Alice stood outside Jim's Place, debating whether she should go in and find Iris and apologize to her for lying. It didn't seem like a good idea. Jim Haviland and Davey Ahearn were mad at her, and they and Susanna Galway would regard any contact with Iris Dunning as an affront.
Then there was Jack Galway. Alice suspected he was in Boston by now, if Susanna had told him a corrupt cop he'd put in prison had moved into his wife's neighborhood under an assumed name.
Alice knew she was feeling sorry for herself. She'd been feeling sorry for herself since Susanna had read her the riot act the night before. Her words still stung. Then again, Alice had lasted up here longer than she'd ever meant to. Lying to an old woman. Getting her to talk about her life. Iris had gone on about Blackwater Lake and the man she'd loved up there so long ago, and Alice had sat there, choking down clam chowder, listening.
Goddamn snake in the grass was what she was.
She didn't want Iris to hate her.
Alice swore silently and turned to leave, running right into Destin Wright. He grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her. "Hey, hey, hey, you're like the Whirling Dervish. What's going on?"
He was the last person she wanted to see while she was sitting on the pity pot. Destin Wright always felt sorry for himself. Even when he was worth millions, he'd probably felt sorry for himself. No matter how much he had, it was never enough. He was a self-ab-sorbed ass, and Alice couldn't stand listening to him. Over the past few weeks, since she'd arrived in Boston, they met at Jim's Place on nights she was trying not to bump into Iris. She liked Iris but knew she was pushing her luck getting too close to her. Nobody else seemed to like Destin, either, although they tolerated him, sometimes egging him on when he started talking and wouldn't stop. It was as if he thought the world spun for him and no one else.
"I hate Boston," Alice blurted. "I can see why people clear out and move to the Sun Belt. I don't know why I ever left Texas."
He shrugged. "Everybody hates Boston in February."
"I'd hate it anytime of the year. I don't give a damn about all the history and old buildings, I hate riding the subway, and why the hell do I care about Harvard and MIT? You can have them."
"Not me. Harvard rejected me."
Everything was about him. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her parka. She wasn't wearing gloves. She hated gloves. "I lied to people about who I am."
That perked his interest. "No kidding? Who are you?"
"My name's not Audrey Melbourne, at least not yet. Not legally. It's Alice Parker. I was a police officer in Texas, and I screwed up a murder investigation and served time for witness tampering."
"Ouch."
"Susanna Galway—" Alice squinted up at the streetlight, dark still coming too soon for her tastes. She looked back at Destin, knowing he'd lose his interest in listening to her pretty soon. "She's the wife of the Texas Ranger who arrested me."
"Jack arrested you?" Destin laughed, impressed. "No shit. He's a hard-ass."
"Yes, he is."
Destin shifted, looking handsome and Harvard-like in his camel cashmere coat and black scarf and gloves. Rich, Alice thought, although she knew he was dead broke, almost as broke as she was. "Maybe that's why Susanna's been so distracted," he said, "and won't take a look at my business plan, because she's been worried about you. I know she'd go for this idea. It's hot."
Alice resisted rolling her eyes. She knew the conversation would eventually boomerang back to him and his scheme to start a new company. As far as she could see, begging a hundred thousand dollars from Susanna Galway was no better than Alice extorting fifty thousand off Beau McGarrity. At least Beau would get something in return. Susanna would just get Destin off her back.
"I'm not asking for charity," he said for the thousandth time since they'd met. "This is such a no-brainer. I just want someone to—to—"
"To recognize your brilliance," Alice finished for him.
He settled back on his heels and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, this is one fucking brilliant idea. A hundred thousand in angel money. It's not that much to ask."
"Susanna has that kind of money?"
"Shit, a hundred grand's pin money for her."
Alice could feel the cold from the sidewalk seeping up through her boots. She'd bought winter boots on sale, but they were ugly and clunky. She had on her cowboy boots tonight. They were cheap. If she'd become a Texas Ranger, she'd have bought herself good boots. But that wasn't going to happen now, and even Australia was slipping away.
"There has to be a way to get Susanna to loosen up her purse strings," Destin said.
"How much do you think she's worth?"
"Oh, five million easy. Maybe even ten mil by now. She's got some of the best instincts I've ever seen. She's an investor and financial planner, not an entrepreneur— that's where I come in."
He was getting to the point where he'd strangle his own grandmother for another chance at the brass ring. Alice could see it in his handsome blue eyes, hear it in his deep voice. Suppose she was looking in the wrong place for her ticket to Australia and her new life. Should she forget Beau and instead think about prying a few grand off multimillionaire Susanna Galway?
Except Beau might not let her forget Beau.
And then there was the Galway who was a Texas Ranger.
Destin started toward Jim's Place, but Alice touched his arm. "I'm kind of persona non grata there right now.
I don't think anyone believes I'm here to make amends for what I did—I think I'm at least part of the reason Susanna and Jack are on the skids. I feel bad about that. Anyway, I'd like to talk to you. Do you mind if we go somewhere else?"
He looked at her a moment, the charming facade dropping off, telling her she was right about him. This was the Destin Wright who lacked empathy for others, who thought the world owed him. He was smart and ambitious, and he'd do anything. Any scruples he had were pretense, for show, a means to an end. He did what he had to do to fit in and get what he wanted.
"No problem," he said. "Let's go somewhere and talk, Miss Alice Parker Audrey Melbourne."
* * *
If not for the translucent door and thoughts of John Hancock and Benjamin Franklin's dead parents— Mother Goose, for God's sake—Jack figured he'd be making love to his wife on her leather couch instead of walking in the cold February wind.
The temperature had dropped with the sun. As he walked by, a trio of construction workers entered Jim's Place, followed by what were obviously university students. The pub hadn't changed much since Jack was a student. Neighborhood protocol, however, dictated that he pay a visit to Iris Dunning before stopping in for a chat with Jim Haviland about his new regular from Texas.
He rang the doorbell on Iris's glassed-in porch. At first she wouldn't let him in. "I thought you were a hoodlum," she said when she finally opened the door.
Jack smiled and kissed her cheek. "Hoodlums don't wear white cowboy hats."
"Nobody wears white cowboy hats up here."
He laughed. "I don't know, Iris. Things change."
She had on stretch pants and a fuzzy pink sweater that made her look like a sweeter old lady than Jack knew his wife's grandmother to be. This was a woman who'd lived most of her life on her own, raised a son alone, made a place for herself in a strange city. She looked life square in the eye, and seldom did anyone underestimate her a second time.
He followed her inside, where little had changed since he'd first come here at twenty, so in love with green-eyed Susanna Dunning he couldn't see straight. The house was the same—so was his love. He felt an emotional tug, an urge to protect Iris, his wife and his daughters, yet knowing all four of them were the type who liked to run out into the street.
He noticed the three pairs of snowshoes lined up in the front hall. They still had their tags. The cabin in the Adirondacks. It definitely rankled.
Iris went into the living room and sat on an overstuffed chair, its back covered with one of her crocheted afghans. "I suppose you're here about Audrey," she said whe
n Jack joined her. "Or should I call her Alice? Jack, I'll tell you—I haven't been taken in like that in a long, long time."
"She never should have come up here. She knows that. I'm sorry, Iris."
"Oh, it's not your fault. Audrey comes across so genuine and sweet, you find yourself wanting to like her.
She has a very engaging personality. But you say she's a former police officer?"
As if being genuine, sweet and engaging was antithetical to being in law enforcement. Jack smiled, familiar with Iris's prejudices. "She was a small-town police officer I investigated for official misconduct and witness tampering."
"She fouled up a murder investigation, I understand."
He nodded, taking in the signs his wife and daughters lived there. Books they were reading, videos, scented candles and hand lotion. Maggie and Ellen had clamored to spend a year with their great-grandmother in Boston—or on their own in Paris. That Jack understood. But Susanna—she should be in Texas with him. It was that simple.
"Do you have any idea where Alice Parker—Au-drey—lives?" he asked.
"Not far from here, I know that much. She says she has a job, but I don't know if that's true." Iris looked up at him, her green eyes intelligent, alert. "Does Susanna know you're here?"
"Yes." He left it at that. "Where are the girls?"
"They're at the grocery. They don't want to get to the mountains and find out there's nothing there to eat. You'd think we were taking off for the moon, the way they act. It's not that remote up there." She sank back in her chair, smiling as if at a distant memory. Then she focused again on Jack. "I'm going. Susanna won't want to leave me here alone until she's figured out what this Alice Parker woman is up to."
"Susanna's not figuring anything out. You all are staying away from Alice." But he realized how dictatorial he sounded and softened his tone. "Iris, this is serious business. A woman was murdered. Alice spent a year in prison."
Iris nodded. "I know, Jack. So does Susanna. She understands her limits." She paused, studying him, and added quietly, "Trust her."
Jack wasn't going there, not with Iris Dunning. "I don't know why you all are trekking up to the Adirondacks when you can come down to San Antonio for the week." He knew he was goading her. Iris didn't like to travel, and she especially didn't like Texas. That her only son and granddaughter had both taken up residence there galled her. "It's a lot prettier there in February than it is here in the frozen north."
"I'm not fond of Texas." She pursed her lips, certain of her opinions. "I was there in August that summer when Maggie and Ellen were born, and it was like being in hell. And you're always executing people."
Arguing politics and Texas weather with Iris Dunning was to jump headfirst into quicksand. There was no winning, only getting back out onto firm ground again. Jack had learned that a long time ago, not that he always resisted. "That's pure prejudice, Iris. Texas is a big state with a diverse population—"
"It's too big."
"Good. Let's carve it up. We can have Texas A, B, C and D, each with its own two senators—"
She waved a hand at him, biting back a smile. "You're incorrigible. You always have been." But Iris's mischievous mood didn't last, and she shook her head, looking disgusted with herself and very old. "I'm afraid I told Audrey—Alice—too much. She's so easy to talk to, and I just yammered on about the neighborhood, Kevin and Eva, you and Susanna, how proud I am of Maggie and Ellen heading off to college. Oh, Jack. I never thought I'd turn into an old fool."
He scooped up her hands, brown with age spots and lined with prominent veins, but her fingers were still long and graceful, reminding him of the old pictures of her in the dining room with her chestnut hair and youthful smile. She had worked at Tufts University for years, then took in students after she retired. She maintained her house, volunteered, had a wide circle of friends. That Alice Parker had undermined an elderly woman's confidence in her own good judgment didn't sit well with him.
"Iris, listen to me," he said as gently as he could manage through his anger. "I don't want you worrying about whatever you told Alice. You thought she was your friend. Your openness and kindness have helped you far more in your life than they've hurt. Susanna and the girls will be fine."
"They're why you're here?"
"You all are." At least Iris recognized that he was here because of them, not just his work. He patted her thin hands. "I don't want you blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong."
"I saw myself in her," she said. "That was wrong."
"That was human, not wrong." He winked at her, adding, "Susanna telling me this whole story on voice mail—now, that was wrong."
He released her hands, and she shook her head. "You two. This separation of yours has gone on long enough,
you know."
"I know."
Her green eyes twinkled. "I think that other Texas Ranger's idea about the handcuffs was a good one."
Jack laughed. "I'll tell Sam you approve." He glanced at his watch. Almost six o'clock. He needed to get busy. "Do me a favor, Iris. Tell Susanna to meet me at Jim's Place at seven-thirty."
"Of course, I'll tell her. Where are you going?"
"Just checking out the lay of the land." Jack started into the hall, glancing back at Iris through the open doorway. "And tell Susanna it's not a good night to make me hunt her down."
* * *
Susanna slid onto her favorite stool at Jim's Place with a full hour to go before she was to meet her hus-band—something she had no intention of doing. Gran had already told her she was being pig-headed for ignoring Jack's summons, and maybe she was. She couldn't seem to stop herself. Events were careening out of control, and she didn't know what else to do.
"Jim, has my grandmother ever called you pigheaded?"
He was getting her a Coke. "About once a month."
"It's kind of an old-fashioned word, don't you think? Pigheaded."
"It works. Why, is that what you are?"
"That's what I'm being," she corrected. "It's not what I am."
"Why are you being pigheaded?" Jim asked, setting the frosty glass in front of her.
"I can't seem to help myself." She knew what Jack would do if she waited around until seven-thirty. He would read her the riot act. She, Maggie, Ellen and Gran would all need to stick as close to him as possible until he decided that Alice Parker truly meant them no harm. When he was satisfied, then they could all do what they wanted. He might even nix their trip to the cabin. Susanna sipped her Coke, aware of Jim and Davey Ahearn both watching her, Davey on his stool at the opposite end of the bar. "You'd recognize my husband, wouldn't you?"
"Jack? Of course. Big guy. Texas Ranger."
"White cowboy hat," Davey chimed in.
"He's a serious professional," Susanna said.
Davey shrugged. "So am I, and I have to make sure I keep my pants pulled up."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We all have our stereotypes to fight," he replied loftily.
Jim stepped into the conversation again, shaking his head. "Ignore him, Susanna. Jack turned up after you called him about this Alice character, didn't he?"
She drank more of her soda. "Yes, he did."
"Did you tell him about the stalker while you were at it?" Jim asked.
She could tell from his tone that he knew she hadn't, but she shook her head anyway, confirming his worst suspicions. "Not yet. I will, though. Don't you and Davey go jumping the gun."
"Suzie-cue and the lieutenant," Davey said, apparently addressing no one in particular. He turned to Susanna, rubbing one finger on his carefully groomed handlebar mustache. "You're a couple of lifers. I think this whole separation thing is just a way to spice up your sex lives."
"Davey!" She almost fell off her stool. "My God, no wonder your last three dates have stormed out on you. Jim—" She stopped abruptly, noticing that Jim Haviland was wiping down his bar, which was spotless, putting effort into the job, concentrating on it. Then she knew. "Oh,
I see. Jack's been here already. You and Davey just weren't going to tell me. You were going to distract me for an hour with speculations about my sex life and—" She could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. "Well, damn if men don't stick together."
Davey snorted. "Like women don't?"
"He was here a little while ago," Jim said. "I learned more about what's going on in talking to him for five minutes than I have in over a goddamn year from you."
Susanna could feel herself going pale. "Jim, you didn't tell him what I said on New Year's Eve—about the stalker—the man who killed his wife—"
He shook his head, and Davey said, "That goes against Jimmy's code of conduct. It doesn't go against mine, but he'd throw me out if I opened my big mouth. Jimmy thinks a wife should tell her husband about stalkers."
"I do, too," Susanna said, "under normal circumstances."
"There are no normal circumstances when it comes to stalkers," Davey said.
"I told you—it wasn't like he was a real stalker. He didn't break any laws. I just…"
"He scared the blue blazes out of you." Davey's voice was soft, and she wondered if he understood.
She wasn't going to answer Jack's summons. She didn't care if she was being pigheaded. Right now, she didn't even care if she made any sense. She knew she couldn't explain her reasoning.
She was the one who'd been sleeping with Jack for twenty years. No one else had to understand her reasoning.
Her heart was racing, her head was throbbing, and all she could think about was getting out of there, as far from Alice Parker as possible—and Jack, now that he was in full investigation mode, all his training and experience not focused on strangers but on his own family. It unnerved her. It scared the hell out of her. She felt exposed, raw, vulnerable.
She didn't want to think about Rachel McGarrity shot dead in her own driveway, or Beau McGarrity pushing open her patio door and walking into her kitchen.
She wanted to go up to the mountains and snowshoe, build a fire in the fireplace and enjoy this last winter vacation before Maggie and Ellen went off to college.
She threw a couple of dollars onto the bar. "I can see I'm doomed." She tried to be good-natured about it. "Jim, can you dip me up a quart of tonight's soup? I don't want to cook."
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