Page 11 of A Ranger for Christmas
Lucas parked in front of the Hyde Park house within a half hour of receiving Marisa’s call. Lights in all the rooms burned bright and set the house apart on the darkened, quiet street. Out of his SUV, he put on his hat. Hand on his gun, he surveyed the porch that stretched across the front of the house, the tall windows, and the brick façade. It was a fine house, no doubt expensive, but it was in need of work.
He saw no signs of a threat, but still kept his hand on his gun as he moved to the front steps and knocked. He could easily imagine Marisa meaning to tend to the house just as she’d meant to buy those presents before it was almost too late. Cracked brick and peeling shutters weren’t enough to pull her from work.
Footsteps inside the house ran to the front door and hesitated. “Marisa, it’s Lucas Cooper.”
The rattle of chains scraped against locks and the door opened. Light from the interior shined behind Marisa, casting a glow on the long black hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Her skin was pale in the light, and the spark of annoyance had vanished, making her look a bit fragile. “You had some trouble.”
She pushed open the screened door, which squeaked and groaned. “I’m feeling just a little foolish right about now. It’s been quiet since I called you. Not a rattle or a text.”
He stepped inside the foyer, removing his hat as he surveyed the living room. As worn and neglected as the exterior, it was furnished with just a few brand-new outdoor chairs and a tablethat looked more suited for a picnic. One chair still had the red clearance tag dangling from an arm. He guessed she’d sold her furniture before her Mexico trip, likely still angry over Bradley’s affair, and believing she’d not return to her life in Austin.
What she couldn’t bring herself to sell had gone into storage. What Marisa valued enough to keep, fit in a half-dozen dusty boxes. One box marked CHRISTMAShad a loose top flap as if she’d pried it open and stopped. He doubted if she’d ever get around to putting up the decorations.
He closed the door behind him and eased his hand away from the gun. “I’m glad you did call. Can’t be too careful.”
“I’m not the nervous sort. Not at all.” She scrolled through her phone and showed him the messages. “I’ve camped in the jungle and dealt with unsavory characters and wild animals. But these texts . . . they were creepy. And then someone came to the door and rattled it as if they wanted to get inside. I kind of freaked.” An apology hummed under the words.
“Like I said, glad you called. There a backyard?”
“Yes. Not big, but it’s through those double French doors.”
He strode across the small home, his boots thudding steadily against the rough pine floor. In the backyard, there was a nicely built deck in need of refinishing and no furniture. No potted plants. “Looks clear.”
She hovered fifteen feet from the door. “I ran around the house checking all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked. I also checked under the bed and in the closets.”
He frowned. “I’d rather you’d have waited for me to do that.”
She grimaced. “I felt a little foolish after I talked to you. I don’t panic.”
“No trouble. No trouble at all.”
She hugged her arms around her. “Can I get you a coffee at least?”
“Sure. That would be nice.”
He followed her into the kitchen and noticed the scattered papers he’d given her earlier this evening. Red marks covered each page. He tried to read her comments but found her writing just as elusive as the ancient language. “Looks like you were working.”
She pulled a UT cup from the cabinet. “It pulled me right in. I lost total track of time.”
“Come up with anything?”
“I think your encoder pulled symbols from two ancient languages. Mayan and Aztec. Very clever to mix the symbols. Both languages have been dead for thousands of years, and only a half-dozen people in the world can read it.”
He studied the spark in her eyes. “But you can.”
“I can.” No bravado. Just stating a fact. “I will break it in the next few days.”
He thought about the hours and hours experts had spent on the letters. “I can’t believe it.”
She shrugged. “I have a very defined skill set. Most days those skills are as useless as a relic. But in this case, it’s the perfect skill.”
The coffee gurgled and she moved to open a refrigerator. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harass you?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I dated a guy a couple of years ago and we went out a couple of times. This was before Bradley. I ended it by the third date. We had nothing in common. He didn’t take it well.”
