One True Heart (33 page)

“Why, if it rains I can park in Dr. McCall's lot. He doesn't
mind and there's a path from my front door to his place.” She stepped out as if there was nothing else to talk about and tossed his coat back to him.

“Thanks,” she called without looking back.

“You're welcome,” he answered too low for her to hear.

Rick tried to decide if gunfire in her world didn't seem strange or if she was too drunk to have noticed.

Watching her hug herself as if it were cold and stagger toward the porch, he wondered if she was really that drunk or the ridiculous shoes simply weren't made for cobblestones. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was drop her off and head back to his office. The federal prosecutor had asked for his help on an old case, and Rick had a feeling that somewhere in his files might be the clue needed to send a really bad guy to jail. Only problem was, he had to get to it before the bad guys got to him.

He'd call the sheriff and tell her about the shot, if it was a shot. Then, he'd be careful about standing around looking like an easy target. The idea of someone following him didn't make sense. Harmony was a small town; folks still noticed strangers and license plates that weren't local. If the shot had been directed at him, it was probably meant to scare him off and the guy just caught a lucky chance when Rick was dumb enough to stop on the bridge.

Lizzie almost made it to her home, but she missed a step two feet from the porch and sank her high heels into the mud. Shaking off mud, she climbed onto the first step and turned to wave good-bye. As if just remembering what had happened, she yelled back at him, “You going to call that gunfire in?”

He shook his head. “Probably only a backfire.”

“Want to tell me why that might not be the truth?” She glanced at him with those big eyes of hers. “You know, Ricky, if you ever need me, I'll come running.”

“No. Don't worry about me, Lizzie Lee.” The last thing he wanted to talk about with her was his problems. Shifting the car into reverse, he offered a quick wave.

As he drove away, he remembered her house had once
been owned by the veterinarian who built the clinic. Years ago the clinic, Lizzie's house and the small shop across the road had all been one property. The last vet lived in the house, ran the clinic and rented out the shop. Now, Lizzie owned the house and the shop. She did pet grooming on Wednesdays and Fridays at the shop. Who knows what she did the other days but he didn't want her worrying about him.

Rick thought about asking where the new vet lived, but he really didn't care. With no pets he wasn't likely to use either of their services. “Good night, Lizzie,” he yelled as he glanced back and saw her entering her house.

He tossed his jacket into the backseat knowing that it would need cleaning. Between her perfume and her dropping it on the bridge, he doubted he could wear it now.

Rick couldn't help wondering just how few friends she must have if she counted him among them. He thought of yelling, “Don't call me, Ricky, and for God's sake please don't ever try to save me,” but she was already inside.

Rick laughed. The last person on this planet he'd ever call for help was his nutty
cousin.

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