Jason sat on his sofa, flipping Sue’s card between his fingers. He owed her an apology, didn’t he? Of course he did. He should have never opened his mouth to Chase. But seeing Sue plant one on the Porche-driving asshole had screwed with his head.
No. What had screwed with his head was that kiss four months ago. From the first time he’d caught sight of Sue Finley, she’d smelled and looked like trouble. Soft. Sweet. Sexy. Smart. Yup! Troubles each, with a capital’s.
“It’s not as if I haven’t dated soft, sweet, sexy, smart women before,” he told the orange feline staring up at him.
The cat cocked its head and twitched its right ear.
“Okay, so most of my girlfriends haven’t been that smart. None of them were writers like Sue.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “But it’s not Sue’s IQ that gets to me, it’s…”
You’ve outworn your welcome again. He recalled Sue’s words the day of the rat incident. Words that exemplified why he shouldn’t have kissed her. Words he’d heard growing up. Words that still cut to the core.
Jason liked to believe that his past hadn’t left any black marks on his life. He’d learned how to cope after the third or fourth foster home: Never pick a fight with a guy twice your size unless the cause is worth taking a beating. Never reach out to someone whom you can’t walk away from, or to someone you’d care about if they walk away from you. Because someone always walks away.
It wasn’t as if he had the intimacy issues so many women accused him of having. No, he had all sorts of people in his life. People who counted on him, like Maggie, his foster mom. Hell, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Then there was Chase. He’d take a bullet for Chase. And his friends on the force, too. So what if he was selective of whom he let close?
His phone rang, and Jason answered it, eager to interrupt his thought process. “Yeah?”
“That was quick,” Chase remarked.
“What’s up?” The cat jumped into Jason’s lap.
“Just making sure you’re cool about everything. The food’s in the cabinet. The vet’s number is on the fridge. And don’t feed Fabio too much—”
“He upchucks, you told me. You went over this today.” Twice.
“These animals are Lacy’s babies. So make sure you—”
Jason stroked the cat in his lap and listened—again. He knew Lacy wasn’t the only one crazy about those damn pets. Chase was a total animal wuss. “I think I can take care of it.”
“Fine.” Chase sighed. “Can I get one more favor from you?”
“Depends.” Jason kicked off his shoes and stared at the cat curled up in his lap. In spite of him telling the animal not to, the dang thing kept cozying up to him. And unlike Chase, Jason Dodd wasn’t a wuss. To prove it, as soon as he found the time, he was taking the thing to a shelter. A good one, of course. He gave the cat’s chin a scratch.
“Would you mind checking up on Sue when she gets back from Mexico? I—”
Jason’s gaze zapped to the card beside his wallet.“Whoa. I’m not sure—”
“Just check in when she gets back on Sunday. Make sure nothing’s going on with this rat freak.”
Jason frowned. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hold it right there, or I swear I’ll splatter your brains.” Sue raised the gun, then lowered it. “Of course, you look half dead already,” she told the down-on-its-luck ficus tree wilting by her back door.
Staring at her 60LS revolver made especially for a woman, Sue tightened her palm, adjusting to the feel of it. This baby was going to come in handy. Just holding it gave her all sorts of scene ideas.
Oh, goodness, she hoped a book was all she used it for. Yes, she’d bought some bullets, but she had no intention of loading the gun unless things got worse.
Remembering what she’d been doing before being distracted, she set the gun on her counter, grabbed the plant food in the plastic cup, and fed it to her sickly ficus. As she poured, another leaf cracked off and fell to its death.
She eyed the plant. “Hey, chin up. If someone breaks in and threatens you, I’ve got your back.”
Hitchcock, in all his feline glory, lay on the arm of the sofa, staring at her as if she’d lost it. Which could be right. Face it. It had been a trying few days. A trying few years. Not that talking to her plant was insane. Nope.
Yesterday, after purchasing her gun, she’d stopped by the plant store to see if there was some miracle cure for a dying ficus. The clerk had sold her twenty bucks of plant food and then suggested Sue try talking.
Luckily, Sue excelled at talking.
“So,” she said to the ficus. “How’s your life? Mine sucks. I got two more hang-ups today. And then that rude caller who left the message called back. This time he used the word die. I don’t like that word.” She sighed. “And speaking of rude, did I mention Jason Dodd?”
She touched the plant, and three more leaves floated downward.
“Not that my life is worse than yours. You’re almost down to your last leaf.” She bit her lip. “I should have never brought you home. I’m much better at killing things than keeping them alive.” She paused. “Relationships included. Not that I had a relationship with Dodd.”
Sue dropped to the floor and picked up the brittle leaves. “Have you ever met someone who just fit like a good pair of jeans? As if they’d been made for you? After he kissed me…” She fought the swell of emotion in her chest. “Have you ever been so lonely that you spent your Saturday afternoon pouring your heart out to a plant? Probably not, huh? And axe the jeans question, too. As a plant, you probably can’t relate to the whole jeans analogy. Besides, I’ve learned my lesson. He’s not my pair of jeans.”
She touched one of the plant’s limbs. “If he showed up at my door now and begged for a second chance, I’d laugh myself silly. Not that I don’t feel a little silly now, talking to a plant. And I do have friends. Got a whole club thing going. But both Kathy and Lacy are out of town—”
Sue’s doorbell rang. She remembered who she was expecting. Getting up, she spotted her gun and hurriedly stuck the weapon in her purse. No use flaunting it in front of a cop.
“Hi.” She waved Officer Martin inside. He’d already changed out of uniform, wore jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt, which bore the print of…smiley faces. Hmmm.
She’d called him this morning and told him she felt like she needed to report a few more things. He’d offered to stop by after work. The after-work comment bothered her, but she remembered he lived close and decided to go with the flow. And the flow right now dictated she offer him something to drink.
“Soda or tea?”
They sat at the kitchen table, sipping iced tea, and she spilled the beans. She told him about the rat scene in her book and the phone calls. He sat there looking at her, or rather, looking at her chest. She pulled the scoop-neck blouse up to a non-scooping level. When his eyes rose, she continued talking.
“It’s just weird, things happening so close to how they happened in my book.”
“And your PR person, she’s read the book, right?” He scooted his chair closer.
“Yes.” Sue inched her chair back. “But Melissa wouldn’t be behind this.”
He nodded. “And…you live here alone, right?”
“Yes.” She waited for him to give her a piece of advice. Like “buy a gun,” which she’d proudly announce she’d done.
Instead, he sent her one of those male, gotta-love-me smiles. The man could work on his smiles. “There’s not a boyfriend who could come stay here?”
“Not really.” She had spoken to Paul, said boyfriend, once since he’d left the message of the vacation cancellation. During the brief conversation, she’d arranged a Monday night dinner. A Monday night good-bye dinner. No more settling.
“How could that be?” Martin asked.
“How could what be?” Sue had lost track of the conversation.
“Someone like yourself being single.”
> Sue pasted a smile on her face, imitating the one on his shirt. “I kill people on paper. Excruciating deaths. Guys find that hard to deal with.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said.
But maybe you should.“Look, about these calls…”
“Yeah,” he said. “If she calls back…”
“She?”
“Whoever. If you get scared, need anything, day or night, call me. I can get here in minutes.” He picked up her portable phone on the table, which he told her was exactly like the one he owned, and punched his number into her speed dial. “I’m one touch away.”
She thanked him but explained that she thought she’d be okay. When he offered to take her out to dinner, she refused. When he offered to stop by later, she told him she didn’t want him to go beyond his call of duty. Hint. Hint.
He didn’t take that hint, and she was afraid she might have to bypass the polite I’ll-never-date-you hints and go for the never-in-a-million-years bluntness. Then she spotted her ficus tree. She faced Martin, his gaze directed toward her chest, of course.
Okay, so the Wonderbra had its good points and bad.
She yanked up her top again. “You know, I’m sorry to do this but I have to cut this short. I have a sick friend to visit.”
After Martin left, Sue donned a pair of pj’s, drank one glass of Merlot—she needed to wipe the smiley faces from her mind—and chatted with Ms. Ficus and Hitchcock before going to bed.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept when a paw, claws in, struck her face. Then Hitchcock howled. An ugly type of howl, too. Sue shot up. The cat jumped from the bed and paced in front of her huge bay window.
“What is it? A hairball? You don’t have a cold, do you? Oh, Lordie, don’t have a cold.”
Hitchcock continued to pace. The blinds were up, and the backyard floodlight cast enough of a glow that the cat’s fur shone silver. Sue watched. Not that she really cared to witness the hairball delivery, but it was good knowing where they were. Stepping on them was—
Then she saw it. It was not a hairball.
Oh God, someone was in her backyard! And they were walking toward her window. The voice from the prank calls echoed in her head. Die, sweet Sue, die.
Unable to breathe, she grabbed her cat around the middle and darted out of the bedroom.
“Oh, God!” She started going in circles. Hitchcock, never fond of circles, leapt down. Sue accepted right then that everyone in their lives was faced with circumstances that proved what they were made of: strength, valor, courage. She owned not one of those qualities. No backbone, no nerve. She was one tiny muscle spasm away from wetting herself.
Focused on not peeing, it finally hit her to call for help. She spotted her cell phone on the table, grabbed it, and hit 911.
“Help me,” she screamed as soon as the voice answered. “Someone is in my backyard. Someone’s told me to die!” She rattled off her address. Then she remembered Martin telling her that he could arrive fast. She grabbed her portable phone. She started to look for his card, then remembered he’d put his number on speed dial. Three, wasn’t it? Or four? “Crap, crap, crap!”
Hitchcock howled again. Sue’s gaze shot up. She heard it. Her doorknob turned. It was locked, but the eerie clicking sounded like something out of a horror movie. Or a scary book! Like one of my books. One where someone always died.
A noise startled Jason awake. He forced his eyes open, his mind trying to process the noise and where the hell he was. Suddenly, he was nose to nose with something with bugged-out eyes and a short snout. In his youth, he’d woken up with some real dogs, but—
He remembered: Lacy’s house, pet-sitting, Fabio. Pushing the ugly dog away, Jason heard the phone.
Grabbing his watch off the coffee table, he hit the light button to check the time. One A.M.? Who the hell would be calling at this hour? He vaguely remembered calling Maggie and leaving this number because his cell phone had run out of juice and he’d forgotten to bring his charger. Picking up the portable phone, he answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Someone’s here. I saw him walk past my window. Oh, God, he’s at my back door again! What do I do?”
Jason’s foggy brain tried to place the panicked voice. It wasn’t Maggie.
Recognition struck. “Sue?” But, wasn’t she in Mexico doing the tango with the shower-capped Porsche driver? “Where are you?”
The line went dead.
The phone crackled under his intense grip. If she was in Mexico, she wouldn’t be calling here. She had to be at home. The fear he’d heard in her voice ricocheted into his gut. He grabbed his jeans, his gun belt, swiped his keys from the coffee table, and ran to his car.
It was a ten-minute drive to her place. He made it in six.
A police car, lights flashing, sat in Sue’s driveway. Jason parked on the curb, jerked his jeans up over his boxers, slipped on his shoes, and grabbed his gun. Jumping out of his car, he headed to the front door. Blue shadows danced across the yard. He made four steps when he heard, “Police! Hands up. Down on the ground. Now!”
“I’m Houston PD. Jason Dodd.” He held up his hands, knowing the shape of the gun would be clearly visible. “I’ve got a gun. Sue Finley called me. I’m Houston PD,” he repeated.
“Drop the weapon and get on the ground until I can see your badge,” the man called.
Jason did as he was told even though it stung. A young man stepped from the shadows, his weapon aimed.
“Badge is in my back left pocket. Is Sue okay?”
The officer grabbed Jason’s gun. Tossing it aside, he reached for Jason’s wallet. A second later, he spoke again. “Sorry, Detective. You…surprised me. I’m Officer Tomas Poe. Hoke’s Bluff police.”
Jason pushed himself up. “Is Sue okay?” he asked again. After collecting his gun and wallet, he started toward the house.
“She’s shook up.” Officer Poe fell in step beside him. “But not hurt.”
“What happened?” Jason asked.
“Donald Martin, one of our officers, asked me to drive by. I did. I noticed a car parked up the street. I thought it belonged next door.”
Sirens screeched in the distance. “You get the license number?”
The young guy shrugged. “It looked like it belonged to the house next door.” The kid had rookie written all over him.
“Then what happened?”
“I hadn’t gotten but a mile away when I got the call of a break-in in progress. When I came around, the car was gone. I called for backup.” He glanced back to the street as two patrol cars squealed to a halt. “After seeing she was okay, I did a sweep of the outside of the house, then you came up. I think what happened was the perpetrator saw me swing by and bailed. That is, if there was a perpetrator.” Poe turned to the two officers and yelled, “It’s clear.”
“You’re questioning the fact that there was a perpetrator after you spotted that car?” Jason’s tone drew the man’s attention back to him.
“I mean, a real perpetrator.” Poe hesitated. “Donald thinks this is a publicity stunt by her PR agent. But since this lady called him about the phone calls—”
“What phone calls?” Jason snapped.
“All he said was she was getting prank calls, and to be safe he wanted me to swing by.”
Two other officers walked up. The rookie introduced Jason as a Houston detective and explained he was an acquaintance of the victim.
“Isn’t this the writer’s house—the one Martin’s got the hots for?” one of the newly arrived officers asked.
“Yeah.” Officer Poe cut his gaze to Jason.
“Have you called him?” the larger newcomer asked. “He’ll want to be here to comfort her, if you know what I mean. Or I could stand in for him if she’s pretty enough.” He laughed and attempted to suck in his gut. “Let her get a taste of a real man.”
Poe shot Jason another look, as if questioning the relationship between Jason and Sue. Jason didn’t care what the guy thought; he wanted to check on
Sue.
“I called Martin,” Poe stated. “He should be pulling up any minute.”
Jason stalked toward the front door. As he walked, his mind started gnawing on what he’d learned. So, Sue had been getting disturbing phone calls. And she’d called Martin instead of Chase…or himself. Then he remembered the fiasco that had happened at Chase’s on the Fourth, and he supposed he didn’t blame her for not calling him. But Chase…
The door stood ajar, and Jason saw her on the sofa. Her knees pulled up to her chest, she had her arms wrapped around her calves, and her head rested facedown on top of her knees. Dressed in blue cotton pajamas, she looked small and so damn scared. Emotion kicked the inside of his ribs.
He stepped inside without knocking.
CHAPTER SIX
Sue couldn’t stop shaking. Someone had attempted to break into her house. Someone had been calling and leaving weird messages or just hanging up. Someone had sent her a dead rat. Just like in her book. Someone really wanted to kill her.
She remembered seeing the shadow pass by her bedroom window. She remembered hearing someone at the back door, the knob turning. Thank goodness the police arrived so quickly. With her face hidden in the fold of her arms, she heard the officer talking to someone outside. Then she recalled hearing other sirens arriving. More police. She was safe. Safe but still shaking.
She buried her face deeper. This was grist for the mill. As a mystery writer, she should be taking notes of the emotional impact, but this wasn’t fiction. She clenched her teeth and wished she had someone to call. But Lacy was in California, and Kathy in Dallas visiting her mom.
She thought of phoning her own mom but wasn’t sure she had enough Merlot to keep her mother from hysterics.
Sue’s mind turned to her grandpa. Her rock, her protector. But lately, their relationship had changed. Oh, his love had never faltered, but Sue found herself being the strong one. She envisioned the times he’d whispered, “It’s gonna be okay, Princess.” By golly, she could use hearing those words right now.
A tear squeezed its way through her closed lids. “Can’t cry,” she muttered. Any minute the officers would need to ask her some questions, and she couldn’t be blubbering like a baby.
Divorced, Desperate And Dating Page 5