“Hmm what?” She leaned closer, her breasts grazing his shoulder. By sheer accident, of course. She wasn’t going to risk opening that door again, but what the hell. If a tiny moment of pleasure should come her way, well—she was a woman. And not a stupid one.
These might be the only pleasures she’d know, she thought sadly. A momentary brush of bodies, perhaps a smile or two. There could be nothing more. Already she’d gone too far down that road.
With a sigh, she forced her wayward thoughts back in line. “Do you know where this place is?”
“Yes. It’s in one of the older sections of town. And on the outskirts too. See?” Cheney pointed at a spot on a map window he’d opened. “The owner is listed as Victoria Larson. Sheesh.”
“What?”
“She’s eighty-five years old, according to the title. Lived there for nearly all of ’em.”
“Doesn’t sound like the type to mess around with some strange DNA mutation.” Pandora frowned.
“Nope. I’d have pegged her for a dozen cats, blue hair and a bunch of antique teapots or something.”
“That’s stereotyping. She might be one of those incredibly spry senior citizens who serves on a dozen committees and is writing her memoirs, which—when published—will seriously impact about ten political figures and do damage to a lot of reputations.”
Cheney laughed and turned his head, bringing their faces to within inches of each other.
They both stilled, Pandora aware that there was suddenly a lot less oxygen in the room than there had been a moment before. She was having trouble breathing, especially when she saw his eyelids flicker and his gaze fall to her lips.
Oh God. She wanted this man. And the knowledge that she mustn’t have him was a knife turning in her heart.
“You and I have some unfinished business, Pandora.” His breath dusted her face.
“I can’t— I don’t—”
“So you’ve said.” He straightened. “Very soon you’re going to tell me why.”
She shook her head, but he ignored it. “In the meantime, let’s get you something to cover those luscious legs of yours and take a field trip.”
She swallowed. “Where?”
“Out to see if it’s cats or teapots or memoirs.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m putting my money on cats. Time to go check out Victoria Larson.”
Chapter Ten
It came as a surprise to both of them to find that the sky was darkening as they drove to their destination. Cheney glanced at Pandora. “You doing okay?”
She nodded, her hair damp and loose after the quick shower she’d insisted on taking before they left. “Yes. I have to admit I’m feeling a bit awkward though.” She lifted a hand and pushed a red lock behind her ear. “I rarely go out like this.”
“No kidding. But I like the look. It suits you.”
Her snort was the only answer, but he’d meant it. Soft curls were beginning to emerge, tiny whorls of fire around her face. Devoid of makeup, she was still gorgeous any way you looked at her, even swathed in another of his sweatshirts and an old pair of jeans he knew she’d lashed tight around her waist with one of his belts. The cuffs were rolled up above her own sneakers and socks. At this moment she was all woman, without a trace of the neatly conservative and professionally sleek lawyer he’d met such a short time ago.
And she was even more appealing like this. To him, anyway. He clenched his hands on the wheel a little tighter, reminding himself that he was driving, not about to indulge in a session of heavy petting. “I meant are you feeling okay?”
“I’m not sure to be honest. This whole day’s been…surreal.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He checked his location. “Nearly there.”
He glanced around him, noticing the older and well-established neighborhood, houses that had been built several generations ago. He rather liked the styles—individual, each one unique. There was a big chunk of change invested in each one, he guessed. A remnant of the days when cash reserves translated into massive estates.
A lot of them had been broken up, of course, to make way for newer homes. But here, and in a few other almost suburban areas, big homes on big acreage still stood.
“This one.” He pulled up outside a fancy gate and looked at the tall hedges. “Can’t see much, but this is the right number.”
Pandora glanced at him uncertainly. “What’s the plan here? Are we going to snoop?”
“Nope.” He turned off the engine. “We’re going to go up and knock on the front door.”
“And then what?” She opened her door and got out, facing him across the roof. “Ask her if she’s missing a strange pet?”
He grinned. “Trust me.”
“Uh—” Her sigh was a masterful blend of impatience and frustration. “I really hate it when someone says that.” But she followed him through the gate and up the long walkway to the front door.
Cheney took a quick survey of the building. There was a turret on one end, several gables and a lot of fancy wooden scrollwork. The lower portion was brick and the upper floors were clapboards he’d swear were wood. In the twilight it looked fascinating, but he’d bet anything that by night it looked more menacing. Sort of gothic crossed with fairytale.
The bell was a melodious chime and they waited patiently for the door to open after Cheney pushed the appropriate button.
“I’m not really ready for this. I look like a bag lady, for God’s sake.”
“Hush. I told you to trust me. She’ll see what I want her to see.”
Pandora glanced at him sharply. “An illusion?”
“Sort of.”
Footsteps sounded and the door swung inward, revealing an elderly lady. Her hair wasn’t blue but grey, pulled up onto the top of her head in an untidy knot. Overall, thought Cheney, she was unremarkable.
“Yes?” Okay, the voice was remarkable. Deep and vibrant. If this had been a phone conversation, he’d never have pegged her for her age group.
“Hi. I’m real sorry to bother you, but my honey and I couldn’t help ourselves.” He slid a hand around Pandora’s waist and hugged her tightly. “We’ve driven past here several times and we just adore this house. Right, sweetheart?”
Pandora nodded. “Um, yes. It’s lovely.”
“See, we’re getting married soon and looking for a place to live that’ll work for the kids we’re planning. This looks like such a great place to raise a family, doesn’t it, darlin’?”
Another nod, this time with a raised eyebrow.
“So we figured we’d got nothing to lose by just stopping by and asking if by any chance you’re going to be putting it on the market anytime soon?” He smiled, knowing that the old woman was seeing a couple in love, surrounded by the glow of anticipation, lost in the delights of planning a future together. He knew this because it was the illusion created by that unique part of his mind.
Projecting it was second nature to him—he didn’t need to spare it much thought. “It’s not that we’re in the family way, you understand. But Tiffany here is insisting we get started right away. Can’t wait for the patter of tiny feet, you know? She wants a lot of kids.” He laughed good-naturedly. “I figure one at a time and we’ll see how it goes.”
He squeezed Pandora. Getting into the spirit of things, she turned and gazed adoringly at him. “As long as the boys look like you, darling.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Well, I—”
“And this has such a great spot, good-sized lot. Plenty of room for kids and their friends. Even their pets. Hard to find that much land these days. I’ll just bet your family gets a kick out of it. Trees for the grandkids to climb…whatever.”
He got a squeeze back from Pandora. Okay, he might be overdoing it a bit, but there was nothing like immersing himself in the role. One course in Theater during his sophomore year in college had honed his dramatic instincts. Just went to show you never knew when those useless classes might come in handy.
“Young ma
n.” Ms. Larson held up a hand. “This house is not for sale. Nor will it be. I do not have a family nor do I have grandchildren. I have no pets. When I pass on, my estate will go to the local historical society, since it has a long and distinguished association with events in this area.” She made to close the door. “You’ve wasted your time.”
“Well damn.” Cheney sighed loudly. “I’m sorry to hear that, aren’t you, precious?”
Pandora tilted her head to one side and smiled apologetically. “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much. I’m sorry.”
The woman’s expression softened slightly as her gaze drifted over Pandora’s face. “Not at all. But it was a fool’s errand. I hope you live a long and happy life together. Good day.”
The door closed firmly.
Cheney grabbed his erstwhile fiancée’s hand and led her back to the car, gently releasing the illusion as they approached the gate and passed through, closing it securely behind them.
When they were safe inside she released a pent-up breath of frustration. “Well, that accomplished absolutely nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He started the engine then reached for his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Ordering pizza. I’m hungry. What do you like on yours?”
“I—uh—mushrooms.”
“Good. Me too.” He placed the order for pick up. He knew his pizza shop and that it would be ready when they got there.
“Hey.” She poked him in the shoulder. “What about that little episode back there?” She smiled, showing teeth. “Darling?”
He grinned back. “You want our boys to look like me, huh, Tiffany?”
“Oh for Chrissake…”
He could almost hear her teeth clenching. “Patience. Let’s get the food and discuss it over dinner. I need to organize my thoughts.”
“Yeah, right,” she subsided with a mutter.
It was the truth, even though Pandora might not realize it. Cheney had found out a few things. He wanted to sort them out before he tossed them on the table along with the pizza and the last couple of beers he hoped he had in his fridge.
Another call to Roz took care of the pups and made him real happy. The family looking to adopt them had been in touch and wanted to see them tomorrow. Roz was very thrilled to be a part of it and told him not to worry, she’d handle everything for as long as he needed.
He shared that news, knowing Pandora would be as pleased as he was. And he was right.
“Oh that’s fabulous.” She smiled happily. “I love thinking they’ll grow up at ease with themselves. With who and what they are. And in a loving environment.”
The tiny little wistful note in there someplace didn’t escape him, but he filed it for future reference. Which was a good thing, since his phone rang at that moment. A glance at the dashboard caller ID told him it was Buck. Instead of reaching for it, he punched the car’s answer button.
“I’m in the car with Pandora. What’s up?”
“Karl’s got something for us. You got some time in the morning to stop by his place? Maybe around ten?”
Cheney looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She nodded back.
“Yep. We’ll be there. What’s he found?”
“He didn’t say, the annoying little runt. But he likes to keep these things dramatic, so we play along.” An affectionate chuckle followed the words. “And whatever he’s got will beat the hell out of anything we’d have gotten from any other lab, so no complaints, okay?”
“Gotcha. See you tomorrow.” Cheney disconnected the call.
“That was really fast.” Pandora stared at the darkening streets. “Turnaround on forensics is usually counted in weeks not hours.”
“Told you. Buck’s a firm fan of Karl’s. And from what he’s said, there aren’t many who even know about Karl’s lab, let alone have access to it.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I really hate to say it, but my mind’s beginning to shut down on me. Too much to handle.”
“Relax. I’ll grab the pizza. Right now you have absolutely nothing to do except eat and then get some sleep, okay?”
“At your house.” She didn’t open her eyes.
“Yes. At my house.”
“Not in your bed.”
“Your choice. No pressure, Pandora. Would I like to have you in my bed? Of course. I have a pulse and I’m male and I’m crazy-wild attracted to you. However, given what’s happened today, I’d be three kinds of a jerk if I pressured you at all in that way.” He tried to infuse his words with a reassuring calmness he was far from feeling. The image of her in his bed, her fiery hair spread over his pillow or his body—think pizza. “I’m not a jerk.” Much.
Pandora pushed the plate away from her. “No more. I’m done.”
Cheney grinned. “Glad I got two.”
“You calling me a pig?”
“No. I’m saying I’m glad I got two pizzas since we were both ravenous, apparently.” He stared pointedly at the almost empty boxes.
“So it seems.” She reached for her beer. “Thanks. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it.”
That got a wry chuckle out of her. “Oh sure. I’ll just skip over the bit where you agreed to take a look at an odd puppy and now you’ve suddenly found yourself with an unexpected houseguest, and a weekend that seems full of everything from mysterious private forensics labs to old women to fires.” She sipped. “Not what you expected, I’m thinking.”
He shrugged. “I roll with the flow. And I kinda like it when life’s interesting. Otherwise, what would I be doing? Mowing the lawn? Surfing the net for porn? Wasting all my downtime on pursuits that really don’t suit me. If that makes sense.”
“Well, anyway, thanks.” She saluted him with her beer bottle. “So tell me what you got from our little jaunt this afternoon. Before I finish this damn beer and nod off over your table.”
“Here’s the deal. You stay awake and listen to what I have to say and then you answer a couple of questions.”
She paused. Thoughts juggled themselves haphazardly in her mind. But she knew, beneath her confusion, that she owed him. Big time. Her native sense of what was right won out and she acquiesced, since more kissing was not an option. “Okay. But I reserve the option to defer any questions I think inappropriate.”
His lips curved into a wry grin. “Agreed, Counselor.”
She smiled too. “Sorry. Some things go deep.”
“Well, here’s something for you to chew over while I tidy up. I think your pup and your fire may be connected.”
Pandora’s jaw dropped as he crushed empty pizza boxes, put them into the trash and wiped off the table. She watched him fetch two more beers from the fridge, knowing it was all an attempt to distract her. She didn’t really need distracting, though, since her brain had screamed to a halt and backtracked up a new road paved with the proposition he’d just calmly thrown out.
“Shit.” She sucked in air. “Of course.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You think it’s possible?”
“It makes sense. A fire would destroy any evidence. DNA can’t survive high temperatures. And if whoever set it didn’t know the creature was dead…”
“Yep. That’s pretty much where Buck and I ended up when we discussed it.”
“Logical.”
“We are, sometimes.”
Another thought popped into her head. “You know, Saturdays I usually spend a few hours in the morning on my deck.”
“Always?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Even if the weather’s bad I go out there and shelter under the awning. I like the air.”
“So if it was arson, the point of origin will tell us a lot. Whether you were intended to be part of the crispy-critter scenario or whether it was just an attempt to get rid of something someone didn’t want revealed.”
She glanced at him. “And that’s why you were so adamant I stay here. And why you made sure Rusty and Lucy were tucked away with
Roz.”
He met her look squarely. “Yes.”
She ran her finger up and down the frosty glass of the beer bottle, turning the possibilities over in her mind. “But why? Why go to all this trouble? If whoever it was had just left it all alone, the whole thing probably would have died a natural death.”
“That, my dear Pandora, is the big question.” He tugged her up from the table and led her into his living room, settling beside her on the couch and sticking his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s up to us to find the answer.”
Idly she stroked her fingers over the wooden dragon she’d unwrapped and set on the table beside her. The touch of the smooth surface helped her organize her thoughts. It was comforting. “And you think that woman, Victoria Larson, may be a part of it?”
“That I can’t say yet.” He took a drink from his beer and looked at her. “What did you get from our brief visit?”
“She’s not your typical little old lady. The grey hair’s there, the general appearance of a senior citizen. But…” Pandora focused on her memory and pulled Victoria’s image back into her head. “She’s a great deal more vibrant, if that’s the right word. Her voice is strong. No quaver at all. She stands pretty straight for someone her age. Her clothing was clean and looked tailored to me. Definitely not off the rack. There’s money there and she’s not afraid to use it to keep herself up. And I wouldn’t underestimate her for a second.” One eyebrow lifted in amusement. “I wouldn’t play poker with her either. She could well be a damned shark.”
He was nodding. “Pretty much matches with my impressions too.”
“I didn’t sense anything—off, if you know what I mean?”
“Me neither.” He looked thoughtful. “One time I wish Buck had been with us. He’s the one who can pick up on that stuff.”
She sighed. “Maybe your little scientist friend at that lab can shed a bit of light on this. At least tell us what we’re dealing with.”
“I hope so. And I’m thinking I might do a bit more digging into Ms. Larson’s past. She’s showing on the regular information sources as clean as a whistle. Not even a parking ticket in her entire life.” He frowned. “And that, in and of itself, is unusual. Nobody lives that long without a slip here or there.”
Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 Page 10