Grace Among Thieves

by Julie Hyzy

  I made a noise of impatience.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll hit them first thing Monday morning and I’ll let you know what they say.”

  “Sounds good.” It would have to do. “As soon as we hang up, I’ll send the photo to you. Text me back when you get it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Two minutes later we were all set. Knowing I’d taken my amateur sleuthing about as far as I could for the day, I went back to curling my hair and thinking about the evening ahead.

  Mark arrived right on time in a four-door Ford Taurus. I’d been ready for fifteen minutes and kept checking the front window, so when he pulled up in the driveway, I opened the front door to welcome him. “You look wonderful,” I said as he got out of the car. The sling was gone, and if I hadn’t known better, I never would have guessed this handsome guy with the bold stride and wide smile had ever suffered a gunshot wound.

  “You look pretty wonderful yourself,” he said as he took the front steps two at a time. When he reached the porch he pulled me into a hug. “It’s so great to see you. I feel as though it’s been a lot longer than one day.” As he squeezed tight, he said, “God, it feels good to have the use of both arms again.”

  “It still hurts though, doesn’t it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. This is worth it.”

  I held him close for a breathless moment, taking in his strength, his warmth, his smell. “I like your aftershave,” I said when we broke apart.

  “I’ll buy a case of it.”

  I considered inviting him in to meet Bootsie, but decided that move might play better later this evening. “Let me get my purse.” I rushed in, said good-bye to the cat, and then met him on the porch again.

  “You have a lot of land here,” he said on the way to the car. “It’s nice that you and your neighbors aren’t on top of one another. In my suburb outside Denver, the homes are much closer together.” He patted his chest with both hands. “Here you can breathe.”

  “I’m lucky,” I said. “I couldn’t afford this house if I wanted to buy it today. These old beauties are very expensive. Even run-down ones.”

  He pointed to a house farther down the street where the FOR SALE sign had been covered with a bright red banner that read: SOLD. “Looks like someone was able to buy onto your block. Getting new neighbors?”

  I thought about it. “That house has been vacant for a couple of months. The owner got transferred,” I said, repeating what I’d heard. “I didn’t really know them, so it’ll be nice to meet whoever moves in.”

  “This neighborhood suits you,” he said. “I can’t explain why, but it does.”

  “I love it here,” I said as he held the door open for me. “It would take a lot to get me to move away now that I’ve finally put down roots.”

  “I wanted to talk with you about that,” he said with an odd look, “but it can wait until we’re at dinner.”

  He shut the door and came around as I pondered his words. He’d broached the subject of a long-distance relationship last time we’d gone out. I’d had time to think and I couldn’t see any reason why not to give this the best chance we could. I was looking forward to talking about that, too.

  “Would you mind if we went to Bailey’s again?” he asked. “I know I’ll lose points for originality, but I liked the seclusion.”

  “The food was spectacular,” I said. “It’s fine with me.”

  We had a different waiter this time, but sat at the same table overlooking the pond. Like déjà vu. What was different this time was Mark. Where last time he’d been attentive and in high spirits, today he was thoughtful and much quieter.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked after the waiter poured our wine and left with our dinner orders. “Something is bothering you.”

  He swirled his glass, watching the ruby liquid as though mesmerized. “Bennett,” he said. “Have you talked with him since he and I met?”

  “A little,” I said, reluctant to share Bennett’s confidence. “He said it went very well. Why do you look like you’re in pain?”

  He laughed and put his glass down. “Just the opposite,” he said. “Bennett was gracious, interesting, and the evening was enjoyable.”

  “Then why the pensive look?”

  “He worries about you.”

  I smiled and sipped my wine, thinking that Mark would continue. When he didn’t, I said, “He worries about all of us.”

  Mark leaned forward, his eyes intense. He leaned his elbows on the table edge and held up a finger. “No, there’s more there. He looks at you the way a father would a daughter.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, if you’re never planning to leave Emberstowne.”

  My stomach knotted. “I don’t have any immediate plans to leave.”

  “Not now,” he said, “but what if . . .” He stopped himself. “I can’t do this to you. I can’t ask you to think that far into the future. Not when we’re only on our second date.”

  I didn’t want to go there, either. Not so soon. Not when such topics held the potential to ruin the evening. “Let’s talk about something else,” I said. “Other than discussing me, how did the rest of the evening go?”

  Mark leaned back, stretching his hands out. “The room we were in: Wow. It’s gorgeous. I mean, after having taken the tour I should have expected it, but all that history in one amazing room. The space felt more personal to him, somehow.”

  “Bennett loves to collect.” I thought about telling him about the tiara, but decided against it. The cursed object and lost love seemed like a bad tangent to follow. “You were a few steps away from my office there.”

  “Really? So close? I’d love to see where you work every day.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. That means you’d have to meet Frances. She’s a real hoot.” I explained, giving him a few Frances highlights.

  “I’d love to meet her.”

  Maybe it was the wine speaking, but I said, “You know, I believe you’d charm her socks off.”

  “Not sure I want to do that.”

  After dinner, and after we’d declined dessert and decided to relax with coffee, I broached a tougher subject. “I had a visitor last night,” I said cryptically.

  Obviously assuming I was about to share a humorous anecdote, he smiled. “Go on.”

  I told him about seeing the killer at Amethyst Cellars the night before. Mark’s face took on an expression I’d never seen before—it was a combination of concern and panic. He sat forward, hands on the table, looking ready to leap into action. “You could have been hurt. Did he see you? Did you call the police? What happened?”

  “Everything is fine,” I assured him. I waited for him to settle down again before I resumed the story. I told him about taking the guy’s picture.

  Mark raised his hands to his head. “What were you thinking?”

  “He didn’t see me.” Mark looked so upset I decided not to tell him about the warning note. No sense in making things worse. “I sent the picture to Rodriguez and he talked to John Kitts about it.”

  “And?”

  “No luck,” I said, dragging my phone out of my purse. “Do you want to take a look and see if he’s familiar at all?”

  “Of course I do,” he said, reaching across the table. I sorted through the menu until I pulled up the shot I’d taken, then handed it to him.

  He studied it, squinted, then held it at arm’s length. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “It could be.” With a hopeful look on his face he asked, “Do you think that maybe you were mistaken and that you took a photo of a complete stranger?”

  I hesitated. There was no way to insist I was right without spilling the beans about the note. “I’m pretty sure this was the same guy I saw at the Oak Tree Hotel when I was waiting for you.”

  Mark looked at the photo again. “It could be the guy who shot me, but I can’t say for sure.” He handed my phone back. “Let’s hope you just took a random photo of a
fellow and you don’t get into any trouble.”

  “Yeah,” I said with resignation. An idea popped into my head and I sat up. “Hey . . .”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “For half a minute there you seemed to relax. Now all of a sudden, you’re all riled up again.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on the table, excited by the thought that had occurred to me. “I’ve got a great idea.”

  He mimicked my movement, smiling. “And what is that?”

  “I don’t remember if I told you, but I have a friend who works at the Kane Estate in California.”

  He leaned back. “A male friend?”

  I laughed. “She is a former teacher of mine, working out there in much the same position I have here. I guess the estate suffered a significant theft recently.”

  “You think that’s tied to what’s going on at Marshfield?”

  “It may be; worth asking, at least. She doesn’t have a cell phone, otherwise I’d text the photo to her now. I’ll wait until Monday when I can call her at the office and then send an e-mail. Nothing may come of it, but I’d really like her to have a look at this guy. With all the people working on her case, it may trigger a memory.” I silently berated myself for not thinking of doing so sooner, but, like me, Nadia didn’t work weekends, so it probably didn’t matter.

  Mark smiled at me from across the table as I slipped my phone back into my purse. I’d been about to mention that Tooney would be taking the photo around as he checked with the secondhand stores, but all thoughts of continuing that thread of conversation ceased when I caught the look on Mark’s face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re different than any woman I’ve ever met. Amazing. Fearless.”

  I laughed out loud at that. “Are you kidding? I was shaking in my shoes when I took this.”

  “I can’t wait until the police catch this killer and close the case. Only then will I feel you’re completely safe.” He reached across the table and held my hand. “Because I want you around for a long, long time.”

  * * *

  THE RIDE BACK TO MY HOUSE WAS CHARGED with delicious tension. I wasn’t sure what kept Mark from conversing but I knew I was imagining how the evening might unfold. We drove through the busy part of Emberstowne, past a bustling Amethyst Cellars. “They look busy tonight,” Mark said.

  I glanced at the dashboard clock. “They’ll be there another hour at least.”

  Mark glanced over at me. “That’s not very long.”

  My stomach gave an excited flip-flop. I didn’t really have an answer for that so I kept silent, and willed myself not to blush.

  We took the turns that led us to my house. As though he’d read my mind, he said, “I hate that I have to leave Wednesday.”

  “I’ve been trying not to think about that,” I said. “It isn’t working.”

  He shot me a wide smile. Deep dimples, dazzling teeth. I sighed with blissful pleasure as he pulled onto the driveway. “Is it okay if I park here?” he asked. “Or would it be better on the street?”

  “The driveway, definitely.” I wanted Bruce and Scott to know I had a visitor tonight. That could prevent any accidental embarrassing moments. “Why don’t you pull up next to my car? My roommates will know to pull in behind me.”

  “You got it.”

  We took the few steps to the back door, my heart fluttering, pulse pounding. I knew my cheeks were bright pink, but I loved it all. This evening was developing into a dream and I didn’t want it to end. “The locksmith said the new parts should be in any day,” I said in an inane attempt to keep up conversation.

  But tension was thick in this humid night. Before I could unlock the back door, Mark took my shoulders and turned me around. “Are you sure you want this, Grace?” he said, his eyes searching mine.

  Something deep within me responded, and I melted against him, our lips meeting in a slow, gentle caress. His hands came up around my back, drawing me closer, tighter. We kissed slowly, longingly, until neither could take the breathtaking pressure another moment. “Let’s go inside,” I said hoarsely.

  As was my habit, I snapped on the kitchen light as we entered, mostly to ensure that Bootsie didn’t run out. But she wasn’t in the kitchen.

  “I don’t think so,” Mark said. He shut the door behind us and turned the lights off again. “I like it much better like this, don’t you?”

  He took me into his arms again, and for the first time in a very long time I felt what it was to be needed, desired, cared for. Mark took his time kissing, trailing warm lips along my neck, running his hands down along the inside of my upturned arms to settle on my waist. He pulled away and we were both out of breath.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked.

  I rested my head against his chest as I curled a finger around his neck. “Me too.”

  “Is there . . .” He broke away slightly. “Somewhere more comfortable?”

  “My room is upstairs.”

  I took his hand and led him through the dining room into the parlor, planning to make a quick right toward the steps. The two tall windows flanking the fireplace sent eerie tree-branch shadows across the floor. Even though I could make out the furniture with all the lights off, I walked gingerly. “I don’t want to trip over Bootsie,” I said in a whisper.

  He whispered back, “I’m hoping to meet your little rascal, you know.” He waited a beat. “But not right this minute.”

  “No, not right this minute.”

  I turned around to smile . . . and screamed.

  Chapter 21

  “WHAT? WHAT?” MARK ASKED.

  I grabbed his arm, pointing. “There, in the window. He’s here.”

  Mark ran over to the window to the left of the fireplace. He cupped his hands around his eyes and stared out into the night. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It was him,” I said, words spilling out so fast my breath caught. “The guy from the hotel. From Amethyst Cellars. The one I took a picture of. He was staring in.”

  Mark turned, looking worried. “There are a lot of tree branches overhead. Do you think you may have seen a shadow?”

  “I saw his face.”

  “Okay,” he said, starting for the door. “Let me take a look.”

  “Don’t go outside,” I shouted. “I’m calling the police.”

  Mark took both my hands. “What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t at least go out and check?”

  I pulled my hands away, knowing seconds counted. I ran for the house phone—the one I knew would give the 911 operators my address the moment the phone made contact—and begged him not to go outside. “He’s the killer, Mark. Don’t. Please don’t.” I pulled up the cordless handset and hoped to heaven the line hadn’t been cut. A dial tone. Thank goodness.

  I flicked on the lights and shouted for Bootsie.

  The dispatcher’s unemotional greeting helped calm me. “The Marshfield killer is outside my house,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. I gripped the phone with both hands and spoke as slowly as I could manage. “The killer is here. He’s trying to get in.”

  Bootsie meandered upstairs from the basement and wound between my legs, arching as though to scratch an itch. I picked her up and held her tight.

  Mark had opened the front door and stepped outside. Watching him disappear through the gaping maw into the night terrified me more than I could say. I wanted to run out there after him, yet at the same time I wanted to stay on the phone with the dispatcher until help arrived. “Tell Detective Rodriguez,” I said, “and Detective Flynn.”

  Her monotone voice and unruffled demeanor continued to soothe me more than anything could, but all I could do was stare at the open front door and listen to my heart speed beat.

  “We have a car in the area,” she said. “They should be there very soon.”

  “Please hurry.” I hung up.

  I ran for the front door as Mark came back in. His mouth was
set in a grim line. “Are you okay?” He looked as though he wanted to take me into his arms, but I held Bootsie for dear life and he gave a sad smile. “I’m glad she’s safe.”

  “What did you see? The police are on their way.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t see anything, or anyone. Whoever might have been out there is long gone.”

  Even though that meant the killer had eluded our grasp, I was glad. “Thank God you weren’t hurt,” I said. “He knows you can recognize him.”

  Mark wrapped an arm around me, careful to not squeeze Bootsie. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I broke away and tried to smile up at him. “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow, my heart to stop racing. I scratched Bootsie’s neck and behind her ears but I could tell she was getting antsy.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and moments later heavy treads landed on my front porch. “Police,” they called.

  Two uniformed officers introduced themselves, listened to what I had to say, and then questioned Mark about what he might have seen outside. “You should not have gone after the intruder,” they told him.

  He shrugged it off. “I had to.”

  The two officers made a circuit of the house, searching outside first and then returning indoors, as Rodriguez and Flynn pulled up. They were surprised to see Mark with me. I excused myself to put Bootsie in the basement again. “I’m sorry, honey,” I said as I shut the door, “but I can’t risk you running out.” She gave me a disdainful look, a silent rebuke for taking her away from the excitement, but it couldn’t be helped. Her safety was the most important consideration right now. Rodriguez came up beside me as I made sure the door closed all the way.

  He lifted deep-set eyes to indicate Mark, who was talking with Flynn, across the room. “Are the two of you seeing each other socially?”

  I admitted we were. “It’s still pretty new.”

  “I imagine,” he said dryly.

  “He and I had just gotten back from dinner, but Mark didn’t see the guy’s face. I did,” I said. “It was the same man from the hotel and from the wine shop. I recognized him right away.”