Shades of Twilight (48 page)

Carl hauled himself into position next to Webb and scowled when he saw the line. “The son of a bitch,” he growled, lifting his head to examine the line as close as he could without touching it. “Cut almost through. A nice fresh, clean cut. Even if she'd managed to make it onto the highway okay, she'd have wrecked when she got to the stop light on 157. Guess it was pure luck she ran into this field the way she did.”

“Skill, not luck,” Webb, said. “She took some driving courses in college.”

“No fooling. Wish more folks would take something like that, then we wouldn't have to pick pieces of them up off the highway.” He glanced at Webb, saw the tightening of his mouth, and said, “Sorry.”

Carefully they wormed their way out from under the car, though Carl cussed again when a stalk caught his shirt and tore a small hole in it.

“Did you check the other cars at the house?” Booley asked.

“I took a quick look under all of them. Roanna's was the only one touched. She usually parks in the garage, but she left her car outside last night.”

“Now, that's a bit coincidental.” Carl scratched his chin, a sign that he was thinking. “Why didn't she park in the garage?”

“Corliss was parked in her slot. We've had some trouble with Corliss lately, and I told her she had to move out. I started to make her move her car, but Ro told me to leave it alone and not cause a fuss that would upset Lucinda.”

“Maybe you should've made that fuss anyway. You reckon Corliss would do something like this?”

“I'd be surprised if she knew a brake line from a fishing line.”

“She got any friends who would do it for her?”

“I've been away for ten years,” Webb replied. “I don't know who she hangs out with. But if she had anyone tamper with a brake line, it would be mine, not Roanna's.” “But yours was in the garage.”

“Corliss has a control for the doors. We all do. If she was behind it, it wouldn't matter if the car was inside the garage or not.”

Carl scratched his chin again. “None of this ties together, does it? It's like we've got pieces from ten different puzzles, and nothing goes together. It just don't make a lick of sense.”

“Oh, it all fits,” Booley said grimly. “We just don't know how.”

T
he house was quiet that night when Webb finally entered Roanna's room. As usual, she was curled up in her chair with a book in her lap, but she looked around with a warm welcome in her eyes. “What took you so long?”

“I had some last-minute paperwork I needed to do. With all the excitement today, I'd forgotten about it.” He knelt in front of her, searching her eyes with his. “Are you honestly okay? You aren't hiding anything from me?”

“I'm
fine
. Not a single bruise. Do you want me to pull off my clothes and show you?”

His eyes turned smoky, and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Yes.”

She felt herself begin to warm and soften inside, and her nipples beaded the way they always did when he looked at her. He laughed softly, but got to his feet and caught her hands, pulling her up. “Come on.”

She thought they were going to the bed, but instead he directed her to the door. She gave him a confused look. “Where are we going?”

“To another bedroom.”

“Why?” she asked, bewildered. “What's wrong with this one?”

“Because I want to try another bed.”

“Yours?”

“No,” he said briefly.

Roanna resisted the pressure on her back as he urged her toward the door. She turned and gave him a long, steady regard. “Something's wrong.” She said it as a statement, not a question. She knew Webb too well; she'd seen him angry and she'd seen him amused. She knew when he was tired, when he was worried, when he was aggravated as all hell. She thought she'd seen him in all his moods, but this one was new. His eyes were hard and cool, with an alertness that made her think of a hungry cat stalking prey.

“Let's just say I'd feel better if you were in a different room tonight.”

“If
I go, will you tell me why?”

That bladelike gaze sharpened even more. “Oh, you'll go,” he said softly.

She drew herself up and faced him, not backing down an inch. “You can reason with me, Webb Tallant, but you can't order me around. I'm not a fool or a child. Tell me what's going on.” Just because she loved him to distraction didn't mean she couldn't think for herself.

He looked briefly frustrated, because once she wouldn't have balked at doing anything he told her. But she'd been a child then, and now she was a woman; he needed to be reminded of that every so often. He made a rapid decision. “All right, but come on. And be as quiet as you can; I don't want to wake anyone. When we get to the other room, don't turn on any lights either.”

“The bed won't have any sheets on it,” she warned.

“Then bring something to put around you in case you get cold.”

She picked up her afghan and went quietly with him down the hall to one of the unoccupied bedrooms, the last one on the left side. The curtains were open, letting in enough light from the quarter moon that they could see how to maneuver. Webb went over to the windows and looked out, while Roanna sat down on the bed.

“Tell me,” she said.

He didn't turn away from the windows. “I suspect we might have a visitor tonight.”

She thought about it for a few seconds, and her stomach knotted at the obvious answer. “You think the burglar will come back?”

He gave her a brief glance. “You're quick, you know that? I don't think he was a burglar. But, yes, I think he'll come.”

He could see the side lawn from this room, she realized, while from either of their rooms he could have seen only the back. “If he isn't a burglar, why would he come back?”

Webb was silent a moment, then said, “Jessie's killer was never caught.”

She was suddenly chilled, and pulled the afghan around her shoulders. “You think … you think whoever killed Jessie was in the house again that night, and hit me?”

“I think it's possible. Your accident today wasn't an accident, Ro. Your brake line had been cut. And someone took a couple of shots at me the other day when I was late getting here for the party. I didn't have car trouble; my windshield was shot out.”

Roanna sucked in a deep, shocked breath, her mind reeling. She wanted to jump up and yell at him for not having said something before, she wanted to throw something, she wanted to get her hands on whoever had tried to shoot him. She couldn't do any of that, however. If she wanted him to finish telling her what was going on, she had to sit there and not make a lot of noise. She pulled herself together and tried to reason it out. “But… why would whoever killed Jessie want to kill you? And me?”

“I don't know,” he said in frustration. “I've gone over and over everything that happened before Jessie died, and I can't think of anything. I didn't know she had a lover until Booley told me she was pregnant when she died, but why would he have killed Jessie? It would have made sense if he'd tried to kill me, but not Jessie. And if Jessie was killed because of something else she was doing, there wouldn't be a reason for the killer to come after you and me. We don't
know who he is, and after ten years he should feel safe from discovery, so why take the risk of starting it all again?”

“So you don't think her lover is the one?”

“I don't know. There's no reason for it. On the other hand, if
I'm
the real target and have been all along, that means Jessie died because she was my wife. I thought she might have surprised the killer, the same way you did, and he killed her so she couldn't identify him. I made sure it's common knowledge that you can't remember anything about the night you were attacked, so he wouldn't have that as a reason for coming back. But when your brake line was cut, I knew it had to be more than that. Tampering with your car was directed specifically at you.”

“Because we're getting married,” she said, feeling sick inside. “But how could he have found out so fast? We just decided yesterday morning!”

“You started making arrangements yesterday,” Webb said, shrugging. “Think of the people you called, all the people they must have told. News travels. Whoever it is must hate me a lot, to go after first Jessie, then you.”

“But Jessie's death had to be unplanned,” Roanna argued. “No one could have known that y'all would argue that night or that you would have gone to a bar. Normally you would have been at home.”

“I know,” he said, exhaling hard in frustration. “I can't think of a reason for any of it. No matter how I look at it, some of the details don't fit.”

She got up from the bed and went over to him, needing his closeness. He put his arms around her and hugged her to him, tucking the afghan more securely around her shoulders. She laid her head on his chest, softly breathing in the warm, musky scent of his skin. It was unthinkable that anything should happen to him.

“Why do you think he'll come back tonight?”

“Because he's made several attempts in a short period of time. He keeps coming back, trying something different. Loyal is watching from the stables. If he sees anything, he'll call me on the cellular phone, then notify the sheriff.”

“Are you armed?”

He tilted his head toward the dresser. “There.”

She turned her head and in the dimness could see a darker shape lying on top of the dresser. Abruptly she knew what was different about his mood. This was how he must have been when he'd tracked the rustlers into Mexico: the hunter, the predator. Webb was a man not normally inclined to violence, but he would kill to protect his own. He wasn't excited or on edge; the thud of his heart beneath her head was steady. He was coolly, ruthlessly determined.

“What if nothing happens tonight?” she asked.

“Then we'll watch again tomorrow night. Eventually, we'll get him.”

She stood with him for a long time, staring out at the moonlit night until her eyes ached. Nothing moved, and the crickets chirped undisturbed.

“You're sure the alarm is on?”

He pointed to the code box beside the veranda doors. A tiny green light was steadily shining. A red light flashed if a door was opened, and if the code wasn't entered within fifteen seconds, the alarm sounded.

Webb appeared to have the patience of Job and the stamina of a marathoner. He stood unmoving, keeping watch, but Roanna couldn't manage to stand still for that length of time. She paced slowly around the dark bedroom, hugging the afghan around her, until Webb said softly, “Why don't you lie down and get some sleep?”

“I have insomnia, remember?” she shot back. “I only sleep after—”

She stopped, and he chuckled. “I could say something crude, but I won't. I kind of like this strange type of insomnia,” he teased. “It gives me incentive.”

“I haven't noticed that you needed any.”

“After we've been married thirty years or so, I might—” He broke off, every line of his big body tensing.

Roanna didn't hurry to the window, though that was her first urge. She was wearing a white nightgown; her appearance
at the window might be spotted. Instead she whispered, “Do you see someone?”

“The son of a bitch is slipping up the outside stairs,” he murmured. “I didn't see him until just now. Probably Loyal didn't either.” He took the cellular phone from his pocket and punched the numbers for Loyal's private line. A few seconds later he said quietly, “He's here, coming up to the veranda by the outside stairs.” That was all. He closed the phone and returned it to his pocket.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

“Wait and see what he does. Loyal is calling the sheriff, then he's coming over as backup.” He shifted his position a little, so he had a better angle to watch the silent intruder. The moonlight slanted across his face.” He's going around to the front … He's out of sight now.”

A red light blinked, catching Roanna's attention. She stared at the code box. “Webb, he's in the house! The light's blinking.”

He swore softly and moved across the room to get the pistol from the top of the dresser.

Still watching the light, Roanna said, startled, “It's stopped blinking. It's green again.”

He swung around and stared at the code box. “Someone let him in.” His voice was almost soundless, but laden with a quiet menace that didn't bode well for someone.
“Corliss.”

He kicked off his shoes and silently went to the door.

“What are you going to do?” Roanna asked fiercely, trying to keep her voice down. It was difficult, with anger and fear rushing through her veins with every beat of her heart. She trembled with the need to go with him, but she forced herself to stand still. She had no means of protecting herself, and the last thing he needed was to have to worry about her.

“Try to get behind him.” He opened the door the tiniest crack, looking down the hallway for the intruder. He couldn't see anything. He decided to wait, hoping the man
would give away his position. He thought he heard a faint whisper of sound but couldn't be certain.

Seconds ticked past, and Webb took the risk of opening the door a bit more. He could see all the way to the front of the house now, on this side of the house, and the hallway was empty. He slipped out of the room and down the back hallway, his bare feet soundless on the carpet, keeping close to the wall. When he approached the corner he slowed, lifting the pistol and pulling the hammer back. With his back flattened against the wall, he took a quick look around the corner. A dark figure loomed at the other end of the hallway. Webb jerked back, but not in time—he'd been seen. A thunderous shot reverberated through the house, and plaster flew from the wall.