“Could she really tell you anything useful?”
“Working with the two of them, she might have had a good idea whether they were involved,” he said, hearing the grimness in his voice. Wasn’t it lucky for Reistad that the co-worker most likely to have noticed something going on between him and his pretty, blonde employee hadn’t stayed in town?
They talked for a few more minutes. He told Beth that, right now, he didn’t see any reason he couldn’t get away to pick her up by five-thirty.
“Take your nap,” he said.
Call over, he wondered if any of the ex-wives would open up to him about their marital problems if he contacted them. Had infidelity been the issue? But he’d become more interested in Reistad paradoxically because he was still married to the same woman. Why would a man who ended up divorced in the next couple of years anyway kill Christine because she had threatened his marriage?
Of course, the motive might have been something else altogether, but—what?
Baffled and disliking the feeling, Tony set to tracking the ex-wives of Michael Longley and Alan Schuh.
* * *
FRIDAY BROUGHT NO progress on the investigation. Or should she say either investigation? Beth wondered. None of the neighbors who’d rushed to her rescue had happened to be coming or going at a time they might have seen the assailant. No witnesses to a man dressed in black running away had come forward. Tony believed he’d been parked on the cross street. Once he jumped in his car and yanked off the mask—if he’d been wearing one—he could drive away without drawing any attention.
This morning, Tony had dropped her at her father’s house again. When he picked her up, he said, “I talked to Longley’s ex-wife today. She remembered all of you and said to say hi.”
“At first after Mom disappeared, Mrs. Longley did call and even stopped by the house a couple times, but... I don’t know, Emily and I were still kids, and she was still the school counselor.”
Tony smiled. “I think she understood.”
“Did she tell you why she got the divorce?”
“At first she said her husband was a workaholic, which led them to sharing the house but not much else. When I pressed her on the subject of infidelity, she did finally admit she’d suspected him of an affair. In fact, he remarried in a matter of weeks after the divorce.”
“So he could have had other affairs.”
“Yes. On the other hand, he’s still married to that same woman.”
She thought about it. “He could have had an affair with Mom but not been willing to marry her.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Doesn’t sound like he and Teresa had much of a marriage, though. Would he go so far as to kill a woman because she threatened to tell his wife?”
She studied his profile, noticing his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “You sound...disappointed.”
He glanced at her, his smile wry. “I don’t like him.”
Beth had to laugh.
She didn’t feel like laughing, or even smiling, when Saturday morning, after helping her get dressed, Tony asked if she could spend today, too, with her father or brother.
“I need to finish mowing my lawn, and do two of my sisters’. Maybe some things for them, too,” he explained.
Heaven forbid he should have to introduce her to anyone in his family—or let her see his house.
Of course, trailing around after him all day, making conversation with strangers while he worked outside, didn’t actually sound that appealing.
Beth smiled as if she wasn’t bothered at all. “Sure, no problem. Let me give Matt a call first.”
She was feeling better enough that she and her sister-in-law went shopping. Ashley steered Beth into buying a couple of front-closing bras and a few shirts that would be relatively easy for her to put on without help. She bought a new pair of flip-flops, too, and some clips she could use one-handed to get her hair out of her face.
She needed to become independent again and found she liked Ashley even better for helping her find ways.
Of course, while they were at the mall, they checked out cribs and baby bedding and clothes.
“Once I know whether we’re having a boy or a girl, I think I will go through the clothes Matt says your mother packed away,” Ashley said. “Unless that would bother you?”
“Heavens, no!” Feeling a pang, Beth set down a soft sleeper with a puffy lamb on the chest. She didn’t necessarily want to have a baby right now, but she did want children. “You’ll find more that’s useful if you’re having a boy, though. Between us, Emily and I put a lot of wear and tear on the girl’s stuff.”
“True,” Ashley said cheerfully, “but Matt and I are talking about me taking at least a year off work, so we’ll have to be careful with our money.”
She had an ultrasound scheduled in two weeks. “Matt wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know the gender,” she told Beth, “but I overcame all resistance. I don’t plan to do all blue or pink, anyway, but knowing will help when we paint the spare bedroom and buy stuff.”
“For everyone who comes to your baby showers, too,” Beth said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I intend to put one on.”
Ashley hugged her. “Thank you. I think one of the teachers will, too.”
When they got back, Matt eyed them. “You look like you had too much fun.”
“Baby clothes are so cute!” his wife said, rising on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “And Beth says she’s going to have a baby shower for us.”
Matt hugged Beth and whispered, “Thank you.”
One-armed, she hugged him back.
They had such a good day, she was almost sorry when Tony arrived to pick her up.
He had obviously showered at home, since his hair was damp and his clothes both clean and unfamiliar to her. He and Matt nodded at each other cautiously. Beth introduced him to Ashley, who looked intrigued and mouthed Call when he wasn’t looking.
Tony raised his eyebrows at the shopping bags full of her new purchases but carried them out to his truck without comment. He suggested stopping to pick up a pizza and, once they agreed on what they wanted, she phoned in the order.
At home, while they sat at the table making inroads into the pizza, she chattered about the shopping expedition and Ashley’s intention to go through the baby clothes in her father’s garage.
“It would make Mom happy to know she hadn’t saved them for all these years in vain,” she said lightly.
He smiled. “At least styles won’t have changed much. How much can you do to one of those fuzzy things with feet or miniature overalls?”
The next time a silence fell, she said, “I’m so glad Ashley suggested the front-closing bras. I should have thought of it. It’ll make getting dressed so much easier.”
“I’m happy to help,” he said mildly. “In fact, I might miss groping your breasts every morning.”
Beth laughed. “Is that what you were doing?”
His own smile spread. “I was more subtle than that.”
Given that she hadn’t even needed a nap today, she said, “You know, I’m feeling a whole lot better.”
His gaze lowered to her mouth, her breasts, before traveling slowly back up. Voice a little rough, he said, “Are you, now?”
“Although... I’m not the sexiest thing going with this in the way.” She lifted her injured arm slightly. Supported by a sling, the cast extended from her upper arm down to her hand, the intent to prevent her from doing more than wiggle her fingers.
This smile was wickedly sexy. “Oh, I think we can work our way around it.”
“Really?”
“If you mean it.”
She bobbed her head.
“Then I think I’ve had enough to eat,” he said. “What about you?”
The glint in his eyes had warmth flooding outward from her core. “I mig
ht even want to go to bed early.”
“I could go for that,” he agreed huskily, standing up.
Tony did put the uneaten pizza in the oven before he gathered her into his arms. The relief she felt, resting against him, was almost as powerful as her response to the soft kisses he pressed to her temple, her forehead, her cheekbone—and, at last, her mouth.
* * *
SUNDAY MORNING, Tony woke with a pounding headache. Groaning, he knew he’d gotten too much sun yesterday; he’d spent hours out in the blazing heat mowing, rebuilding—with her husband’s inept help—a section of fence in Maria’s backyard that her large dog had knocked over, and looking under the hood of Beatrix’s 1998 Acura, trying to figure out why it was making a “knocking” sound. Why him? he’d asked. Half the men in the family did automotive engine or body repair and surely knew more than he did about cars.
She had sniffed disdainfully, her hands pressed to her distended belly. “Eddie drove it and says he doesn’t hear anything. Which only means he’s deaf.”
Did she know how much like Mamá she sounded?
She offered him a melting smile. “You’re so good at fixing things.”
She wasn’t smiling when he left an hour later after telling her he didn’t hear any knocking either and couldn’t find anything obvious wrong beneath the hood.
Last night, pizza and Beth had improved his mood immeasurably. Because of the clunky cast, he’d had her lie on her good side and had entered her from behind, his body spooning hers. They’d started slow, urgency building. The detonation at the end had knocked them both out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to bed that early or slept the night through without waking once.
He rolled over in bed to find himself alone. Damn. How had she gotten up without him hearing? Grogginess settled into the drumbeat of the headache. Tony groaned again and got up, listening for Beth. The sound of the refrigerator door closing was reassurance enough for him to decide to take a shower. But first, he’d search her medicine cabinet for any kind of over-the-counter painkiller.
When he finally appeared in the kitchen, her sunny smile warmed him, despite the headache.
“He’s alive!”
“You didn’t provide slave labor yesterday.” He kissed her.
“But I shopped. You don’t know what an ordeal that can be.”
Tony swatted her butt. Laughing, she dodged.
Two cups of coffee and a homemade waffle later, he felt a lot better. Until his phone rang.
The caller was his mother—and this was Sunday. Crap.
“I’d better take this,” he said and went into the living room, half sitting on the arm of the sofa. Answering the phone, he said, “Mamá.”
“Good morning to you!” she said. “Carlos and Eloisa picked me up for church. Miracle of miracles, Jaime is still clean.”
So Carlos had made it home last night. Relaxing, Tony said, “Once they start finger painting, he won’t stay that way.” Older teenage girls, supervised by one adult, ran the childcare that freed their parents to worship in peace. The little ones always had fun.
“No, but at least everyone will see that his mamá made sure he looked nice for church.” She barely paused. “Are you on your way?”
“No, Mamá. I won’t be there today.”
“Tony! This is the third Sunday in a row. What will Father Raimundo say?”
“He’ll say Tony is a busy man, and that God understands.”
“He might start thinking you’re wandering from the faith,” she countered. Two hours once a week isn’t so much to give.”
“And I usually do attend,” he said, maintaining a calm voice. “You know that. This has been a difficult week.”
“I suppose you won’t be coming to dinner either?”
If she’d asked that first, he might have surrendered. Beth could have gone to her dad’s again or her brother’s. But now he had his back up.
Thinking about Beth, he glanced toward the kitchen. The rustle of a newspaper page being turned allowed him to hope she wasn’t listening. He should have gone outside for this conversation.
“I’m afraid not.”
Over-the-top mournful, she said, “You’re slipping away from us.”
“I spent all day yesterday helping my sisters,” he reminded her, having no doubt that she already knew exactly how he’d spent his day.
“Beatrix says you didn’t fix her car.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. His facade of calm began to creak, too. “There’s nothing wrong with her car that I could find. She says Eddie told her the same thing.”
“Oh, Eddie.” Usually she approved of this son-in-law, but not today. “Beatrix was counting on you.”
“I’m not a car mechanic.” He knew he sounded as tense as he felt, and his voice had started to rise.
“And now you’re not a churchgoer either.”
“I’m done,” he snapped and cut her off. Or had he yelled?
Tony stayed where he was for what had to be five minutes before cooling off enough to go back to the kitchen.
Loading the dishwasher, Beth glanced up. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
“It sounded like you were having a fight.”
“My mother managed to push all my buttons.” And he didn’t want to talk about this.
“Are you going to church?”
“No.” He sighed. “Can we let this go?”
“But...doesn’t your family usually do a Sunday dinner?”
“They do.” He was afraid he was coming across as curt, but he couldn’t help himself. “I won’t be there.”
At last, she accepted her cue, nodded timidly and wiped down the counter.
Now he felt like a jackass. “Is there anything you’d like to do today? I’d suggest we go for a swim at the lake, except...” He nodded at her cast.
“That would have felt amazing.” Beth came to sit at the table. “What would you like to do?”
“You know, the lake could still be fun. What if we take a picnic? You could wade in quite a ways, at least cool off.”
“While you plunge in and swim out to the dock.”
Disappointed, he said, “Yeah, that might not be the best idea.”
She laughed at him. “I was kidding, Tony. It does sound like fun. I’m not a very good swimmer, anyway. The park will probably be crowded, but who cares? I haven’t been in ages.”
Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d neither worked nor joined his family on a Sunday. His stress level dropped, while his mood soared.
He suggested they stop at a deli on the way for sandwiches, but Beth insisted she could put together a lunch. He didn’t argue too hard but did insist on helping. Since they had plenty of time, she hard-boiled eggs for egg salad sandwiches and produced some homemade cookies from the freezer.
“I usually freeze most of them,” she explained. “I delude myself that if I have to thaw them before I can take a bite,” she explained, “it’ll give my willpower time to grow, and I won’t stuff my face.”
Tony shook his head. “You’re not fat. Your body is perfect.”
“I could easily be—”
He silenced her mid-sentence with a single look. In fact, she laughed again. “Why am I arguing? What more can I ask out of life than a man who thinks my body is perfect?”
He snugged an arm around her waist, enjoying her softness and the scent of her shampoo. “I can hardly wait to see you in a bathing suit. Do you have a bikini?”
“Not a chance.”
Giving her a little shake, Tony shook his head sternly. “There you go again.”
“Well, I don’t own one, so you’ll have to settle. Although getting a bikini top on over the cast would have been easier.”
Their picnic came near to being drastically delayed whe
n he let himself be tempted into squeezing her breasts, even kissing them, before groaning and helping maneuver the cast through the arm of the relatively modest suit.
Stepping back, he decided he approved of it anyway. It fit snugly over her curved body and was cut high enough on the hip to make any man’s eyes linger. Just enough cleavage was exposed to tantalize. He might need to be careful not to leave her alone for long at the beach, he decided. Other men might decide she needed help.
She went looking for the suntan lotion while he carried their lunches and towels out to his pickup. He’d have to stop at his place to grab his suit, but it wouldn’t take a minute. When he came back inside, he was dismayed to see Beth on her phone, the tube of lotion on the kitchen counter right beside her.
She rolled her eyes toward him and made a face. “Emily,” she whispered, then, into the phone, said, “I am listening. But I don’t understand what brought this on.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Tony wanted to ask why she’d answered or tell her to hang up. Irritation rose, even as he knew it wasn’t justified. Except when caught up in something on the job, he rarely ignored a call from his mother or any of his sisters.
“Emily, don’t say that!” she exclaimed. “I got hurt because someone attacked me. It’s on him, not you.”
The conversation went on, Tony able to hear most of what Beth’s little sister wailed. Increasingly annoyed, he thought she was playing Beth. Apparently, she was used to being the center of attention and didn’t like having the spotlight shift.
“Emily, really—” Beth started to look alarmed. “Okay, okay. If you need me—”
What the hell?
More wailing.
“In just a few minutes. Yes, I promise. I love you, you know.” Finally she ended the call. Her unhappiness visible, she said, “I’m so sorry, but Emily is falling apart again, and I need to go over there. If you want to go ahead to the lake, I can—”
“What? Spend two hours patting her back?”
Hers stiffened. “You think I should have told her to suck it up? I might stop by tomorrow, when I don’t have anything better to do?”
Back Against the Wall Page 21