Don't Go Home

by Janelle Taylor

  In moments, Laurie served pie and coffee, and they all dug in; but Matthew’s appetite was gone.

  “Laurie, are you really holding up okay?” Matthew asked. “It’s me here. You don’t need to put on a strong front. You know that, right?”

  Laurie sighed. “Matthew, honey, I know you care, but honestly, you coddle me. I’m doing fine. I cry, I grieve, but I have to be strong for Robbie. That’s what keeps me going.”

  Matthew hated himself for what he was about to say, for the lie on both counts, but he had to—for Robert. “I only hope that when it’s my time to settle down, I’ll have a great marriage like you and Robert had.”

  Laurie raised an eyebrow. “Wow, Mia, he must really be smitten with you. I’ve never heard the words settle down come out of Matthew Gray’s mouth.”

  Mia blushed and Laurie laughed.

  “Ah, it feels good to laugh,” Laurie said. “I haven’t laughed once since ... since that night.”

  Matthew gave Laurie’s hand a warm squeeze. “I meant what I said, Laurie. I know I’ve never seemed like the marrying kind, but if I do get married, I can only hope I have a marriage like you and Robert had.”

  A strange expression passed over Laurie’s face; Matthew couldn’t quite put an emotion to it.

  Laurie stared at her pie. “Well, we don’t want our pie to get cold. There’s nothing like warm apple pie.”

  And the subject of marriage, good or bad, had been closed.

  From the moment Matthew and Mia had left Laurie Gray’s house fifteen minutes ago, the expression on Matthew’s face told Mia to hold her tongue—at least for a little while.

  Laurie Gray had, with very little provocation, become a prime suspect. She’d more than alluded to knowing that her husband was cheating on her, which meant she could have hired Margot. Wanting tangible proof, she—

  “Wait a minute!” Mia shouted.

  Matthew whipped his head to face her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarm in his voice.

  “I just realized something,” she said slowly, thinking through the thread that had just popped into her mind. How had they missed this before? “Matthew, if Laurie Gray had hired Margot, if any of the widows had hired Margot, they would have freaked upon seeing me! Laurie especially.”

  Matthew’s mouth dropped open, and he flicked on his blinker and inched over into the right lane and then pulled up onto the shoulder to a stop. He turned to face her. “You’re absolutely right. They would have thought you were Margot. Not one of the widows blinked when they met you. Not one.”

  “Unless the four of them are really great actresses,” Mia said, “but I doubt that.”

  “I don’t know, Mia,” he said. “Maybe we shouldn’t be too quick not to give any of them too much credit. Whoever is behind the crimes got away with four murders. He or she is clever. That much we know for sure. Hiding a reaction so as not to get trapped sounds like something a clever killer could accomplish.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Mia said. “And I guess that puts us back to where we started. With five suspects.”

  Matthew ran a hand through his hair, let out a deep breath, and then pulled back onto the highway.

  “Matthew? Are you okay about what happened back there with Laurie?”

  The subject of marriage and family seemed to have put Matthew in a deep funk, and when the conversation had turned to Robbie after dessert, the flow of talk had been kept light. Mia wondered if Matthew had put an end to the questioning because the topic of adultery, of secrets and lies, was making him sick, or because he couldn’t deal with the fact that his sister-in-law did have a motive for murder.

  “Not really,” he said. “Not only do I have to admit that she’s a suspect like the rest, but it blows my gut instinct out of the water. I thought they had a solid marriage. I thought Laurie was happy.”

  “His cheating had to put some distance between them, no matter how well Robert hid it,” Mia put in. “His guilty conscience, the lies he had to make up, the lies she had to rationalize in order to keep harmony, to keep her marriage—that must have taken quite a toll.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it did,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I guess I didn’t want to face the truth. I guess I wanted to think they had a chance, unlike my parents. With a perfect, healthy, beautiful son like Robbie, I wanted to believe that their family life was magical. But it wasn’t. Man, am I a chump.”

  Mia rested her hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Matthew. I’m sorry.”

  He flinched, and she pulled her hand away, grateful he couldn’t see the way her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She kept making the mistake of thinking their intimate conversations meant intimacy between them. But they were simply working together, that was all. He’d said from the beginning that he was after the truth and would do anything to get to it. Searching his soul was clearly something he was willing to do to find the answers.

  It had nothing to do with her. And the sooner she remembered that, the less hurt she’d be.

  Problem was, that didn’t quite make sense.

  It had been nearly two weeks since Norman Newman disappeared into the anonymity of Center City, nearly two weeks since Laurie Gray had proven herself a key suspect, and almost three weeks since the death of Robert Gray. And Matthew was no closer to solving his brother’s murder than he’d been at the start.

  Dammit! he thought, staring at the suspect grid he and Mia had created. Norman Newman, Lisa Ann Cole, Laurie Gray, Theresa Healy, Ashley Davidson. Five people. Five possible motives. No evidence. No connection.

  There had to be a connection between the four victims. Yet no matter how long and carefully Matthew went over all the possibilities, he couldn’t find what tied the four men together besides the fact that they were married and lived within thirty or so miles of each other. He was convinced that once he found the connection, he’d find the killer.

  Matthew took a slug of his cola for the caffeine boost and glanced at Mia, who sat on the sofa in his living room, reading over the brief articles on each murder and the obituaries.

  As she stretched her arms over her head and yawned, her breasts rose and fell, and he was momentarily captivated.

  He realized it had also been nearly two weeks since they’d made love.

  Made love.

  Funny he should think of it in those terms instead of had sex, the wording he preferred.

  For the past two weeks, they’d been very polite with each other. Discussing the case, keeping their personal lives out of it. They’d been staying at Matthew’s apartment, Matthew on the uncomfortable couch and Mia in his very large for one person bed.

  The thought of her sleeping in his bed every night had been almost unbearable. Every single night he had the urge to rush inside and join her, show her the effect she had on him.

  Physically, that was.

  Emotionally, he had shut down. Keeping his mouth shut helped; instead of talking about Robert or how it felt to know that his brother and sister-in-law hadn’t had a good marriage after all, Matthew talked about facts and motives. When they weren’t working, they either made small talk or were silent.

  “I’m not getting anywhere with the grid—again,” Matthew said, his frustration evident in his voice. “I know there’s a connection here, but hell if I can see it.”

  “I know,” Mia said. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to find the connection between the victims, and there’s absolutely nothing.”

  Matthew sighed. “Except for the fact that they were all married, all lived relatively nearby, and all frequented bars in their towns or Center City—like a million other men.”

  Mia was silent for a moment. “Matthew, July tenth is three days away. Unless we do something, we’re going to lose the opportunity to catch a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “I know that,” Matthew said. “Why do you think I’ve been working around the clock to figure out who it is?”

  “I think we need to put my plan into action,” she said.

&nbs
p; “No.”

  “Matthew, we have no choice,” Mia said, her voice strong and steady.

  “We do have a choice—it’s called not being stupid. Do you realize that you could get hurt? Killed?”

  “Do you realize that my sister might never come home and that your brother’s killer might never be caught?” she countered, eyebrow raised.

  Do you realize that this time, I might not be able to come to your rescue? he thought, a wave of nausea coursing through him. The idea of being helpless against a force he couldn’t control was something Matthew couldn’t tolerate. There was no way he would allow Mia to put herself into danger.

  “The possible ends do not justify the means. The answer is no,” he said, his voice cold and flat.

  “I think you’re forgetting something, Matthew,” Mia said. “I don’t need your permission. I have the means to put the plan into action without your help. I’m the one who looks exactly like the decoy the killer has hired.”

  He stared at her, his anger boiling in his gut.

  “If I don’t play the part of Margot on the night of the tenth at MacDougal’s Bar, we’ll lose our chance to trap this psycho, Matthew. I won’t let fear stop me.”

  “Fine,” he said. “If fear or logic won’t stop you, I’ll stop you.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” she said. “Lock me in the closet?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Matthew—”

  “The subject is closed, Mia. Closed.”

  “Matth—”

  He turned away and flopped onto the couch full-length and closed his eyes.

  He felt her silence and her anger. And then she stormed up and stalked to the door. “Mia,” he said, shooting up. “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere where I’m treated with respect,” she said. “Which means away from you.”

  “Mia—” He grabbed her arm.

  She wrenched away from him. “I’m going back to Margot’s to plan for the night of the tenth. Like I said, I don’t need you to do this. Goodbye, Matthew.”

  She put her hand on the doorknob, and Matthew covered it with his own. “Please, Mia.”

  “No. You won’t discuss it, not even ways to handle the plan as safely as possible.”

  The breath sagged out of him, and his head dropped. “What if there is no safe way, Mia. I can’t handle the thought of sending you into jeopardy, with me helpless to protect you ...”

  He felt her gaze on him. She placed her palm against his cheek. “Matthew, you’re not a thirteen-year-old boy scared and helpless against his parents’ problems. You can control this situation. We can control it—together.”

  “We can’t even find a way to conduct this investigation without making each other angry. How are we going to control a third party?”

  He’d surprised her, he could tell. She tilted her head and regarded him. “You make me angry when you withdraw, Matthew. When something between us gets too hot to handle.”

  “I just know I don’t like the way things have been between us the past week. We’re like strangers tiptoeing around each other.”

  “I thought that was how you wanted it.”

  He shook his head. “I thought so, too, but I hate it.”

  “Are you saying you want—”

  “I don’t know what I want. I don’t want anything. I just know what I don’t want.”

  Mia sighed. “Well, I do want something, Matthew. I want it all. I’ve betrayed myself in the past, and I won’t do it again. I won’t give myself less than I deserve. Not anymore.”

  “I can’t give you it all, Mia. I can make love to you, I can work closely with you, I can even talk through this crazy plan of yours. But I can’t give you any more than that.”

  “I thought you said you hate the way things have been between us,” she said. “Clearly, you want it that way.”

  He had no idea what to say anymore.

  She turned away from the door and headed toward the bedroom. “I’m going to sleep, Matthew. I’ve had just about enough for one night.”

  “You won’t sneak out if I fall asleep?” he asked.

  “I promise that I won’t.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, Mia.”

  “So am I,” she said before closing the bedroom door behind her.

  Mia had been tossing and turning for hours, the things Matthew had said playing over and over in her mind like a tape recorder.

  I can’t ... I won’t ...

  I hate the way things have been between us ...

  Helpless against things I can’t control ...

  That was what it was, she realized. The crux of the problem between them. He couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to control what happened to him. And that meant he was in for a very lonely life.

  Mia sighed and flopped onto her stomach.

  But you don’t want a lonely life, she told herself. You’re willing to let destiny and fate have their hands in your happiness. You’re willing to give something your all.

  If you want it that bad.

  Did she want Matthew that bad? Bad enough to risk rejection, risk her heart, risk that he might never be able to open up to her?

  Yes, because you love him.

  Mia bolted upright, her mouth open.

  I’m in love with Matthew Gray.

  Mia glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was midnight.

  Do it, Mia. Just do it.

  She took off her T-shirt, worried her lower lip, then put the shirt right back on.

  Go to him. Completely naked, completely bare. You’re telling him something.

  Mia took off the shirt, then slipped off her sweats and socks. Naked, she padded over to the mirror over the dresser and looked at her reflection.

  I’m just a woman in love with a man and offering him who I am.

  Mia walked slowly to the door. She paused for just a moment, closed her eyes, then left the room.

  The windows were open, and the night breeze stirred the curtains. Mia breathed deeply of it, letting the warm air ruffle through her hair. She glanced at the sofa; Matthew lay across it, a white sheet pulled up to just below his stomach.

  His chest was bare. She wondered if he was completely naked, too. He moved just a fraction, and the sheet slipped lower, revealing a line of fine dark hair just below his belly button and disappearing under the sheet. He groaned slightly, and his hand also disappeared under the sheet for just a moment.

  Mia gasped. Was he dreaming of her?

  She went to him and knelt before the couch. Slowly leaning over, she pressed her lips gently to his.

  His eyes closed and his breathing shallow, Matthew wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss, his lips forcing open her mouth and his tongue probing. Mia sank into the kiss, and he pulled her onto the couch on top of him. The weight of her breasts pressed against his chest, Mia gave everything to the kiss.

  She felt his hips move, and she matched his upward thrusts with downward ones. She slid and slipped against the sheet that separated them until Matthew moaned and dipped his head low to take one of her breasts into his mouth. As his tongue teased her rosy nipple into a hard peak, Mia groaned and writhed against him. He gave the same pleasure to her other breast, then trailed hot, wet kisses in her cleavage. Mia raised herself up on her arms, and he continued the kisses under her breasts and across her stomach.

  As Mia writhed against him, groaning low in her throat, the sheet suddenly slipped lower, revealing his manhood. He was as naked as she was. And from the rock-hard length of his arousal, Mia had no doubt that he was as ready as she was.

  She poised herself on top of him, his erection teasing at the entrance to her femininity. “Look at me, Matthew,” she breathed into his ear.

  He opened his eyes and seemed to drink in the sight of her; then his eyes widened, and he slid back on the couch, bolting upright. “What the—”

  Mia felt her cheeks flame, and she grabbed the lower half of the sheet to cover hers
elf. “I—”

  “Oh, God, I thought I was dreaming. I thought I was having the most amazing dream of my life,” Matthew said, his expression stricken.

  “You weren’t dreaming,” she said softly, and then holding his gaze steady, she let the sheet drop from her breasts.

  “Mia ...”

  She stretched out over him and placed two fingers gently on his lips. “Just make love to me, Matthew.”

  “I think you should go back to your bedroom, Mia,” he said flatly.

  It was as effective as a bucket of cold water dumped on her head. Humiliated, Mia stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the sheet, wrapped it around her naked body, and ran, tears streaming down her face, into the bedroom.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matthew awoke to the sounds of cabinets slamming and dishes clinking hard in the kitchen.

  Good, he thought. At least she was still here and hadn’t taken off in the middle of the night as he’d feared. He’d been so afraid she’d run out again that for three or maybe four hours, he’d kept his eyes open and trained on the bedroom door until he was sure she must have been fast asleep.

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Relief. That was a funny word. He’d also spent the night praying for relief against the rock-hard erection she’d left him with. Correction: he’d made her leave him with.

  God, how he’d wanted her. Sending her away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, and possibly the least selfish. Please let that count for something in this life, he thought. With one thrust, he could have taken her, had the most amazing night of sexual fulfillment of his life, and then retreated back behind the wall he’d already told her wasn’t about to come down. He wouldn’t have been wrong to take what she had offered him last night. She knew the deal; they’d spoken about it just hours earlier. She’d come to him well aware of the compromise she’d have to make.

  And she’d chosen to make it.

  But there was no way in hell he was going to let her do that, whether or not he had the right to make that decision for her.