A single thud on the landing whipped her around. Flattened again a wall, she worked her way toward the door, ready to fling it closed.
Teddy trotted into the room and disappeared under the bed. Emma hung her head while the pounding at her temples subsided. She climbed onto her mattress, sat cross-legged and allowed her muscles to relax.
The house had been locked up tightly, and it was hours past time for bed. A nightgown and robe hung in the closet—“just in case,” her mom said when asked why it was always there. Emma collected what she needed and went into the bathroom. She didn’t need another shower.
“That dump,” Orville had called her parents’ home. Doc and Miriam Balou would laugh at that, before Emma’s dad got really mad. He never had warmed up to Orville.
Leaning over the sink in the lemon-colored bathroom she still loved, Emma brushed her teeth until she remembered she needed toothpaste. She patted her chin with a towel and remedied the problem. Her hair did stand out in curls, but she liked it. Finn had liked it, too. Time to go back to curly hair. She groaned at her own behavior and brushed again.
The overhead light in the bedroom went out.
Emma remained bent forward but stared at the bedroom reflection in her wall mirror. The room wasn’t completely dark. It wouldn’t be, as long as the bathroom light was on. The stairwell light, too.
She couldn’t move. Big breaths through her mouth made her more light-headed and didn’t slow the beat of her heart.
A figure walked into her line of sight.
Clutching the edge of the counter, Emma stood where she was, her eyes straining. Her right knee shook so badly it gave out, but she locked the leg, and then she couldn’t move at all.
The man, average in height and not thin, wore a big white Stetson with a wide brim curled high at the sides, tipped way forward, to hide his face. He stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her.
Emma didn’t take her eyes off him. She thought about the things close at hand, searching for anything she might be able to use to defend herself. A toothbrush wouldn’t cut it. Her scissors were in her toiletry case. Scissors with about one-inch blades—useless, even if she could get them and rush the man. Some hope. At last he moved again, raised a hand and offered her a sharp salute with a white-gloved hand. He put the same hand inside his jean jacket, and she braced, expecting a bullet.
He shook his head and produced a fat, doubled-over manilla envelope.
The creep was behaving like a sad mime. And any moment he would be playing to an empty auditorium, because his audience of one had passed out.
Slowly, moving with great care, Emma turned and faced the bedroom and the man. He was all cowboy, from the crown of his hat to the tips of his alligator boots. If he didn’t kill her, she would want to remember everything she could about him.
She couldn’t see his face except for a pointed chin. And she thought his mouth moved as if he were chewing. Could be tobacco.
He held the palm of a leather-gloved hand toward her. The message was clear; she was to stay where she was.
As if she could go anywhere…
He would kill her; she was sure of it.
This was the man who had killed Denise. Had to be, didn’t he? A scream rushed to Emma’s throat.
“Relax.” His croaking whisper shocked her. “I’m your friend. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I’ll keep you safe. Stay away from the new man—he could be dangerous. I’ll deal with him if I have to.” He tossed the envelope on her bed. “Hide it. There’s plenty to keep you warm in there. I’m goin’ to help you get free of the mayor. Don’t tell anyone I was here.”
7
Her cell phone rang at four in the morning. It didn’t wake Emma, because she hadn’t attempted to sleep.
“Yes,” she said into the mouthpiece. Spread before her in a half circle on the bed were banded wads of hundred-dollar bills. She hadn’t counted them.
Orville said, “What the fuck are you tryin’ to do to me, bitch?”
“That’s it,” Emma said. “That’s all I’m taking from you.” She punched off and trembled so badly her teeth chattered.
On top of a pile of money sat Teddy, her big, tufted ears twitching, and her eyes, one light blue, one green, fixed on Emma, unblinking.
She didn’t know what to do, and Orville swearing at her on the phone was worse than no help. Time slipped away like water through her fingers. She had to act but didn’t know what to do, what would be safest for everyone.
The phone rang, just as she’d expected. Orville again. Emma needed to be quiet while she decided what all this meant, and she almost didn’t pick up. But she did. Her husband was a big reason why she hadn’t just gone straight to Billy Meche when the man left. Billy would insist on notifying Orville, and she didn’t want to give him an excuse to “protect” her. Translated, that would mean he would insist on keeping her even more locked down and probably having her every move watched.
“Emma? You there?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we had an agreement. We stick together. Emma, you promised, but you ran off on me.”
At least he’d stopped shouting and cursing. “I left you a note. You weren’t home, and I felt like coming up here. You make your decisions. I make mine—I hope without hurting you or anyone else.”
“Are you alone?”
Some might say she had no right to be indignant, but she was. “Teddy’s with me,” she said, unsure he would even remember the cat.
“Very funny.” He remembered.
Would Orville be calm and sensible if she told him about the intruder?
“Look, Emma, you’ve had your little demonstration. You’re not good at lookin’ after yourself, and I’d like you to come home now.”
“I’ll be back later in the day, after I make a delivery to Poke Around. If your guest list is on my computer, I’ll see to the invitations for the party then.”
“Well, darlin’, aren’t you the cool one?” He forced a laugh. “The list will be there. I’ll see you later…. Is that place locked?”
“It is.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
I am so touched by your concern. “Later, Orville.” She put the phone aside before he could ooze more phoney charm.
She had a possibly infatuated stalker on her tail. Someone had to be told, and it ought to be the police. As soon as it was light, she would tour the house and property for signs of a visitor. Where had he gotten inside?
If she asked Sandy Viator for advice, and to keep quiet, her friend would be in a bad position whichever way she went. If she didn’t tell her husband and it came out later, Carl would feel betrayed. If Sandy told Carl, he would feel honor bound to go directly to his partner, and there Emma would be, with Orville madder than a wet hen in winter and making enough of a stir to fire up the whole town.
If she told Sandy, it would be forcing her to make the kind of choice that, at the very least, might end their friendship.
Finn wasn’t biased. He could be dispassionate enough to advise her, and she trusted him because she knew his reputation—even if she didn’t know him well herself.
She knelt on the mattress and took his card from the bottom of her sweatpants pocket. Quickly, before she could talk herself out of it because of the hour and a bunch of other reasons, Emma dialed his home number.
All she got was his answering machine. She rang off and tried his cell.
“Duhon.” He’d picked up at once.
“I’m sorry.” Emma panicked. “I dialed the wrong number.”
She hung up and sat with her hands clamped between her knees. You couldn’t call 911 when more than two hours had elapsed since an incident. Her skin prickled.
The phone rang, jarred her violently. She looked at the readout, expecting it to be Orville again. Instead it said “private,” and she watched until the ringing stopped.
That call didn’t have to be from the cowboy mime. Lots of people had blocked numbers.
“Oh
!” Again the air-zinging ring. And again “private” on the readout. Hesitantly she picked up and said, “Yes?” very quietly.
“What’s up, Emma?”
Of course it was Finn. He would have been able to identify her from the first so-called wrong number. “Something happened here, but I’ve decided it would be better if you weren’t involved,” she told him.
“I already am. Don’t pussyfoot around. Spit it out.”
“I’m okay. I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t waste my time with that stuff,” Finn snapped. “Lay it on me.”
“Someone broke in.” There, now she’d told him. “But he’s gone, and I’m not hurt. It’s just that I haven’t called the police, and it happened over two hours ago. You’ll think I’m indecisive, but I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Where are you?”
“Locked in my room with the cat.”
“If you don’t tell me to stay away, I’ll be right there.”
Emma squeezed her eyes tight shut. She had made something bad even worse. And the way she was going, it would only get messier.
“I’m a couple of minutes from you. Keep the bedroom locked and stay inside until I get there.” He was gone, just like that.
“Come here, Teddy.” She picked up the cat who, true to habit, didn’t relax but assumed a long-suffering expression and a frown. Emma had never seen another cat who frowned. “I’ve done everythin’ wrong, cat. Now I’m out of choices—unless Finn agrees I shouldn’t go to Billy yet.”
Two minutes seemed more like fifteen, but she heard an engine exactly three minutes after Finn had said he was on his way. He wouldn’t be able to get in if she sat on her bed with the door locked.
She ran through the house and whipped open the front door, exactly in time to find him bending over to examine something in his hands.
He straightened and pushed her, none too gently, into the hall. “I told you not to leave your bedroom.”
“How did you get here so fast?”
He ignored the question. “You should have stayed upstairs.”
“I didn’t think you’d appreciate being locked out when you got here.”
“I wouldn’t have been.” He dropped something into his pocket.
It was Emma’s turn to do some frowning. “You were going to pick the lock, weren’t you? You’re not supposed to do that.”
“Yes, I was going to do that. Turn me in, if you think that’s appropriate.”
Emma felt silly. “Don’t take any notice of me. I guess you could say I’ve been a bit sheltered. You probably did things like that before. Picked locks. In your work, I mean.”
The faintest of hard-eyed smiles crossed his face. “I probably did. Are you fairly certain whoever got in got out and stayed out?”
She dropped her voice. “Fairly, but not completely.”
“A man?”
“Yes. Dressed like a weird cowboy.” She shuddered.
Finn didn’t waste time asking her what that meant exactly. He considered an instant before turning on a light. “Do you know how he got in?”
She shook her head, no.
“Okay, before I do anythin’ else I’ve got to find that out. I’ll take you back to your room.”
“No.”
“Yes, ma’am. Just in case your cowboy’s still around, you have to do what I tell you to do. I need to concentrate.”
“I’m not goin’ into that bedroom alone.”
A woman could be downright unreasonable. Particularly if she was scared, and this one was. “Calm down. I’ll see you up there and make sure you’re okay.”
“Not unless you give me a gun.”
Patience. “Are you losin’ it?” he asked, hoping to shame her into submission. “If so, we’d better get you medical help. If not, quit wastin’ time.”
“I’m ready when you are. You’ve got a gun, right?”
He couldn’t be sure every word of this wasn’t going directly to a lurking enemy’s ears. “Don’t say another word,” he said into her ear. “Stay close, but not too close, and keep your eyes open. I don’t want you in a hostage situation.” And he couldn’t keep arguing with her.
“You can rely on me,” she said, in his ear this time.
He narrowed his eyes and prayed for another shot of that patience.
When he’d searched the house before he must have missed something. The idea annoyed him. His life had too often depended on covert searches, often in the dark, and often when the enemy could be scattered all over a building. The kind of mistake he’d made here could well have cost him, and others, their lives in the crude dwellings where El Salvadoran rebels went to ground and plotted their next moves.
This was no rebel stronghold. The rooms were open, with no odd doors or windows hidden by rags. He took his time, ran his fingers under ledges looking for a spring lock that might produce a secret entrance. What reason would there be for such a thing?
He felt Emma slipping along behind him and couldn’t help grinning. His Ranger buddies would get a kick out of this effort. She patted his back, and he whipped around. Stepping backward, Emma’s eyes got huge; he could see them even in the gloom.
“What?” he whispered in her ear. “Touching me like that could get you shot.” He felt like a heel—but he could live with that.
The instant he turned from her, she tapped him again.
“Are you nuts?” He took her by the shoulders.
“You wouldn’t shoot me. I only wanted to tell you I just remembered something. I may know what you’re looking for and where it is.”
Now she smiled at him, damn it. “You do?”
“Follow me.”
“No, no, no.” He grabbed her before she took another step. “Back behind me—where you belong. Tell me where to go.”
He heard her snort before she whispered, “Kitchen.”
“Here we go.” Still cautious, still checking for hidden intruders, Finn went directly to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” Emma said and walked a wide circle around him. She opened the pantry door.
“I looked in there before.”
“Not at this—if my dad didn’t block it off. Mom didn’t like it there, and she kept askin him to board it up. Dad said it was an oddity and he thought it should stay.”
She went to one of the floor-to-ceiling shelving units, reached past cans of food and fiddled until he heard metal on metal. The block of shelves swung wide, away from the wall.
“He did get in here,” she said. “Look.”
“Well, hell,” Finn said. “Why would anyone have an outside door behind their pantry shelves?”
Emma bristled at the idea of anyone questioning her parents’ decisions. “It was there when my folks bought the house.”
“But they obviously renovated the place. It didn’t look the way it does now when they got it. I know it didn’t because I saw it. Don’t forget, my folks’—my place is about three lots from yours. Even if we weren’t close, my dad and yours respected each other.”
“They did. And for what it’s worth, I was a very shy kid, and I don’t remember you saying a word to me.”
“I watched you plenty. Back to this door. Why didn’t your father block it off? Or did he? Are you sure the guy came this way?”
Emma shook her head, apparently disgusted, and grabbed the bolt before he could stop her. “It’s open, see? Mom and Dad would never leave it like that. There’s another lock on the outside. That’s why the door won’t open. He locked the outside after him, but he must have found a way to jam it open ahead of time. Maybe he was hiding in here for ages.”
“Please take your hands off that,” Finn told her. “There could be useful prints.”
Emma shot home the bolt and dropped her hands. She gave him a sideways glance that was purely guilty and said, “Well, I’d already touched it, and we couldn’t leave it unlocked, could we?”
“Mmm,” he said. “I’m all ears now. Tell me what went on here.”
“It’s going to sound way out. I’m even beginnin’ to wonder if I imagined the whole thing.”
“No, you aren’t, you just wish you could.”
She sighed. “You’re right, but I’m still in a mess.”
“Sit down and talk to me.”
“I want to show you somethin’ first. Upstairs.”
They went in silence, and Emma led Finn into her bedroom. “That’s Teddy. She makes the most of having me here.”
“Is she a cat or a poodle?”
“Very funny. The curly hair goes with the breed, the breed she partly is. Look at the money on the bed.”
He did as she asked. “So you’ve got money on your bed.”
“It isn’t mine. The man left it.”
Finn raised one brow. She had turned on the bedside light, and it deepened the shadows on his face, including a beard in need of shaving. Emma looked away from him; it was safer that way.
“I was in there.” She pointed to the bathroom. “Brushing my teeth. The overhead light went out in here, and a guy dressed in cowboy duds walked in. He just walked right in and stood at the bottom of the bed. Finn, I thought I would die on the spot.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been awful.”
He sounded sincerely concerned, and her eyes stung. Years of indifference from her husband meant that when a man offered her something different, something kind, sadness at what she’d missed overwhelmed her.
“I could see him, but not clearly. He wore a jeans jacket, and jeans and alligator boots. And a big Stetson, white, with the brim flattened up on the sides. And he had those white leather gloves with fringes.”
Finn sat on the bottom of the bed and patted the mattress for her to join him.
She hesitated.
“I promise I won’t ravish you,” he said, and grinned. “Not that it might not be fun. We need to get some things straight. There’s a reason why you didn’t call the police, and I need to know it.”
Emma sat gingerly on the very bottom of the bed. She watched as Finn lifted the corners of one wad of bills with his fingernails. “I think there’s ten thousand here.”
“No. A complete stranger wouldn’t hand over that much money to me.”
Body of Evidence Page 7