She cried out his name, and Matt joined her as the undercurrent pulled them into deep water. He pulled her to him, kissed her deeply, and held her close. Her face was still buried in his chest when she spoke.
“I’ve never had this much fun. You may have created a monster.”
His heart did a funny tug when he realized how completely she’d trusted him tonight. Hopefully, she’d learned she could give him control, and he’d always give it back. That she could take charge and completely abandon herself. Tonight, he’d helped her rediscover and recover her sexuality.
“Even when I was a kid, monsters didn’t scare me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday, August 24th, 8:00 a.m.
“Danny Mason is here.” Sue stepped inside the office and lowered her voice. “Said you wanted to see him.”
“Bring him in. I’ll talk to him.” The neighbor must’ve passed the word to Mason.
“Sheriff Ballard.” Sue spoke from the doorway before entering and making introductions.
“Come in, Danny.” Matt shook the man’s hand then waved him to a chair. “Make yourself comfortable.” Mason wore grease-stained, dark blue coveralls, and lace-up work boots. Brown hair pulled back in a long braid made him look like a flash back to the sixties.
“My neighbor said you came by to see me.”
“Ms. Whitley?”
“Yeah. Nice lady.” Mason moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and continued. “If this is about Julia, I already told Jake everything I know. Which is squat.”
“How well did you know her?” Matt got right to the point. He watched for a reaction, a blink or blanch, but saw none. But then Danny Mason knew what Matt wanted before he walked into the office.
“Why’re you asking?” Danny slumped down in the chair. “Because of my record,” he answered his own question.
“I’m trying to find a killer.”
“Well, good luck. Don’t look at me. I’ve kept my nose clean. Ask Jake. He’ll tell you.”
“Then you won’t mind answering my question. How well did you know Julia?” Matt repeated.
“Well enough to have danced with her a few times.” Mason lifted a shoulder as if uninterested in the conversation. “I mostly play pool with the guys when I go to the Saddleback.”
“Any of them ever show any special interest in Julia?”
“Not that I noticed. Do you shoot pool?”
Matt responded with a nod and let Danny continue.
“Then you know it’s hard to pay attention to anything but the position of the balls on the table. That is, if you want to win.”
“That’s true.”
“You gotta watch your opponent, try to figure out his strategy, make your shots, but leave him nothing.”
“You’re right about that.” Matt remembered past games with Ash Hunter. “I’ve got a friend who’s pretty good.”
“Bring him out to one of Marty’s tournaments. We need the competition.” Mason’s face lit up with interest, his brown eyes glinted with challenge.
“I might do that. You never dated Julia?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get off the subject. No, I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“None of the crowd I run with. Except JC. If that’s all, I really gotta get back to work.”
“Appreciate you stopping by. You think of anything, give me a call.” Matt stood and shook Danny’s hand.
Matt escorted him out as far as Sue’s desk then handed her his notes on the way back to his office. Hard to get a read on Danny. Maybe the follow up talk with Mel Hamilton would be more productive. Matt kicked back and reread Jake’s interview with Mel. He looked for a word, a sentence, something to key on when he went calling.
****
Thursday, August 24th, 10:00 a.m.
“Catherine, let me help you with that.” JC jogged to the rear of her car and finished loading her office supplies. “Storage boxes? You’re not moving?”
“Picking up some stuff for the funeral home. Thanks. You showed up right in time.”
“Did you get your emission system fixed?” JC closed her trunk and then leaned against her car.
At the bar, he wore dress blue jeans, a western shirt, and showy cowboy boots. Women noticed him right away. Today his shaggy hair hadn’t been combed, T-shirt was stained, jeans were dirty, and he wore torn tennis shoes. He looked older and road weary.
“No, and now the air conditioner is on the fritz.” Catherine opened her car door. Standing around in front of the office supply wasn’t an option. Without rain or a hint of a breeze, the heat literally slammed her in the face when she stepped outside.
“I know a guy who works at a garage. Get you a good deal when you decide to get your car fixed. I can help you out with a ride to work. If you want.”
“I might take you up on that.” She wiped the sweat forming off her forehead. “Why’re you out in this heat?”
He pulled a traffic ticket from his back pocket. “Speeding. Our new sheriff is out to get me.”
“You don’t believe that. Do you?” Defending any male was a new experience, especially one in law enforcement, but taking up for Matt came easy.
“He thinks I killed Julia.” His words tumbled out, desperate sounding. His hazel eyes clouded over with grief. “Didn’t come right out and accuse me, but he sent Jake out to Marty’s. Pumped her with all kinds of questions.”
“JC.” Catherine placed her hand on his arm. If she understood anything, it was how being falsely accused of something could hurt. “Marty knows you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“You don’t think I could.” He raised his head and managed a weak smile. “Do you?” His sad eyes made her wonder if he had any friends he could count on. The kind who stood by him.
“Of course not. And I’m sure Matt...Sheriff Ballard...will clear things up.” She wanted to give him hope but couldn’t find the right words. She cut their visit short. Susan was waiting for the supplies.
Catherine drove away thinking about the cost of car repairs. For the last month, she’d spent only the bare minimum, slowly building her stash of moving money. Her heart sank. Moving money. Her insides pitched and rolled. What if Matt got curious about her past? With a push of the button, he had access to her entire life. If he looked, she’d leave Butte Crest sooner than she’d planned. She’d known all along that day would come. The more she learned about Matt’s belief in trust and truth, the more she believed the time to share her secret with him had come and gone. Maybe it would be best if she left before he got too nosy.
Leaving Matt behind would be hard. Her heart grew heavy at the thought.
He’d stayed over Monday night after they’d made love. She’d cried out when stars exploded behind her eyes, gathered those stars in her heart when he came, pulsing and throbbing inside her. Hearts pounding, bodies glistening with sweat, they’d collapsed in each other’s embrace. He’d snuggled her into his arms, covered them with a sheet, and she’d slept with her head next to his solid chest. She woke the next morning to strong hands caressing her.
Sex with Matt had been beyond all her wildest dreams. She’d never known such cataclysmic orgasms. He’d put her needs first, nurtured her, and helped reawaken her sexuality.
Chill bumps ran over her body, a phenomenon in the middle of such a record heat wave. She allowed herself a satisfied smile. A lot had been accomplished in one night with Matt. For one thing, she’d grown to love the nickname Cat.
She smiled, as usual, when The Final Touch Funeral Home sign came into view. Enough with the daydreams. Matt was not looking for a wife, and she wasn’t looking for a permanent home. Time to snap out of the sex-induced haze and control her emotions. They weren’t star-crossed lovers destined to meet and fulfill each other’s dreams. She and Matt were two adults who enjoyed spending time with each other. Exactly as Marty described.
Susan answered the buzzer at the rear door and helped unload the supplies. “I’ll give you a
key if you want to park back here all the time. Your car will be in the afternoon shade.”
Catherine considered the offer and weighed the heat against walking through the back of the funeral home twice a day. Today was her first time to get close to the embalming room. “I don’t know. Mr. Abbott doesn’t come in my area, and I stay out of his.”
“Puleese.” Susan’s disdain made for an interesting pronunciation of the word. “Steve stopped coming up front because of you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“He’d walk in the room, and you’d run like he was some flesh-eating zombie. The man’s already a loner. Since you’ve been here he’s gotten worse.”
“You gotta admit he’s creepy.” Catherine stacked the last box on the two-wheeled cart. “Was I that obvious?
“Yes. Steve is like family. He and my husband worked together for years.”
“In that case, I apologize. I’ll park back here and try harder to get to know Steve.”
The front door buzzer rang, putting an end to the conversation. Susan always locked up when no one was at the receptionist’s desk.
“You go. I’ll pull the cart up front.” Susan grabbed the handles and deftly rolled the heavy load of supplies up the ramp. “If it’s a customer, seat them in my office.”
Catherine hurried when the impatient visitor hit the buzzer again. Peering through the glass door, the mailman had his finger poised when Catherine flipped the lock. He pushed the door open then passed her a couple of envelopes and a small box.
“Thanks. I’m running behind today.” He turned and jogged back to his Jeep.
Catherine glanced at the package. She tossed the mail on a table and ran into the parking lot waving the box in the air. “Wait,” she yelled. “Where did you get this?”
“It was there on the steps when I drove up.” He waved and drove off.
Catherine stood staring at the street. The package had her name printed on it. The urge to throw the damn thing or to stomp it to smithereens was overwhelming. Scanning the horizon, she looked for anyone watching.
“Damn you,” she exploded. “Come face me.” Who was doing this? Did he hide and watch? Hope for some kind of reaction? Her heart rate shot up, a rocket climbing into the stratosphere. Fury blurred her vision, darkness swirled and closed in, a nightmare she wanted to wake up from but couldn’t.
A cool hand touched her arm. She dropped the box, screamed, and whirled around. She delivered a blow to the chest with the heel of her hand.
Steve Abbott stumbled backward, his eyes and mouth open wide. His arms flailed like windmill blades for balance.
Susan rushed down the steps and got between them. “What happened?” Her gaze swung from Catherine, crouched and ready to strike again, to Steve who clutched his chest, his face distorted in fear. When he’d gathered his feet under him, he stared at her as if she were crazy.
“She hit me.” Steve’s lips thinned and his pale face went paler than usual. “She was out here yelling at the sky. I ran out to see what was wrong.” Steve glared at Catherine, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned away. “I won’t do it again.”
“Wait. Please.” Catherine took a tentative step in his direction. God, could things get any worse?
“I’ll be in the back if you need me.” Steve kept his gaze and comment directed at Susan.
“Steve, I’m sorry.” Catherine found herself talking to his back while he went inside.
“You’re acting crazy. Are you ill?” Susan put her hand on Catherine’s forehead.
“I’m upset, frightened, furious, all of those things. He startled me.” Catherine retrieved the box, following Susan to her office. “This wasn’t mailed. My name’s hand printed on the top.”
“Your stalker left this?” Susan’s face paled.
“On the front steps. Sneaky bastard must’ve dropped it off while we were in the back.” Catherine’s efforts to sound unafraid and flippant came out flat. She stopped. “God, I must sound insane.” She plopped the small package on the desk and dusted her hands.
“You’re a wreck. I’m calling the sheriff.”
“I’m mad as hell and scared of my own shadow, but I’m not a wreck.”
Susan pushed Catherine into a side room and onto a beige leather couch. “Sit. Rest. Humor me.”
Catherine sat alone in the small area used for family privacy. Whoever left the box had a lot of nerve to deliver it in broad daylight. Who was playing games at her expense? A memory slipped past her guard and an old fear clawed its way to the surface. Being afraid of the dark, afraid to walk to her car in a parking lot, afraid to go to sleep for fear of waking to find a hand on her throat—all those past remembrances sent her heart pounding painfully against her chest. Not again. She lowered her head and closed her eyes.
The wave of pain in her heart was crushing. Time to move on had arrived faster than she wanted. She’d allowed herself to believe she’d found a place to rest for a while. Perhaps it wasn’t to be.
****
Thursday, August 24th, noon
For a second time, Matt found himself racing across town, fear eating at his insides, while he pushed the cruiser’s speed as high as he dared. Even though Susan had assured him Catherine was okay, he needed to see for himself. He slid into a parking spot and bounded up the steps to the funeral home. Susan met him at the door.
“Catherine?”
“She’s in the family room.” Susan pointed down the hall.
Matt didn’t hesitate. In three strides, he’d opened the door and found Catherine looking like a lost child. He knelt in front of her, pulling her into his arms.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispered into his chest.
“Trust me. I’ll be there when you need me.” Matt leaned back, cupping her face with his hand. “You all right?”
“I’m not as fragile as you might think.”
The tremble he heard in her voice spread to a full body shiver. He covered her mouth with his. A warm, you’re-all-right-now kiss. He stroked her back until she settled.
“I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t and he knew it. He buried his face in her hair, his mind a jumble of anger and fear. He wanted her stalker in his grasp so badly his palms burned.
“Well, I’m not. When were you planning on telling me the rest?” Matt reached back and closed the door, never taking his gaze off Catherine.
Her eyes widened. She stared at him. Dammit. He saw fear.
“The rest?”
“What’s this about a fourth package? My count is three, unless you kept one from me. Did you?” He swallowed, needing to temper his cop’s voice, because her back had stiffened at his tone.
“So what if I did? There’s nothing you can do. How do you catch an invisible man? Stake out my home? My job? Assign a deputy to follow me around? No? Then what difference does it make?”
“The difference is keeping secrets.” He held a finger up to silence her protest. “I understand you can’t or won’t talk to me about certain parts of your life. But in this case keeping quiet is dangerous.” He ran that same finger down her jaw, trying to relax her. “I thought we’d established you could trust me. Secrets can ruin a relationship. Bury it alive. And if I have to explain...we haven’t connected like I thought we had.”
He sat back on his heels and waited. A myriad of emotions played across her face.
“There’s something I need to...”
A knock on the door ended their conversation. Susan stuck her head inside.
“I come bearing food and drink.”
“By all means, come in,” Catherine said.
“Where’s the box?” Matt couldn’t work up any interest in food.
“On Susan’s desk.”
“Let’s take a look.”
He wrapped his arm around Catherine’s waist, pleased that she leaned against him as they followed Susan down the hall to the main office.
“There.” Catherine pointed. “The mailman’s and my fingerprints
are on it.”
“Anyone else touch it?” His gaze landed on Susan.
“Give me a little credit,” she said, setting down the tray of coffee and cookies. “I watch Criminal Minds.” She stopped at the door on her way out. “Take all the time you need. I’d better check on Steve.”
Matt’s eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong with Steve?”
****
“I sort of hit him.” Catherine’s mind replayed the surprised and angry look on Steve’s face.
“Sort of? As in you struck him?” Matt’s blue eyes shaded with confusion. His hand went to his temple and pressed.
“Do you have a headache?” Catherine tasted a cookie. Vanilla and almond flooded the inside of her mouth. All of a sudden, she was starving.
“Don’t change the subject. Did Steve provoke you?”
“No. He surprised me, and I tapped him on his chest. Scared both of us.”
“Tapped him? I’d hate for him to file assault charges.” Matt carefully removed the paper and box lid. With a low growl, he lay out a pair of pink lace panties and a picture of a tattoo of a woman’s lips.
“This is sick and getting sicker by the minute.” Catherine’s appetite vanished, and she tossed the unfinished cookie in the trash. “He’s sending me a message, isn’t he?”
“This is his way of being intimate,” Matt answered.
His statement hit her with the force of a right cross. Beginning now, she’d look at every man she met with questioning eyes. Until this stopped, she’d have no peace. Her efforts at not giving this stalker the upper hand slipped away. Chills raced up her arms. She paced, scrubbing at the goose bumps with her fingertips.
“I’ve read stories where these weirdo’s get more and more aggressive. Then they turn violent. Is this where he’s headed? Maybe it’s time I packed up and moved on.”
The words had popped out of her mouth. Instantly, she wanted to erase them. That she’d slipped back into her old behavior of running when things got the least bit sticky, surprised her.
The air left the room in a whoosh, silence roared in her ears. She felt his gaze, hot on her skin. Not one sound was made. She used to pretend she was invisible, now she wished for the ability in earnest. It was too late to salvage the moment.
The Green-Eyed Doll Page 14