by Laurie Paige
“You’re a good mayor,” she said.
“Huh,” was his reply as he stalked along beside her.
Smiling, she added, “But a grumpy one. Really, Pierce, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve actually taken several courses in self-defense.”
He’d been studying the lake. Now his head snapped around. “You’ve been in danger before?”
“Not really. But sometimes I was called out on a crime scene in the middle of the night. I thought I should be able to defend myself from muggers.”
“Muggers,” he scoffed. “It’s murder that worries me.”
“I know. It must be difficult to think that some one you know, someone that you perhaps speak to everyday or have a meal with or see at church, could be a killer.” She gave him a sympathetic glance.
He was staring at the lake again.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. A fisherman. He’s gone now. He left the boat near the swimming beach instead of returning it to the boathouse. I’ll have to send a man to row it in.”
She spotted the boat across the lake. “People can be so thoughtless.”
But not Pierce. He was thinking so strongly she could almost hear the wheels turning. She felt his concern as a palpable thing.
“I’ll be careful,” she promised.
“I’m going to have a burglar alarm installed at the cabin.”
“Please don’t. I’ll be gone in two weeks—” She stopped and considered. “Shall I go now? That would be simpler.”
“No,” he said. “You’ll stay until we solve this.”
Since the scowl on his face was so forbidding, she didn’t argue. Besides, she wanted to stay. This was her vacation. She deserved some time off and a chance to rest and to consider her options.
Observing Pierce, she realized she could still say yes to his suggestion, ridiculous as it was. With a start, she also realized she was still thinking about it. She’d said no to him, but she hadn’t said no to herself and the hunger that haunted her day and night.
“Pierce said he would pick you up,” Kelly told Chelsea later that afternoon. “No sense in you both driving. I think bro is worried about you being alone, anyway. Let’s indulge him on this.”
Chelsea coiled the stretchy telephone line around her finger. “I really feel like an intruder on your mom’s birthday dinner. Perhaps I should stay home.”
“Nonsense. Mom is looking forward to seeing you. It’s been three years since you stopped by after completing your residency. I had to twist your arm to get you here then.”
Chelsea knew when to give in gracefully. “Okay. I’ll see you shortly. What are you wearing?”
“Khaki slacks and a T-shirt. Don’t come fancy.
It’s just family.”
“Right. Here’s Pierce, I think. Bye.” She hung up and went to the door.
A car had stopped down the lane. She couldn’t tell what kind it was, other than a nondescript dark sedan. The driver stayed inside.
Probably a fisherman considering the best spot to catch the biggest trout, she decided, ignoring the hair that stood up on the back of her neck. Disgusted with the sign of fear, she gathered her purse and a jacket. With black slacks and a black, white and tan striped blouse, she was casual but dressy enough for a birthday celebration.
A clay pot of summer annuals was her gift to Kelly’s mom. Another of dried flowers was for the hostess. With those at hand, she returned to the door.
The car was gone. Odd, but she’d sensed something evil there. Was it her imagination?
Tessa Madison, the psychic she’d met on a case, could tell the difference, but Chelsea wasn’t sure if Pierce’s worry hadn’t influenced her. In fact, it probably had.
Shrugging off the spooky sensation, she clutched her purse when she saw his SUV on the lane. By the time he arrived at her front door, she was ready to go.
He opened the car door for her and stored the pots on the floor in the rear. “Thoughtful,” he said.
She noticed the beautifully wrapped gift on the seat. “That package is too lovely to be opened. I always hate to mess up the paper when it’s so pretty.”
He grinned. “Mom says the same. But then, by the time we get to the cake and gifts, she’s dying to see what’s inside and can’t wait to tear into it.”
“How is she getting along?”
“Fine. Busy as usual with her church doings and volunteer service.”
“It’s nice that she’ll be close by when Kelly has the baby. My mom spoils her grandchildren something awful, according to my sister.”
He glanced thoughtfully at her before he turned onto Main Street, then onto Cave Springs Road where Jim and Kelly had bought a small ranch.
“Odd,” he said, “but I think of you as being alone, as if you’re an orphan. You don’t mention your family very often. Why is that?”
She saw a deer lift its head and, chewing, gaze at them as they passed. “It’s ordinary. My mom and stepdad have three grandkids from my two sisters on that side. My dad and stepmother have one grand son from their oldest son. He’s divorced now. The younger brother isn’t married.”
“Two sisters, two brothers and four nieces and nephews. That’s impressive. Kelly and I are falling behind, so my mom has told us.”
Chelsea smiled. “She’ll be glad to hear Kelly’s news. Does she know yet?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it, or else I would have gotten a call to inform me it was time I married and reproduced.”
At his wry laughter, Chelsea laughed, too. “Parents are all alike. Both mine worry about me and my lack of suitors. They think it’s because of their divorce.”
He slowed to a crawl. “Why is there no man in your life?” he asked, his voice going husky.
Because I never met another like you? Because you stole my heart? Because love once caused pain and I’m afraid to go down that road again?
“There really hasn’t been time,” she said, which was also the truth. “Being on residency call twenty-four hours a day wasn’t very conducive to romance. When I started to work full-time, police departments all over the country were realizing the value of forensics. I was even busier.”
“No long-term relationships?”
“No.” Nor short ones, either, but she didn’t say that. She’d dated, but it really hadn’t interested her.
“It’s the same for me. Being mayor and running a business take all my time.” He turned onto the gravel road of the ranch. “A person in a small town has to be careful. See a woman twice and the town matrons have you nearly married and out the church door.”
“It can be that way in the city, too,” she told him.
They exchanged sympathetic glances. They were still smiling when Kelly greeted them at the house. “Out on the patio,” she said. “Since we’re having this heat wave, I thought we should take advantage of it and enjoy the outdoors as much as possible. That’s a lovely package, Pierce. What did you get?”
“I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait until it’s opened to find out.” He handed her a bottle of champagne. “You probably can’t drink this, but you can join in a toast to the dear ol’ gal.”
“I heard that, young man,” Mrs. Dalton called from the patio. “Come out here so I can smack your face.”
“This is for your mom. These are for you,” Chelsea told Kelly after he left them, handing her the pot of dried flowers. “You don’t have to water them.”
“Since she’s never remembered to water a plant in her life, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Jim said, coming into the kitchen. He gave Chelsea a hug and welcomed her to their home. “I’ll give you a tour later. We’ve made a lot of progress in remodeling. Only about forty years and we’ll have the place shipshape.”
Laughing, they went outside where Mrs. Dalton had indeed smacked Pierce. The print of her lipstick was still on his jaw. “Chelsea, it’s good to see you again.”
“And you. Many happy returns, Mrs. Dalton.”
Mrs. Dal
ton gave Chelsea a kiss, too, and patted the glider beside her. “Sit here and tell me all your news.”
Chelsea sat down and tried to think of something exciting. Her gaze settled on Pierce. “Well, I guess you’ve heard the news about the town librarian. That’s the most exciting thing at the moment. In a terrible sort of way,” she added.
“It’s sad what people do to each other,” Mrs. Dalton agreed, nodding regretfully. “But you’re on vacation now. What do you think of the cabin and the resort? Pierce did a good job there, didn’t he?”
“Mom,” he scolded but with a resigned laugh.
She was undaunted. “Mothers can brag on their children. If I catch you doing it, though, I won’t like it.”
Kelly came out and leaned against her husband. He looped an arm around her, his gaze tender when he smiled at her. “Mom,” she said, “we have an announcement.”
Mrs. Dalton looked from her daughter to her son-in-law. Tears rushed into her eyes. “Oh, my,” she said, going to them and throwing her arms around them both. “We’re going to have a baby, aren’t we? Is that it? A baby?”
“Yes, yes and yes,” Kelly said. Then they all laughed and cried together.
“Here.” Pierce handed his handkerchief to Chelsea.
She thanked him and dried her eyes, self-conscious about being sentimental about babies.
“Would you like a baby, Chelsea?” he asked out of the blue.
Heat flooded her face. “Yes. I’m thinking of adopting,” she admitted truthfully. “Someday.”
He studied her, his expression unreadable. “You’ll need a husband.”
“Maybe not.”
“I forgot,” he said with an edge to his voice. “You independent women don’t need anything.”
She refused to be put down. “That’s right.” She smiled at him, then put on an air of gaiety the rest of the evening. She oohed and aahed over Mrs. Dalton’s birthday gifts—a dress and slacks outfit from Kelly and Jim, a porcelain figurine from Pierce to add to a collection. Mrs. Dalton was as enthusiastic about her gift of flowers as the other presents, which made Chelsea feel good.
On the return to the cabin, Chelsea realized she hadn’t had to pretend. She’d had a good time. Glancing at her escort’s profile as he guided the car along the moon-silvered road, she wondered what he would say if she were going to have a child.
Not that it was likely to happen. But she wondered….
Chapter Five
Sunlight played lightly across Chelsea’s face Sunday morning, waking her from a sound sleep. She yawned and stretched, resentful of the early hour, especially since she hadn’t fallen asleep until after midnight.
Too restless to laze around in bed for long, she rose and pulled on her bathing suit. The morning air was crisp, giving promise of cooler days to come. Soon, she hoped.
Setting her watch for the usual twenty minutes, she started her morning swim. Sunlight gleaming off metal caught her eye as she started into her first stroke. Standing, she studied the shadows under the trees down the lane.
A vehicle was parked there, almost hidden.
The hair on her arms stood straight up. Worried, she continued her swim, but ducked out of sight behind the deck at the water’s edge on the return lap. She made her way through the trees until she was hidden from the vehicle by the cabin. Working her way around it, hiding behind trees and shrubs, she walked parallel to the lane until she could clearly see the SUV.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered when she realized who it was. She stalked over to the vehicle and yanked open the door. “What are you doing?”
The driver, who’d been sleeping soundly, stared at her as if she were an apparition. “Uh, watching the cabin,” the young deputy said. “You’re supposed to be inside.”
“I take an early swim.”
“Oh.”
“Have you been here all night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who sent you?”
“Uh, Holt put me on the stakeout. The sheriff didn’t like it, but Holt said you might be in danger.”
Chelsea’s anger let up. She managed a smile. “The only danger is to my blood pressure. I thought somebody was stalking me when I saw your truck hidden in the bushes.”
“No, ma’am, just keeping watch. There’s a murderer loose in the town, you know.”
He looked so earnest, the rest of her fury abated. “Since you’re here, how about breakfast? If you’ll get us a Sunday paper, I’ll fix bacon and pancakes.”
Grinning, he checked his watch. “I’m off duty now, so it should be okay. I’ll be right back.”
She returned to the cabin, rinsed off in a quick shower and dressed in blue shorts and a matching top. Tying a scarf around her damp hair, she went to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. When the young deputy returned, she had their meal nearly done.
“What’s your name?” she asked, pouring him a mug of coffee.
“Gregory Smith. Everybody calls me Greg.”
“I’m Chelsea. Shall we go out on the porch to eat?”
“Sure.”
Carrying their plates, they went out on the screened porch. Birds were chirruping. A breeze ruffled the lake surface. The sun gilded the treetops in a soft gold patina. All seemed right with the world.
“I got the local paper and the Billings one. I didn’t know which you liked.”
“Good.” She passed him the bottle of pancake syrup and picked up the local paper. LOCAL WOMAN MURDERED read the headline in bold capital letters. “Oh, great,” she muttered.
Skimming the story, she saw the reporter didn’t have a lot to go on, but the woman did know there were no powder burns around the wound or traces of gunpowder on the victim’s hand as there would have been in a suicide.
Greg scooted his chair closer so he could read the article. “Holt’s gonna be mad. Who told her about the powder burns and all?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” she said. “Uh-oh, look who’s here.”
Pierce crossed the grass and joined them, coffee mug in one hand, newspaper in the other. “What are you doing here?” he snarled at Greg.
“I’ve, uh, been here since midnight—”
“What!” Pierce looked ready to leap upon the blushing young man and choke him.
“Holt sent me out to keep an eye on Chel—uh, Dr. Kearns. I’m off duty now,” he added. “She invited me to stay for breakfast.”
“You could probably use some food,” Chelsea said to Pierce. “There’s plenty in the kitchen. Why don’t you fix a plate and join us?”
He gave her a scowl that would have melted an iceberg had there been one handy, then stomped into the cabin. By the time he returned, the deputy was finished.
The young man rose when Pierce thumped his plate down. “I’d better go. I have to file a report, then get some sleep before tonight.”
“Thanks for your help,” she called to his fleeing back. When he was in his truck and gone, she turned on Pierce. “You arranged for him to be here, didn’t you?”
He shrugged and helped himself to the syrup. After pouring a generous portion over a tall stack of pancakes, he dug in. “These are good,” he said.
She wasn’t appeased. “I will not be spied on.”
“It’s for your safety.” He bit into a crisp slice of bacon and munched while watching her.
“I’d be just as safe if left alone. Safer, in fact. It nearly scared me to death to know someone was lurking around the place this morning until I got close enough to see his uniform. Now I’ll have to wonder if it’s the police or the murderer when I see a man in the vicinity.”
“You went down and checked him out?” Pierce practically roared. “Don’t you have any sense at all?”
She narrowed her eyes and returned his glare. “And what should I have done?”
“Called me. I would have made sure it was safe for you to come out.”
“I am not going to call for help like a…a ninny every time I see a car in th
e lane.”
He didn’t answer for a furious minute, then he grinned. “Okay,” he said, “no more surveillance.”
Chelsea was suspicious. “None?”
“None. I’ll tell Holt to forget it. He doesn’t have a cop to spare looking out for stubborn females, anyway.”
“Fine.” She studied Pierce’s innocent expression as he calmly ate, his eyes scanning the article in the paper. “Why don’t I trust you on this?”
He looked up. “Beats me. I’m as honest as the day is long.”
“What happens after the sun goes down?” she asked with more than a trace of cynicism.
“Ah, that would be telling.” He frowned. “Dammit, where did Liz get this information? She knows details from your report. In fact, she quotes it word for word in one place.”
“I noticed,” Chelsea said. “This Liz Barlow, does she have a relative in the sheriff’s department?”
“Not that I know of, but there are probably connections between most families in the county. Only Holt Tanner has the actual copy of your report, and he’s supposed to keep it under lock and key.”
“Well, there’s a leak somewhere in the department.” She pushed her plate away, the food half-eaten. She was no longer hungry.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to Holt. He must have talked to someone. Unless…”
She realized he was looking at her. “I haven’t told anyone a thing,” she protested hotly.
“Not intentionally,” he agreed, “but did you say anything to Kelly? You were discussing it the other night in the diner.”
“Only what you heard—that it was murder.” A shiver ran over her all at once. “The cold finger of death touches more than one life in a case like this,” she murmured, saddened by it all.
“Yes.” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I have a conference call this morning with a couple of my managers. Here, take my cell phone in case you want to walk around the lake. Stay in plain sight. Don’t go into the woods for any reason, even if you hear someone calling for help. Okay?”
Seeing the worry in his eyes, she didn’t argue. She took the phone, checked how it worked, then laid it on the table. “Thanks. I appreciate your concern.” She managed to inject sincerity in the words.