Dark Choices - I. T. Lucas Page 0,40

but not before checking that there were no suspicious cars parked on either side of the street. The converted garage that she’d rented for cash was at the front of the house, so she had a clear view from the window, which was one of the main reasons she’d chosen it. The other one was that the landlady had bought her story about an abusive ex-husband who was a cop, and had agreed to forgo background checks.

The car Eleanor had gotten had also been bought with cash, and naturally, she hadn’t registered it and had no intention of doing so. When she was done with it, she would just abandon the old thing somewhere. It was better to forget about the twelve hundred bucks she’d paid for it than risk exposure by trying to sell it.

Hopefully these precautions, combined with the specialized glasses she wore whenever she left the house, were enough. Avoiding facial recognition was important, but since Harrisonburg wasn’t a major metropolis, she might be recognizable in other ways. That was why she’d also discarded her professional attire, replacing it with jeans, sneakers, and hoodies. Her well-groomed blonde bob was now a messy brown thing that made her look much younger than she was. From afar, she could pass for a college girl, which was not bad for a forty-year-old woman.

The many hours she’d spent over the years on the slopes had been good not only for recreation, but they had also kept her in top shape. Hell, she was in better shape than most high school girls.

If she wasn’t hell-bent on revenge, she could’ve moved somewhere that had snow this time of year. But the slopes would have to wait.

As the saying went, business came before pleasure.

Catching her reflection in the car’s side mirror, Eleanor grimaced. Up close, she looked her age, and what’s worse, she looked unkempt.

But then that was the whole idea of changing her appearance. Her usual makeup and elegant clothing had had to go.

Still, she would have preferred to show up at Simmons’s house looking more put together, but it didn’t really matter. His widow would welcome her anyway because she was under compulsion to do so.

The house was only a forty-minute drive away, but since she wanted to take a look around to make sure that the place was clear of surveillance cameras, she had to get there earlier.

Technically, there was no reason for anyone to watch Simmons’s house. The guy was dead, the funeral was over, and she doubted that his widow was suspected of doing anything even remotely interesting. But Eleanor didn’t want to bet her life on it.

What if Roberts guessed her intentions and was monitoring the house?

Or worse, what if he had beat her to it and had already collected whatever journals or other work-related documents that Simmons had kept at home?

His widow had said that no one had searched her husband’s home office, but it could have been done during the night when she’d slept.

Paranoia?

Not really.

Roberts was afraid that his and Simmons’s shenanigans would be discovered. As far as he was concerned, the two biggest threats were her and whatever documents could be found in Simmons’s home. She could be easily discredited as a disgruntled former employee who was seeking revenge for getting fired, but written documentation would be more difficult to disprove.

As she drove by the house, Eleanor scanned the vehicles parked along the street. There were only two, a gardener’s truck and a minivan, and both had clear windows that she could see the interior through.

No one was sitting inside.

After turning around at the next intersection, she made another pass, slowing down this time and searching the nearby power poles for cameras.

It seemed that the coast was clear. Still, there could be cameras inside the house, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her plan was to start with idle chitchat while scanning the interior for bugs.

As soon as Eleanor parked and got out of the car, Simmons’s widow opened the door. “Good morning, Marisol.” She smiled. “I’m so glad that you came to visit.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Simmons. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course, dear. And please call me Bella. Now that Edgar is gone, I cringe every time someone calls me Mrs. Simmons.”

Eleanor wondered whether it was because Bella mourned her husband or was glad to be free of him.

“As you wish. Bella is a lovely name. My favorite aunt is named Bella.”

She didn’t have an aunt by that name