Body of Evidence

by Stella Cameron

  “Meanin’?”

  She shook her head, but blushed. “Meanin’ I have a rule about the way I live my life. I don’t give in to fear. Now, let’s have coffee.”

  Finn put his gun away. He smiled at her while he cursed himself for winding her up. “Coffee sounds good.” Emma wanted him around because she was scared, and that wasn’t what he had in mind.

  “C’mon, the kitchen is my favorite room in the house. The air-conditionin’ keeps things comfortable, doesn’t it?”

  “Surely does.” As they had walked through, the whole house had surprised him. Though furnished with antiques, there was nothing rustic about the place. Paintings on the walls hadn’t been picked up in garage sales, and the furniture must be worth a chunk of change. Good rugs lay on gleaming oak floors. “Your folks have a beautiful home. I’m not sure I’d want to leave all this unattended.”

  “I come up here all the time,” Emma said, walking into a kitchen that matched the rest of the house. A cherry table polished by long use stood in a window alcove. She drew down Austrian lace blinds and waved him to a chair. “Be comfortable. We could even do some of that catchin’ up we talked about this afternoon.”

  He didn’t miss her little frown as she must be remembering Denise Steen again. But he was relaxing with the idea of hanging around with her as long as he could. “You do have curly hair,” he said, slapping his forehead. “That’s what must have thrown me off track. You used to have curly hair, but it was straight today.”

  “I usually…you don’t want dumb details about ironing hair. I make it straight, but I left in a hurry tonight and didn’t take the time. It must be a mess.”

  “I like it. I used to stare at it in the cafeteria at school. Why would you take the curl out?” He raised his palms. “None of my business. I expect it’s a style thing.”

  “Orville likes it smooth,” she said, scooping coffee.

  Ouch. “You didn’t migrate far from Pointe Judah,” he said. “Did you decide to quit school because you missed the place?”

  “Not really. I dropped out to get married, and Orville was already building a house here.”

  “I should have stuck closer to home,” he said. “I bought into the theory that you couldn’t succeed unless you went to the best schools and the brightest cities.”

  “You don’t think that anymore?” She moved about rapidly. The coffee was brewing, and she unpacked a few things from a grocery sack.

  “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll give the idea some time before I decide.”

  “Stayin’ here seemed the thing for me.”

  “Does it still?” Every answer gave away a little more.

  Emma glanced ahead as if seeing nothing. “I’m married….”

  She almost said more but stopped herself. Talking to Finn was very easy, too easy. Emma opened a white box from Sadie and Sam’s, put the contents on a large platter and placed it on the table. Plates, coffee mugs, silverware and napkins followed.

  Smiling slightly, Finn was counting the pastries. “Ten,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you sure you’ve got enough to last you?”

  “This was from before I decided runnin’ would be a better way to deal with bein’ angry. It’s a reaction I have. I get upset, I buy food.” She leaned on the table, supporting her weight on spread fingers. “I end up givin’ a lot away, so don’t go thinkin’ I intended to sit up all night, watchin’ TV and hoggin’ all of those.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, holding a serious expression. “No, ma’am, I never would think that.”

  “Drink your coffee.”

  He cleared his throat. “You sure you can spare one of these belly broadeners?”

  “From what I’m told, it’s not my belly that broadens.” Emma reddened and added, “Whatever I have is yours.”

  Finn blinked several times before settling his eyes on her face. He took too long to turn up the corners of his mouth, and when he did, she didn’t fool herself she was seeing a genuine smile. The look probed and returned to her mouth. Her own breathing became shallow, and she deliberately took a deep breath. Then his attention went to her breasts as they rose.

  He might feel responsible for her, as he said he did, but he was far from unaware of her as a woman.

  Even thinking about this was wrong when she wasn’t free.

  “You have a sweet tooth,” he said without looking at the platter again. “Cinnamon rolls, donuts with every evil fillin’ known to man.”

  “It’s comfort food,” she told him. “Sometimes you just want somethin’ because it sounds good. It sounds as if you’ll feel better if you have it. At times like that the sensible…person, indulges and then doesn’t waste time with guilt.”

  “You were goin’ to say sensible woman.” He gave a genuine grin. “Good recovery. But for what it’s worth, I subscribe to that notion, and I bet a whole heap of other men do, too. I’d like to see my sister, Eileen, belong to something like Secrets. She doesn’t have the ego of a fly some of the time. It would do her good to be with other women.”

  The same women had been together for a long time, but Emma didn’t see why they shouldn’t open their arms to someone new. “I’ll mention Eileen. Maybe she can come and see if she likes it.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Emma, who said a shapely woman like you was broadenin’ anywhere? Not that it would matter if you did.”

  How could a woman not feel real warm around Finn?

  “I was just jokin’,” she told him. It wasn’t a terrible lie.

  He reached for a cinnamon roll. “Ah-ah,” Emma said. She tapped the back of his hand and he chuckled. “That’s for after.”

  He didn’t ask, “After what?” but crossed his arms and waited while she produced a frying pan and started working away, her cheeks growing pink.

  She poured coffee for each of them and took her own mug back to the stove. Within minutes she slid a soft, floury bun onto his plate, then a second, and put one on her own. “Dig in,” she said. “I’m starving, and you have to be, too.”

  “Salmon burgers with cheese?” he said, closing his eyes and savoring the fragrant thing. “My, you can cook for me anytime, cher.” You could call a puppy cher, or the woman who waited on you in a store, so there was no harm in him saying it to Emma. He opened his eyes, ready to take another bite, and saw how she looked at him. Aw, hell, he never called anyone cher anymore, and she knew it had meant he felt good—and familiar—just being with her.

  The coffee took his breath away, and he finished the burgers too soon.

  Emma looked impish. She took the plate away, placed another in front of him and put a huge cinnamon roll in the middle. She poured more coffee, put the dirty plates in the sink and returned to survey the sweet goodies on the platter while she held the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

  He wanted to touch her.

  She nibbled all around the outside of a doughnut covered with whipped cream and sprinkles, reminding him of the way some folks ate corn. Cream stuck to her top lip.

  Finn ran his tongue along his teeth. He wanted to lick that cream off for her.

  “What’s that?” She took his right hand and flattened it on the table, then she took her bottom out of the chair so she could lean over and peer at the still-discolored scar at the very base of his wrist.

  She looked up at him, her face close to his. Her fine skin shone slightly, and he noticed how delicate her brows were, how long her lashes. He didn’t resist when she turned the hand over but wished he had when she covered her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears, and he was helpless to know what to do or say.

  “It went all the way through,” she said. “Someone drove a knife all the way through. Did they use it to hold you down?”

  “You’re perceptive,” he told her. “Only it was a metal spike, not a knife. But I was real lucky. A good surgeon put it back together again, and it’s as good as new.”

  “It’s horrible,” she whispered. “Who did it?”

  “It’s all over. Th
anks for being concerned.”

  “Were you always left-handed?”

  The lady didn’t give up. “I am now. Ambidextrous once the wound really healed, so I guess I owe someone a thank-you.”

  “Finn, I need to apologize.” She rested her fingers lightly on the inside of his scarred wrist. “I’m pretty isolated most of the time. I don’t get into town much, and people don’t talk as freely to the mayor’s wife as they could. I’d known your father was shot to death. It just didn’t come to mind at once.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Thoughts of the way Tom Duhon had died never completely left Finn. “My mother and sister had it the worst. I was overseas.”

  “Your mother was dyin’ and she didn’t last long after your dad.” Emma held his wrist, and the feathery touch of her fingertips caused his gut to tighten. “My folks were pretty shaken up about it. And it was bad for you, too. I can tell you’ve got deep feelings about your dad, about both your folks. And you aren’t over it.”

  “I am,” he lied. “Some tell me I’m an intense guy, so I probably always seem distant.”

  “No, you don’t. But I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Thanks. Hold still.” He leaned across the table and flipped the spot of cream carefully from her lip. “You really get into your goodies,” he said, showing her the cream…before he sucked it off his finger.

  If he knew how she felt about his finger on her mouth, that the sight of him sucking that finger sent her tummy flipping…he would probably laugh. Emma felt hot and figured she would be blushing about now.

  He had no way of knowing what she felt. Certainly the idea of her swallowing her heart, or feeling like she had, would make no sense to him at all.

  Apparently they had run out of things to say. Finn looked at his plate, and picked up crumbs and abandoned raisins to pop into his mouth. The kind of mouth that held her attention. If he had cream on his lips, and she wished he did, she could make a joke of flipping it off and putting it in her own mouth. She could. But she would be too shy to do it.

  A raisin had fallen under the rim of Finn’s plate.

  Emma breathed in deeply through her mouth, and he glanced at her. She had made a sighing sound. Smiling, she hooked out the raisin. “You missed one,” she said, offering it to him.

  His smile stopped her from breathing at all. He rested his weight on his forearms and stretched forward until he could take the raisin between his teeth. And when she made herself look at his eyes, she might have laughed if she hadn’t felt like an overwound clock. The devil looked back at Emma and beguiled goose bumps into popping out on her arms and legs, or did he scare them out?

  Dangerous waters, Finn thought. Warm waters.

  And he felt as much as saw Emma close down. She slid to the back of her chair. The smile was gone as if it had never existed, and pink blossomed along her cheekbones.

  Time to quit being selfish and give her a graceful out, not that he would be forgetting how she’d reacted to him any time soon.

  “Whoa,” he said, showing his wristwatch as if she could see it. “This has been one strange day. It’s after two. Time got away from me.” He stood up. “I’d better check to see if I’ve got company tonight.”

  Well, hell, now why did that sound as if he was expecting a call girl?

  Emma got up, too, and everything about her said she had a vision of women waiting in his bed. “Frosty” covered it.

  “My nephew, Aaron, shows up at my place sometimes,” he said in a hurry. “He’s Eileen’s boy. I’ve been home for less than two weeks, but for some reason he thinks I understand him better than anyone else does. I like the kid, he’s a good boy, and he’ll surprise anyone who thinks…” It was definitely time to get out of here before he totally sank himself.

  “Orville says a lot of things he shouldn’t,” Emma said. “It’s a habit he needs to break. As far as I know, he’s never crossed paths with your Aaron, so any impressions he has are what you said they were in Billy’s office, hearsay. But I apologize for the offence.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. And I shouldn’t get bent out of shape by a casual comment, anyway.” He picked up his mug and plate, using the interval to search for a way out of the tension he’d caused.

  “No, no,” Emma said. She took the dishes out of his hands, stacked them with her own and put them on a counter near the sink. “You are my guest, and guests don’t do dishes. I’m so grateful to you for carin’ enough to come and check up on me.”

  Hoo Mama, and thank you Madam Luck for thawing out this sweet thing.

  “It would be hard not to care what happens to you, Emma. You are a good woman, and it shows.” Now get out of here. “Good night to you. I’m goin’ to leave my cell and home numbers. Call anytime if you need somethin’, includin’ an interested ear to listen.” He gave her one of his new cards.

  “Thank you,” Emma said. “Wait a moment. I can’t eat all of these, and I’ll bet your nephew could help me out. Keep them cool.” She put all but one of the pastries back into their box and handed it to Finn. “Maybe he’ll share with his uncle.” Her smile returned, and he relaxed a little.

  Outside and walking back to his car, Finn ran over the good and the bad moments during his time with Emma. They hadn’t done any catching up on the town. Also, they had almost steered clear of the murder, but he wasn’t sure why.

  He wanted to find out about the autopsy reports and figured Billy could be persuaded to get moderately loose-lipped. Even now, the search for clues was on out there. The location where the body had been found would be taped off, but the crime scene would also have been triangulated by now to cover a much larger area of potential interest. His father would have been up all night with a case like this one, crawling home at dawn, still making notes, thinking, pacing around the house.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Emma leaning against the doorjamb. She was seeing him off. How long had it been since a woman had done that? He turned and walked backward, raised a hand, and chided himself for being all kinds of a fool.

  A smart man avoided getting involved with a woman who was off-limits.

  Finn reached the truck. Emma gave a last wave and went inside the house.

  He got in quickly and drove away, repeatedly looking back at the Balou house until he couldn’t see it anymore. Leaving her there alone made him uneasy, more than uneasy, but he had no right to hang around.

  Half a mile down the road, he pulled over and switched off the engine. Would she use the numbers he’d left if she needed help? How could he know? But one woman had met a gruesome death in this town, and the killer was still out there. Emma and Finn had found the body and had to be on the radar scope of that maniac.

  Finn felt no fear for himself; he was intimately acquainted with violence and had the skills to defend himself. But Emma would be no match for an attacker, and he didn’t fool himself that Denise Steen’s murderer was the only danger she faced. Maybe the thought of Orville Lachance as another threat to Emma gave Finn some sort of excuse for keeping tabs on her. Yeah, he would confess that to himself. Especially because from what he’d already witnessed of the man, and the snippets he’d heard from Billy, there had to be a lot he didn’t know about the town’s mayor.

  Slowly, he turned the engine on again and made a U-turn. He found a spot where he could see the Balou house and parked. Billy had told the truth when he had said Finn had a second sense when it came to danger. It was working hard right now, and he would be only steps behind Emma Lachance until he could be certain she was okay. To hell with the kind of grief that was likely to send his way.

  6

  If this didn’t beat everything. Here she was, shaken to her toes even if she had told Finn otherwise, and with a case on the man she’d been reacquainted with for less than twenty-four hours, not that she’d known him well when he left town as a teenager.

  He’d flirted with her. More than flirted—he’d seriously come on to her. And he knew full
well he shouldn’t have. Anymore than she should have encouraged him….

  Emma finished putting up the dishes in the kitchen and considered eating the lone pastry she’d kept for herself but fought off temptation. She smiled again over Finn’s comment about her not broadening anywhere.

  Scratching sounded at the back door, and she couldn’t make herself ignore Teddy, the white curly-haired, part Devon Rex cat who split her time between the garden shed that had a cat door with her name on it and the house. Emma let her in, quickly slammed and locked the door again, and crossed her arms while she watched Teddy stalk to her food and water bowls. Incongruously light, high cries followed. The cat had a habit of opening her mouth until the top of her head all but disappeared, then shocking you with her pathetic mewling.

  Emma scurried around, filling the dishes. Teddy rolled over for a belly scratch, then nipped her benefactor before daintily picking at her food.

  Dragging her feet, Emma went upstairs, pausing each two or three steps to listen. Logic said the house was silent, yet myriad creaks, taps, snaps and faint buzzings shouted in her ears. Almost at the top, she waited with eyes closed and strained to identify any distinct noise that didn’t belong.

  The chorus stopped, and the lack of sound pressed in on her from all sides.

  Her cotton T-shirt stuck to her skin as if she had sweated but turned cold again. Emma shivered. She knew the night was hot, but the air-conditioning should keep the inside temperature comfortable.

  This cold came from her core, not the air around her.

  Pushing ahead once more, Emma walked along the landing outside the bedrooms. The one she still thought of as her own faced the back of the house. She opened the door Finn had closed after checking for lurking maniacs.

  Darn it, for as long as she remembered, joking to herself about things that frightened her had been automatic, a way to pretend she wasn’t anxious.

  Emma folded her arms tightly as she entered the bedroom. Anxious? What a laugh. If she didn’t control herself, she could have hysterics. Or she might if she ever had and knew how.

  She owned a gun, a tiny Beretta Bobcat. She’d learned how to use it but hadn’t taken it with her. Maybe she would in future.