Page 20 of Unleashed

7

Trevor

This is… Not at all what I expected.

I had a mental image of what I thought Maren’s life outside of work was like. Assumed she lived in some cool loft above one of the businesses in town. That she spent her free time thrifting and drinking too much. What I’m looking at now is about as opposite of that as it gets.

The trailer where Maren lives isn’t run down or unkempt, but it is old. And small. The entire thing would fit in my great room.

And that includes the ramp she rolled a little girl in a wheelchair up.

A little girl who must be her daughter.

“Fuck.” I scrub one hand over my face, trying to wrap my brain around all this new information. This new version of the woman I thought I knew.

Maren has a kid. A kid who’s in a wheelchair. A kid who’s in a wheelchair and is the reason for her new van.

The longer I consider it, the more it actually makes sense. How money motivated she is. The insurance she couldn’t wait to sign up for. The way she is always out the door at five twenty sharp.

What doesn’t make sense, is why no one seems to know this. Never once have I heard Maren mention her little girl. There’s no pictures of her on Maren’s desk. No conversations about school or child care. No clues for me to put together in any way that would have led me to this conclusion. It’s almost like she doesn’t want me to know about her personal life. Doesn’t trust me with that information.

Look, I know I’m a prick. I don’t pretend otherwise. And I know she started as just another nameless, faceless temp. But I would’ve helped her. I sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to talk anyone out of hiring her permanently.

Well…

I might’ve still thought about it for two seconds.

But only because, deep down, I was worried that seeing Maren on a daily basis would ultimately lead me right where I am now. Sitting in my car, as far from her front door as I can be while still having an unobscured view. Far enough, I don’t worry Maren will see me and discover my little information gathering expedition.

Keeping the surveillance binoculars I swiped from the warehouse before I left pressed to my eyes, I fumble around with my free hand, grabbing one of the energy drinks I chug like water when Ruth isn’t looking. Just as I manage to crack it open, a car slowly rolls up to Maren’s trailer. It parks across the tiny driveway, and a man gets out. He leaves the engine running as he jogs up to the porch carrying a couple of plastic bags. He knocks, waiting until it opens. I get a tiny peek at Maren’s smiling face as she greets him, taking the plastic bags as he says something she responds to.

I thought it was just a delivery of some sort, but this seems a little friendlier than that. Like she knows this guy.

Sitting up straighter in my seat, I get a little concerned that maybe she knows him the same way she knows me, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do if Maren lets him inside.

I do know it will not be great.

Lucky for everyone involved, Maren starts closing the door on him, giving a little wave before basically shutting it in his face. The guy stands there for a second longer, like he hopes she’ll open it and speak to him again. After a minute, he finally turns away, going back to the car idling at the curb.

“That’s right. Get your ass out of here.” I continue staring through the binoculars as I flail across the passenger seat, managing to get my hand on the protein bar I found in one of my desk drawers. Tearing it open with my teeth, I take a big bite, chewing through the slightly chalky texture as I watch the guy leave the neighborhood.

When it becomes obvious nothing interesting is going to happen, I shift my field of vision away from Maren’s trailer, scoping out the area she calls home. It’s woefully unsecure. There’s no gate at the entrance. Over the years, people have added on to the structures, creating a network of blockades that make it hard to easily see from one property to the next. If someone crawled through one of Maren’s windows, no one would ever know it was happening.

Except for me. But I can’t sit here watching twenty-four hours a day.

That’s not entirely true. I can’t physically be in this specific location twenty-four hours a day. There is a way I could watch as often as I wanted.

I zero in on a spot on the top ledge of Maren’s porch. I could easily mount a camera she likely wouldn’t be able to see from the ground. There’s another position tucked into the corner of her roofline where the gutter would mostly hide another device. As long as their coloring matched what was around them, I don’t think she’d ever know they were there. Especially since it seems like she has her hands more than full when she’s trying to get inside.

Which is one more reason someone should be making sure everything is okay. Maren was so distracted as she wheeled her daughter up the ramp, anyone could’ve rushed out, forced her inside, and no one would’ve been the wiser. It only makes sense that I put a little more security here. It’s in her best interest.

Plus, she’s essentially my employee, and running McKinley Security Systems is my responsibility. Making sure the people who work for us are all safe and healthy falls directly on my shoulders. I’m almost required to do this.

I’m not sure Walker will see it the same way, though, so I have to come up with a logical reason why I need cameras from the warehouse. I settle back in my seat as I let my eyes roam the area again. I’m sure I can figure something out.

“You look weird this morning.” Ruth gives me a once-over as she carries in my first cup of coffee. “Why do you look weird?”

“I don’t look weird.” Tired, maybe. Weird, no. “I look the way I always do.”