Point of Attraction

by Margaret Van Der Wolf

  “Whoever did it, was doing his best to make it work,” Mason was saying.

  As he spoke, Georgie let his words circle her mind, trying to see if the puzzle would come together. Being right about Jeffrey didn’t make her feel better. It only brought more confusion.

  “But left handed people normally do it with their left hand,” Mason went on.

  “Not always,” Nick said. “He could have been ambidextrous.”

  “Already taken into consideration, but the angle of trajectory was off, powder burn pattern not consistent with close range as it should have been. According to Roberts, Bentley’s feeling is that it was done in a hurry, spur of the moment thing. The set up was an after thought. Also, there was mud on the passenger side of the car.”

  Mud in his car? Never, Georgie thought, but before she voiced her thoughts, Mason went on, “And knowing what we know about Mr. Clean, mud is not something he would go to his grave with; not in his neat-ass Durango.”

  All of their words supported her assessment of Jeffrey. So why didn’t she feel better? Cause being right didn’t matter. Jeffrey had been killed and it all had something to do with her. But what? Why?

  “Get away from the window,” Nick told her.

  She heard him, the sharpness in his voice sending a shock through her, but all Georgie could do was stare out at the night. I’m looking at you, looking at me, she mentally told whoever had murdered Jeffrey, and I am snubbing my nose at you. Screw you! Come get me. With that determination, she started a mental list of things to do. Her Slugger bat must be handy at all times. Time needed to be added to the motion detector lights so they stayed on longer. That way there would be no doubt if someone entered her driveway or her yard. Her eyes focused on her kitchen knives, the empty rose vase, then looked back out to the slope. Me looking at you looking at me.

  “Georgie Girl! Get away from the window!” Nick hissed at her.

  Iron-boned fingers gripped her shoulders, drawing her away from the hypnotic view of the yard and slope. She watched Nick let down the blinds and close them while Mason sat her back at the table.

  “George, you need to stay with one of your kids.”

  “No!” she told Mason, shrugging off his hands. “I am not bringing my kids into this. I will make myself an open target before I put either one of my children within a mile of any crosshairs.”

  “Georgie Girl, listen...”

  Bolting from the chair, she refused to let either of them touch her, and paced the floor. They wanted only her safety. She understood that, but she had to make them see. “My children will not be brought into it. Can I make myself any clearer?”

  She opened the blinds and yanked the cord so the little slats snapped up like a shot. With arms crossed, leaning on the counter, she offered her back to whatever danger might be out there. She gave Nick a long cold stare. “And don’t you even think about calling Cassie.”

  With a bow and hands up, he motioned surrender to her decision.

  “Well, I’m not good with it,” Mason said, coming to his feet. “George.”

  Georgie looked once into his eyes and knew she’d cave if she didn’t pull away. He was close enough she could easily have put her cheek to his chest. Instead, she placed her hand there, urging him to listen, and above all, to believe her words. “I’m not doing it.”

  “Then come stay at my condo with me.”

  Mouth open, she stared into those soft gray eyes, felt their draw, too persuasive, and she looked to Nick. The insane just might give her some sanity.

  But Nick waved a finger and shook his head. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m not entering this until the dust settles. You two battle it out.”

  She turned back to Mason. He was still intent, waiting for her answer. A part of her wanted to say yes, but the rational Georgie knew this was no reason for such a response, and she slowly moved away, feeling the edge of the counter slide across her back.

  “You want me to just up and leave Daisy and Max?” she asked.

  His surprise was easy to read; eyes blinking, mouth slightly open, but he swallowed hard and nodded. “Theeey can come too. Sure,” he agreed, accepting her baggage.

  “Oh, stop,” she said, trying hard not to laugh, very touched by his kind offer, but there was reality. She tapped a finger to her chest. “I... me standing here. I have a business. I can’t just leave that. I can’t. I won’t!” The air filling her lungs was clear and fresh, giving her back renewed determination. It surprised her that she could actually manage a smile. She gave him a quick hug. “Now, I’m going to bed and see if there’s the slightest chance I can get some sleep. Good luck with that, I say, but good night, you two.”

  “Is she always this stubborn?” Mason asked Nick.

  “My Man, you have absolutely no clue,” Nick said, and his laughter followed Georgie down the hall.

  ~~0~~

  “So fire my ass.”

  The words stirred Georgie; a murmuring hissing jab. Was it a dream? But it wasn’t her voice... was it? She tried to open her eyes, but the lids were too heavy.

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  Once more she tried lifting those eyelids. Raise your head, she thought, lift it. But the pillow would not release her. She moved her leg and felt two lumps at the foot of her bed; Daisy and Max. Everything must be fine.

  “Tell you what,” the voice in the dream went on, but if this was a dream, why was there no screen? No picture? No faces? Lots of dialogue. “Here it is in itty bitty words... I am not leaving. You want me out so fucking bad, send someone here to help me with this. Fine. Don’t bother with my severance package. See who else you can find to clean up your shit.”

  “Mason? Nick?” Georgie called out, or had she? Silence. Daisy and Max were still at her feet, Daisy wheezing as dogs do, while Max purred.

  “Yesterday would not be soon enough.” The words were raspy, harsh.

  But this land of dreams was darker than night, more suffocating than the weight of Jeffrey’s murder, and though she struggled with Morpheus, surrender was just beyond the haze in the horizon of her thoughts. What she did see, was a fuzzy bright red light... slowly becoming digital numbers on her clock, 3:30.

  It wasn’t all that important after all, she thought and turned to burrow into her soft pillow.

  ~~0~~

  The strong aroma of rich brewing coffee working its way up Georgie’s nose and a wet nuzzle from Daisy, sent Morpheus on his way. Georgie managed to open one eye. The clock said 7:00, and there was definite daylight coming through the blinds in her window. Two sharp knocks boomed in her head.

  “Are you going to get up or what?”

  “No. I want to be buried where I am.”

  “Oh, come on,” Nick said, jostling her with a solid shake. “Little orange juice, and a glass of water before you shower, and you’ll be fine. Come on, come on. Food’ll be ready soon.”

  The food word did a flip-flop in her tummy, and Georgie made a quick dash to the bathroom. The little there was left in her stomach to heave, was torture to get out. When the last of the torment was done, she took slow easy steps down the hallway to the kitchen, fearing her head would drop off. Or maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. On the counter sat a glass of orange juice and a glass of water. She took them as told. There was no arguing this morning.

  Though she tried to ignore the food, it would not spare her. The bacon wasn’t sizzling, it was hissing, and the eggs were just not friendly. Instead of looking back at you, they were glaring at her.

  “Go take your shower. You look like hell.”

  “If I were alive, I would put you in your place,” she said, and started for the hallway. “I would feel better if you hadn’t kept me awake last night. Who were you talking to?”

  “Me? I slept like a log, thank you very much. Don’t go putting me in your erotic dreams. Take your shower and wake up.”

  God, how she wanted to banter, but she was certain it would hurt her head and kill some brain cells. She just didn’t hav
e that many left to lose, and she made her way to the shower... showers always made things better.

  By the time her hair was dry, Georgie did feel almost alive and hunger was taking hold. She would have to keep Nick’s hangover remedy on file. A sweatshirt and matching sweatpants was all she could manage. Daisy greeted her when she emerged from her bedroom while Max waited at the end of the hall to the kitchen.

  The phone rang, a little too loudly, she thought, and Nick quickly picked up.

  “She’s awake,” Nick was saying as she entered, and looked over at her. “Oh, yeah, very big head, but she’ll make it.” He held out the phone. “It’s Mason. He’s on his way here. Both Paula and Steven already called.”

  Before she could say anything, Nick raised both hands, the phone still in one, and popped out his explanation. “Lying wasn’t going to work here, Georgie Girl. So I told the kids only what we know for sure. Until CST confirms our suspicions, the kids don’t need to have that worry. And, they don’t have to come by to check on you. Okay? So, did I do good or what?”

  “Tell him he did good,” she heard Mason say.

  Georgie looked at the phone still in Nick’s hand, snatched it, held it face up between them, and said, “Yes, you did good. Now, did you both hear that?” When they both answered, she sat down at the table. “How soon will you be here?” she asked Mason. “Nick can add more bacon and eggs to breakfast.”

  “I’m just up the road.”

  “Good. See you in a bit.”

  Georgie heard the little blip at the other end, but she hesitated pushing the END button on her phone. Odd, she thought. Wednesday evening, Mason was BADGE 747, a classmate, a handsome face, but just someone she knew. Now, Sunday morning, she hated even the thought of hanging up the phone while he was at the other end, could still feel the touch of his hand... his lips. A little flip to her stomach almost made her laugh, and it wasn’t last night’s tequila.

  “And you’re smiling, why?”

  Georgie cleared her thoughts and put the phone back on its base.

  “Ah, jessuz, you’re blushing,” Nick laughed, catching her chin between his fingers, from which she pulled free. “Okay, back to my cooking. Why don’t you have real bacon instead of this turkey stuff? At least the eggs are real.”

  “What did the kids have to say?” she asked, ignoring his remark.

  “Since yours truly is still here, they’re resting easy with this. So long as they don’t find out what CST suspects, it’ll be fine. Cause Paula was already dressed and ready to come over.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Calm down,” he said, waving the spatula like a maestro at an orchestra. “Ryan is backing us on this and made her see she should keep herself ready for when you really need her. He was a good catch for Paula.”

  “I beg your pardon. My Paula was a good catch for him.” She pointed a finger at him. “Top of her class in law. Let me tell you...”

  “Not disputing that. Not disputing that,” he agreed and set his sight on the task at hand. “They make a good match.”

  Georgie studied his features, that intense stare of his set on the noisy bacon in the pan. “You didn’t have Ryan checked out, did you? No! Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “I think you over estimate my...” Again the spatula baton waved. “My, my... powers.”

  “Hmmm.” Georgie took a deep breath, a thousand thoughts drifted through her mind. She sipped her coffee slowly, let its flavor wake up her taste buds, and remembered the months on end Nick disappeared, then popped up out of nowhere. There were so many scenarios there. “I wonder.”

  “Put your writer’s mind away,” he said, openly shuddering. “And stop staring at me. Gives me the creeps.”

  “How come you never say where you’ve been?”

  “I always tell you where I’ve been,” he said, eyes set on the food going from the pan to a plate then into the oven to keep warm. “I’m known worldwide for my tales of where I’ve been. One day, I might even write a book of places I’ve been.”

  “Uh huh, yet I could not name one actual place you’ve been, let alone show a post card, that you’ve never sent, by the way.”

  “Bad Pennies don’t write. They just show up.”

  “Why has no woman latched on to you?” she asked, giving him a long speculative glance, her mouth pressing then pursing in appreciation. “You’re not that bad looking...”

  “Now there’s a compliment to be cherished.”

  Georgie laughed, sipped her coffee, but when her sight moved to the kitchen window, the shadow of last night crept over her, and she yanked her thoughts back to now. “You make good coffee,” she said, trying to bring back the mirth of their morning. “I mean... good coffee, cooking breakfast. Women like that.”

  “They could never put up with you and Cassie.”

  “You’ve never brought one around.”

  “And if I did?”

  Georgie rubbed her hands together and clasped them with joy at the prospect. “Then it would be Cassie’s and my turn to check her out.”

  “Hence... no girl.”

  “But seriously, where...”

  He jerked his head in the direction of the front yard. “That would be Mason’s car coming.”

  “I didn’t hear a car,” she said, leaning, trying to glance out the slender window. All she saw was the shrubbery.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Georgie finally heard the tires grinding the gravel as they came up the drive, and Mason’s car came to a stop, but her body wouldn’t move, anticipation battling logic.

  “Don’t just sit there,” Nick said. “I’ll have the plates on the table by the time you two stop cooing and come back in.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Your father spoiled you. You won’t get that from me. Go on.”

  Georgie rose to the limit the tips of her toes would allow and gave Nick a kiss on his cheek. “Ahh, a reprieve from direct answers. One day, Nicholas Underwood,” she waved a finger as she went through the door, “one day, you will answer for me all those questions.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

  His words followed her out the door into the garage.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Mason was already opening the 4Runner door and setting down a leg to get out of his car. Georgie smiled, eager to see the rest of him, to have his arms around her. He didn’t disappoint her.

  “What are you doing out here without a coat?” he asked.

  The protective circle of his arm was becoming a place Georgie liked occupying, the scent of his leather jacket a cologne she could get used to, day in day out. She looked to the ground, not wanting him to see what an easy mark she had allowed herself to become.

  “Did you hear from Roberts?” she asked.

  He wove long fingers through her hair in a caress, and guided her toward the house. “I’m afraid so. But Nick needs to hear this too.”

  “Is it that bad?” she asked, wondering just how much more twisted this could get.

  “Still speculation, but Roberts isn’t buying the suicide at all, not with what they found in the house.”

  The gravel crunched beneath their feet while the breeze whipped up. A distant low rumble made them turn. Neither said it, but Georgie knew they both felt the impending storm; a twister of a storm. Georgie refused to close her eyes.

  “Let’s go inside,” Mason said, urging her on and into the house.

  ~0~

  Nick placed the turkey bacon and eggs on the plates. “So someone was in Jeffrey’s house?” he asked, while giving them toast.

  Georgie looked at the breakfast that no longer interested her. Mason also showed disinterest in his offering, but nodded in answer. Nick dove right into his food.

  “Listen you two,” he said with a pointing fork. “Starving isn’t helpful here, and I spent a lot of time cooking and keeping this warm. So eat up.” After he swallowed and drank from his coffee, he looked to Mason. “So what did they find, and
what did Roberts say?”

  “They found cigarette butts, ammo.”

  Georgie froze, fork half way to her mouth. She swallowed hard, her mouth empty and dry. It wasn’t until her fork clinked on the plate that she realized she had set it down, the food still speared on its prongs. Cigarette butts and ammo? How could she have been that wrong about Jeffrey? Those of her customers who stopped smoking and restarted, her nose quickly told on them. Yet, Jeffrey’s Durango was clean of any odors; not just car-wash or detailed clean, but truly free of any tobacco odors. She spent two evenings inside it. Though the time had been brief, surely she would have detected signs, left over traces, something. And ammo?

  “And?” Nick asked, cutting into her mental speculating.

  At that one word, Georgie also looked to Mason. His face was drawn, his gray eyes dark, lacking any hint of his normal good nature. “Problem is, there were no ash trays.”

  “What?” Georgie said.

  “Remember the garage?” Mason asked.

  Sterile clean, Georgie thought, not a tool out of place, not even an oil spot.

  “Ashes were found in saucers, not ash trays. There were even ashes on the floor, but no cigarette butts. The ammo was found not in its box but scattered in a kitchen drawer.”

  “No,” Georgie said. She could not listen to this. “Jeffrey would never ever...”

  “We know,” Mason said.

  “That’s the point here, Georgie Girl,” Nick added, and leaned back in his chair. “This simple stalking has definitely taken its ugly turn.”

  “Uglier than you think,” Mason said.

  Mason reached over and took her hand. Georgie nearly pulled away before contact. She had the ridiculous notion... if he didn’t touch her, what he was about to say wouldn’t be said, but he merely cupped his hand gently on hers, no grip, his fingertip giving her knuckle a tapping slide.