“Okay.” She sighed tremulously.
“Get some sleep, Ann. And if you think of anything, remember anything at all that might be important, call me.”
“I knew Gloria would have what we needed,” Rosemary said as she entered the room carrying a litter box. “I’ll just put it here in your bathroom.” She disappeared into the small, adjoining bathroom; then returned a moment later. “Gloria also gave me several cans of food, so this baby is all set.” She petted Twilight. “He looks like a noble warrior of life, wounded, but still with plenty of spirit.”
Ann smiled. “Yes, that’s what I’ve always thought.”
Rosemary gave Twilight a final scratch, then moved to the doorway. “What you need dear, is a good night’s sleep. Clay, no more questions for tonight. Let her rest.”
Clay nodded. “Good night Ann. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Together mother and son left the room, closing the door behind them. For a moment Ann fought an impulse to run after them, not wanting to be left alone, afraid of where her thoughts would carry her.
She changed into her nightgown and got into bed. She didn’t turn out the overhead light, didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Closing her eyes, she thought once again of Tina.
The killer had sneaked up behind her, assuming Tina was Ann. “Who wants me dead?” she asked softly. What had she done to warrant such hatred?
If she had the answers at all, they were trapped in the swirling mists of her forgotten youth. Sooner or later she was going to have to plumb those dark depths of the past.
The thought terrified her.
By the time Clay got back to Ann’s house, most of the other cops had left and Tina Mathews’s body had been removed. He found Raymond at the kitchen table, taking notes and sipping coffee from a foam cup. He looked up as Clay sat down in the chair next to him, a frown furrowing his broad brow.
“I can tell you how he got in. I can tell you what the murder weapon was, but I can’t tell you another damn thing. This guy is too good to be true. No fingerprints, no trace evidence, not a single clue that’s been found so far.”
“How did he get in?” Clay asked.
“Spare bedroom window. He cut out just enough screen and glass to be able to unlock it, open it and crawl in.” He took a sip of his coffee, then continued. “I’ve got guys out canvassing the neighborhood, but so far nobody saw or heard anything.”
“I feel like we’re chasing a ghost,” Clay said.
“It wasn’t Casper who snuck in here and used a baseball bat on that poor woman. We’ve got a sick bastard out there, and I hope you don’t intend to interfere with the investigation.”
Clay looked at his friend sharply. “Since when do you worry about me interfering with an investigation?”
“Since you’re sleeping with one of the material witnesses. You are sleeping with her, aren’t you?”
Heat rushed over Clay’s face. “She isn’t a material witness, she’s a victim.” Clay intentionally didn’t answer the question.
“Still, you were out of line pulling her out of here. I might have been able to break her.”
“You were going to break her all right, and drive her right into shock where she couldn’t be any help to anyone.” Clay leaned back in his chair, thinking of what Raymond accused him of. Had he hurried Ann out of here because of his personal relationship with her? No. He would have reacted to any victim in the same way.
He leaned toward Raymond once again. “You were pushing too hard, buddy. You were treating her like a perpetrator, not a victim. She’d just found a dead body in her kitchen. You remember the way you felt when you saw your first dead body?”
Raymond sighed and raked a hand through his thinning hair. “You’re right,” he finally said grudgingly. “I was pushing too hard. But I can’t help it. I’ve got the feeling she knows more than she’s telling. I don’t know, maybe she’s protecting somebody.”
“But who?”
“I don’t know, an old boyfriend, a former student.”
Raymond paused a moment to take another sip of his coffee. He put the cup back on the table and massaged his brow thoughtfully. “I just get the feeling the lady is hiding something. My instincts say she’s got secrets that she’s not telling.”
Unease stirred inside Clay. He’d thought the same thing, had seen the whisper of secrets in the depths of her eyes. What were those secrets and did they hold the answers to what was happening now?
They were at Ann’s house for several more hours, then finally left it with crime tape flapping in the early morning breeze.
Clay’s eyes were gritty with lack of sleep as he drove home. Although he was exhausted, his mind still raced with questions. Who was this madman? What was his relationship to Ann?
Ann. Thoughts of her swirled in his head. The sweet taste of her lips, the warmth and beauty of her skin, the passion she’d exhibited when making love...all these things had indelibly marked his heart.
He’d spent the past week since making love to her attempting to gain some distance, keeping his contact with her brief and public. In four weeks he’d be gone and Ann would only be a pleasant memory. But before he left the department, before he even contemplated his own future, he needed to make certain Ann’s future was guaranteed to be free of the monster who threatened her.
He’d killed the wrong woman and now Ann had moved out of her house. He parked down the street, close enough to see the yellow tape that crossed her front door. The early morning sun peeked over the treetops and sent out shafts of light that reflected off her windows.
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, thinking of that moment when he’d realized the woman in the kitchen wasn’t Ann. Of course, by then it had been too late. He’d already plowed her in the back of the head.
It had been a stupid mistake on his part. An instance of blood lust overcoming rationality. He should have known Ann wouldn’t be home in the middle of the day. He knew her schedule backward and forward.
He’d come to her house to leave a note, post a message, but instead he’d peeked in the window and saw the blond in the kitchen and all rational thought had fled beneath the fury of his need for final revenge.
Now Ann was gone.
He released his grip on the steering wheel and put the van into drive. It wouldn’t do for him to be seen lingering in the area. Besides, he had work to do.
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d find her once again. Wherever she hid, whatever hole she’d crawled into, he’d find her. He knew the answer to her whereabouts rested with the cop. Clay Clinton.
He smiled. It was just a matter of time. He’d find her and when he did she would get no more second chances.
Chapter 12
“I’ve made us a nice cup of tea,” Rosemary said as she came into the living room where Ann was curled up on the sofa reading a magazine article.
“That sounds wonderful.” Ann smiled affectionately at the older woman and stood up to follow her into the kitchen. In the last three days it had become a habit to share a cup of tea every afternoon before Rosemary started cooking dinner.
She slid into a chair at the table. “Clay told me you always gave him hot tea when he was sick and now he refuses to drink it.”
Rosemary laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. “I only remember giving him hot tea once and if my memory serves me right, it was heavily laced with honey and he loved it.” Rosemary shook her head ruefully. “I guess we all have a tendency to rewrite our childhoods in some way or another.”
Ann didn’t say anything. How she wished she’d had the ability to rewrite hers. She’d opted for forgetting as much of it as possible instead.
“You like my son,” Rosemary said.
“Yes, I do.” Ann smiled. “You must be very proud of him. He’s a good man.”
“Ah, I’d like to wring his neck, knock some sense into him. This plan of his, this retirement dream, is crazy. Sheer nonsense. But, children rarely listen to their mothers.
” She eyed Ann slyly. “However, he might listen to you.”
“Oh, no.” Ann held up her hand in protest. “You aren’t going to get me involved in this.”
“But you’re already involved, aren’t you?” Rosemary’s eyes held the wisdom of age, the cognizance of human emotion.
Ann shifted positions, uncomfortable beneath Rosemary’s scrutiny. “I can’t pretend that I don’t care about Clay, but I also know he has to follow his heart, and his heart is set on leaving the police department to live a life that I can’t live.”
Rosemary squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea. “I’d hoped Clay would find a nice woman, settle down and have some children. That had been his dream until his father died, then everything changed for Clay.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what happened then, but that’s when he developed this harebrained retirement plan.”
“But if it’s what will make him happy...”
“What worries me is not so much that Clay wants to go to Hawaii and live a hand-to-mouth existence. I know my son. He’ll tire of that soon enough and will find something else exciting and profitable to do with his time.”
Rosemary paused to sip her tea. “What bothers me is his choice to remain unattached. I worry about him one day waking up old and lonely.” Her eyes twinkled once again. “Oh, I know, you’re thinking I’m old and alone, but I’m lucky. I have memories of a wonderful love to fill the lonely hours of my life. I want my son to experience that same kind of love.” She frowned wryly. “Listen to me, I sound like a meddling old woman.”
Ann reached over and touched her hand. “No, you sound like a loving, caring mother.”
“What about your mother, Ann?”
“She’s gone. She died when I was fifteen.”
“Oh, honey, that’s so sad. Who raised you?”
“I raised myself.” Ann leaned back in her chair, remembering the day her mother died, the curious absence of grief that had haunted her ever since. “We had no family, no friends, nobody to even tell social services I existed.”
“But how did you live?”
“I got lucky. I got a job at a family-owned pizza place. The owner, Mr. Carsetti, never asked me what my situation was or how old I was, and I never offered the information.” She faltered, wondering if she was sharing too much, but Rosemary’s eyes urged her on.
“Mr. Carsetti gave me a job and let me sleep in the back room. I went to school during the days and worked at night. I was lucky enough to get a scholarship to college. Finished my degree and here I am.” Ann blushed, realizing she’d said far too much. But the brief time she’d spent with Rosemary had made her feel comfortable with the older woman.
“I don’t think luck had anything to do with any of it,” Rosemary said. “Strength and courage...that’s what got you here.” Rosemary stood and pulled Ann up from her chair. “I think you need a good hug,” she said as she wrapped Ann in a loving embrace. Ann closed her eyes, breathing in the older woman’s sweet lavender scent, enjoying the maternal feel of the arms that surrounded her. “Your mother would have been very proud of you,” she said softly.
Tears burned at Ann’s eyes, tears for the little girl she had been who’d never known the warmth of a maternal embrace, and tears because she knew Rosemary was wrong. Her mother wouldn’t have been proud. Her mother wouldn’t have cared.
“No matter what my knuckleheaded son does, when this mess of yours is over and he’s gone to his paradise, you and I will remain friends, right?” She released Ann as the telephone rang. “Sit, drink your tea before it gets cold,” she exclaimed as she hurried to pick up the phone.
Ann sank back down, her heart still warmed with the physical pleasure of Rosemary’s hug. She stirred her tea and sipped it, half listening to Rosemary’s end of the conversation.
“I’m sony...I don’t understand. Who told you this?” Rosemary’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. “Well, there’s been some sort of mistake. No, nobody here.”
She hung up the phone and returned to her chair at the table. “That was odd.”
“What?” Ann looked at her curiously.
“That was Barrows Funeral Home. Somebody called them and told them somebody here will be needing their assistance in the very near future, that someone in the household doesn’t have long to live.”
Ann’s throat closed up as icy fingers walked up and down her spine. A roar resounded in her ears as her blood rushed both hot and cold within her. “It’s him,” she said. Her cup rattled against the saucer as she set it down. “He knows I’m here.”
She stood, fear pressing against her chest, making it difficult to breathe, more difficult to think. She had to do something...go somewhere. “I...I’ve got to leave here.” She started blindly for the door.
“Ann, wait.” Rosemary approached her. “Honey, it’s probably just a crazy mistake. They transposed the numbers or something.” She followed Ann through the living room. “Come back and drink your tea.”
“It’s no mistake. He knows I’m here. He’s toying with me.” Ann went into the bedroom and pulled her suitcase out of the closet. Opening it in the center of the bed, she tried to keep her mind on the matters at hand, tried to shove away the fear that gnawed at her insides. If she allowed the fear to take hold, she’d be paralyzed, unable to make a single move. And she had to move...for her sake, but most importantly for Rosemary’s sake.
“I’m calling Clay,” Rosemary said and hurried out of Ann’s room.
What kind of a monster was this man? Ann thought as she methodically folded her clothes into the suitcase. What kind of a mind did it require to think about having a funeral home call to taunt his next intended victim? Sick and evil.
She frowned, realizing her hands weren’t working right, were shaking too hard to neatly fold her clothes. She laced her fingers together and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to try to regain control.
Control. There had been a time she’d thought she had it. She’d overcome so many things to finally establish herself, her life, and now in the blink of an eye it had all been destroyed.
The home she’d worked so hard to build was no longer a safe haven. She wouldn’t be able to live there anymore. Never again would she be able to walk into the kitchen and not see the horrifying vision of Tina’s lifeless body.
She sank down on edge of the bed, hands still tightly linked together. She should have known. She should have known it was all too good to be true.
By all rights she should never have survived her childhood. It was as if fate had allowed her to endure solely for some perverse amusement. She’d survived, had begun to build a good life, and now it was all being stripped away piece by piece.
She’d cheated death years ago, and now it had come looking for her. She got up, a sense of urgency burning inside her. Finish packing and get out of here, a voice screamed inside her head.
“Ann.”
She jumped and whirled around to see Clay standing in the doorway. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she snapped, then turned back to her task.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.”
“Why? Where do you intend to go?”
Ann smoothed a wrinkle from a blouse and added it to the pile of clothing in the suitcase. “I don’t know where I’ll go. I just know I can’t stay here.”
“Ann, stop for a minute. You’re not thinking straight.” He attempted to take her hands in his.
She pushed away from him. “You’re right, I’m probably not thinking straight. All I know is that he knows I’m here. Clay. Somehow, someway he’s found me.”
“Ann, there’s no reason to run.”
“There’s every reason to run,” she said, her voice raised with an edge of hysteria. “I’ve already got one death on my conscience.” She drew in a deep breath, then sank down on the edge of the bed and looked at Clay. “In the middle of last night, your mother crept into my room to put a blanket on me. She was afraid I’d be cold before morning.”
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She averted her gaze from him, unwilling to tell him how deeply his mother’s simple action had touched her. Somebody who’d had that kind of caring all their life would never be able to understand the deep, aching hole the absence of such love created.
“Ann, my mother is a strong woman. She knows what’s going on. Besides, there’s no way I’d let anyone harm you or her.”
“Like you didn’t allow anyone to harm Tina?” She sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
She stood once again and resumed her packing. “This man wants to destroy my life, take away everything I care about. He’d kill your mother and not blink an eye if he thought her death would hurt me. I can’t take the chance, Clay. Not with your mother. She’s been too kind to me. I couldn’t live with myself if something happens to her.”
This time it was Clay’s turn to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t exactly get upset with you for wanting to protect my mother.” She nodded and closed the suitcase. “Okay.” He stood up and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you to my place.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I thought I’d go to a hotel.”
Clay shrugged. “If that’s what you want. But this guy is good, Ann. He found you here and there’s no reason to think he won’t find you in some hotel. At least at my place he’ll have to come through me.”
Ann hesitated. She didn’t know what to do, what was best. “I don’t know...I don’t know what to do.”
“Ann, stay with me. It’s the smartest thing to do.”
“Okay.” The moment she agreed, Ann felt an overwhelming sense of peace coupled with a distressing sense of dread.
She knew she was falling in love with Clay and spending any more time with him would simply nurture the emotion already taking seed. He’d be gone in four weeks, out of the mainland, out of her life. Still, the thought of staying in a strange hotel room alone terrified her. She was grateful to be going home with him, but somehow, she had the feeling that in assuring her physical safety, she was about to sacrifice her heart.
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