Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

“That might come up later, but for now, I just want to ask you some questions.” He noted the woman still wore her engagement ring. “Is it true that Kevin Vey broke up with you?”

  She hesitated a second. “Yes.” She fiddled with her ring, turning it on her finger. “But . . . I’m hoping he’ll come to his senses.”

  Danny nodded. “Could you think of a reason he might want to hurt Miss Thompson?”

  “Kevin? No. Look, he’s not perfect. I even think he cheated on me, and I know he cheated on her . . . with me, but I don’t think . . . No, Kevin wouldn’t do that. I mean, he wants to get back with her. Or at least he thinks he does. Honestly, I don’t think he knows what he wants.” She looked down at the ring on her left hand. “I’m an idiot for keeping it on, aren’t I?”

  He hoped that was a rhetorical question because no way was he going to answer it.

  She frowned. “Wait. He didn’t tell you I could have done this, did he?”

  “No,” Danny said, seeing no reason to lie. “He was quick to say he didn’t think you would.”

  Her shoulders dropped in relief. “See, he’s not that big of a douchebag.”

  Depends on your definition of a douchebag.

  Did leaving a woman alone in a hotel room after one hell of a night make him a douchebag? Or was he a douchebag because of what Sheri believed but wasn’t true? Call him an optimist, but he hoped once she knew the truth she’d be a hell of a lot quicker to forgive him. He just didn’t know how he was going to impart that information without betraying Cary’s confidence.

  As Danny walked back to his car, he realized he only had one more suspect who might have gone after his Sheri. And that was the old boyfriend Mark Taylor. The guy who went hiking. But according to the neighbor, he wasn’t going to be back until Sunday.

  He crawled behind the wheel and just sat there. He had wanted to confront Mark Taylor in person, but maybe a phone call would have to do.

  Finding his number in his notes, he dialed. The phone rang and rang and finally went to voicemail.

  Danny didn’t leave a message. He sat there staring at his phone.

  Did he really believe Jacob Thompson was innocent? If he did, that meant his Sheri still might be in danger.

  • • •

  Sheri sat on her sofa. Her gaze shifted to the drawer that held her father’s letter. She knew her mom would expect she’d have read it by their dinner tomorrow. She bit down on her lip, stood up and eased closer to the cabinet. Reaching down, she slid the drawer open and read the front of the envelope.

  Happy birthday, Baby Girl.

  There had been a time, when he called her “my baby girl,” that it had been an endearment. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if he called her that because he knew he had a baby boy out there who he’d abandoned.

  “Damn you, Daddy. Just when I almost forgave you for the other stuff!”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she slammed the drawer shut. She needed to write some press releases for two of her clients. She started down the hall. Her phone, still on the coffee table, dinged with a text.

  “Don’t let it be Danny.” She walked back and picked it up.

  Her heart tripped with she saw who it was.

  Mark. Mark, the stalker.

  She swiped her phone to read the message. There was a picture of him standing in the woods.

  Hey . . . I’m hiking in Austin. It’s beautiful up here. Just remembered what today is. I know we’re done, but I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

  A ton of emotions swirled inside her, including fear. She stood in the middle of living room, staring at her phone, unsure if she should text him back and say “Thank you, but leave me the hell alone” or just not reply. She put her finger on her phone. Her heart did another lurch when someone knocked on her door.

  Taco came hurdling from the kitchen, ran into the end table and knocked the lamp on the floor.

  “Calm down, Taco,” she said and glanced at the door. Fear still made her heart race, so she told herself the same thing.

  No one was out to kill her.

  Danny already had the right person behind bars.

  • • •

  Danny dialed Sheri’s number. It went to voicemail. So they were back to that. He closed his eyes and waited for the beep.

  “Hey. It’s Danny. I just wanted to say . . . Don’t lower your guard. I know we think we got this guy and that means you aren’t in danger, but I’m still not completely convinced.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You up to grabbing some dinner tonight? Call me, and . . . happy birthday. Oh, lock your doors.”

  The line beeped, and he clicked off. Okay, so now he knew for sure she wasn’t taking his calls anymore. The niggling feeling she could still be in danger tightened his gut. He sat there staring out at the early night, the western sky, which still held the golden hue of the setting sun.

  Just like that, he remembered Sheri’s sweet smile and the emotional punch he got every time he saw it.

  Suddenly his mind was made up. He refused to let her shut him out. He drove to a pizza parlor and ordered a Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza. Then he swung by a deli and picked up some chocolate croissants. She might tell him to leave, but he was going to give her every reason to want him to stay.

  It was seven when he parked at her condo’s parking lot. Her car was in the designated spot. He ran a hand through his hair, popped a mint and then, carrying the pizza and deli bag in one hand, walked to her door. The smell from the pizza had his stomach grumbling. Had he even had lunch?

  He knocked.

  He heard Taco bark. Heard Taco bump against the door as if anticipating his entrance. Or rather the pizza’s arrival. Not that Danny planned on sharing. He’d never known pizza could give gas like that.

  He knocked again. “Sheri?” He called her name.

  No answer came. “Hey, you here?” He knocked again. Nothing. Not a footstep or any indication she was home. And yet her car was there. Concern made his empty stomach clutch. He set the food on the ground and pulled her key from his front pocket and opened her door.

  “Sheri?”

  No one answered, but before he took his first step inside, he saw the lamp on the floor. “Sheri,” he called again as he pulled out his gun.

  His heart pumped in his throat as he walked from one empty room to the other.

  He came back into the living room, staring at the lamp on the floor. As he kneeled to take a closer look, Taco came barreling over. He looked at the dog.

  “What happened, Taco? Is our girl okay?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “And here’s a picture of Cindy, my great-granddaughter, at my birthday party last year.”

  “She’s a cutie.” The warm, zesty aroma in her neighbor’s condo reminded Sheri that she’d hadn’t eaten since lunch. Mrs. Lamb, after seeing Sheri return from the spa, had knocked and asked if Sheri could drive her to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine. Her granddaughter had planned to take her after they went out for her birthday lunch, but she had to cancel because of her sick child.

  Sheri sympathized with the granddaughter having a sick kid, but it seemed the baby got sick an awful lot lately.

  Wanting company, the woman asked Sheri to come over for cake. And for the last ten minutes, she had shown Sheri pictures of her family. Sheri’s plan to do her press releases went out the window when she spotted the hint of loneliness in the woman’s eyes. She’d just get up early tomorrow to write them.

  The fact that Mrs. Lamb reminded Sheri of her own grandmother made her soft when it came to her neighbor. Sheri’s phone, tucked inside her pocket, beeped with a message from Danny, who’d called right as Mrs. Lamb showed up.

  Sheri had yet to listen to it.

  When Mrs. Lamb went to get Sheri something to drink, Sheri followed her. She looked over again at the kitchen table set up with cake, party hats, and colorful paper plates with matching napkins. Her heart hurt a little for the woman’s canceled party.

  “I boug
ht them for my Cindy. Kids love parties. Have you eaten?” Mrs. Lamb asked. “I made lasagna when I found I wouldn’t be eating out earlier.”

  “No, I . . . I haven’t eaten. And it smells wonderful.” Sheri knew the woman could cook because quite often her neighbor brought Sheri her leftovers. So in return, Sheri regularly gave the woman books her clients had written to give to her great-granddaughter. Free books for food—it was a total win-win for Sheri.

  “Fabulous. You know I’m part Italian. I make an award-winning lasagna.”

  “Well, if your lasagna is anywhere as good as your chicken marsala, then I can’t wait.”

  Sheri’s phone rang. Holding back a frown, she pulled it out of her purse, thinking it could be Danny again. It wasn’t.

  “It’s my mom,” Sheri told Mrs. Lamb. “I should probably take it.”

  “Of course.” The woman started collecting the paper plates on the table and replacing them with dishes.

  “Hey, Mom,” Sheri answered.

  “How’s my birthday girl?”

  “I’m fine. I’m about to have dinner with Mrs. Lamb, my neighbor.”

  “Oh . . . that’s nice. But . . . I just assumed you’d be going out with Danny tonight.”

  “No, uh . . .” Sheri knew her mother thought Danny was in line to be her son-in-law, but she really didn’t want to get into that now. “I might see him later.” Not a lie. She had to see him soon because she’d forgotten to get her key back from him.

  “Have you talked him into going with us tomorrow night?”

  “I think he might have to work.” Think and might saved her from an out-and-out lie. Justifying small untruths was a bad habit created from being a preacher’s daughter.

  “What kind of work does he do?” her mother inquired.

  Oh, crap. Now came the questions. “We’re eating dinner now. Can we chat later?”

  Sheri’s phone beeped with another incoming call. She ignored it.

  “Oh sure,” her mom said. “I just wanted to say happy birthday again and tell you the good news.”

  “What news?” Sheri asked.

  “Bradley, your half-brother, called me out of the blue, and he’s for sure attending the ceremony next Wednesday night. I know your dad would be so happy that he’s come around.”

  Half-brother? Sure Sheri had acknowledged that’s what he was, but she just hadn’t heard it said aloud.

  “Sheri, you there?” her mom asked in Sheri’s silence.

  “That’s great,” Sheri said but couldn’t exactly say she meant it. The guy might be her half-brother, but they’d never even met. Her father, during his confession period, had shown her Bradley’s picture.

  When her father told her Bradley had refused to have anything to do with him, Sheri had actually respected the man. Why would he want to be a part of the life of a father who’d known about him and hadn’t acknowledged him? Then again, Bradley had taken the twenty-five thousand her father had left him.

  But all of it was just a bit too much to swallow for Sheri. On top of being unfaithful to her mom, her daddy had been a deadbeat dad. Did that mean she had an obligation not to be a deadbeat sister? Her father would say so, wouldn’t he? But damn it, was it her responsibility to try to make amends for her father’s mistakes? A better question was, why her mother was so eager to do so? Shouldn’t she at least be bitter?

  “Well,” her mom’s voice pulled her out of her head. “Can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “Okay, love you.” Since her mom had cancer, Sheri tried to remember to always tell her that. Because she did love her. Although her mom had always supported her dad when Sheri went to battle with him, she had sided with Sheri more often than not. “I love your daddy with all my heart,” she would say. “But that doesn’t make him right. I’ll talk to him.” After seeing how hard it was for her mom to come between them, Sheri had stopped going to her with her Daddy complaints.

  “Love you, too, sweetie. See you tomorrow. And I’ll keep my fingers crossed that Danny is able to come. I like that boy. I think he might be the one.”

  Before Sheri could come up with something that might prevent her mom from getting her hopes up, the line clicked. Sheri pocketed her phone and looked at Mrs. Lamb serving up thick squares of lasagna on two plates.

  “Is her cancer still in remission?” Mrs. Lamb asked.

  “Yes. Thank God.”

  “You are a good daughter. She’s lucky.” The woman set the plates on the table and pulled a salad out of the fridge.

  “It goes both ways,” Sheri said.

  “And your father?”

  Not so lucky. “He passed away a little less than a year ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” And she was. When her father got sick and gave up drinking, there had been a part of Sheri that thought they would make amends. Then she saw how her mom’s illness seemed to come second to his and his mission of seeking penitence. And Sheri’s forgiveness had been put on the back burner.

  “Oh. I almost forgot the bread. I’ll cut some for us.”

  “Sit down and let me do that. It’s your birthday, too.” Sheri’s phone rang again. Seeing Danny’s number, she cut it off. She’d deal with him later. “Where’s the bread?”

  “In the pantry.” The woman smiled. “I’ll get the bread basket.” She moved to a cabinet. “Oh, did you hear that a UPS truck had a bomb in it in town?”

  “A bomb?” Sheri asked.

  “That’s what the news said.”

  A knock came at the woman’s door. “Maybe my great-granddaughter is feeling better. We still might have a party.” She headed to the living room, hope giving her steps a little pep.

  Sheri focused on the bread until she heard the deep baritone voice. “I’m sorry to bother you . . .”

  Sheri’s breath jumped. Stepping out of the kitchen, her gaze landed on Danny.

  “I’m friends with Sheri Thompson your neighbor . . . I heard you two speaking earlier. By any chance have you seen . . .”

  “What’s wrong?” Sheri asked.

  Danny’s concerned gaze shot up. “I was . . . I called but . . .”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, any friend of Sheri’s is a friend of mine. Come on in. Have you eaten, young man?”

  • • •

  “Do you want another helping?” Mrs. Lamb asked Danny after a long, leisurely dinner.

  “Madam, two is plenty. I’m gonna save a little room for the carrot cake. But I have to tell you, hands down, that lasagna was the best I’ve ever eaten.”

  “It was good,” Sheri agreed.

  Danny could tell Sheri hadn’t expected him to accept her neighbor’s invitation. But not only did the smell of Mrs. Lamb’s house make his stomach start growling, but Sheri was here. And since it wasn’t her house, she couldn’t officially kick him out.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Danny said.

  “Are you kidding?” The old woman said. “Three makes it a party. And I didn’t think I was going to have one. Everyone should have a party on their birthday.”

  Danny saw emotion in Sheri’s eyes. She obviously cared about her neighbor.

  “Well, anytime you want to have a party and cook, I’m here,” he said.

  “You’d better be careful,” Mrs. Lamb said. “I miss cooking for a man.”

  “Now that’s biased,” Sheri said with tease. “How’s cooking for a woman different?”

  “Sorry, young lady,” Mrs. Lamb patted her hand and chuckled. “Call me old-fashioned, but seeing a man eat does this Italian woman’s heart good.” She stood up. “Let me clear these dishes and then we’ll serve up the cake.”

  “No, that’s my job.” Danny took the plate from the woman’s hand. “It’s not my birthday. You sit down. I can’t cook worth a flip, but I can load a mean dishwasher.”

  He moved to the sink. “Oh, my! Nothing sexier than a man doing dishes,” Mrs. Lamb said.

  Danny laughed at the same time he heard Sheri chuckle.r />
  “Sorry, but it’s just true,” Mrs. Lamb giggled.

  He glanced back at them. Sheri’s look of annoyance had faded.

  As he rinsed and loaded, he listened to them chat.

  “Are you a true Texan?” Mrs. Lamb asked Sheri.

  “Born and raised,” Sheri said.

  “You, Danny? Are you from here?”

  He looked over his shoulder. Sheri studied him, and he smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You still have your folks alive?” Mrs. Lamb asked.

  He paused and looked back at the dishwater. “My mom lives in Mexico.”

  “And your father?” Mrs. Lamb asked.

  He rinsed another plate, trying to think of a subject-changer. When nothing came, he just said, “I think he’s passed.”

  He heard the silence. People usually didn’t know what to say.

  “Have you been to see your mom? I hear it’s a beautiful country,” Mrs. Lamb said.

  Danny considered lying. “No, I haven’t gotten down there.”

  “You have a lot of siblings?” Mrs. Lamb asked.

  “No siblings. Just a cousin,” Danny answered.

  “Tell me you call your mom regularly. We love hearing from our children, and for some reason, sons are never as good at staying in touch as daughters.”

  Danny put another rinsed plate in the rack. “Actually, I was mostly raised by my aunt and uncle. They passed away two years ago, only six months apart. And I saw them once a week, regularly. I hear from my mom on holidays. We’re both good with it.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” the woman said. Danny found a towel and started wiping down the counters. He didn’t look back because he knew what he’d see. Pity.

  Oh, he’d always got that growing up when anyone realized he’d been shuffled off to an aunt to raise. Not that his aunt or uncle ever made him feel unwelcome. That first few months, he’d been the one to make things hard. After that, things got better, but he’d never stopped hating being thought of as the unwanted child.

  “How is it that a guy like you isn’t married already?” Mrs. Lamb asked.