For Alice, With Love

Chapter 18 - He's Not Here

Mel was in the den, flipping through Netflix without really paying attention. It was late, Chris hadn't gotten back yet, and there had been no call. She had resisted texting him, not wanting to be a pest. He could be on the road, or at a restaurant.

She was having trouble being patient, but she was trying.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. She looked up at the ceiling, then over at the bookshelf, then back to the television. This was not what she needed to be doing right now. Maybe she should go paint.

As she made her way through the hall towards the solarium, she heard a crunch of tires on the gravel and her heart sped up. She hadn't heard the gate chime, but then it was all the way over by the garage entrance. She walked quickly to the door, pulling her sweater around her to ward the chill as she opened the door, as the garage hadn't opened. He didn't park his car out front, ever.

It wasn't Chris.

"Can I help you?" she asked the man who was standing on front veranda, looking around. He did not look relaxed, or look her in the eye. How had he gotten in through the gates?

"Is Chris Smith here?" he asked gruffly, and shrugged his shoulders in his oversized leather coat.

"No, he's in the city on business at the moment. Who are you, and how did you get through the gates?" she replied, a shiver running up her spine as the stranger finally looked at her. He had a scarred face, and his eyes were sharp and cold. Something about him made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She attempted to close the door when his big hand came out and stopped it, pushed it open, and stepped past her into the house.

"Excuse me! Mr. Smith is not home. I would ask you to leave your name and he'll call you when he's back," she repeated, louder.

"Think I'll wait here, darlin'," The man said, and he meandered slowly into the living room, hands in his pockets, looking everywhere at once.

Mel's temper rose along with the niggle of fear that she was not in control of the situation. She palmed her cell in her pocket, and cleared her throat.

"I need you to leave and—" She was cut short by another man walking through the door, and stop just inside the foyer. She closed her mouth with a snap as she recognized the second man.

Oh shit.

This was not a friendly visit. From what pictures she had seen, she was ninety-nine percent sure this was Jet Prestone. The Jet Prestone, who was Gillian's new boyfriend and father of the baby she was about to have.

"Never mind my friend here, Miss. He's very rude," Jet said, a slow, greasy smile sliding across his face that Mel wanted to slap off. She fumed as he stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, and tilted his head towards her. "We won't be a bother. We're just here to see Chris."

"And as I told your rude friend over there," Mel snapped, "He's not at home."

"Oh. Pity. We'll just have to wait then. It really is important business. Do you mind if we wait over here?" he asked, pointing to the couches near the fireplace. "Lovely place."

Before she could utter another word, he wandered over to the first man, and they leaned on the fireplace, talking quietly. Mel dialed Chris. Voicemail. Dammit.

"Chris. Call me as soon as you can. Jet is here at the house. With a friend. They won't leave," she clipped off, then ended the call.

She texted Chris "SOS" then "JET is here" then "Please hurry" for good measure, and then slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"Look. I don't know when he is getting back, I can let him know you were by and he can call you when he gets in. Seriously, it is late, and you are being very rude," Mel said, pacing towards them, the open front door forgotten, her ire rising. "I'm not sure what you have to discuss with him so late at night, but I am sure it can wait a few hours until morning?"