Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas)

by Mari Manning

  “But you must run into them with your work and all.”

  “Mostly I deal with ranchers and farmers. They’re older or grew up in other towns. If they even heard the rumors, it didn’t mean anything to them.” She picked up her fork and pushed a pea across her plate. “At least none of them have ever said anything or treated me with disrespect.”

  Dinah shivered. “Are you saying the guys who raped you have said or done things to you embarrass you in public?”

  “I don’t remember who I was with. A bunch of the guys said it happened. But no one ever came forward and said who.

  “Didn’t the cops get DNA?”

  “I told you. I didn’t remember what had happened. It was a day-and-a-half before the rumors flew high enough to reach the hacienda. By that time, the evidence had been compromised. Besides, I didn’t want to drag my family through an investigation and trial. I didn’t want to drag myself either.”

  “But the guys around here remember,” said Dinah.

  “Some still whistle at me in town. So I don’t come into El Royo. Brooke goes to school over in Bridle Creek, and that’s where all her friends live.”

  “You don’t think Jamey was involved in the assault, do you?”

  “He was there a lot that summer.”

  “I can’t believe he’d treat a woman that way. He helped me, Esme. When I took my dive, he helped me out of the water and gave me a blanket and took me home. No one else raised a finger.”

  “It’s probably not him. But I have nightmares that I’m alone with someone, in a car usually, and he touches me and says he was one of the boys and I begged him t-to do it.”

  “Begged? That’s male fantasyland. Women don’t beg.”

  “I know. But that’s what they said.” Esme set down her fork. “I didn’t mean to dump on you, Dinah.”

  “You haven’t. I’m so glad you came.”

  “Peppie and Brooke will be sending out a posse if I don’t get back to the hacienda soon.”

  “Stay a little longer. Please.” She grinned. “You have to eat, and Hollyn makes a mean pasta salad. Besides I have a question about your brother.”

  Esme picked up her fork and smiled until the dimples on her cheeks were deep wells. “I thought you two were just friends.” She scooped some pasta into her mouth.

  Dinah’s face got a little warm. “We are.” She hesitated. Maybe she didn’t want to know that answer.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No! Nothing like that.” Dinah hesitated as she considered how to ask this question without giving Rafe away. “I was just wondering about his, uh, career.”

  Esme rolled her eyes. “You mean old girlfriends.”

  “Honest, Esme. We’re just friends.”

  But Esme was studying her with a knowing look.

  “Forget it.”

  “Tell me, Dinah. I promise not to say anything to Rafe.”

  “Okay. I was wondering about his career on the force. Has it been, uh, uneventful or has there been some…drama?”

  Esme set down her fork and stared at Dinah. “Why would you think that? Did something happen to Rafe?”

  That was all the answer Dinah needed. Something had gone down and caused Rafe to lose his nerve. “Nothing happened to Rafe. Just one of those feelings I get sometimes.” She raised her brows. “And I just got the feeling you said yes to drama.”

  Esme blushed. “I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings. I worry about my brother. But—” Her eyes met Dinah’s. “If you want to know what happened to Rafe, you should ask him. It’s his story to tell. If he wants to tell it.”

  Dinah had been the subject of enough gossip to know how much it hurt. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to pry.” I am just worried is all. But she couldn’t say that without telling Esme about Rafe’s gun phobia.

  Esme pushed her chair back and stood. “I must go, but I was hoping you’d visit me at Osito sometime. I could always talk to you. I miss that.”

  Dinah hugged her. “I’d love to.”

  …

  Relief flowed through Esme’s body as she stepped outside. It had been a long time since she’d strayed this far from her daily routine: work in the hacienda clinic, make sick calls to the local ranches, volunteer at the shelter, take Brooke to day camp or school and pick her up.

  She’d nearly run for her truck when that red-haired girl had snapped at her about visiting during suppertime. It had taken every ounce of determination to stay put and wait for Dinah.

  But she’d done it. Faced her fear of rejection and conquered it. She listened to the hum of traffic out on the highway and felt connected to the world.

  “Ouch!” She rubbed the top of her head.

  “Dang it!” Jamey Brenner’s voice dropped from the roof above her. “That shingle slipped right out of my hand.”

  His feet scrambled down a ladder propped against the bungalow, and he peered into her face. “Are you okay?”

  Panic squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. She had to get away from him, but he was standing between her and her pickup. She shot him her coldest, don’t-mess-with-me look. “Get out of my way.”

  His tall, lanky body jumped aside like a string yanked by an invisible hand. If she weren’t so petrified, she’d have laughed. Instead she headed for her truck on the longest strides her legs could manage. She refused to run. He’d read it as victory. That’s the way men thought.

  “You have d-d-dirt in your hair.” His footsteps came closer.

  He was following her! She spun on him. “What are you doing?”

  “I wanted to ask you something.” Behind thick glasses, his blue eyes blinked nervously at her.

  “As I said, I’m in a hurry.”

  “Please. It will j-j-just take a minute.”

  “What?” She spat out the word.

  He blushed to the roots of his dark hair. “I’m b-b-bothering you.”

  She hadn’t meant to hurt him, just make him go away and leave her alone. “I’ve gotta go, that’s all.”

  She began walking again, but his voice stopped her. “I wasn’t there, you know. Afterwards I wanted to help, but your momma and daddy wouldn’t let me see you.”

  Her fear ebbed. “What’s your question, Jamey?”

  “Since you’re a vet, I wanted your advice on d-d-dogs.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. He was studying her, but not wolfishly like the others still did sometimes. “On dogs?”

  His mouth curled into a boyish smile, and he combed his hand through his thick hair. “I just moved into my first house, and I wanted to get a d-d-dog.” His cheeks reddened again. “I stutter sometimes. Especially when I’m nervous.”

  Jamey Brenner had been the high school straight arrow, super smart but modest and quiet with a sometimes stutter. As class valedictorian, he’d delivered a memorable address about the importance of treating others with respect. An address none of his classmates took to heart—if they were even listening. Nothing that happened to her was his fault. Still, a man was a man.

  “I’d really like to help, but I work mostly with horses and cattle.”

  His face crumpled.

  She forced a smile to her lips. “And the occasional sus scrofa domestica.”

  “What is a sus— What did you call it?”

  “Sus scrofa domestica. Pig.”

  He laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled at her. “I don’t think my neighbors would approve of a pig living in my backyard.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Definitely not. Very aromatic.”

  Silence fell between them. He stared down at his shoes. She studied his waves of dark hair and wondered how they would feel between her fingers. What would be the harm in giving a little advice? Jamey Brenner would never hurt her. Would he?

  “I might know a little about dogs. Papa has a bunch of them, and I volunteer at the animal shelter. What’s your question?”

  He tipped his head up and met her eyes. “I just wondered what k-k-kind would be best
. My house isn’t very big. Just a bungalow like Dinah’s. I drive around a lot during the day, to construction sites mostly, so I wouldn’t mind a d-d-dog to ride shotgun with me.”

  This was getting too personal. She tried to pull back. “I really can’t help you. I’m not familiar with the different breeds—”

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean a fancy dog. Rafe said you volunteer at the Francisco shelter. I thought maybe you could help me choose a mutt, or I guess you’d say mixed breed now.” He blushed. “Sorry.”

  “Well, we have a lot of wonderful dogs. I think quite a few would fit your needs. We’re open seven days a week, nine to nine.”

  “What should I look for?”

  She tilted her head and studied his face. It was a masculine face—prominent forehead, dark brows, strong chin. But smile lines creased the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glittered with good humor. It was a trustworthy face. “You’d want one with a gentle nature if you take it out in public a lot. But unless you are going to exercise it, you don’t want it too big. Setters and labs, even the mixes, tend to be good with people, but they do need to run.”

  “I jog sometimes in the evening.”

  “Okay then.”

  “So will you help me choose?”

  The old terror squeezed her. “I really can’t—”

  He must have sensed her fear. “B-b-bring Dinah along if you want.”

  She hated feeling vulnerable, especially with a man she barely knew. But when she raised her eyes to his face, he looked as nervous as she was.

  “I’ll think about it.” That was as far as she could go, but it was a victory of sorts for her. She hadn’t broken down or scrambled for her truck. All things she’d done in the past. “Gotta get back to the hacienda.” She fast-walked to the truck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Esme left, Jamey knocked on the screen door. He held out his cell. “Rafe wants to talk to you.”

  “Hey, Dinah.”

  “Hi.”

  “Look, I just got a call from the station. One of the officers is under the weather so I have to take the graveyard shift tonight, and I got the afternoon patrol tomorrow.”

  “Maybe another time.” It was probably for the best. She’d been looking forward to seeing him, and that was not a good thing.

  “But I will be coming by for my reading the day after tomorrow, first thing, and then we’re getting your phone turned on.”

  She grasped at the few shreds of pride she still possessed. “You are being bossy.”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Dinah. You will have a working phone after tomorrow, which you will keep with you at all times. Or at least until we catch the guy who killed Teke.”

  She met Jamey’s eyes. They looked thoughtful. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said to Rafe. “Bye.”

  After Jamey took off, Dinah cleaned up the kitchen then went outside to wait for Hollyn to return. She plunked herself down on the front steps and gazed at the midsummer night sky bright with clumps of stars and a half-moon. As the lights began to come on in houses up and down the street, she found Venus and the Milky Way.

  It was coming on nine o’clock, and Hollyn still wasn’t back. What if she had the baby at a stranger’s house? A mosquito landed on her arm, and she slapped at it. Another tickled her calf. Jumping up, she shooed it away.

  She was wound up. Not about Hollyn. That child could take care of herself if push came to shove. No, it was Rafe who was rattling around in her head, damn him. His voice, his eyes, his sexy lips, his hunky body, his dimples. His parts kept popping up in her head faster than she could squash them, like the mosquitoes hovering around her in the heavy air.

  She left thoughts of Rafe on the dark porch and began to walk, meandering down the sidewalk and staring through windows at people watching television or hunched over computers. It relaxed her to see people going about their lives. She passed Gerry’s house. Lights blazed from every window. On the second floor, the shadow of a shapely—young?—woman passed in front of a drawn shade. A housekeeper? Gerry had been alone since his wife and daughter walked out on him after the robbery, but he was certainly in no condition to be carrying on with anyone. Hell, she was surprised he could climb the stairs to the second floor.

  Dinah kept going, relieved to leave the Sutton house behind her. Ahead, the lights of the town smoldered above roofs and trees. The steeple and gold cross atop St. Antonio’s Church rose through the dusty glow. She turned a corner and headed back. A drunken cowpoke might take it the wrong way if she wandered into town alone at night. She passed by Lonnie’s overgrown yard, bracing herself for Daisy who greeted her loudly every time she passed. A pale light shown through the underbrush, but the house was quiet except for the soft rumble of a motor. Must be nice to have air conditioning. She slapped at another mosquito and hurried home.

  …

  Dinah bolted up in bed. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and her lungs struggled to pull in air. She scanned the room, searching for whatever—or whoever—had awakened her. But there was only the stillness that seemed to come in the dead of night. Stars spilled soft light through her window casting unnatural shadows against the walls. Beside her, the alarm clock flashed one thirty-four. Nothing moved. Not that it mattered. She’d have felt it if another human being was in the room with her.

  Still, something was wrong. It nibbled at the edges of her consciousness, vague and unformed. Maybe Hollyn had called her. Dinah climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to check on the girl. She’d come in around ten, apologetic and chattering on about what a great time she had, but her face had been flushed and her skin felt clammy when Dinah touched her arm to help her up the porch steps. Worried about mother and baby, Dinah had sent her to bed.

  Dinah pushed Hollyn’s bedroom door open a crack and peered in. The pale sheets draped over Hollyn’s body rose and fell rhythmically. Dinah listened for a few moments, but the girl didn’t stir.

  She stood in the narrow hallway, straining to catch any suspicious sounds in the house or the neighborhood sleeping beyond the open windows. But even the crickets and the dogs had gone to sleep, and only an occasional passing truck out on the highway broke the silence.

  Dinah crept back to her room and lay down again, but she couldn’t sleep. Whatever had awoken her—forgotten dream or vague apprehension—lingered in her head. She played back yesterday, rolling through what she’d done and who she’d talked to, starting at breakfast. But it had been a good day. Hollyn had helped her trim the bushes along the house. Esme had visited, and Jamey had come to check on the roof. There was Rafe’s kiss…but that was bothering her a lot less than it should. No, it wasn’t about Rafe. It wasn’t about any of them.

  “Ouch.” She scratched her ankle, and a welt rose. “Fricking mosquitoes.”

  Ignoring the tiny throb, she rolled over and closed her eyes. They popped open again. Panic squeezed at her chest. Get up. Hurry. A memory drifted through her like a puff of smoke and disappeared before she could grab it.

  Her shorts were draped over the end of her bed. She pulled them on and went to the window. The street was quiet, and the neighboring houses were dark. In the glow of the streetlights, the grass and bushes were still, waiting for dawn.

  She grabbed her flip-flops off the floor and padded downstairs. The rooms were just as she’d left them. Grabbing the little canister of pepper spray from her backpack, she slipped out the front door and retraced her steps from earlier. The tree branches cast intricate patterns on the sidewalk and crisscrossed her arms and feet like spider webs. She tightened her grip on the pepper spray. At the darkened Sutton house, she stopped and studied the windows. The shade was up in the second-story room where the woman had been, but nothing else seemed different.

  She was freaking crazy. No, make that plain, old-fashioned dumb. It must be the tarot card readings. She was beginning to believe her own hype. When she got back to L.A., she was going to get herself another career. She turned back, then stopped.


  The worry still itched at her. Why not finish the circuit she’d taken earlier. It was only one extra block. Then she’d go straight home and fix herself some warm milk.

  Turning the corner, she closed in on Lonnie’s overgrown jungle, softening her steps so her flip-flops wouldn’t crack against her heels. That dog of his would wake up the neighborhood if it heard her. Her feet slowed.

  The dog.

  That was what was bothering her. It hadn’t barked. She’d been sort of expecting it because Lonnie said it was a barker. But then she’d started feeling sorry for herself because old Lonnie could afford to run his air conditioner, and she couldn’t.

  She began to run.

  At Lonnie’s house, she pushed open the gate and batted away the tangled brush. “Here, doggie.” Silence. She patted her hands softly and whispered again. “Here, doggie, doggie.” A sudden breeze ruffled the leaves over her head. The air conditioner sputtered.

  “Oh, God! Oh, no!” Her nibbling worry exploded into heart-clenching horror. The motor she’d heard earlier—and now—wasn’t an air conditioner. It was a car.

  Dinah raced around the side of the house. Near the back fence, a dark rectangle of a garage loomed, barely visible under a canopy of vines and brush. A car sputtered inside.

  “Mr. Lonnie?” She raced toward the garage. “Mr. Lonnie? Can you hear me?” She screamed his name over and over as she fumbled for the handle and heaved the garage door up. It rattled and squeaked along rusty metal tracks before revealing an old Buick with a sagging bumper. The sickening odor of car fumes hit her full on, and she coughed and staggered backward. She lifted up the hem of her shirt, pressed it against her nose and tried to make another attempt to get to Lonnie. But it was no use. The fumes were overwhelming.

  “Help! Help!”

  Next door, a light went on upstairs. A bare-chested man with rumpled hair pushed up the window. “What the hell is going on down there?”

  “Call the police.” A fit of coughing seized Dinah, and she doubled over, her lungs burning. When she could breathe again, she looked up at the window. The man had disappeared.