Don't Go Home

by Janelle Taylor

  You’re reaching again, Matt, he told himself. You didn’t send her away for her sake; you did it for your sake. Because you can’t handle it. Can’t handle her. Can’t handle how you feel about her.

  That thought startled him. How did he feel about Mia Anderson?

  Before he had a chance to ponder that question, she slammed her way out of the kitchen, a pot of coffee in one hand and a plate heaped with toast in the other. She did not look happy.

  “Let’s get one thing out of the way right now,” she said, not looking at him. “I don’t want to talk about what happened last night. I just want to go on with my life. In fact, I’d like to just get on with planning the night of the tenth. If you’re with me, that is.”

  So, he was getting away with not having to talk about last night. “Mia, I—”

  She glared at him. “If you’re about to bring up what happened last night or if you’re about to tell me you’re not letting me put my plan into action, I suggest you think of something else to say, Matthew.” She slammed the plate of toast on the dining room table. She was a bit more gentle with the coffee. In silence he watched her stalk back into the kitchen and return with a tray containing mugs, cream, and sugar. She slammed that down on the table, too, then poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Okay,” she said, picking up a pad and pen from the table. “On the night of the tenth, the killer is expecting Margot to arrive at Mac—”

  “Mia, stop it,” he said.

  “I believe I already told you that I’m going to play the part of Margot whether you like it not,” Mia said coldly. “Either you’re with me or you’re not. If you’re not, I’d be happy to go work at Margot’s apartment and leave you to waste both our time by wracking your brain for evidence and connections we’ve been unable to find.”

  “Your attitude could use a little work, Mia,” he said dryly.

  “Let’s not even go there, Mr. Sunshine,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Now, as I was saying, the killer expects Margot to show up at ten P.M. My plan is to arrive at ten, dolled up a la appropriate for a decoy and—”

  Matthew swung his legs to the floor and leaned back against the sofa. “And what? And wait till some sleazebag—correction, sleazebags—approaches you and starts pawing you?”

  “If that’s what’s going to happen, yes,” she said. “The point is that we wait to see what happens.”

  “And in the meantime, someone gets killed in the parking lot or followed down the street and offed in an alleyway.”

  “No, Matthew,” she said. “We’ll safeguard against that. Your part, if you choose to join me, is to wait in the parking lot, at the ready to help whoever is about to get—be hurt.”

  Matthew shook his head. “So this is your great plan.”

  “Do you have a better one?” she said. “The tenth is only a couple of days away.”

  “And what if I don’t choose to go along with this crazy scheme?” he asked. “Then who helps the cheater in the parking lot?”

  “I’ll involve the police,” Mia said.

  “Oh, yeah, they’ll let you set up a sting like that, Mia. Give me a break. They’ll take you right out of it, set up their own surveillance; there’ll be no ‘Margot,’ and you’ll still lose your opportunity.”

  Mia turned away. “So I’ll follow the man or men who approach me into the parking lot and make sure they get safely to their cars.”

  He laughed. “You mean before or after the killer attacks you first?”

  “Stop it, Matthew,” she shouted. “Either help me work through this, or just shut the hell up.”

  He glared at her, then slumped down on the sofa.

  She sipped her coffee. “And while you’re at it, I’d appreciate it if you would put on some clothes.”

  Matthew rarely blushed; perhaps once or twice in his life something or someone had made him color. Well, he could add now to the list. He’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. After she’d taken the sheet last night, he’d grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and covered himself. He was naked as a jaybird.

  Wrapping the blanket securely about his waist, he got up and went into the bedroom. The scent of her was everywhere in the room. He stared at the bed, perfectly made. No one would ever know a stunningly beautiful, sexy creature had slept here last night. Had slept here for the past two weeks.

  Had offered herself to him last night.

  Matthew sighed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. A quick cold shower.

  As he dried himself off and dressed, Matthew knew he had to get away from Mia for a little while, even for just an hour. He had to think through this ridiculous plan of hers, come up with a way to stop her, and come up with a new plan that didn’t put her into jeopardy—that didn’t put her anywhere near MacDougal’s on the night of the tenth.

  The phone rang, and Matthew picked up the extension in the bedroom. It was Laurie.

  He could hear her sniffling. “Laurie, what’s wrong? Are you crying?”

  “Oh, Matthew,” she said. “I just miss him so much.” She broke down into sobs.

  “Laurie, just hold on tight, and I’ll be there in a half hour, okay?”

  “’Kay,” she managed through her tears.

  Matthew had gone to see Laurie twice in the past two weeks, ostensibly to make sure she was all right and to see Robbie, who was back home from the visit to his grandparents. She’d been quiet and hard to talk to, and when he saw her and Robert’s wedding photo back on the mantel in a new frame, he’d breathed a huge sigh of relief. She’d simply been having the photo reframed.

  But it didn’t diminish the fact that she clearly knew her husband had been cheating on her. And it made the possibility that she had hired a decoy even stronger.

  Until he thought about Mia’s theory that she would have shown some reaction to her had she been the one who’d hired Margot. Unless he was right and his sister-in-law was one amazing actress.

  And a cold-blooded killer.

  He left the bedroom and found Mia busily writing on her pad.

  “I’m working out my plan, Matthew. My way. I’ll be happy to share it with you when I’m finished.”

  Fine, he thought. Let that occupy her for the next hour or two while he visited with Laurie. He could rest assured she wouldn’t leave if she was busy working out the details. And he’d clearly given her a lot to chew on.

  “All right,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ve got to go see Laurie. That was her on the phone. She’s in tears. She misses Robert.”

  Mia’s expression softened, and she nodded. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “You promise you won’t go out, Mia?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then returned her gaze to the pad. “I promise.”

  “Okay. I should be back in about an hour and a half. I’ll hear the details of your plan then. We’ll figure something out for the night of the tenth.”

  She nodded and sipped her coffee, and Matthew headed out the door, confident that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  A half hour later, Matthew pulled into the driveway of Laurie’s house. Laurie sat on the porch swing, Robbie sleeping against her chest. As he walked up to the porch, he noticed Laurie darting a hand under her eyes to wipe away tears.

  Was she acting the part of the grieving widow for his sake because he had shown up with “the decoy” she had hired to set up her husband? Because she figured he was on to her and what she’d done?

  Or was she simply the same wonderful sister-in-law she’d always been, grieving for the husband she had loved and lost? Was it a crime to know that your husband was cheating on you? Was it fair to turn the victim into the accused?

  Dammit, Matthew thought. What the hell was the truth? Why was everything so upside down? What had happened to his ability to read people, to trust his instincts?

  Mia Anderson had happened, that was what.

  “Thanks for coming, Matt,” Laurie sai
d, reaching up to kiss Matthew on the cheek. “I was just feeling so sad, and you’re the only other person in the world to whom Robert was family.”

  Matthew squeezed her hand and kissed Robbie on the head before sitting down beside them. “I know,” he said.

  “I thought I was doing okay”—her green eyes pooled with tears—“but then all of a sudden, wham. I break down.”

  “You don’t have to be strong, Laurie,” Matthew said, putting his arm around her. “You lost your husband. You need to take your time, grieve whatever way you need to.”

  “But I feel like I need to be strong for Robbie,” she said. “I don’t want to cry in front of him.”

  Matthew put out his arms, and Laurie handed the baby to him. He cuddled his nephew against his chest and breathed in the scent of him.

  He and Laurie were silent for a while, watching the occasional car pass by, watching the leaves stir in the gentle breeze, watching the clouds and the sky and wondering if Robert was up there, okay.

  “So your new girlfriend is very pretty,” Laurie said.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Laurie raised an eyebrow. “Matthew, I saw the way you two looked at each other, and I noticed that you shared some personal things with her. I’ve never known you to do that with a woman.”

  He’d shared way too much personal information with Mia.

  “She looked a little familiar, but I couldn’t place her,” Laurie commented.

  Matthew’s back went up. Was she fishing? Or had she simply seen either Mia or Margot around the vicinity?

  “So, are you going to spill, or what?” Laurie asked, caressing Robbie’s wispy hair.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Matthew said. “She’s just a friend. That’s all. Even if I wanted more, which I don’t, it wouldn’t work anyway. She wants it all—the whole love thing. I’m not into commitment.”

  Laurie shook her head. “Matthew, there’s nothing in being alone. Nothing.”

  Is that why you put up with a husband who cheated on you?

  Before you got sick of it and killed him?

  Matthew closed his eyes to will the thoughts out of his head. He had no idea what to think anymore.

  “Matthew, not every marriage is like your parents’,” Laurie said. “Marriage can be the most wonderful thing in the world. Even if there are problems. And there usually are.”

  Matthew leaned back against the swing and lifted Robbie higher on his chest. “Did you and Robert have problems?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “All couples have problems, married or not. But working through problems is what marriage is all about.”

  “You don’t think that some problems are insurmountable?” Matthew asked. Like being cheated on every Saturday night? he added mentally.

  Laurie seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Not if at least one of the couple is willing to do something about it. Sometimes one person can fight for a relationship, and eventually, the other person comes around.”

  That’s what you’ve been doing for the past few years, Matthew thought. Fighting for your marriage. Waiting for Robert to come around.

  You’re not a killer. You’re simply a woman who was in love with a man who was cheating on her, a woman who, whether through rationalization or whatever, was willing to put up with quite a lot for that love.

  But did you give up? Did you take the photos of Margot and Robert kissing in Chumley’s and then kill him in the parking lot?

  Did you kill three other men?

  Dammit! Why the hell would Laurie have killed three men and then her husband? It made no sense. Why would any of the widows have killed other men?

  Laurie sighed. “It’s been a long time since Gwen, Matthew.”

  Matthew’s stomach twisted. “She has nothing to do with it, Laurie.”

  “You’re right, sweetie,” Laurie said. “She doesn’t. Nothing at all. Which is why it’s high time you forgot about her, too. Forgot the betrayal. Forgot your father’s betrayal of your mother and that terrible night. All the terrible nights. You’re not your father. And every woman isn’t Gwen.”

  “I thought I came here to talk about you,” Matthew pointed out.

  “I liked Mia, Matthew,” Laurie said. “And I could tell she liked you quite a lot.”

  “Whatever,” Matthew responded. “We’re just friends.”

  “Right,” Laurie said. “Just friends. Who look at each other like you’re in love.”

  Matthew shook his head. “How’s my favorite nephew, anyway?”

  “Nice change of subject.” Laurie chuckled. “I’ll tell you how he is—he could use a little cousin.”

  “Laur—”

  She patted his hand. “I don’t have any siblings, Matt. So it’s all up to you. Isn’t it?”

  Robbie began wiggling, and his mother took him in her arms.

  “Someone’s cranky and tired,” Laurie cooed to Robbie. “I’d better get him to bed.”

  Saved by a two-year-old. Matthew stood up and hugged Laurie and kissed Robbie on the forehead. “You call me if you need to talk. Any time, Laurie.”

  “I know. And you, too, Matthew.”

  Laurie and Robbie headed inside, and Matthew got into his car. But instead of pulling onto the highway, some force made him turn right on Main Street. Ten miles straight up Main and he’d be in Edgeville, the town he’d grown up in.

  He drove almost absently, the familiar landmarks barely registering as he left the township of Oak Ridge. Welcome to Edgeville, population 22,000 read the sign posted on the town green.

  Matthew turned on Hill Road and drove past the old, pale yellow house where he’d grown up. He didn’t even glance at the house. But something made him stop and back up. He forced himself to stop the car in front of the house and look at it, really look at it. The yard, the porch, the front door.

  The house was the same color it had been when he’d lived there; he was surprised the new owners hadn’t painted it. His father had died in this house—a heart attack—and though the house had been left to him and to Robert equally, Matthew hadn’t wanted any of the money from its sale. He wanted nothing to do with it. And so his share had gone into a trust fund for future heirs. Now, it looked as though Robbie would be the sole beneficiary.

  As he stared out the window at the yellow house, it suddenly looked like just a house, just a place where he once lived. No ghosts, no memories. Just a house.

  He drove on and turned onto the path that led to the cemetery where his parents were buried. Maybe he could use a talk with them both. But as the graves came into view, Matthew realized he couldn’t bear the idea of walking inside the grounds, standing before his mother’s grave and making her feel as though her marriage was the reason he’d vowed to never marry, never have children.

  Never give Robbie a cousin.

  And he didn’t have anything to say to his father. He never would.

  Bitterness and sadness fighting for dominance inside him, Matthew turned onto the highway. He was in the perfect frame of mind in which to deal with Mia.

  Completely closed to her.

  “I think we should stop by MacDougal’s tonight to get the layout of the place and the parking lot,” Mia said, tapping her pen against her legal pad.

  From the moment Matthew had walked in ten minutes ago from his visit to Laurie’s and let Mia know that he had no more to go on as far as Laurie as a suspect was concerned, Mia had been talking nonstop about her brilliant plan. God, he hated her plan.

  But he’d been right about his frame of mind. Between his endless list of questions that had no answers, his conversation with Laurie—or he should say, Laurie’s monologue to him about his love life—and driving past the home he’d grown up in and thinking about his parents, he had no room in his mind for Mia or for what had happened last night.

  From her expression and tone of voice, Mia had a one-track mind, and it wasn’t him or last night: it was the night of the tenth. Fine. That was what he wanted.
r />   “And what if the killer just happens to be there tonight and sees us,” Matthew pointed out, exasperated. “That’ll blow your plan out of the water.”

  “Maybe you should have let me finish my sentence without interrupting me, then,” Mia snapped.

  “Fine, finish.”

  But he really hoped she wouldn’t. He hoped she’d rip up the five pieces of legal pad paper in her hand, toss the heap in the garbage along with her crazy scheme, and just leave the planning up to him.

  Problem was, Mia was way stubborn. And perhaps more importantly, he didn’t have a plan.

  “We’ll show up in disguise tonight,” Mia said. “Scope out the place.”

  Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Scope out the place? Since when did you become so proficient in the lingo?”

  “Since I’ve had to become an amateur private detective,” she tossed back.

  Matthew sighed and flopped back against the sofa, kicking a foot up onto his coffee table.

  “Can I continue now?” she asked, impatience tinged in her voice.

  “Please do.”

  She shot him a glance, then returned her attention to her pad. “Okay, so then, on the night of July tenth, this Saturday night, you’ll arrive at Mac-Dougal’s alone—in a new disguise—just in case the killer recognizes you from the night at Chumley’s or from your disguise tonight. And then I’ll arrive a few minutes later.”

  “And do what? Sit down at a table and wait for some cheating bastard to slobber all over you? A cheating bastard who may or may not be the killer’s target?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Mia said, her tone completely neutral.

  Matthew groaned. “You’re really going to do this?”

  She nodded, then tapped her pen in the air. “You know, Matthew, I just realized something. Maybe the killer doesn’t have a target. Maybe he or she just randomly waits for some guy to pick up the decoy and decides for no reason that that man is going to die.”

  “But why?” Matthew asked, crossing his hands behind his neck.

  She gnawed her lower lip. “Right. Why? That’s what I can’t figure out.”

  “Well, what do we know about the previous victims?” Matthew said. “The only thing we know for sure that connects them is the fact that they were all married.”