Night Moves: Dream Man/After the Night (77 page)

“Probably. He’s too good at it to be a beginner. It’s likely that he moves around, to keep any one area from becoming too hot for him.”

“So he’s moved here recently?”

“I’d say so.”

“Isn’t there any way you can check on recent arrivals? Wouldn’t the post office have a record? Or maybe you could get a list of new customers from the utility companies.”

“Do you know how many people move to central Florida every year?” he asked. “It would take a helluva lot of time. Still, it’s an idea.”

“You could eliminate all the women, which would cut the list in half.”

“And still leave us with a cast of thousands.” He stood and began clearing the table. “I’ll talk to Bonness about it.”

She knotted her hands together and stared at him. “Do any of the others know about me?”

“You mean, any of the other detectives?”

“Yes.”

“Just Bonness, Trammell, and me. Why?”

“I’ve been worried about it.”

“Again, why?”

“They would talk.” Restlessly she got up and helped him clear the table.

“So?”

“That kind of talk would get to the media. You know how it is.”

“So far, the media doesn’t even know about the killer. I’m surprised, because once we told the mayor, I expected it to be blasted on the six-o’clock news that there’s a serial killer loose in Orlando. No one in city hall can keep a secret. It’ll leak out any day, though.” He began washing their few dishes, and watched her as she paced the kitchen. “Have you had a rough time with the media before?”

She shot him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding?”

“What happened?”

“Which time?” she asked caustically. “The reporters are bad enough, every time a story breaks, with the phone ringing incessantly, and cameras and microphones pushed in my face every time I open the door. But the reporters aren’t the worst of it. They’re just the cause. The worst comes after they’ve done their stories, when the death threats start, and the crackpot evangelists hold prayer meetings in front of my house to drive out Satan, because I obviously do the devil’s work. If it got out this time, I’d probably lose my job. I’ve never been in these circumstances before, because the Institute always supported me. But can you imagine a
bank
tolerating that kind of publicity? A weirdo psychic working in their accounting department! Some of their customers would close out their accounts, afraid I would pry into their business.”

“Wonder what they have to hide,” Dane said, his eyes speculative.

“Nothing, probably. Some people are paranoid enough that they think the ‘authorities,’ whoever that may be, watch everyone and check everything. They won’t fill out their census papers because they think the information will be turned over to the IRS.”

“How do you know?” he asked, sliding the question in as smooth as silk. She glanced at him to find those hazel eyes glittering with amusement.

She choked on a spurt of laughter as she realized where he had led her. “Because I used to be able to read them!
Used
to, Hollister. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Are you sure? Have you tried?”

“Yes, smarty, I’ve tried.”

“When?”

“Last week. I tried to pick
him
up, but couldn’t. I tried to find you. I tried to find Trammell. Nothing. I did finally see you, very briefly, but I couldn’t read anything from you.”

“You saw me.” He didn’t look pleased at the idea. “What was I doing?”

“Watching a ball game and answering the telephone,” she snapped. “It was when I called you the first time. If I hadn’t been so worried and frightened, I doubt if I could have seen you. That never was my strength, anyway.”

He rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the drainer, then dried his hands. “But that was before we became involved. Now, maybe you could do it any time you wanted.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t tried again.”

He turned around and propped against the sink, his arms crossed as he studied her. Marlie stood her ground, but she wasn’t certain what against. He looked grim, and bigger than usual. He had removed his jacket when he’d gotten home with the cartons of takeout Chinese, but still wore his shoulder holster. A chill went through her. He had been with her for a week now, and in that short length of time she had become accustomed to his protectiveness, even to being cosseted. But a week
was
a very short time, and before that they had been adversaries.

In a flash she realized what the problem was. He wanted her, but he didn’t trust her. How could he? He didn’t know her well enough. Wasn’t that a big part of
her
problem, too? They had been propelled together without having time to get to know each other. He was a cop; distrust and suspicion
were his stock in trade. He had made love to her, moved in with her, thinking that she had lost most of her psychic abilities. He didn’t at all like the idea that she could check up on him without his knowledge. He wanted to keep himself private, except for the parts he chose to share with her.

It hurt, but she couldn’t blame him. She had spent a lot of effort in trying to secure privacy for herself, so she couldn’t decry the same instinct in him.

“Do you want me to apologize for being what I am?” she asked steadily. “Or put my hand on a Bible and swear a sacred oath that I’ll never again try to reach you?”

“You don’t know that you can, except in an emergency.”

She shrugged. “I won’t try it even then, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t like being spied on,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Then I won’t do it.”

He shoved his hand through his hair. “Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Does it work the other way around? The other time, you were worried about me. But what if you’re the one in trouble? Can you call me, psychically?”

“I can place the call, Detective,” she said sardonically. “But if you don’t have a receiver, you can’t get the signals. But I wouldn’t, anyway.”

“Why not?” He didn’t like that. She could see his temper rising.

“That boundary you just drew. If you don’t want me to cross it for my convenience, I’ll be damned if I’ll cross it for yours.”

“Shit! I don’t believe this.” He closed his eyes and pinched the narrow bridge of his nose. “We’re arguing about something that doesn’t exist. If you can’t contact me anyway, what the hell difference does it make that you wouldn’t even try?”

“You tell me. You’re the one with the problem about it.” She turned around and headed for the living room. She had
taken maybe three steps when a hard arm passed around her waist from behind and drew her back against him. She didn’t try to struggle free, but neither did she relax and let him take her weight. She stood stock still, waiting. He had an erection; she could feel it pressing against her bottom. She wasn’t surprised, because in the week they had been together, it seemed as if he had been hard most of the time.

“We aren’t going to get this settled, are we?” His breath was warm against her temple.

“I don’t see how.”

“Then let’s forget about it for now. Want to go for a ride?”

“Where to?”

“My place. I’m curious about what Trammell is doing to it.”

She turned her head to stare incredulously at him. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Nope. He told me to stay away until he’s finished.”

“For heaven’s sake, why? It’s your house.”

“He said that I know as much about decorating as I know about clothes.”

“In that case, I understand completely,” she said wryly.

“Smart-ass. Do you want to go or not?”

“Sure.” She had to admit to being curious about his house. She knew that it would be a mess while the renovation work was in progress, but houses were very personal things. Since she couldn’t read Dane psychically, she had to pick up clues about him any way she could.

The drive to Dane’s house took her mind off the uneasy feeling that had been her constant companion. Dismissing their quarrel for now, because there was nothing they could do about it, she prepared to enjoy prowling through his house.

Though it was late, almost seven, and long past the time when the workers would have gone home, there was another car in the driveway, and lights were on in the house. “Uh-oh,” Dane said. “Caught in the act. Trammell’s here.”

“You don’t have to stop,” Marlie pointed out.

He smiled. “And miss the fun?” Deftly he pulled in behind Trammell’s car.

They had barely gotten out of the car when Trammell appeared in the doorway. “I told you to stay away,” he called.

“So arrest me. I’ve been good for four days. How long did you think it would last?”

“Three,” Trammell said, stepping aside to let them in.

A tall, slim woman came forward to greet them. “Grace,” Dane said, pleasure evident in his voice as he hugged her. “Marlie, this is Grace Roeg, a patrol officer with the city. Grace, Marlie Keen.”

“Hello,” Grace said in a slow, grave voice. Marlie swiftly evaluated her, and liked what she saw. There was something stately about Grace Roeg, and her deep brown eyes reflected the inner stillness of an unshakable serenity.

“Well, go ahead, look around,” Trammell said irritably.

Dane looked around at the empty room, all the while keeping his arm around Grace. “Where’s my stuff?”

“In storage,” Trammell growled, forcefully removing his arm from Grace’s shoulders. He glanced sharply at Marlie, as if instructing her to take Dane into custody and control him. She put an innocent look on her face, amused by watching the elegant Trammell descend to the primitive levels of jealousy.

Grace said, “Don’t mind him. We’re getting married, and he’s still in shock.” She extended her left hand to show them an exquisite marquise diamond, about three carats worth.

“I am not.” Trammell turned a violent look on Dane. “Don’t start.”

Dane was grinning. “Start what? I’m glad for you. Congratulations, buddy. Grace is way too good for you. When are you going to do the deed?”

“About six months,” Grace answered comfortably. “I thought a nice, long engagement would give him time to get used to the idea. Things have happened pretty fast, so we
don’t want to rush into anything and maybe make a mistake.”

“I don’t need time,” her intended said, looking haunted. “It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was, darling,” she soothed, tucking her arm through his. “But it will take that long to plan the wedding. Now, why don’t you show Dane what you’re doing to his house?”

“Is it going to be a big wedding?” Marlie asked.

“Big enough,” Trammell said, and turned an evil smile on Dane. “You’ll have to wear a tuxedo.”

“I’m tough,” Dane replied, concealing his instant dread. “It might damage me, but it won’t kill me. For you, old buddy, anything.”

Trammell scowled, as if he had been hoping for more of a reaction, but turned and led the way through the empty rooms. Dane was frankly amazed at what had been accomplished in just four days. His grandmother had loved wallpaper, and every room in the house had sported a different pattern. The wallpaper was gone now, and in its place was fresh stucco, painted a soothing, mellow white. All of the interior doorways had been reframed into arches.

“It would look better if the exterior doors and the windows were arches,” Trammell said, “but changing them would cost a lot more money than you want to spend. The floor refinishers start tomorrow.”

Dane skidded to a halt, gaping at the hull of what had been his bathroom. “You’ve gutted it,” he blurted.

“Yeah. I hadn’t planned to do it, but the plumbing was fifty years old. It’ll cost you probably another thousand.”

“Damn it, the next time you feel the urge to spend another thousand or so of my money, ask me first!”

“If I’d asked, you’d have said no,” Trammell replied calmly. “Wait until I’m finished, and you’ll agree that it was worth the money.”

“It had better be,” Dane muttered. He sensed Trammell’s
amusement, and knew his partner was getting back at him for being so gleeful about the impending marriage. He didn’t mind, much. He was glad Trammell had found someone as wonderful as Grace, though he understood exactly his partner’s sense of panic, as if his life had suddenly rocketed out of control.

He had felt that way himself since meeting Marlie. Things had happened too fast. Trammell and Grace had decided to get married, then set the date far enough in the future to give themselves time to settle down and be certain of their feelings. Dane hadn’t mentioned marriage or even love to Marlie, preferring to give himself the time
before
the commitment. Maybe what he felt for her wouldn’t last. It sure felt permanent, but maybe it wasn’t; time would tell. In the meantime, they were together, and in the end that was really all that mattered. He woke up with her every morning and went to bed with her every night. As long as he had that, he could wait for the rest.

He wasn’t certain how Marlie felt, either. There was passion, liking, companionship . . . maybe love. Who could tell? She had been under considerable stress from the first. When everything was settled down, then they would be able to tell more about their relationship. For the first time he considered marriage a possibility, and that in itself was a huge step for him.

It would all have to wait, though. There was a killer to catch, a plan to put into action, and he had to protect Marlie while he did it. And if he had learned anything about Marlie in the time he had been with her, it was that she wasn’t going to like his plan worth a damn.