Most of the walls were in desperate need of paint, the carpet covering the stairs leading to the upper floor was threadbare and the banister wobbled worse than a drunk after a ten-hour binge. Sections of both this deck and the one on the side above the garage were half-rotten and would need replacing.
It would cost a fortune to fix it up—a fortune she didn’t really have. The money she’d gotten from the sale of her apartment would pay for this outright and leave enough to buy a car. But that was it. There’d be nothing left for repairs. It would be madness to even consider buying it.
She raised her gaze and stared at the sea for several minutes, watching the foamy fingers of ocean creep across the damp black rocks. She felt the power of the waves shiver through her until her entire body seemed to tingle with its energy.
Common sense could go hang. There was something about the run-down, out-of-date old house that she just loved. And there was something about the raw closeness of the ocean that she needed.
She walked back into the bedroom. “I’ll take it.”
The agent’s face lit up—no doubt from the prospect
of finally having her off his client list.
“I’ll just run downstairs and get my com-unit. We’ll get all the paperwork signed now, if you like.”
He disappeared in a cloud of dust, probably afraid that she’d change her mind. Smiling slightly, she turned back to the window with its amazing view.
And noted the white Toyota parked down the road.
Under normal circumstances, she might not have taken notice. But the road was private and clearly marked as such, and it didn’t lead anywhere beyond the last house. The real-estate agent had already told her that the owners of the other nine properties were summer residents.
It might simply be someone enjoying the view, or it might be someone casing his next hit.
The question was, would the car remain here at the property, or would it follow her when she left? She’d just have to wait and see. Then she would know if this was a job for the SIU or just the local police.
Having made her decision, she turned and walked downstairs. The agent bustled back inside and motioned her toward the dilapidated kitchen counter. She’d contacted her solicitor earlier, getting him to do a quick check on the property. Everything was legit. Still, just to be safe, she scanned the countless forms with her wristcom and sent them on, refusing to sign anything until he’d given the all clear. Only then did she key in her bank details and transfer the funds. The house was hers.
“It’ll take a day or so for this paperwork to go through and be fully registered,” the agent said, holding out the keys. “I’ll pass everything on to your solicitor to be double-checked, of course.”
She took the keys, an odd feeling of elation bubbling through her. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “You going to hang around for a while?”
She glanced at her watch and regretfully shook her head. “I can’t. I’m working tonight.”
He nodded again and held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
The relief in his voice made her grin. “They make you say that, don’t they?”
His startled smile showed a hint of true warmth. “First lesson,” he said cheerfully.
She checked the doors, ensuring everything was locked, then followed him out. At her rental car, she stopped and breathed in the heady aroma of eucalyptus and the salty hint of sea. Excitement pulsed through her. The scent of home. God, how she wished she didn’t have to go back to the city and Wetherton.
Before the call to stay overwhelmed her common sense, she climbed into the car and headed back to the city. She hadn’t yet reached the tollway when she spotted the Toyota again.
Okay, so it wasn’t a thief and it wasn’t a tourist. It was someone tailing her. That meant the SIU. She watched the car in the rearview mirror for several minutes, then tapped her wristcom.
“Christine,” she said, when the SIU’s electronic receptionist came online, “Agent Ryan here. Patch me through to someone in operations.”
“One moment, please.”
The screen flickered and a thin-looking black man replaced Christine. “Agent Donner here. What can I do for you, Agent Ryan?”
“I think I’ve picked up a tail. Four cars back from my current location. White Toyota.”
“Hang on while I do a trace.”
He turned away and she glanced at the rearview mirror. Whoever was driving the Toyota was damn good. She could barely see the driver behind the green four-wheel drive.
