Count to Ten (18 page)

“Yeah. I know. Annabelle told me that much.” After Mia had confronted her after the funeral, in the privacy of her mother’s house. “And Annabelle took him back.”

“And nine months later, out popped me. Another girl.”

“He rejected two children because neither of them had a dick.” She clenched her teeth on a wave of fury. “All those years I tried to please him. Appease him.” Mia sighed. “So what do you know about the other daughter?”

Kelsey blinked. “Excuse me?”

Mia blinked back. “At the cemetery... I saw a woman. She looked like me, just a little younger. She had my eyes.” Bobby’s eyes. “It was uncanny.”

Kelsey was clearly at a loss. “That I didn’t know. Can’t help you there, M.”

“Well, thanks for believing me at least. I know it sounds crazy.”

“You’ve never lied to me.” Kelsey sat back, considering. “So there are three of us misbegotten non-male spawn.”

“That we know of. Maybe more. God knows how many times he tried for a boy.”

Kelsey’s lips quirked in amusement. “Well, it looks like Bobby shot mostly X’s. No little Y’s to make little Bobbys.”

Mia smiled, despite the weight on her shoulders. “God, I miss you.”

Kelsey swallowed, hard. “Stop. Don’t make me...” She drew a breath, took a surreptitious glance side to side. “It’s like blood in the water, M.”

“You come up for parole again in three months.”

“Like I don’t know the exact time to the minute? It won’t do any good.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

“You’ve always been there, every hearing. And I’m grateful. But Shayla Kaufmann is always there, too, and her grief carries more weight than your good words.”

Mia clenched her fist. “It’s been twelve years, Kelsey.”

“But her husband and son are still dead.”

“
You
didn’t shoot them. The store video showed it clearly.” Kelsey had stood there, her hand shaking so bad she’d nearly dropped the gun. Her boyfriend Stone had done the shooting and was serving life without parole. Kelsey had cooperated, earning her a deal. Eight to twenty-five. At the time, Mia had been relieved Kelsey’s sentence hadn’t been stiffer. Twelve years later, Mia knew exactly how slowly time could pass.

Kelsey’s face was immobile, but her eyes had darkened with a torment she rarely let Mia see. “I didn’t shoot, but I stood there while Stone did. I didn’t do anything to save that man and his son. That father’s last action was to shield his son with his own body.” She held herself rigid and focused on a point over Mia’s shoulder and Mia knew they were both thinking that was something their own father never would have done.

“Dammit, Kelsey, you were young. Scared. You were high.”

“I was
guilty.
” Her lips trembled and she pursed them. “And I still am.”

Mia bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “I’ll still be there at the parole hearing.”

Kelsey’s eyes closed for a long moment and when she opened them, they were again cool and detached. “I hear you took a bullet, kid.”

The subject of parole was now closed. “Yeah. Two weeks ago.”

“How’s your pal?”

“Abe? He’s in the hospital, but he’ll be okay.”

“Don’t drop your guard.” One side of her mouth lifted. “You’re the only one who ever comes to visit me in here. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

Mia cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“Oh, yeah. And tell Dana I said thanks, but no thanks.”

“For what?”

“I got a postcard from her vacation to the beach. Big ugly crab on the front. She said she wished I could have been there to help her eat them. They look like bugs.”

“I’ll tell her. I’ve got to get back now. I have another few hours of reading to do after I smack a man silly.”

Kelsey’s brows lifted in lazy interest, but her eyes were sharp. “Police brutality?”

“Nope. This is my temporary partner. He followed me all the way from town and now he’s waiting out in the parking lot.” She huffed. “Thinks I didn’t see him tailing me.”

Amusement now lit Kelsey’s eyes. “Now why would he do a thing like that?”

“Because he...” Mia thought about all the kind things Reed Solliday had done for her over the last two days. -Coffee, medicine, opening doors like she was... a lady. It would appear that Reed Solliday was an old-fashioned gentleman and a nice guy. Who’d played football. And liked poetry. And seemed to feel the pain of the victims as keenly as she did. She sighed. “He was worried about me. Apparently somebody wrecked his wife’s car when they were too tired to drive.”

“So he’s married?” Kelsey shook her head reproachfully. “M.”

“He’s a widower with a kid. And don’t get that look in your eyes,” she added, when Kelsey did just that. “He’s temporary, just until Abe gets back.”

“What does he look like?”

The man was big. And built. “A little like Satan.” She ran her thumb and forefinger around her mouth. “He’s got this goatee thing going on.” That framed a very nice mouth.

“Interesting.” One brow went up. “So is this Satan a fallen angel or a gargoyle?”

Mia shifted in her chair uneasily. “He’s... easy enough on the eyes.”

Kelsey nodded, her mouth bent in speculation. “And?”

And he’s decent. And I like him.
She drew a breath.
Hell.
“That’s all.”

Kelsey stood up. “Okay, if that’s how you’re going to play it, I’ll wait for Dana’s next letter. She’ll give me the straight scoop.” And without saying good-bye, Kelsey hung up the phone and walked away. She never said good-bye, she always just walked away.

For a minute Mia just sat there, her heart aching. Then she carefully hung up the phone and went to give Solliday his just deserts.

Tuesday, November 28, 8:30 P.M.

It took her long enough, he thought sourly, as Tania exited the hotel lobby carrying the flowers. The inside of the car he’d taken was nice and warm and he’d nearly fallen asleep waiting for her. All the doors were on the outside of this motel, so he knew she’d need to pass this way sooner or later.

Slowly he drove through the parking lot, keeping her in his sight all the time. Finally she stopped and knocked. The door opened, not wide enough for him to see inside. But that was okay. He lifted his binoculars and focused. Room 129.
Go, me.

He yawned again. He was so tired. He wanted old lady Dougherty, but he didn’t want to be so tired he didn’t enjoy it, or worse, that he made a mistake. It was a foolish man who took chances when he was fatigued. Besides, he needed a key card and Tania didn’t get off till seven tomorrow -morning. He could take it now, but somebody would notice when she didn’t come back to the desk. Because after he took her key card little Tania and her smart mouth wouldn’t be going anywhere.

He had time. It wasn’t like the Doughertys had a place to go. So he’d go home, get some sleep and be back tomorrow morning to make sure Miss Tania got home safely.

Tuesday, November 28, 8:45 P.M.

Reed was dreaming. He knew inside the dream that he was dreaming, but that made it a little more okay. Because he knew even as he dreamed that it would not come true. He would not pull Mia Mitchell into his bed. He would not tear the clothes from her body. He would not kiss every inch of her creamy skin. And he certainly would not come inside her with enough force to make her blue eyes glaze over.

So because none of those things would ever happen, he knew he’d better enjoy the dream as long as it lasted. And he was enjoying it. As was she. Her tight body was arched up, her internal muscles gripping him as he moved. “God, Reed,” she was moaning, not the delicate little whispers of Christine, but loud, loud enough to penetrate his own pleasured stupor. “
Reed.
”

Reed woke with a start, his eyes flying to his car window where Mitchell stood pounding her fists on the glass. She rolled her eyes when she saw him jolt to awareness. -“Dammit, Solliday, I thought you were passed out from -carbon monoxide.”

He rolled the window down, still reeling from the dream that had been way too real for his comfort. He nearly reached for her, knowing now how her face would feel between his palms. But he didn’t really know. Nor would he. “I guess I fell asleep.”

She looked mad. Why was she mad? “What the hell are you doing here?”

Here?
He looked around, saw the fence, the security post. Prison.
Oh, yeah.
The drive out from the city came back with clarity. So much for a surreptitious tail.
Damn.
He’d been made. “Um...” His mind was utterly blank. His body utterly hard.

Her eyes still snapping, she stared at him. “Did you really think I didn’t see you?”

Some of the blood was returning to his brain, making things more comfortable on both counts. “Maybe. Okay, yeah, I didn’t think you saw me. I blew it, didn’t I?”

Her frown softened. “Yeah, but your intentions were good. You have a nice nap?”

He felt his cheeks burn, as if his dream were a scarlet letter branded on his forehead. “Yeah. I did.” He looked up at the prison building, its lights glaringly bright against the night sky, then back at her. “If I ask what brought you here, will you tell me it’s none of my business?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You are the nosiest of men.”

“Sorry.”

“You also seem to be nice and relatively harmless.”

His dream flashed back, vivid and clear and in full Technicolor. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of them. “Most of the time, yes.”

“And you did bring me coffee twice today and a hot dog yesterday.”

That sounded promising. “And I let you pick where we ate lunch, both days.”

Her lips curved. “Yes, you did.” The small smile faded. “I was visiting my sister.”

It was not what he’d expected. “What?”

“You heard me. My younger sister’s in for armed robbery. Shocked?”

“Yeah. I have to say I am. How long has she been in?”

“Twelve years. I come during visiting hours like everybody else. I don’t want anybody inside to know her sister’s a cop.”

Stunned, he had no idea what to say. One side of her mouth lifted, likely in sympathy for his inability to speak. “Like you said yesterday, sometimes it’s worse with cops’ kids. My sister is paying for some really bad decisions. If she doesn’t make parole, she’ll go on paying another thirteen years.”

“So you really do understand how Margaret Hill felt about her mother.”

She just stood there, watching him. Saying nothing.

“Well.” He scratched his face where new stubble was starting to itch. “What now?”

“Now I go back and read files.”

There were dark shadows under her eyes. “Or we could grab some dinner.”

She studied him carefully. “Why?”

“Because my stomach’s growling so loud I’m surprised you can’t hear it.”

Again her mouth quirked. “I can hear it, actually. I meant why did you follow me?”

“You were tired and you feel guilty because you haven’t processed information in those files in one night that will probably take both of us days to get through.” She hadn’t bought his explanation, so he gave the only answer that would satisfy them both. “For some reason I like you. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. That’s all.”

She flinched, her eyes taking on a suspicious glint that rocked him as she took a giant step back from his window. She turned her head to look up at the prison building. When she looked back, her eyes were clear, her smile slightly mocking. “Then let’s get something to eat. But not around here, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. This time you follow me.”

Tuesday, November 28, 10:15 P.M.

Reed stepped out of his garage and waited as Mitchell’s little Alfa turned into his driveway. He was a little surprised she’d stuck with him when it became clear they were headed to his house, but here she was, ratty jacket and all. He’d had partners over for dinner before after all. Foster, a bachelor with a hot plate, was a regular.

But Foster sure as hell didn’t look like Mia Mitchell. Reed’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as she got out of her car. From where he stood, he could see her every curve.
You’re crazy,
he thought.
This is a bad idea. B-A-D.
But there had been something in her eyes, a soft vulnerability. He’d thought she had no softness in her yesterday morning. He could see now that he’d been very wrong.

She stopped three feet from him, blond brows lifted. “Café du Solliday?”

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand the thought of another burger in a sack.”

Her lips curved, amused. “You gonna cook for me?”

“That depends on your definition of cook. Come.” He led her through the garage into the kitchen where Beth stood at the microwave as popcorn popped. “Hi, honey.”

Beth turned only her head to glare at him. Rolling her eyes, she looked away.

Conscious of Mitchell behind him he took a step toward his daughter. “Beth?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong now?”

Beth set her jaw. “Nothing.”