2 Death Makes the Cut (20 page)

She must really like this guy.

Kyla and I spent the rest of the afternoon setting up my new equipment, and then she took herself off, probably to slip into her new yellow dress for another date with Sherman. I decided not to tease her about it anymore, in part because of her kindness during the day, but mostly because I was too tired. Besides, there would be plenty of time for that later.

After she left I turned on the television, stretched out on my sofa to watch an old black-and-white movie that happened to come up while I flipped through the channels, and fell asleep without meaning to.

When I woke up, it was dark and Belle was standing on my chest, which was her subtle way of letting me know it was time to go outside. Feeling a little groggy, I felt my way to the back door and opened it without turning on any lights. Outside, the air was warm and a breath of breeze stirred through the branches of the trees like a sigh. The glow from the city lights in the distance and the half moon riding high in the night sky gave off enough light to verify there were no snakes in the immediate vicinity. I stepped onto the porch, feeling the warm concrete on my bare feet. A movement from the right caught my eye and my heart jumped, but it was only a possum making its way along the top of the fence, its hairless tail swinging from side to side as it concentrated on setting its tiny handlike feet on the tops of the narrow boards. I glanced over at Belle, hoping she wouldn’t notice it and start barking. Although I wasn’t sure what time it was, the lack of lights in the neighbors’ houses meant it was late enough that high-pitched yapping would not be appreciated.

I stayed outside, breathing in the clean night air and looking at the stars for ten minutes, until Belle returned of her own accord. Going in, I carefully locked the back door, then made the rounds, checking other doors and thinking how very quiet and dark everything was. Now that I had my wish and was alone in my house, I was suddenly nervous. Maybe Kyla had a point about keeping a pistol. Not that I wanted to carry one in my purse, but having one in the house tonight would have been comforting. I peered out the front window to reassure myself that no one was waiting on the front lawn. And saw a strange car.

I looked again. It was parked in the darkest part of the street, lurking in between the circles of light cast by the nearest two streetlights. On any other night, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But tonight, bruises still livid on my face and foam still oozing from a torn sofa, I was understandably alert. Besides, I knew most of my neighbors’ cars. I was the only person on the street who used her garage for her car. Everyone else parked in their driveways or in front of their homes. Garages in Austin took the place that basements held everywhere else, and were used to hold everything from tools to artificial Christmas trees. The car waiting in the shadows was unfamiliar and menacing, a crocodile floating motionless in the water, waiting for its prey. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t turned on any lights.

I watched for what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than three or four minutes. Then I began to relax a little. There was no sign of anyone creeping through yards or slinking from bush to bush like Wile E. Coyote in pursuit of the Road Runner. And after all, what was a strange car? One of my neighbors probably had a guest staying for the holiday weekend. The street slept, a quiet short street in a safe neighborhood in the suburbs. I told myself to quit being so jittery and to go to bed.

Then I saw it. A movement in the car, as though someone sitting in the driver’s seat had just shifted position. The hair rose on the back of my neck. So they had come back after all.

I thought of my little house all but destroyed, of my little dog terrorized and hiding under a mattress. Fear gave way to rage. I went for my baseball bat.

It was a good baseball bat. None of that new lightweight aluminum for me. I’d found it at a garage sale, a solid wood beauty that weighed almost five pounds and must have been intended for use by a giant. Right now I wished it weighed twice as much and had spikes embedded in it.

Knowing that the creep in the car could see my front door, I slipped out the back and crept around to the gate, trying not to think what could be waiting for an unwary foot in the grass. In Texas, even well-tended suburban lawns were havens for scorpions and snakes of all types. I wished I’d taken the time to put on my shoes. If I was lucky, I would find nothing worse than a dog pile.

With care I pushed open the gate and moved stealthily behind the shrubs to a position where I could see without being seen and considered my options. Unfortunately, there was no way I would be able to make it across the street undetected. I told myself the most important thing was to discover the identity of the occupant. Beating that person senseless would be a stretch goal. I hesitated only briefly.

I raced across the street as fast as my bare feet would take me, bat held at the ready position. If nothing else, I would leave some dents in that smooth fender. As I drew closer, I could see the shape of a man. A big man. I didn’t care. I would pound him first and scream for help later.

I was just lifting my bat to shatter the front headlight, when the driver’s door opened and the interior light spilled across the startled face of Colin Gallagher.

I froze, bat raised over my right ear. I could hear the pounding of my own heart.

Colin stepped out and closed the door quietly behind him. I lowered the bat slightly and straightened up. He walked around the car, then leaned one hip on the hood.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked in a bright tone.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I quivered, the adrenaline pumping hard, my knuckles still white on the bat.

He looked up and down the quiet street. “Do you want to get in the car?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Can we go inside then?”

“Okay,” I said after a pause.

I turned on my heel and stalked back across the street, then led the way through my backyard to the patio door. Belle waited on the other side, short tail wagging. Seeing Colin, she yapped a few times on principle.

The door closed behind us and I whirled on him. “What the hell were you doing out there? You scared the crap out of me!” My voice squeaked out a good octave higher than I intended.

“First, give me the bat. I don’t want my head bashed in.” He held out a hand, and I reluctantly relinquished it, my fingers stiff from clutching it so hard. He set it in a corner.

“Second,” he went on, “the real question is what the hell were you doing out there? If you thought I was the bad guy, why didn’t you call 911?”

I looked at him blankly and then sank into a chair. “I wanted to know who it was,” I said finally. “Who it was who did all this to me. And who maybe killed Fred.”

“You should have called for help. I mean, look at you. You’re barefoot, for Christ’s sake. You weigh about as much as a cat. What the hell did you think you were going to do?”

The barefoot thing I couldn’t argue with. The cat comment wasn’t true, but I was hardly going to argue with that either.

“I was going to make a statement with my bat,” I said with great dignity. “And I was going to find out what was going on.”

“It was stupid,” he said coldly, and I suddenly realized that he was very angry. “Stupid and risky. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but a man has been killed, and you were damn near killed.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said through clenched teeth, angry in my turn. “The stupid thing was you—camping out there without letting me know. How did you think I’d feel about seeing a stranger sitting outside my house after everything that’s happened?”

“I didn’t think you were home. You didn’t have any lights on.”

“I fell asleep on the couch.”

We glared at each other, angry because we’d both been given a fright. Looking at him a little more closely, I finally noticed that he wasn’t wearing what I’d come to think of as his detective outfit—the pressed shirt, tie, and slacks that I’d seen him in before. Tonight, he was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His gun, black and heavy, rested in a holster on his belt. His jaw, though clean shaven, was showing the shadow of his dark beard.

“Are you off duty?” I asked.

“I’m never off duty,” he answered shortly.

I rolled my eyes at that. “That’s not true. You weren’t assigned to watch my house, were you? You’re just doing it in your free time.”

He looked almost guilty, like one of my students caught doing extra-credit work by his friends. He didn’t answer.

I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, considering.

“Thank you,” I said at last. “I’m sorry I almost pounded your car.”

He glared at me, still not willing to let it go. “You know how stupid that was? You won’t do anything like that again, right?”

“We really need to work on your personal skills,” I said, as though thinking aloud. “After making your point with a lady and receiving an apology, a gentleman should never use the word ‘stupid.’ You should also offer an apology of your own,” I added.

He looked outraged. “For what?”

“For scaring me and for being an ass.”

His lips pressed together, and I could have sworn I saw his eye twitch. He held out a hand to me.

It seemed an odd moment to high-five, but men are strange. I slapped his palm gently and turned mine up for the return.

Instead, with an exasperated laugh, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I found myself inches from his chest, looking up into his face with a startled gasp. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and pulled me tightly against him so I could feel the whole warm length of him pressed against my body. With his free hand he gently smoothed my hair away from my bruised face and then bent his head to kiss me.

And yes, I kissed him back. Without thought I slid my arms around his hard body and melted against him. He smelled wonderful, of shaving cream and warm skin and man. He felt wonderful, too, his size and the hard muscles under his shirt making me feel small and feminine and sexy. His lips moved over mine with surprising gentleness before he raised his head to take a breath and gaze into my eyes.

Breathless, I gazed back, wanting more, wanting his lips back on mine. Then my brain returned from whatever little holiday it had been on and started waving giant red flags.

“Oh, no!” I said, breaking out of the circle of his arms and clamping a hand over my mouth.

His head snapped up with a jerk, stiff-necked and affronted, as well he might be at my reaction to what had been one of the top ten kisses of all time. I could still feel his lips and the warm, seductive languor that had flowed through my muscles like honey. I stamped my foot to make the desire go away. It went, but not far. Every part of me wanted to return to his embrace.

Appalled at my own feelings, I moved around the table so the polished oak could act as the barrier I seemed unable to create on my own.

“I’m seeing someone,” I whispered. “What is wrong with me?”

At this his tight expression relaxed, the narrowed blue eyes softening again. My God, he was gorgeous.

“So, this boyfriend of yours. I haven’t seen him around.”

The observation, though lightly made, had a judgmental quality to it. The same one I’d been hearing in Kyla’s voice recently.

I swallowed, trying to conjure up an image of Alan.

“It’s not his fault. He’s been out of the country, but he’s due back soon. Today, in fact,” I said, suddenly realizing that Alan should be home by now. And that he hadn’t called.

Of course, there were lots of explanations for that, the most likely being that his plane had been delayed. I would certainly be hearing from him tomorrow. Or rather today. The clock on the microwave behind Colin’s shoulder showed that it was already after midnight. The day wasn’t even an hour old, and I’d already made one hell of a mistake. What was I going to do?

I must have asked the last question out loud.

“Well, for starters you can quit looking like I’ve soiled your honor,” he said, half-joking, half-irked. “It was one kiss.”

But what a kiss.

And it wasn’t about Colin at all; it was about me. Me and my reaction to another man, when I was sure that I was still in love with Alan Stratton, regardless of whether Alan still felt the same about me. And it did not help to think that if I were not dating Alan, I would be naked and moaning under Colin at this moment.

I turned away, hoping he had not read my thoughts in my eyes.

Whether he could or not, he no longer sounded angry. After a long pause, he said, “Look, it’s late. I doubt anything is going to happen tonight, but I’d feel better staying. Is it okay if I take your sofa again?”

I hoped he was talking about the burglar and not about us. I nodded. “I’ll get a blanket and pillow for you.”

I lay awake a very long time, alternately burning with desire and shame, straining to try to hear the sound of breathing or of movement through the door. I wondered if he were as disturbed as I. Eventually I must have dropped off to sleep, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the chime of the doorbell followed by the sound of angry male voices.

Chapter 13

TRIALS AND TRIANGLES

Since I sleep in an oversized T-shirt with a picture of Tweety Bird on it when I’m alone, I took the time to pull on the jeans that I’d left in a crumpled pile on the floor before running out into the living room. I still had Tweety on my chest, my eyes were puffy from sleep, and my hair was waving around like a bad imitation of Medusa, but at least I was wearing pants.

I mention my appearance because I believe it had a lot to do with the fact that my entrance cut off a heated argument in midsentence as Colin and Alan turned to stare at me. Alan had obviously just entered the room and was bristling like a Doberman spotting a cat near its food dish. He carried a sheaf of bright flowers, which he was now holding upside down at his side like a weapon. Colin had returned to the sofa on which he’d slept and was leaning against the back, arms folded across his chest.