Forgotten (Shattered Sisters Book 2) (20 page)

Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them away. Telling him would mean losing him, and maybe getting him killed. "I can't." She pulled free of him, shaking her head sadly, and went into the bathroom.

He didn't try to stop her.

Joey woke from her makeshift bed on the sofa to the smell of hot oil, and the sound of the shrilling telephone. She sat up, still groggy, feeling a dull ache of emptiness she knew was due to sleeping alone. She hadn't realized how comforting she found being wrapped in Ash's arms all night until she'd spent a night without it. But she'd been unable to sleep with him, knowing he could suspect her of something so heinous. It only brought home to her how little they really knew about each other, and made her feel cheap and easy. So she'd told him she would be more comfortable on the sofa, where there'd be no chance of his rolling over and jarring her sore and tender leg. And he had gone along with it, knowing it was just an excuse.

He poked his head out of the kitchen, breaking into her thoughts. "Oh, you're awake." She heard sizzling, snapping sounds and then the phone jingled again. "You want to get that? My hands are kinda full."

She nodded as he ducked back into the kitchen. She reached for the phone. There was a lengthy silence after her hello, and she repeated it twice before she got a response.

"Sorry, Mrs. Coye. I'm...not used to calling Ash and having a woman answer. How are you?"

She recognized Radley Ketchum's voice. "Fine." She was distinctly uncomfortable, knowing this man shared Ash's uncertainty about her, perhaps was even convinced of her guilt by now. "And you?"

"All right, I suppose."

"I'll get Ash. Just a—"

"I'd like to talk to you for a minute if you don't mind."

She swallowed hard, tensing, wondering if he would come right out and accuse her.

"I don't mind."

"It's...well, it's a strange question on the surface. But I'm aware of your...your gift"

She felt the blood drain from her face. "Ash told you?"

"I found out on my own. The point is, I need you to tell me if you...if you begin to, you know,
sense
anything about this case."

She cleared her throat. "I see."

"I don't think you do. I know you'll confide in Ash if anything...comes to you, so to speak. But you've probably guessed by now that Ash could be a target. He doesn't always know what's best for him, Mrs. Coye, and even when he does, he doesn't always
do
it. It would be just like him to ignore serious personal risk to get a story. Especially
this
story. So if you come up with anything, it might be best if you tell me first."

She lowered her voice so Ash wouldn't overhear. "You really think he's in danger?"

"I've worked with Ash for three years now. We’re friends. Good friends. I don't want to see anything happen to him."

She closed her eyes. "Neither do I."

"Then I can count on you to keep me posted?"

She hesitated, then sighed. The more people working to protect Ash, the better. "Yes."

His relief was evident in his tone. "Thank you. Now can I talk to him?"

"Just a sec." She put the receiver on the end table, threw off her covers and walked barefoot to the kitchen, limping a little less than yesterday. Ash was just piling aromatic, golden brown fish onto a platter. She saw another dish, heaped with home fries on the table, beside a stack of pancakes and a bottle of blueberry syrup. She shook her head in awe.

"Peace offering," he said softly. "Forgive me?"

Forgive him? She was the one keeping the secrets, telling the lies. But she smiled at him. She hated the tension between them, wanted it to end, even though she knew it couldn't. Not entirely. Not until she told him everything. "Your boss is on the phone."

"I missed you last night, Joey." He came closer, ran one hand through her hair.

She lowered her head. "Radley's waiting, Ash." When she looked up, he was still staring at her, waiting. She knew what he wanted. "I missed you, too."

He nodded, as if satisfied with her answer, and left the room, calling behind him, "Don't start without me."

"Where the hell were you all night?"

Ash shook his head, scowling at the mouthpiece before bringing it back to his ear. "Some greeting. What're you, my parole officer?"

"I won't go into the five calls I had from your lady cop friend, or the number of messages I left on your worthless voicemail, or the gray hairs I got wondering if the Slasher finally caught up with you."

"I think you just did."

"From now on, Ash, let me know where you are, when you're coming back and what the hell you're up to."

"Or what?"

"Or you're off the story."

Ash swore fluently into the receiver.

"Dammit, Ash, I want this scoop as bad as you do, but it isn't worth getting yourself killed. Keep me posted. That's an order. Understood?"

"Fine." Ash agreed, but he didn't like it

"Good, so the next time I can't reach you, I assume the worst and send the police."

As threats went, it wasn't half bad. "Right."

"Okay. So what'd you find out from the shrink?"

"He's of the opinion that our killer is a man. Says it's rare to find a female serial killer."

"That's nuts."

"That's what I said, but he was adamant."

"What else?"

"Probably abused in childhood, or saw someone he loved being hurt, maybe by a trusted adult male.”

Rad cussed softly. "Sounds to me like you're more apt to learn who it is from your wife than from this quack."

Ash glanced toward the kitchen. He could hear plates clacking together, silverware jangling. She must be setting the table. "Maybe."

"What's that mean? Has she said anything?"

"I just have a feeling she's close." Ash frowned. "And it scares the hell out of her."

Rad was quiet for a moment. "You think there's a chance she already knows and just isn't saying?"

"Why the hell would she keep it from me?"

"Why do women do anything?" Rad sighed. "Ah, hell, it was just a thought."

"It was a stupid thought. She'd tell me if she knew."

"Like she's been so honest up til now, right?"

"Dammit, Rad—"

"Okay. I’m sorry, I know you two are...close. And I'm no good with pistols at twenty paces."

"You're not even in the ballpark. And by the way, don't send Harris to do any more snooping. The guy's about as subtle as a sledgehammer."

"Bev saw him take the butts?"

"You got it. Maybe you'd better come up with some plausible explanation before you run into her again. Look, is there anything else? My breakfast is getting cold."

"Go eat. But don't forget—"

“Yeah, Rad. I'll fax you a written itinerary before I leave the apartment again, okay? You want it notarized?" He hung up while Rad was still swearing at him.

When he walked into the kitchen, Joey was pouring coffee. He stopped in the doorway, because the sight of her there slammed him in the chest. For a second, he just looked at her. She wore one of her own nightgowns. Not one of the slinky ones, just a plain white one with ruffled straps for sleeves, and a hemline that hovered around her ankles. Her hair was loose, fluffing around her shoulders like a cloud.

He liked looking at her, fresh from sleep with her eyes still puffy and her hair unbrushed, standing barefoot in his kitchen, pouring their coffee. He'd like to look at her that way a lot.

She carried two cups to the table and sat down. "So how's the boss?"

"Like a mother hen. He was worried about me." Ash took a seat across from her and helped himself to a piece of fish and a scoop of potatoes.

"So was Beverly Issacs."

He met her gaze across the table. "She's only worried I'm keeping evidence to myself."

"No, she was worried about you. I think...I think she cares."

Joey was jealous. It was in those transparent eyes of hers. He would have been idiotically glad to know it, if he wasn't aware of her mistrust of men in general, thanks to her father figures. "Joey, I am not interested in having a fling with Bev."

She nodded, averting her eyes, filling her plate. "You told me once you don't believe in cheating."

"It was the truth. I don't." That should end her worry, he thought, and stabbed three pancakes with his fork, dropping them onto his plate.

"But what if...we weren't married? Would you be interested then?"

"If we weren't married, all I'd be interested in would be getting us that way."

He blinked and only shook himself. What in God's name had made him blurt
that
hunk of baloney? Frowning, he picked up the fork he’d dropped and stuffed a piece of fish into his mouth to prevent any more absurdities from coming out of it.

The doorbell buzzed. "Damn. Seems the whole world is conspiring to keep me from having breakfast." He chanced a look at her, but she was just staring at him with those big green eyes, looking as if he'd just told her aliens had landed on the roof.

He pushed away from the table and went to get the door.

Ted Dryer stood there looking like a wrung-out rag. His shoulders slumped, his shirt was rumpled and his eyes had dark circles ringing them.

"I need to talk to Joey." There was no preamble, no greeting.

Ash swung the door wider and stepped aside, waving one arm with a flourish. "In the kitchen. Join us for breakfast?"

Ted didn't answer, he just walked in, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Ash followed in time to see him pull out a chair, turn it backward and straddle it. Ash took his own seat and resumed eating.

"Have you talked to Caroline?" Ted asked.

"Of course I have. Haven't you?" Joey finished her food and got up to carry her plate to the sink. She took out another cup, filled it with coffee and set it down in front of Ted.

"No." His voice was dead.

"Well, you could try calling her."

He closed both hands around the mug. "I have. She won't talk to me."

Joey shook her head and Ash could see she felt sorry for him, even though she probably believed the same thing her sister did. "She's upset, Ted. Give her some time."

He nodded and lifted the mug, closing his eyes as he sipped from it. "How is she?"

"Fine. And so are the girls." Joey reached out to touch his shoulder. "They don't know anything's wrong. She hasn't told them. They think it's one big vacation, and they're having a ball."

Ted looked at Joey and smiled just a little. It was the saddest thing Ash thought he'd ever seen. "Thanks for that." He glanced across at Ash, then looked pointedly at his plate. "You almost through?"

Ash shook his head and shoved the half-finished breakfast away, thinking it just wasn't meant to be eaten. "Tactless, but to the point. I take it this is going to be a private conversation."

Ted nodded.

"Well, hell, I
always
shower right after not eating. Knock yourselves out."

He left to go into the bathroom, and he turned the shower on. But then he slipped back out to the living room, where he could listen in. It wasn't that he didn't trust Joey. He did, in spite of everything. It was Ted that worried him.

"You guys were out late last night."

"We went to the lake."

"Ah...the fish."

"Bit like crazy. I'd like to go back today, but—"

"Tell me the truth, Joey."

God, he'd heard that one before. Ash tensed, waiting for her reply.

"I don't know what you're talking—"

"Don't give me that. This marriage to Coye is a sham, isn't it? There's no record of it in Vegas, or here or anywhere else."

Silence. Then, "How do you know?"

"I checked is how I know. This whole thing has smelled like bad meat from the start. Does Coye even know, or have you got the poor guy completely buffaloed?"

He heard her sigh, long and hard. "He doesn't know. And you can't tell him."

A chair scraped the floor. Heavy steps seemed to pace. "It's this Slasher thing, isn't it? It's all wrapped up in these murders. Dammit, Joey, you've been obsessed with this thing from the first day it hit the papers. What in hell's going on with you?"

Another chair moved, more gently. "Ted, I'll explain it all to you. I promise. But not now. Not yet."