The Last Day

SIXTY-FOUR

Leslie Wilde turned into the McCartys’ driveway and was coming around the first turn when she saw the truck parked across her way. A powerfully built man, dressed entirely in black, stepped from around the truck, his hand resting on a handgun at his side. She had never seen this guard before. As he approached, Leslie fought the urge to roll up the window. This guy was big, and his eyes as intense as a prison guard's in a riot. A film of sweat coated his face, and Leslie's eyes were drawn to the large knife strapped to his left thigh.

“Who are you, and what's your business here?”

“I'm Mr. McCarty's secretary. I came to bring the McCartys a bottle of champagne. To celebrate that he's been cleared.”

The guard leaned down to better see inside. “Wait, you're Mr. Hartman's girlfriend.”

“The McCartys don't know I'm coming. I brought a bottle of champagne to surprise them,” Leslie repeated. She held up the bottle. “I'll just give it to them and go. I thought you guys would be gone.”

“All I know is Mr. Hartman told me there's a stalker around who could be dangerous and to block the driveway. He's sending more guys back here. Not necessary to send me help. I can handle any stalker that shows up around here.”

He chewed his lower lip and nodded. “I'll call the McCartys and let them know you're here. If they say to, I'll move the truck and let you in.” The guard lifted his cell phone and called a number, and said, “Mr. McCarty Leslie Wilde is here. She's got something for you guys.”

The guard listened to Mr. McCarty's response and closed his phone.

“He says to come in,” the guard told her. “Go slow and I'll follow to watch you until you're safely inside.”