As she pulled her suitcase from the closet he noticed that her hands trembled and a new surge of protectiveness welled up inside him. The FBI agent with the fierce attitude was definitely afraid.
Chapter Nine
Jenna was afraid. As she packed her bags to leave this house she was shocked by the edge of fear that whispered through her.
Why now? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt fear. Certainly she’d faced danger before. As recently as yesterday when the first rose arrived, she hadn’t felt any real fear.
But things were different now and she didn’t know why. She only knew she wanted away from here. She wanted the safety of Matt’s house, the safety of his presence nearby.
Matt made the call to get a couple of deputies over to collect any evidence that the killer might have left behind, but Jenna wasn’t optimistic that he’d made a mistake. He’d been so careful so far.
As Matt drove her to his house, she closed her eyes and fought against the strange emotions that coursed through her.
Maybe it was the memories of Rover that had made her feel so oddly vulnerable. Or maybe it had been the softness in Matt’s eyes when she’d shared that story with him.
She wanted to believe that it was nothing more than the sight of that rose in a house she thought was secure. She opened her eyes and gazed at Matt in the light from the dashboard.
“He has to have a key to Miranda’s house. The doors and windows weren’t broken or jimmied. The only way he could have gotten in there was having a key to the front or backdoor,” she said.
Matt frowned. He looked exhausted and she knew he probably hadn’t slept the night before which meant he had to be ready to fall over. “The only person I know who had a key to her place is Maggie Wendt.”
“Then we need to talk to her again and find out if she gave a copy of the key to anyone else or if she knew if Miranda gave somebody else the key.”
“I’ll check with her first thing in the morning. I’m meeting with the mayor at ten. He wants an update and to be able to give the women of this town some sort of assurance that we’re on top of this.”
“At the moment all I want to be on top of is a nice soft bed,” she replied drily.
“Why don’t you sit tight tomorrow at my place?” he said. “Nobody will know you’re there. You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard and maybe a day off will be good for you.”
She shot him a sharp glance, wondering if he sensed how off-kilter she felt? Her first instinct was to give him a resounding no thanks, but the idea of staying inside, maybe cooking a decent meal and watching television was surprisingly appealing.
“Maybe I will do that,” she said, although she suspected by morning she’d be chomping at the bit, ready to get out and find the bastard who was terrorizing town.
“Wow, you’re so close to the office,” she exclaimed as he pulled into the driveway of an attractive two-story home just off Main Street.
“I keep my official car parked in front of the office and usually walk to work,” he replied as he shut off the engine.
“Nobody followed us?” she asked. She hadn’t missed the way he’d checked his rearview mirror on the drive from Miranda’s.
“Not a soul. I’ll get your suitcase.” As they got out of the car Jenna grabbed the small overnight bag and Matt lifted the bigger suitcase from the backseat.
As he unlocked the door she realized she was intrigued to see the space where he lived. As a profiler she knew you could often tell a lot about a person by viewing the choices they made in their personal space.
They walked into a foyer with gleaming wooden floors and a standing oak coatrack that held nothing at the moment.
The living room looked lived in but not cluttered. A newspaper was open on the coffee table and a mug sat next to it. The sofa was navy blue and held throw pillows in red and navy. A recliner faced the wall shelving unit that held the television, a stereo system and pictures of two dark-haired women she assumed were his sisters.
It felt like what she’d always believed a home should be like, warm and inviting. “Nice,” she said as she set her overnight bag on the plush beige carpeting.
He set down the suitcase. “Let me show you the rest of the place,” he said.
She followed him into a bright, airy kitchen with white cabinets and accents of red. A basket of fruit decorated the center of the round oak table.
“This doesn’t have the flavor of a bachelor pad,” she said.
He smiled. “I never intended it to be a bachelor pad. It was always meant to be a home for a family.”
“How long have you lived here?” she asked as they left the kitchen and returned to the living room.
“Two years. Before that I was renting a place on the north side of town. But two years ago was about the time my grief over Natalie started to ease and I started looking forward again.”
She eyed him curiously. “But it must be difficult, to think about doing it all over with somebody else?”
“Not at all. Do I wish Natalie hadn’t died? Of course, but one of the things I learned with her was how good love feels, how important it is in my life and I want that again, that magic of loving somebody and knowing I’m loved back.”
Once again she had the feeling that this man could be dangerous to her, that he could make her wish for things she’d never wished for before, that he could make her believe things that had always felt impossible.
“I’m really beat, could you show me to my room?” she asked, suddenly eager to escape his presence.
She followed him up the stairs where he led her to a pleasant room decorated in cool shades of blue. The bed was a double and the pillows looked big and fluffy and a sudden exhaustion overwhelmed her.
“The bathroom is across the hall and my room is at the end if you need anything,” Matt said as he placed her suitcase on the bed.
“Thanks, I’ll be fine.” She breathed a sigh of relief as he left the room. It had probably been a mistake coming here, but even though she’d expected to find another rose, she hadn’t expected her reaction.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She didn’t want to think about anything. She just wanted the sweet oblivion of sleep.
It took her only minutes to get into her silk nightgown and pad across the hall to the bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror.
She was afraid of what she might see in her own eyes, a softness for the man who had taken her in, a desire for him and all the things he wanted in his life.
She wasn’t the woman for him. She had no hopes and dreams. When they found this killer she’d go back to her real life in an apartment that had never felt like home, navigating through life as she always had—alone.
She thought sleep would be difficult but the moment she got into bed and closed her eyes, she slept. When she next opened her eyes she could hear the sound of birds singing outside the window and the sun was already climbing up the eastern sky.
She sat up and looked at the clock next to the bed. She gasped in surprise. After eight! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late.
By the time she’d taken a quick shower and dressed, she sensed that she was alone in the house even though she smelled the scent of coffee. Matt would have left for the office by now and she tried to work up some irritation that he hadn’t awakened her to go in with him, but the truth was she was glad she hadn’t.
The past week had been a rush of crazy emotions, of long hours and intensity. She needed to step back from everything and take a moment to breathe and that’s exactly what she intended to do.
She was confident that Matt and his team would continue to do everything within their means without her. For a small-town force, they were definitely on the ball. She’d found each and every one of his detectives smart and highly motivated to catch the killer.
In the kitchen she found not only a pot of coffee ready to be consumed, but also a brief note f
rom Matt telling her that he hoped she had a good day and that if nothing unexpected happened, he’d try to be back at the house by around five or six.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it with her as she walked through the living room to the window by the front door where she peered outside and saw a patrol car parked at the curb with Joey seated behind the wheel.
With a small shake of her head she left the window and returned to the kitchen where she sat at the table. Matt was determined to provide a certain level of protection for her whether she wanted it or not.
He’d accused her of being stubborn, but she had a feeling he wasn’t exactly a slacker in that particular department, either.
A surge of warmth filled her as she continued to think about Matt. He would make some woman a wonderful husband. Not only was he hot as hell, he was also a good man with a great sense of humor and a sharp intelligence that could challenge any woman.
“But not for me,” she murmured aloud. Marriage and kids and happily-ever-after had never been on her list of things to do before she died.
As if to confirm who she was and where she belonged, she picked up her cell phone and called Sam. He answered on the second ring.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In a tiny motel room in Mayville, Kansas,” he replied.
“What are you working on?”
“I was sent out here yesterday to check out a hate crime. A gay man was beaten to death by another man, but I think it’s more about a drug deal gone wrong than any hatred. I’ll probably head back to the field office sometime in the morning. When are you coming back?”
She knew the smart thing to do would be to head back to Kansas City before the killer caught a lucky break and caught her off guard. She should get out of town so that Matt didn’t feel the responsibility of keeping her safe. More importantly she should leave before her heart got any more involved with him than it already was.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally answering Sam’s question. “I’d like to see this thing through to the end,” she said, unsure if she was referring to catching the killer or seeing where her feelings for Matt might take her. “But I’m thinking maybe I’ll head back in the next week or so.”
They chatted about the case for a few minutes and she caught him up on everything that had happened since she’d arrived in town.
When they finally hung up Jenna poured herself another cup of coffee and returned to her seat at the table.
She was the first one to admit that she’d always been a little reckless, fearless when it came to the possibility of death.
But that’s exactly what she felt now…fear and an intense desire to stay alive. She had a feeling it had to do with Matt and that scared the hell out of her.
IT HAD BEEN YET another day of sheer frustration. As Matt walked the few blocks from the office to his house, he tried to shrug off the foul mood that had been growing with every dead end he and his deputies had met throughout the day.
At least he hadn’t had the worry of wondering if Jenna was in trouble. He didn’t think anyone knew she was in his house except the deputies he’d told. If the killer couldn’t find her, then he couldn’t do her any harm.
Matt had spoken to her twice during the day and it had comforted him to know she was in his house with Joey playing watchdog outside.
As Joey’s car came into sight he raised a hand in greeting. The young deputy got out of the car and greeted him with a smile. “Nothing to report, sir. It’s been real quiet all day.”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “And boring. I know this gig wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your day, but I appreciate your work to help keep Agent Taylor safe.”
Joey nodded. “Sometimes it’s not all about blazing guns and danger. It’s just about keeping somebody safe.”
Matt nodded. “There’s one other thing I want you to do for me before you go off duty. I’d like you to swing by Miranda’s house and see if there’s a rose anywhere in the house or outside.”
Joey frowned. “That would be number three, right?”
Tension twisted in Matt’s stomach. “Yeah, and if our killer stays on track, that means we’re halfway to the next murder victim and it’s going to be Jenna.”
“But we aren’t going to let that happen, are we?” Joey said with fierce determination.
“Not while there’s breath in my body,” Matt replied. “Call me after you check Miranda’s, and thanks, Joey, for always doing a great job.”
As Matt headed to the front door Joey got into his patrol car and pulled away from the curb. Joey was like a young pup, eager to please and responded well to praise. Someday he was going to be a terrific lawman; all he needed was a little more maturity and experience.
All thoughts of Joey fled his mind as he stepped through the front door and was greeted with the scent of pungent tomato sauce and spicy garlic.
Jenna must have heard the door open for she stepped from the kitchen into the living room with her gun in hand. “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he said. “And you know it always turns me on when you greet me with a gun.”
“Don’t tempt me to pull the trigger,” she replied as she lowered the gun.
She looked well rested and amazingly gorgeous in a turquoise summer shift that exposed the length of her shapely legs and electrified the blue of her eyes.
“I smell something good,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen.
“I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.” She moved to stand by the stove and picked up a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.
She looked right in his kitchen. He knew it was a chauvinistic thought, but he couldn’t help it. She looked like she belonged here and in the depths of his heart, no matter how crazy it seemed, no matter how short the time had been since they’d met, he realized he wanted her to belong here.
It was an ache inside of him, the desire to love her as she’d never been loved before, to provide a place in his arms where she would always feel safe, would always feel cherished.
“Matt? Spaghetti and meatballs? Love it or hate it?”
She looked at him expectantly and he realized he hadn’t answered her. “Love it,” he said.
“It’s going to be ready in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you go change your clothes and wash up or whatever you do and by then I’ll have it on the table.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. He left the kitchen and went upstairs to his bedroom where he changed from his uniform into a pair of comfortable jeans and a white T-shirt.
When he got back to the kitchen she had placed salad and bread on the table and was in the process of adding a big bowl of spaghetti with fist-sized meatballs.
“Wow, I didn’t realize you could cook,” he said.
She gestured him into a chair and flashed him one of her charming smiles. “I can cook. I’m just not sure if I’m a good cook. I don’t have time to do it much.” She joined him at the table. “So tell me about your day.”
He shook his head. “Nope. The rule around here is that you don’t shoptalk while you eat.”
“Then I doubt if we’ll have anything to say,” she replied.
He grinned at her. “Oh, Jenna, you underestimate my ability to talk about nothing and your own ability to be a fascinating conversationalist.”
She laughed and shook her head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d bet you were trying to charm me right into your bed.”
He picked up his fork and quirked his eyebrow upward. “What makes you think I’m not?”
Her cheeks turned pink as she handed him the bread. “Because you know it wouldn’t be a good idea,” she replied. “Matt, I’m a temporary woman and you’re a forever kind of guy. Oil and water, Matt, and pretending we’re anything different would be foolish.”
“Who says you can’t be foolish once in a while?” he replied.
“Okay, I’m making a new rule,” she exclaimed. “No shoptalk and no talking about sex during dinner.”
Dinner conversation was light and pleasant. Matt shared with her stories about the small town of Bridgewater and about life with his parents and sisters. Jenna seemed curious about his family life and he wanted to satisfy her curiosity.
She seemed most interested in the everyday normalcy of his family life. He told her about pancakes on Sunday mornings and Friday night charades and when he talked about those long-ago days he was reminded again of how lucky he’d been to have had loving parents who had taught him how to love and be loved.
It was after the meal was finished, the dishes were done and the two were settled back at the table with coffee that the talk turned to business.
“Still no progress on where the roses might have come from,” he said, aware of the frustration that laced his tone. “Lab reports came back today on Miranda. There were no drugs or alcohol in her system.”
“I didn’t expect there to be,” she replied. “Miranda was a health nut and she was adamantly against drugs. The only way she would have had anything in her system would be if the killer had forced her to take something.” She curled her fingers around her cup. “I’m guessing nobody saw anything when that rose was left at Miranda’s yesterday?”
“We canvassed the area and spoke to all the neighbors. Nobody saw anything.”
She frowned. “We aren’t chasing a ghost. Somebody has to have seen something at one of these scenes.”
“We haven’t found them yet.”
“Instead of putting a guard on me, you should have a man on our two top suspects, Dr. Johnson and Leroy.”
“What about Bud? He has been on the top of our list.”
She leaned back in the chair. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all this today and I don’t think Bud is our man. You could arrest him for being an arrogant ass, but I think that’s probably all he’s guilty of.”
Scene of the Crime: Bridgewater, Texas Page 11