Dead Right (13 page)

“Here’re the clean towels.” She opened a tal cupboard, made of distressed wood, standing just outside the bathroom—probably because it wouldn’t fit inside—and pointed to a neatly folded stack of white and blue towels.

He nodded, thinking he wouldn’t mind a hot shower—

fol owed by a soft bed and then, hopeful y, oblivion.

She walked over to the brick fireplace, which, along with some primitive-looking bookshelves, took up one whole wal . “You’l find plenty of wood in here if you’d like a fire,”

she said, pul ing up the lid on a nearby bin.

The smel of pine and turpentine filtered into the room and made Hunter think of the time he’d taken his smal family camping in Yosemite. Life with Antoinette had been difficult from the start. But Maria had made al the difference. He remembered carrying her on his shoulders as they hiked, helping her across the wet rocks of the stream where they swam. God, he missed his little girl….

When he realized Madeline was waiting for a response, he knocked on the smal door at the back of the bin that indicated it could be fil ed from outside. “Handy.”

“The fireplace should keep you warm.”

The thick feather comforter on the bed would do that, too.

She tucked her hair behind her ears as she turned to face him. “I’m sorry there’s no television out here. No fridge, either. But feel free to come over if you need anything.

There’s a key under the mat. It opens both houses.”

“I’m sure a burglar would never expect to find it there,” he said, with a touch of sarcasm.

“There’s virtual y no crime around here.”

“I know of at least one man who’s gone missing.”

She studied him for a moment. “Take it if you don’t think it’s safe to leave it there. You’l need a key of your own while you’re here, anyway.”

“I’l do that.” Hunter put his laptop on the desk beneath the room’s only window, leaned his guitar case against the wal and fel back on the tal , four-poster bed. He’d be comfortable here, he decided. Madeline’s guesthouse reminded him of a cottage hidden in the backwoods.

Maybe it wasn’t Hawaii, but it wasn’t L.A., either. And for that he was surprisingly glad. He was finding it more and more difficult to lead the barren life he’d been living after the divorce, especial y when he stayed in that empty house where nothing moved but him.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom drawer, and there’s soap, shampoo and conditioner in the shower.”

“Thanks.”

She gave him a tired smile. “I’m sorry about the way I acted at the airport. I should’ve been more polite.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He should’ve been more polite himself.

She paused at the door. “Do you think there’s any chance I’l ever know what happened?” she asked earnestly.

“Yes.” He was afraid to promise her too much. “There’s a chance.”

The sun slanting through the cracks of the draperies woke Hunter. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the white ceiling of the hotel he’d occupied in Hawaii but saw polished wooden rafters instead. Then the smel of damp wood and fresh linens brought everything back to him. He was in a cottage. In Mississippi. Behind the home of a woman named Madeline Barker.

For no particular reason, he reached over, retrieved his wal et from the desk and pul ed out the condom that promoted his client’s strip joint. It read “Bud’s Babes…The hottest babes in town.”

Tel ing himself he didn’t need the temptation that condom offered, he tossed it in the trash can. But a minute later, he got up to retrieve it and shoved it back in his wal et.

Then he glanced at his watch. He’d figured Madeline would come banging on his door at eight sharp. She’d said she had some of the police files on her father’s case—a testament to the kind of rule-bending that was possible when one had friends in the right places. He’d been planning to get up early to read them. But it was already ten. He hadn’t slept so late in ages. Not since he’d quit drinking.

After brushing his teeth, he ran a comb through his hair and pul ed on the same clothes he’d worn yesterday—they were al he had until his luggage arrived. Then he went outside. The ground was stil soggy, but the rain had passed.

The red brick walkway leading to Madeline’s back porch meandered beneath a large wil ow tree, next to a smal pond. The yard was covered with a patchy, swirling mist, but in the light of day he could see that it was wel -tended, ful of vines and plants, potted and otherwise. Obviously, Madeline spent a lot of time out here. There was even a tea table and two chairs arranged under a large oak. The Confederate flag on a pole beside it made him smile.

So where was the pretty Southerner this morning? Had she overslept, too?

He didn’t have to wonder long. As soon as he located the key beneath the mat, which he pocketed when he’d opened the door, he could hear voices coming from another part of the house.
Raised
voices.

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Who was it?

Sophie, the cat he’d seen briefly the night before, got up from the rug in front of the sink, stretched and walked over to inspect him. Giving her a scratch behind the ears, Hunter considered going back to his room until Madeline’s visitor was gone. But then he heard his name. And finding himself the topic of conversation made it difficult to leave.

“Hunter’s an ex-cop, Kirk.”

“So? You don’t know if that makes him safe.”

“I know you have no right to drag me out of bed and start slinging orders.”

“I’m not slinging orders! I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Oh, come off it. You’re not here out of concern for me.

You’re feeling threatened because I brought someone new to town.”

Hunter stiffened as he waited for Kirk’s response. This was the man she’d broken up with six weeks ago. The only man she’d ever slept with.

Hunter didn’t like him already.

“He’s in your guesthouse,” Kirk said. “That’s too close.”

When he’d been examining that condom, it had seemed pretty damn close to Hunter, too. But he was suddenly wil ing to argue the opposite.

“It’s no different than having a neighbor,” she retorted.

Sophie rol ed onto her back so Hunter could rub her stomach.

“Yes, it is,” Kirk nearly shouted. “You live alone and you’ve got no other neighbors. That makes it
very
different.”

Hunter wondered whether he should present himself and say hel o. Now might not be the best time. Without his luggage, he didn’t even have a razor. But he planned to talk to everyone eventual y. That was what he did, how he found what he was looking for. Sometimes people held important pieces to a puzzle without realizing it. And he didn’t particularly care whether or not he impressed Kirk. The more Kirk raised his voice at Madeline, the more eager Hunter became to interrupt.

“I can look after myself,” Madeline insisted, lowering her voice.

Fortunately for Kirk, he lowered his voice, too. “Maddy, it doesn’t give the best impression, okay? Think what everyone at church wil say.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just not yourself right now. He can move to the motel.”

“No. You’ve seen The Blue Ribbon. It’s a dive. He thinks we’re a bunch of rednecks as it is.”

“Did I say that?” Hunter whispered to the cat.

“Why do you care what he thinks?” Kirk asked.

Standing, Hunter crossed the kitchen and leaned against the opening that led to the living room. From there he could see Madeline in the entryway, wearing a pair of white boxers covered with red kisses and a white tank. Her disheveled hair suggested that she’d just rol ed out of bed.

She was also barefoot, and she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Hunter noticed immediately because the thin fabric of her shirt revealed more than he’d seen of a woman in two years.

Madeline’s ex-boyfriend had his back to Hunter, but he looked approximately six-two, maybe 230 pounds. He wasn’t fat, but he was big, with massive shoulders and a head of fine dark hair.

Madeline was too intent on the argument to see him, and Kirk didn’t turn around.

“It’s easier to work together when we’re close by,” she was saying. “This isn’t a nine-to-five proposition.”

“It’d better not be a proposition at al ,” Kirk snapped.

“How dare you say that! You and I aren’t even seeing each other anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“If you stil care, why didn’t you cal when you heard that my father’s car was found?” she asked. “You had to know what that was like for me.”

Hunter knew he should’ve broken in about five minutes ago, but he was interested to hear Kirk’s answer.

“You told me not to cal you again, remember?”

“That didn’t stop you from marching down here the second someone told you I hired a private detective.”

“I heard you’d hired a professional days ago,” he said. “I didn’t have a problem with it until I ran into Grace and Kennedy at breakfast this morning and they mentioned that he’s staying here. They don’t think it’s safe, either.”

“He’s not some criminal. He’s a P.I., for heaven’s sake.”

“Oh, that makes al the difference!” Kirk’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You don’t know him from Adam. You could be raped or—”

At that Hunter opened his mouth to object. He wasn’t going to touch Madeline. Especial y without her permission.

But Madeline was already responding.

“He’s
not
interested in me, okay?”

“How can you be sure of that? Is he married?”

“No.”

“So he’s single.”
I knew it,
rang through his words.

“Yes, but he’s…young,” she said.

“
How
young?”

“Too young—for me, anyway.”

Hunter felt his eyebrows shoot up. A thirty-two-year-old man was too young for a thirty-six-year-old woman?
Why?

She lowered her voice again. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Kirk.”

“Like hel !”

“Listen, he’s recently been through a rough divorce, okay? He’s not interested in me or anyone else. You’ve never met a person who’s so closed off.”

Hunter didn’t want to hear any more about himself. So he coughed to make them aware of his presence and sauntered through the living room to join them in the entry.

Kirk’s face darkened the moment their eyes met; Madeline’s lips parted but she didn’t speak. She was probably wondering how much he’d overheard about his

“rough” divorce.

“
You’re
a private investigator?” Kirk said.

“I seem to be getting that reaction a lot lately,” Hunter replied wryly. He told himself not to look at Madeline again, but he couldn’t help it. Obviously, she’d come from a warm bed, which explained why she was dressed so scantily, but it was chil y in the house. Her body was showing the effects of it and, much as he wished it wasn’t so, his body had definitely noticed.

“Hunter, this is Kirk Vantassel, my
ex-
boyfriend,” she said, chafing her arms to ward off the cold. “Kirk, this is Hunter Solozano.”

Kirk made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t feeling particularly friendly. “How long have you been in the investigative business?” he asked, sizing Hunter up.

“Long enough to know what I’m doing,” Hunter responded but he smiled to soften his words and held out his hand. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight. He only wanted to let Madeline’s ex-boyfriend know that he wouldn’t be pushed around. “Nice to meet you.”

pushed around. “Nice to meet you.”

Kirk didn’t respond immediately. It took a nudge from Madeline to goad him into a handshake. Even then he made the contact brief. “Nice to meet you, too,” he muttered, and his eyes cut back to Madeline. “I was just tel ing Maddy that they have a vacancy at the motel, where you’d be within walking distance of the pool hal and the restaurants in town. You might be more comfortable there.”

“
I’d
be more comfortable?” Hunter repeated. “Or
you’d
be more comfortable?”

“Madeline’s grieving,” he said. “She’s not thinking clearly.”

Madeline protested but Hunter spoke over her. “I don’t have any objection to moving.”

“Great,” Kirk said.

“Does that mean I should send you the bil ?” he asked.

The question took Kirk by surprise. “What?”

“For my expenses,” Hunter clarified. “The motel won’t be free.”

Hunter wondered if Kirk wanted him out of Maddy’s house badly enough to pay the motel bil . At first he didn’t think so. It was one thing to pick up the tab on behalf of a girlfriend, another to pick up the tab on behalf of an
ex-
girlfriend.

But Kirk shrugged. “Sure, I’l pay. No problem. Get your luggage and I’l drive you over.”

“No!” Madeline stepped closer and Hunter could smel the perfume he’d noticed in his room last night. “I brought Hunter to town and I’l take care of his arrangements. He’s fine where he is.”

Hunter wished she’d go put on a robe. His eyes were drawn to her breasts like magnets to steel. And he could tel that Kirk was having the same problem. But he knew she wouldn’t risk leaving them alone, even for a few minutes.

There was so much tension in the room, it felt as if they were squaring off. Hunter suspected this could get out of hand.

“It’s already settled, Maddy,” Kirk said.

She stubbornly held on to Hunter’s arm. “No, it’s not. This has nothing to do with you, Kirk. So stay out of it.”

“I don’t want him here!” Her ex scowled in obvious frustration. “And go put on some damn clothes!”

“Just as soon as you leave,” she said.

With that, Hunter decided to give her a hand by opening the door. Kirk had made his wishes known, but it was Madeline’s decision. “Maybe you should give her a cal once you’ve cooled off,” he suggested.

Hunter thought Kirk might take a swing at him—he could tel Kirk wanted to. But he didn’t. He faced Hunter, nostrils flaring. Then he wrenched the door away and slammed it shut behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Madeline said as the reverberation echoed through the house. “I didn’t see that coming. He hasn’t cal ed me or come by since we broke up.”

“Don’t worry about it. Those things happen.” Now that Kirk was gone, it was even harder not to let his eyes slip down to what her shirt revealed.