The Green-Eyed Doll (8 page)

A noise from behind startled her. Instinctively, she raised her hands to defend herself, and whirled.

Susan King clapped a hand over her heart and squealed like she’d seen a rattlesnake. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s after five. You should’ve already headed home.”

“No biggie.” Catherine inhaled deeply and commanded her heart to slow. “I was deep into the letter G. I’ll have these files straightened out in a day or two. There’s a lot more paperwork than I would’ve expected.”

“Lots and lots of forms are associated with death and burials.” Susan sat on the edge of the small desk. “You went all kung-fu when I surprised you. Have you taken classes?”

“It was a defensive stance. I’ve studied a couple of different martial arts.” She’d told the truth before thinking. Damn. To avoid any questions she grabbed her purse and started out.

“Good for you. The murder of the Drummond girl makes me wish I knew more about self-defense.” Susan tried a few karate stances out and then laughed at herself. “Go. Get out of here.”

“See you tomorrow.” The stiffness in Catherine’s shoulders had reached the point of pain. Every muscle ached from bending over the file cabinet drawers.

A record hundred-and-six-degree day sent the heat outside rolling upward off the paved parking lot in waves. She stopped beside her car. The driver’s side window was down, not cracked the way she’d left it. On the seat lay a small box. She reached in, lifted the top, and removed the beautiful green and yellow silk scarf she’d fallen in love with at the boutique on the square—over two weeks ago.

She dug out her cell and dialed Matt. Her insides trembled. The urge to run rushed through her.

“Hey. Catherine.”

“I need to ask you something and tell me the truth.”

“I don’t lie. Remember?”

“Did you truly not send me the African Violets?”

“I did not. What’s happened?” The pleased-she’d-called tone had left his voice, replaced by the gruff sheriff who’d threatened to arrest her when she’d made that illegal U-turn. “Did you get more flowers?”

“No. A silk scarf.” She swallowed back the growing fear. If Matt hadn’t given her these gifts...who had?

“Where are you?”

“In the parking lot at work.”

“You have two choices. Go back inside and wait for me or come straight to my office.”

“The funeral home is closing, and I’m not coming there. Can’t I go home?” Alone, out in the open, she scanned the area, looking in all directions. Her instincts screamed
run and hide
.

“No.” His sigh was audible. “My house is closer. If you won’t come here, go straight there. Don’t
stop for anyone or anything.”

She returned his huff of irritation. “Fine. I’ll go to your place.”

“I’m leaving right now. Stay in the car with the windows rolled up and doors locked.”

“I can’t—” She wanted to tell him she couldn’t sit anywhere closed up inside her car. Not in this heat.

Catherine wasted no time getting on the road. Within a few minutes, a sheriff’s cruiser met her. He made a stop-on-a-dime U-turn and pulled up behind her. A glance in the mirror told her the driver wasn’t Matt. He didn’t engage his lights or siren, following until she drove into Matt’s driveway. He stopped, waved as if they were old friends, and then sped away.

The no-named dog wandered out of the barn around to her side of the car. He plopped down on his butt and stared up at her. He turned his head sideways as if to ask why she didn’t get out.

“You’ll protect me, won’t you, boy?” Like he understood, he jumped up and wagged his tail. She got out and scratched behind his ears. “I’ll bet you’d like a cool drink, wouldn’t you?” She dumped out his bowl and filled it with fresh water while keeping an eye out for Matt.

****

Tuesday, August 1st, 6:30 p.m.

Matt’s heart pounded as he sprinted for the car. A face-to-face run-in with a mayor kept him from leaving immediately, and Jake hadn’t stayed with Catherine. His guts tied in knots while he pushed the cruiser faster during the drive home. Here was another woman who needed him. No way would he let her down. Not this time.

He blew out a sigh of relief at the sight of her standing in his driveway. A gust of wind caught her hair and sent it billowing around her shoulders. She gathered the wildfire in one hand and held it off her face. She’d gotten out of the car and was wandering around with that useless mutt. His relief morphed to anger. Did she think the dog would protect her?
Hell, he might lick an intruder to death.
She had to be more careful. Matt slammed the cruiser door and stomped toward her. Fear for her safety seared his insides.

“Hey.” She met him halfway.

“Dammit. I told you stay in the car.”

Green fire flew from her eyes. “You ‘told’
me? Nobody tells me what to do. Never again.” She pushed around him and headed for her car.

“Are you crazy?” Had she yelled “never again” at him?
What the hell set her off?
Somebody had been super controlling of her in the past, but he wasn’t that person.

She spun on her heel, marched back to him, and jabbed him in the chest. “No, I’m not. And don’t you dare insinuate I might be.”

“Wait.” He blew out a breath. “I may have overreacted. A little.”

“Ya think?”

She’d slammed her hands on her hips, not giving an inch. He had to make her understand the gravity of the gifts.
Try harder.

“Don’t leave. Please.” He looped his fingers around the back of her neck, leaned down, and laid his forehead to hers. “I think you may be in danger.”

“Because if you didn’t leave this stuff for me, who did? You think that didn’t scare the crap out of me?”

“I hope it did. May I see the scarf?” Fear flickered in her eyes, and he fought the urge to jerk her into his arms. Why and how had this woman gotten under his skin?

He had to pull back, put some distance between the two of them. His paranoia and fear for Catherine couldn’t control him. However, the nagging question about the flowers still plagued him. He tried to ignore the headache bubbling below the surface.

He reached in her car and retrieved the scarf and box. A picture fluttered to the ground. A snapshot of a man’s bicep. Catherine’s gasp and horrified expression confirmed she hadn’t seen the picture earlier. “Come inside.”

Matt pulled a pitcher of tea from the fridge while Catherine paced back and forth across his kitchen. Her reaction was typical. She was not only frightened, she was furious. He picked out a few muttered words when she stormed passed. He’d never been friends with a redhead, but she certainly lived up to the stereotype. Phrases like, “kick somebody’s ass,” and “I’m not afraid,” tumbled out while she walked—no, stomped through his house. Had he not been pissed himself, her behavior would’ve been funny.

He sat a half-filled glass down on the kitchen counter and caught her hands with his to stop her. He led her to a chair and coaxed her down. “I was afraid of this when you told me about the flowers.”

“You think I’m being stalked?”

“I don’t make assumptions. I’m trying to find the florist the African Violets came from.” He had to be honest with her. “The fact Julia Drummond was a florist and you received flowers...”

“Shit,” she interrupted, her eyes flooded with panic. “Am I a target?”

“I don’t know. We’ve found no evidence Julia received any gifts.” Matt finished filling two glasses, handed one to Catherine, and joined her at the table. “There weren’t any pictures of body parts found in her belongings. I don’t get the significance of the scarf.”

“I found it at the ‘All Bright Things’ boutique the day I went job hunting, but didn’t have the money. At the time, I thought it was beautiful. Now I can’t look at it.”

“Someone watched you. Do you remember seeing anyone from the bar?”

“No. I got into town on a Friday, and the following Monday I hit all the shops on the square looking for a part-time job.” She stood, resumed pacing. “I need to go.”

“Go where? You’re safe here with me.” Then her meaning struck him, she was talking about leaving town.

“I should move on. Pack my stuff and leave.”

“Bull. We’ll figure out who this is. I don’t suppose in your travels you stopped long enough to take a class and have a license to carry a handgun?”

The color drained from her face. Catherine stared at him, blinking rapidly. For a second, Matt worried she’d faint.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you. Guns are safe if you’re properly trained.” Matt went to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe. Let your heart rate slow a fraction.”

“No guns. I can defend myself without a weapon.”

“Defending yourself isn’t as easy to do as you might think.”

“I’m not scared. I don’t want a gun.”

Matt studied her face, trying to read something in her eyes. Anything he could use to understand what was going on in her head. She wouldn’t hold his gaze.

“I’m going home.”

“First, let’s go to my office. You need to fill out a report.”

“No report. I left my windows down too far. I’ll be more careful.”

“Your safety is important to me.” He tried to tug her back to the table, but she resisted, so he relaxed his hold.

“Listen, it’s getting late, and I have to get home. I’ll exercise caution. I promise.”

“It’s a mistake not to get this on record.”

“Mistake or not, I have no intention of setting foot in your office.”

He heaved a sigh of aggravation. “Keep your phone close, and call me when you get home.”

Matt kept the scarf, picture, and box. Concern for her and curiosity about her swirled in his head as he closed her car door and stepped back.

****

Tuesday, August 1st, 11:30 p.m.

Catherine fluffed her pillow, rolled over onto her side, and did her best to fall asleep. She sat up when a sharp stab hit her in the chest. What a liar she’d become, telling Matt she could defend herself without a gun. She’d used one to protect herself from Andy, but the idea of ever holding another weapon in her hand repulsed her.

She’d driven away from Matt’s house fully aware she’d missed her chance to tell him why she’d never hold a gun again. Or why she’d refused to go to the courthouse. No one ever looked at her the same after learning of her past. She’d taken another human being’s life. She couldn’t bear seeing Matt’s beautiful, blue eyes turn dark and full of doubt. He was a cop for Christ’s sake. The ones she’d dealt with in Tulsa had believed the worst. He’d be like everyone else and question her motives. Didn’t she still? Didn’t at least part of the blame lay with her?

Nausea stirred and her throat filled with bile. She’d opened her soul and relived her humiliating life with Andy to the police and the DA. Their eyes had been cold, full of disbelief. She might’ve been convicted of murder had she not permitted her doctor and the director of the women’s shelter to come forward. Thanks to their records she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life in Oklahoma’s Tutwiler State Prison for Women.

Why shouldn’t she have this little bit of respite? Maybe spending time with a handsome man before she moved on would be okay. Maybe someday she’d tell him, and maybe he’d ask her to stay.

She wanted to run. She wanted to stay. She wanted to find peace.

She could dream, couldn’t she?

Chapter Six

Wednesday, August 2nd, 10:20 a.m.

Regardless of the situation, Rey’s appearance was immaculate. Black hair, black eyes, and a snow-white smile, women liked talking to him. Matt counted on Rey’s familiarity with Julia Drummond and Tanya Perry to keep the questions relaxed. The plan had worked until Rey pushed her to dig deeper into her memory.

Rey plopped a box of tissues in front of Tanya. “Did Julia mention someone she’d met at the Saddleback making her uncomfortable?”

“No.” She wiped tears from her cheeks and finger combed her short brown hair. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you two hung out at the bar the first time we talked?” Matt watched her expression closely. He couldn’t understand why she’d kept their visits to the bar a secret.

“I didn’t think it was important.” Her gasp was audible. “You think she met the killer at the Saddleback?” Tanya fidgeted, opened and closed the snap on her purse.

“I don’t know.” Matt pushed a legal pad across to her and laid a pen on top. “Write down the names of any of the men she talked with, danced with, anyone at all. Deputy Santos will stay with you until you’re finished.”

Matt paused at the door. “You’re sure Julia didn’t mention having a secret admirer?”

“Yes.”

“No surprise gifts from a secret pal?”

“No. Why?”

“She ever mention receiving unwanted pictures?”

“She would’ve told me.”

“Thanks for coming down.”

He believed her. A mixture of relief and disappointment swamped him. He wanted to believe the killer hadn’t targeted Catherine. But if the gifts came from someone else, Matt was looking for two men. He wasn’t ready to buy into that yet. He walked to Sue’s desk. “Did you contact the newspapers and TV station?”

“You asked me to.” Her raised eyebrows and tilted head indicated he’d asked a stupid question. “Just be sure you’re here at two this afternoon. You don’t want them quoting my opinion of the murdering bastard.”

“Sue.” He choked on a chuckle. “You surprise me. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m the least of your worries. Your message post is full.” She narrowed her eyes and glared. “Half of them are from Harold Fletcher. Don’t throw them in the trash this time.”

Matt stood next to Sue’s desk and presented her with his best smile. “Do I have to talk to him? Couldn’t you put him off?”

“I’ve put him off for two days. He wants to know your plan to catch the killer.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. “I could tell him you went fishing.”

“I’ll call him later.” Matt went back to his desk and called Julia Drummond’s parents. They deserved to know about the press conference before the interview aired. He pushed his way through the conversation, then leaned back to sort through the stack of messages. Rey knocked on the door jamb right before Matt picked up the phone to call Curry’s mayor.