Reclaim My Life (9 page)

She’d not given the shutters a thought until today, after hearing about the disaster preparedness meeting. The cloudless sky appeared nonthreatening, however, and no storms were brewing off the coast according to the tropical update on the radio. She parked in the shade of her carport, which she’d swept clean the previous morning. Her front lawn boasted one magnificent live oak in the center that shaded the yard and both picture windows like a giant umbrella. The fact that it frequently littered her driveway and carport with dead leaves and twigs was a reasonable trade-off. Someday she planned to create a garden in the bare sand beneath it, assuming she stayed in Drake Springs.

Behind her, Kris turned in to the concrete driveway and parked her compact car. She met up with Elizabeth at the side entrance off the carport. “Let’s get the beer in the fridge before ordering the pizzas. I want them to stay cold.”

Elizabeth shut the door with a bump from her hip. “We don’t need to order pizzas. Our guest is bringing them.”

Kris straightened. “Spill. Who is this mysterious man?”

“The sheriff, Wilson Drake.”

Kris slid her fridge pack of Bud Light on the bottom shelf. “Wilson Drake? You go, girl!”

Rearranging jars and cartons, Elizabeth made room for the chilled soda and beer and then closed the refrigerator. “Honestly, I don’t know why I invited him. The words tumbled out of my mouth as if I were possessed by an alien. A stupid alien.”

“Hey, don’t call my friends stupid.” Shaking her finger in Elizabeth’s face, she added, “The real question is, why invite him when I’m going to be here?”

“Oh, Kris, it’s not like it’s a date. I don’t know. I just—”

“The guy likes you. You said he eats breakfast with you at the diner. Give him a break.”

With a sigh, Elizabeth told her about Wednesday night’s dinner at Ian and Sunny’s, including her misunderstanding that the couple planned to set her up with the sheriff. “Sunny said, ‘He’s hardly your type, Liz’.”

“Why the hell not?”

Elizabeth couldn’t contain her grin, especially since her first reaction had been the same. “Thanks. Anyway, I think I took it as a challenge.”

“I think you may be exactly his type. Both Cathleen and I, at different times, hit on the guy, and with no success. He never asked either of
us
to join him for breakfast.”

“Cathleen? I didn’t think she dated at all. She seemed so down on guys after her—”

“Cathleen didn’t date. But she once confided in me that she might if Wilson Drake would give her the time of day. Apparently, he only has time for you, dear.”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion. He’s bringing you and me pizza. Period.” Elizabeth may have invited him in a moment of insanity, but she held no illusions about his reason for accepting. He wanted to question Kris about dating Adam Gillespie, and Elizabeth merely expedited the mission.

“Hmm.” The laugh lines around Kris’s chocolate brown eyes crinkled. “We’ll see. But just for the record, I’m leaving before dark, and it has nothing to do with trying to leave you alone with the hunky sheriff.”

She nodded. “I know. Until Cathleen’s murderer is arrested, I don’t think any of us should be out alone, especially after dark. I gave Sunny a lecture about her solo bicycling, too.”

Kris snorted. “Yeah, as if Ian would ride a bike with her. I still can’t figure what she sees in him.”

“He’s nice. Very sweet.”

“Hey, I wasn’t putting him down. I like the guy. But I can’t see Sunny being so ga-ga over him. He’s
so
not her type.”

“Which is exactly what Sunny said about me and Wilson.”
He’s hardly your type, Liz
.

“On that point, she and I disagree. I think you and the sheriff have more in common than Sunny and Ian.”

“He’s a big flirt, Kris. I shouldn’t take his attentions seriously, and you know it. Besides, I told you I’m not even sure if I’m attracted to him.”
Liar, liar
. “But when Sunny insisted that he wasn’t someone she’d pair me with, I reacted … immaturely”

“Immaturely?” Kris grinned. “Hell’s bells, it’s the first sign I’ve seen that you have a pulse, woman! At least where men are concerned.”

“Thanks.” Her sarcasm lost on Kris, Elizabeth decided to switch gears. “Let’s set the dining room table.”

Kris followed her into the dining room, stopping to gaze out the double window facing the front yard. “You’ve never talked much about your engagement. The guy must’ve really done a number on you to have you so gun-shy.”

Elizabeth wouldn’t have wanted to talk about her ex even if she weren’t living under a new identity. “You’re right: I hate guns.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Thankfully, Kris allowed the change in subject. “I’ve never owned a gun, but I’m giving it some thought. After Cathleen’s murder, a small pistol for self-defense is worth considering.”

No way Elizabeth would hold a gun in her hand. She shuddered at the idea. She said, “Wilson says unless you’re committed to firing a weapon without hesitation, you’re in more danger if you have a gun. The assailant can just take it away and use it against you.”

“Wilson says?
My, my, you two have become chummy—”

“Just diner talk. Nothing personal.”

Kris gestured toward the street and the official county Jeep parked at the curb. “Look. Your sheriff has arrived, and he’s carrying pizza.”

Elizabeth stood beside her at the window and gazed at Wilson. “How does he do that?”

“Do what?” Kris asked.

“Look as sharp and crisp in his uniform as he did at breakfast, and after working all day, too.”

“Excuse me.” Kris poked her in the side with her elbow. “Was that a sigh of longing I heard?”

“You know I always swoon over pizza.”

“I don’t think it’s the pizza.”

“Well, it sure isn’t the sheriff.” Elizabeth’s denial rang false even in her own ears. Perhaps she’d overestimated her skill at lying.

Kris snorted. “Yeah, right. Whatever.”

Yes, her lying skills definitely needed honing.

Wil hesitated at the curb, repositioning the stack of pizzas he carried. He’d gotten three specials, plus an extra supreme, from Vinnie’s Pizzeria. He figured his dad would enjoy the leftovers. Staring at the low ranch on Park Street, Wil realized Elizabeth Stevens lived in a suitable home. Sturdy and cozy, it was nice in its simplicity. The few adornments were serviceable: the colonial-style storm shutters decorated large windows and the wrought iron lantern that doubled as a security light. Settled beneath a sprawling oak, the house held its own in a neighborhood of higher-priced, roomier ranches.

Just as Elizabeth held her own among skinny women in designer duds and glamorous makeup. No doubt about it, he had a thing for her. Her naturalness drew him, and he wasn’t about to fight the attraction. Was
she
ready to stop fighting it?

When he reached the front door, ever-practical Elizabeth greeted him before he had to juggle the pizzas to ring the doorbell. “Thanks.” She and Kris Knight relieved him of the pizzas and ushered him inside the entry area, which was little more than a few squares of parquet separating the two front rooms.

“We can eat in the dining room.” Elizabeth tugged him toward a ladder-back chair. “We have Bud, Bud Light, and Coke. Name your poison.”

“Coke is great.” He may have imagined it, but Elizabeth seemed nervous.

She rushed off to the kitchen for his Coke, then hurried back to ask if he preferred it in a glass.

“No, the can is fine.”

Kris busied herself opening the pizza boxes. “You must think we’re very hungry.”

“I plan to take home any leftovers.”

“Good plan.” Elizabeth handed him the can of Coca Cola. She’d already opened it. “Did you need a straw?”

“No, thanks.” Yes, definitely nervous. He placed the can on the table. “I need to wash my hands. Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s one in the hall.” She pointed to the arched opening from the living room. “Straight ahead.”

“Thanks.” He took his time walking through the living room, studying details of her furnishings, gathering impressions about the woman herself. The furniture was a hodgepodge of styles, as if she regularly shopped estate auctions and yard sales. New slipcovers matched curtains and pillows. Everything was tidy and spotless, almost sterile. What was wrong with this picture?

Picture …

It hit him. No photos or portraits hung from the walls or sat in frames. Even when he peeked into the bedrooms, he saw no pictures. Not that the walls were bare. Elizabeth’s decorating showed an eye for design, with fabric wall hangings, and plants. As many as a dozen plants—some real, some artificial—filled each room, arranged at varying heights. But not one single photograph.

After visiting the bathroom, he rejoined the women in the dining room. Like the rest of the house, or what he’d seen of it, the dining room was furnished in old but sturdy wooden furniture that had been painted white. Paneling halfway up the wall to form a chair rail appeared to have been painted from the same can. Six ladder-back chairs with cane seats surrounded a plain rectangle table. Assorted sizes of candles on a mirror formed a centerpiece. No heirloom silver or china was displayed in the painted corner hutch, just everyday dishes.

Instead of impressing him again, the practicality worried him. Her informal and clean house was cold and impersonal, even more lonely than his own. But also a lot neater. Elizabeth would probably cringe at the chaos in which he lived. Not that he didn’t value order, but he had several home improvement projects in varying stages keeping his bungalow in upheaval.

“Let’s eat.” Elizabeth sat at the end of the table, where she and Kris had two pizzas opened and waiting.

He joined them in the chair opposite Kris and next to Elizabeth. “This Mexican pizza is Vinnie’s specialty.”

“That’s what Elizabeth said. Is it spicy hot?”

Elizabeth held up packets. “That’s what the dried jalapeño is for.”

Following her example, Wil generously seasoned his pizza slices with the jalapeño. “I thought I was the only one who liked smokin’ hot Mexican food.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, spreading her arms to indicate her girth. “As you can see, I like all food.”

Wil focused on her breasts—her very impressive breasts—poking through the material of her T-shirt. “Surely you aren’t implying that you’re fat,” he said.

She gave him an eye roll. “Surely you aren’t implying I’m skinny.”

“Actually, darlin’, I’m implying that you’re just right.”

Kris gulped the rest of her beer. “I love this pizza, but I’m going to need more to drink.”

Elizabeth pushed away from the table. “Beer or Coke?”

“Relax. I can wait on myself.” Kris fled the room.

Elizabeth abandoned her slice of pizza and glared at him. “Do you enjoy embarrassing me?”

“It was a compliment.” He’d be damned if he apologized, even if she had turned all frosty again. “Why would that embarrass you?”

Kris returned with a second Bud Light, preventing Elizabeth from answering. The three finished off two of the Mexican pizzas with minimal conversation. Since Kris was the one driving tonight, her two beers to every one of Elizabeth’s worried Wil.

Elizabeth opened the third pizza and took out a slice. Kris reached for another slice, announcing it as her absolute last, and sprinkled it with the remaining dried jalapeño. By the time she’d finished her fourth Bud Light, Wil decided to risk asking her his question.

“I hear you used to date our chief of police.”

“We went out twice. Why?”

“Just curious. My dad thought he saw the two of you canoeing the Suwannee one Sunday.”

“Not canoeing. A couple weeks ago, we took a rowboat trip. We docked at White Springs, had dinner at the Telford, then struggled to get the thing back.”

“Why’s that?”

Kris smirked. “Have you seen the Suwannee lately? Hello. No rain, no water. We kept running aground, and Adam had to jump out in some spots to push us.”

“So did you go out with him after that?”

“Once. Why?”

“Ordinarily your personal life would be none of my business, but I’m investigating a homicide.”

“Yeah, so which one of us is the suspect—me or Adam?”

“Neither, darlin’.”

Elizabeth, bless her lovely heart, saved him. “I’m just curious, Kris, but why did you stop seeing Adam Gillespie?”

Kris shrugged, apparently not offended by the question, at least when posed by her friend and not the sheriff. “He’s just too serious for my tastes. My mom would call him uptight if she met him.”

“You mean he was possessive or controlling?”

Shaking her head before he’d finished, she said, “Not at all. Just no fun. I’ve had serious once, and I’m not making that mistake again.”

Elizabeth had told him about Kris being divorced, so he didn’t press her for more. “You’ve given up on finding Mr. Right, eh?”

“A long time ago. Now, does this conclude my interrogation, Sheriff?” She sounded so good-humored he couldn’t help but smile.

“No more questions, and I apologize for prying.”

She stood beside her chair, fluttering her hand. “No big deal. It’s just that I have to pee so bad I’m about to wet my britches.”

Elizabeth laughed at her friend rushing from the room—a deep, hearty laugh. Genuine, like everything else about her. “She is
so
Southern.”

“And you aren’t?”

“You mean I drawl as much as she does?”

“Almost, darlin’, but a sweet Southern drawl is not a bad thing.”

Elizabeth’s smile collapsed. “She’s had a lot of beer. Do you think I should drive her home?”

Wil appreciated her astuteness. Drinking drivers worried him, and for good reason. “Yes, I think it’d be wise. I’ll follow you and bring you back.”

“Thank you. I’ve never seen her guzzle beer like tonight. I think we’ve both been on edge and down in the dumps about Cathleen’s murder. As I told you, we aren’t exactly party animals. I usually stop at one beer, and this is my second.”

Elizabeth had sipped while Kris gulped, though. He wasn’t worried about Elizabeth’s driving. He helped her box up the remaining Mexican pizza. “You two seem like good friends.”