Deathtrap (12 page)

“Maybe it wasn’t,” he suggested without judging. “Maybe for him to feel strong, he needed you to feel weak.”

She blinked at him, surprised how quickly he got it. It’d taken her a long time to figure that out.

“All men are not like your ex,” he said next.

“I know that. On some level.” And as she released the air from her lungs, she released something else, some false assumptions she’d been hanging on to for too long, that everyone who was strong would want to keep her weak.

She cleared her throat. “If the offer still stands, I’d be grateful if you could help me take Peaches to the vet.”

He made the call right then and there. And the vet said he could see them if they could get there within the next twenty minutes. So they raced Peaches to the pickup and got him into the back with the help of a little bribery.

She was impressed. “I’m beginning to think that dog treats are the best thing ever invented.”

“Definitely in the top ten,” he said with an easy smile as he slid behind the wheel.

Her answering smile slipped off her face as she had to push aside a bouquet of white carnations to make room for herself on the passenger seat. The implications hit her, and she felt like an idiot. Of course a guy like Bing would have a woman in his life.

She gestured at the flowers as he started the engine. “Going on a date?” she asked casually, then held her breath, waiting for the answer.

All the lightness disappeared from his face.

“Sorry.” She pressed her lips together. “None of my business.”

“Saturday was the second anniversary of my wife’s death. It’s the second bouquet. The first wilted before I could make it to the cemetery.” His voice sounded wooden.

“Work keeps you busy.”

He shook his head. “I feel like I should be taking her more than flowers. I should be going there telling her I got her killer. I want to be standing there telling her that the bastard’s heart’s no longer beating.”

He said that last bit with a sudden savagery she hadn’t heard from him before, a dark storm shifting in his gaze, and she got a glimpse of a side of him she hadn’t seen before, a side that criminals must have faced. He looked fierce enough to make her want to stay on the right side of the law. Meticulously.

“I’m sorry.” Losing a loved one had to be difficult, no matter what, but she imagined that losing someone to violence had to be even harder. Especially for Bing, who spent his whole life protecting people.

He didn’t tell her more, and she didn’t want to pry. They rode in silence for a while. And then they talked about small things, their pets, gardening, the weather, until they reached the vet.

Peaches had some blood work done for heartworm and other parasites that would come back in a day or two, but other than that, he received a clean bill of health. He didn’t have a chip. The vet asked if Sophie wanted one put in, but since the dog wasn’t hers, she wasn’t comfortable making that decision. Peaches hadn’t made any effort to leave her backyard, and he did have the collar with her phone number on it, so she felt that, for the moment, they were okay.

Bing drove them home, led the dog to the back, and snapped off the leash, then shook his head with a smile when Peaches took a leaping run as he spotted a squirrel at the back fence.

“Thank you.” She grinned after the goofball before turning to Bing. “And thank you for the gardening. And the bath too. This is more progress than I would have made in a month on my own. I—”

“I enjoyed it,” he said quietly, watching her face.

She blinked. “You did? But it was just a lot of work.”

“I enjoyed spending time with you.”

Oh. Pleasure spread through her. “Me too.”

She walked him back up front, feeling thrilled and awkward in equal measure. They stopped on the stoop outside the door.

A half smile came to play on his lips. “You’re easy to be around. And easy on the eye. That’s a bonus.” He caught himself. Took a step back. “I have no right to be saying that. I’m not in a place where—”

“I’m attracted to you too,” she blurted, then wished the earth would just open up beneath her and swallow her up along with the wave of embarrassment that washed over her. She had no idea how to act around a man she was attracted to. She was pitifully inexperienced when it came to dating.

He stepped closer with an intense, thoughtful look on his face. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Her heart gave a hard thud.

“You probably can’t kiss.” Another step closer. “What does the doctor say?”

“We never kissed,” she deadpanned. “Dr. Pratt and I are not interested in each other that way.”

The sound of his deep laughter broke the tension between them. He moved a little closer still.

“Dr. Pratt says intimacy is all right, unless the other person is sick.” She couldn’t believe she just said that. Why not put a neon sign on her forehead? DESPERATE FOR SEX.

“This isn’t going to work.” He leaned his forehead against hers, the skin-to-skin contact jolting. “This isn’t the right time for either of us.” His hands slid up her arms. “I shouldn’t kiss you,” he said.

And then he did.

Holy heavens.

He didn’t do more than brush his lips over hers, and her head was swimming. Her heart seemed to skip several beats, which gave her a moment of anxiety before she remembered that it might be normal. Things like that were frequently mentioned in romance novels.

She’d just never thought it was real, that she could ever feel a wave of desire as intense as this.

Bing slowly put his arms around her, drawing her closer, and suddenly her breasts were snuggled against his hard chest. Tingles ran across her skin. Then he nibbled on her lower lip gently, and her knees went weak. She lifted her hands to his waist, for support first, then they somehow slipped around him and moved up the rippling muscles of his back. His body felt like a work of art under her fingertips.

A long minute of bliss passed before he eased back to look at her.

She stared at him, dazed, then gathered herself.

“I’m not like this normally.” They barely knew each other, even if she’d felt an instant connection, almost from the moment she’d met him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Brazen.” If that was the right word.

He shook his head, that half smile coming out again. “Think again. You just locked lips with the police captain on your front stoop for everyone to see.”

She felt her face flush as he watched her, conflicting emotions crossing his face. The half smile disappeared as he stepped back.

“Don’t say it,” she blurted. “Don’t say it was a mistake, or apologize or—” She wanted to keep that one perfect moment as it was, even if they never had another.

His gaze darkened. “Apologizing couldn’t be further from what I’m thinking.”

Did the air thin suddenly? She felt like it did. He watched her with an intensity that made it impossible to look away from him. As if he was wrestling with an important decision.

Then he turned from her, strode to his pickup, and drove away.

Chapter Eight

That kiss had rattled him so much, Bing went into work on his day off, just to get his mind off Sophie. He stopped by the cemetery on the way.

He laid the flowers on the stone, stood back with his hands folded behind him, his throat tightening. “I’m not giving up on the case. I never will. I swear.”

They’d had problems, but he and Stacy had loved each other once. Whatever else was going on, they’d always been friends, at least. They’d been partners. And he missed her. Missed her, specifically, but also, in more general terms, he missed companionship at home. His house was too quiet in the evenings.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He hung his head. “I met someone and she’s…unexpected. She has this dog.” He paused. “You’d like the dog.” And then he had no idea what else to say.

“I’m sorry.” He always said that.

But no absolution came from the grave.

No blame either.

He carried that around himself. It’d be nice to lay it down, he thought, but he couldn’t.

So he said a silent prayer, then walked back to his car.

On his way back to the station, he stopped for some coffee at the country store. The drive-through would have been faster at one of the chains, but the country store had Mildred behind the counter. She was eighty-two, still worked most every day, and got a kick out of being the Captain’s favorite.

Bing ordered the daily special, which turned out to be hazelnut mocha with almond milk. He liked his coffee black, but Mildred was proud of her specials. Her friends came in and made a big deal about them, and it kept her happy.

“Best one yet,” he told her with a smile. “Given some more thought about running away with me?”

“Drive by the house Sunday morning.” She flashed her own come-hither grin. “Pull up to the back. One whistle and I’ll shimmy down the drainpipe.”

From anyone else her age, that would have been an impossibility, but if anyone could do it, Mildred would. She had that kind of spirit.

“Don’t you believe her.” Eddie Gannon, the town handyman, came up behind Bing. He was in his fifties, and lived alone above the diner, a man of many skills. He drove the big plow in the winter for the town and went around fixing whatever needed to be fixed for the rest of the year. He winked at Mildred. “She’s been leading me on like that for years.”

Mildred giggled.

“We can duke it out in the back,” Bing offered to Eddie. “I have to warn you. I’m not going to give her up easily.”

They joked on for another minute or two while he paid.

Mildred reminded him of Sophie, Bing thought as he drove away.

Then thinking of Sophie reminded him of the kiss.

He shouldn’t have kissed her, but damn if he would apologize for it. He didn’t want to give her false expectations, however. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He needed to give Stacy closure, to catch her killer first. He’d tell Sophie that if she came around to design his front yard on Saturday.

If she got mad at him, so be it. He hoped she wouldn’t. Even if they couldn’t have more right now, he wanted her friendship. He liked hanging out at her house, with her and Peaches. She was easy company. A tough cookie, for sure. And she wasn’t hard to look at either. He bit back a grin. He suddenly liked curly red hair. And green eyes. And her curves….

Joe waved him over as soon as he walked into the station. “Hey, Captain. The full lab work on the Haynes case just came in.”

He strode up to Joe’s desk and scanned the screen. “Anything?”

“No tissue under her fingernails other than her own blood. No other hair or DNA on her clothes but her own. If the killer was her lover, it doesn’t look like they touched much before he attacked her.”

Bing rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. “She went there to meet the killer instead of going to the vet as she told her kids. She got out of the car. She let him get close enough so he could cut her neck with a single slice of his knife. She didn’t even try to defend herself.”

“Which all comes back to her most likely going to meet a love interest.”

“But who the hell is he?” Bing watched the screen as Joe scrolled down the report. Nothing popped. “How about the tire molds?” They’d taken casts from tire prints at the clearing.

“I’ve been comparing them with the samples we have in the database. Generic tires you can buy anywhere.”

Right. Because catching a break would have been too easy.

Bing walked into his office and pulled the files up on his own screen, checked them over more carefully, then paged through the crime scene photos again. Separate shots showed the contents of her purse, nothing unusual, wallet, some notepaper and pens, hand sanitizer, lipstick, a granola bar, checkbook, some bills she hadn’t yet mailed, her phone.

They’d secured a warrant for her phone records and had already received the log from the phone company. They had every call, incoming and outgoing, and every text. Nothing that looked like a clue, unfortunately.

Her calls were to friends and family and to work. Unfortunately, at work, all calls went through a central switchboard, so individuals couldn’t be identified from the logs they had.

Bing leaned back in his chair.

Most murders he’d seen, the motive was either love or money.

Kristine Haynes might have had a lover. She was also anxious to get enough money for a pricey private school for her girls. Maybe the two were entwined in some way. Maybe she was trying to get money from the boyfriend. Then he found out he was being used, and in a moment of rage, he killed her.

The theory had some logic to it, except the moment-of-rage thing. The victim had been lured to a remote location. That indicated premeditation and cold-blooded murder.

Joe stopped by, sticking his head in the door. “Mark Villon’s alibi doesn’t check out. He wasn’t in the meeting he said he was in, the morning of the murder. I mean, he was, for a few minutes, but then he had to leave. There are two hours when nobody in the office saw him.”

Bing brought up the man’s interview notes on his computer. The smooth guy who thought himself hot stuff, the one who showed the least emotion over a coworker being murdered. The man had denied an affair with Kristine. But if he’d lied about his alibi… “Bring him in.”

Joe turned with a nod, just as Leila buzzed Bing from the front desk. “There’s been a burglary at the Haynes house. While they were all at the funeral, somebody pushed in a window and went through the place.”

He was on his feet and running through his office. “We’re going out,” he called over to Joe as he headed for the front door. “Grab the fingerprint kit.”

* * *

The B&E crime scene inside the Haynes residence was a disaster. At least fifty people were milling through the sprawling suburban home, friends and family who’d shown up for the funeral then came back to the house afterward with the husband and the kids.

One of the twins led the other up to Bing and pushed her forward. They looked identical, blond pigtails, big blue eyes, and matching black dresses.