Showdown

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Adam Maxwell was with one of his contractor's, Jim Farrington.  They wandered around the empty house he had recently purchased, inspecting it and taking notes of the things they intended to remove and save, before they finally demolished the place

Adam had come to realize The good thing about these old Victorian houses, as dilapidated and run down as they were, they had some nice features and fixtures still remaining that could be reused in other projects.

He liked to think it was his way doing his bit for recycling. There were a few bits and pieces he would take from this house, including the old fire surrounds.

Satisfied they had seen all he needed, he and Jim decided they had finished for the day. Adam wanted to get away. He had a meeting to attend in a few hours time and it would be over an hour's drive to get there.

Adam was closing the front door behind him, when he heard the female's derisive tone,

"Well look, if it isn't the vultures moving in to pick at the bones of the carcass"

Adam turned, and found a pair of hostile hazel eyes narrowed at him, they were set in a pale oval face which belonged to the slim young woman standing a few yards from him.

Her straight auburn hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail and she was dressed for the weather, in dark jeans and a short  parka jacket  in a green colour, that almost matched her eyes.

Her hands were shoved in the pockets of the jacket, and her stance almost challenging as she eyed him up and down.

Standing just a little bit behind her was another woman, a lot older, with a mass of frizzy grey hair; she seemed more anxious and uneasy than her younger companion, as if she didn't really want to be there

Adam was momentarily taken aback by their unexpected appearance, and the fact the younger woman wasn't exactly addressing him in the most respectful tone. Although she was probably setting out to be offensive, he found he wasn't in the least offended. Instead he was curious, and a little intrigued by her nerve to approach him in such a manner.

"Excuse me, I take it you are talking about us?" he then queried mildly, with what he hoped, was his placating smile.

It had the desired affect; she was now the one found herself  thrown off guard by his easy response, she had somehow expected him to be more unpleasant about it.

It made her shift out her own confronting stance, lowering her eyes from his face. Then momentarily glanced round at the older woman just standing behind her, as if uncertain how to reply.

But swiftly recovering, she turned back to him, her hazel eyes meeting his again.

"You are Adam Maxwell, the big property developer?" she asked, her tone still mocking, "I was beginning to think you didn't really exist except by name; you are almost impossible to reach unless you are tracked down, like now."

Adam took a step forward, cocking his head to the side slightly, his brown eyes scrutinizing the young woman with a slight surprise, his eyebrows raised in question, "You have been trying to get a hold of me? Do I know you?"

"No, not exactly," she shifted uncertainly again," My name is Rachel Crosby, and this is my friend Jean Whitely; she runs the women's Refuge. 'Haven,' where I also help out. You have bought the property, and intend to knock it down. We have been trying to get a meeting with you, to explain the difficult situation that it has put us in"

"Ahh!" realisation hit Adam, "Now I remember; of course, the women's refuge"

His brown eyes rested on Rachel again speculatively, "And you are the Rachel Crosby who has been pestering my office continuously these last few weeks?"

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