Kid’s bedroom, he decided, and maybe a study there. Master bedroom could either be upstairs, once the second bathroom was in, or down here. If he were a parent, he’d want his bedroom on the same floor as his children’s while they were young.
Even if that sometimes wasn’t enough to protect those kids.
Just a pedestal sink and shower in the bathroom upstairs, he decided, maybe open shelves for towels, an in-wall medicine cabinet. Full vanity, sink and tub down. If he could find a claw-footed tub not too far out of his budget it would suit the house. Yeah, but then what about a shower?
In the end all his attempt to distract himself did was bring his thoughts full circle to Tess.
She triggered something in him that he didn’t recognize. Zach didn’t like it—whatever “it” was. He should be relieved that he had an excuse not to get involved with her. The very fact that he was on edge like this told him he’d be smart to stay away.
Too bad she wasn’t already married or at least involved. She wouldn’t have had to turn to Zach, then. She probably wouldn’t have looked at him the way she did in the first place.
But he didn’t like the idea of her with another man. Depending on him to keep her safe. Sleeping with him. Giving him instead of Zach that wide-eyed look and down-deep knowing.
“Crap.” The word echoed in the empty house. He yanked at his hair until it hurt.
He pulled out his phone. Nothing. That meant she was okay, right?
What if she had made the decision to quit turning to him when something happened? He hadn’t liked her tone on the phone that morning, as if she was closing a door. Damn it, she had to know how useless the Clear Creek cops were turning out to be. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to shut him out completely, would she?
Maybe he should go by her house.
Maybe he shouldn’t.
What would it hurt? He could park a block or so away again. With it dark out, no one would see him make a quick stop by her house. He could make sure she was okay and reinforce his order for her to call him if anything unsettling happened. Promise to keep her informed, too. They were in this together, after all.
He locked up his house but left on porch lights front and back. Next couple of days he’d install a motion-sensitive floodlight on the back of the house and maybe one over the detached garage. Doing some damage to his house would be a logical next step in the campaign to make him back down.
He was going to be damn careful where he parked his pickup from now on, too.
Tonight he’d left it on the same block he had the first time he’d visited Tess, and walked the block to her house knowing he was passing unseen but for the short distance under a streetlight.
Something smelled good in her garden. Inhaling, he decided it was lilac. This was the right time of year, wasn’t it? He’d have to plant one in his yard. Not, he reminded himself, that he’d be around long enough to see the new bush reach any size.
He’d already pressed Tess’s doorbell when he realized belatedly that an unexpected visitor might frighten her. Should have called first.
But then she might have told him not to come.
The porch light came on, momentarily blinding him. Nothing else happened for a minute. Then he heard the snap of the dead bolt and the door swung open.
Tess confronted him with her arms crossed. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Good question.
“Can I come in?”
She gave an impatient huff of breath but did step back. Zach crossed the threshold and closed the door.
“I worried about you home alone today.” Lame, but the best he could come up with.
“I went in to work, even though I’m supposed to be Tuesday through Saturday. You don’t really think they’ll physically assault me. How will that help Andrew Hayes?”
“He may decide nothing else is working.”
She didn’t blink for longer than he liked. Finally her shoulders sagged. “You’re not being a comfort here.”
“No. Sorry. I just want to be sure you keep your guard up.”
“Fine.” She glared at him. “You could have said that on the phone.”
“I didn’t like it that you weren’t there today.” Oh, hell, why had he had to say that?
She retreated a step. “You know your brother was right. Antonio didn’t deserve what happened to him. We’re the only ones who can give him any kind of justice.”
As if he needed the reminder. “If something happens to you, too...”
Looking into her witchy, green-gold eyes was like gazing into a crystal ball at an astonishing scene that was probably an illusion but could be real.
Not for me. But, damn, the temptation was there.
“You’re not my keeper.” Her voice was soft, almost tremulous.
Oh, no?
Knowing he sounded like a wind-up toy that repeated the same phrase over and over, he still said, “I need to keep you safe.”
Tess frowned. “You’re not responsible for me being involved in this. You had nothing to do with my presence there. You need to stay safe, too.” She said that last with passionate urgency.
“You don’t understand.” God, he thought, do I?
“What don’t I understand?”
Zach shook his head. He couldn’t tell her that he didn’t think he could live with it if she got hurt. Yeah, part of it was his sense of responsibility but... These unfamiliar things he was feeling confused him, but he couldn’t seem to shut them down.
He crossed the small foyer and closed his hands around her upper arms. Tension quivered through her and she stared at him in alarm. He should back off...but he could swear he saw yearning in those amazing eyes, too.
“Tess...” Shouldn’t do this. But he was already bending his head. Uncertainty kept the first touch of his lips to hers gentle. He brushed his mouth over hers. She made a sound of surrender and threw her arms around his neck, rising on her toes to meet his mouth more fully.
Her taste was indescribable, sweet and tart at the same time. His thoughts blurred when her body, long, fine-boned, supple and soft in the right places, pressed against his.
He wrapped one hand around the back of her head, his fingers threading strong, silky hair, while he grabbed her butt with his other hand and lifted her. Next thing to desperate, he was devouring her now.
He felt the thump when she came up against a wall. He hadn’t even known he’d walked her backward. If only she had on a skirt instead of jeans... He could strip them off, lift her...
He didn’t have a condom with him.
Maybe she had some. Or was on birth control.
With a groan, he tore his mouth from hers.
Her eyes had been closed. Slowly her lids lifted until she stared at him, dazed.
“I want you,” he said, voice guttural.
Her eyes widened. Then she blinked a couple of times. Her breath shuddered in and out.
“Oh, my God.” She stiffened.
Suddenly, instead of yielding woman, he had a bundle of high-tension wires in his arms.
“This is wrong.” She squirmed against him.
Blood flow hadn’t yet returned to his brain but he still recognized a no when he heard it. In fact, a hell no.
His hands didn’t want to leave her but he didn’t see a choice. After a moment he made himself step back, releasing her.
“I didn’t come here meaning to do that,” he said hoarsely.
Her eyes met his again. “Didn’t you?”
Zach couldn’t swear, even to himself, that it hadn’t been in the back of his mind. All he’d known was that he’d needed to see her.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“I think you should go.”
“You wanted this, too.”
He knew.
Zach shook his head and backed up a couple more steps.
“Why are you shaking your head? You’ve changed your mind?”
“No.” He ran a hand over his face, which felt weirdly numb. “It’s you. There’s something about you.”
“You’re blaming me?” She sounded outraged.
“No. Yes.” He was blowing this big time. It was like being stuck on a railroad bridge with nowhere to go and seeing a freight train barreling toward him. The wail of the horn came too late.
“You need to leave.” She slipped around him and wrenched open the door. “Please.”
“Tess.” He could salvage this much. “I’ll go if you promise to contact me if they threaten you again. If anything happens at all.”
Her chin lowered. “I’ll promise, if you promise to stay away from me unless something bad enough happens I need you.”
“I missed you today,” he heard himself say, shocking himself. He hadn’t missed anyone since he was a kid. After he and Mom had moved away, there’d been no Sheila, no Bran. No Dad. That first year or so had echoed with emptiness. Loneliness. He hadn’t let anyone that close since.
Maybe because of his job, he was usually good at reading people, but Tess was sometimes an exception. This was one of those times. He had the uncomfortable feeling she was looking deep into him. He was uncomfortably aware of how much he didn’t want her to see.
But then she said, “I wanted to be there. I thought about you all day. But you know the right thing to do, Zach.”
“Yeah.” It came out rough. “I know.”
Without looking at her again, he walked past her, out the door. Stopping with his back to her he said, “Promise.”
“I promise,” she whispered.
He nodded and kept going, glad when he left the pool of porch light for the safety of the darkness. He heard the sound of the door closing and he kept going.
* * *
ZACH SAT IN his recliner, the only furniture in his battered living room except for his TV on a stand. Oh, yeah, and the folding wooden TV tray he was currently using as an end table and dining table.
After leaving Tess last night, he’d been in a shitty mood. He’d made the decision to move out of his apartment the next day. At least in the house he’d have ways to vent his restlessness.
Not wanting to test the commitment of any of his new friends, he’d lined up a couple of community college students to help him once he was off work. It hadn’t taken them all that long to move his limited belongings.
On the way out, one of them had taken a last, dubious look behind him and said, “You’re really going to live here, dude?”
Pretty sad when a broke college student thought your digs were substandard. Although Zach supposed it was possible that particular kid actually drove a BMW and still lived at home with Mom and Dad.
Moving wasn’t the only vow he’d made last night. What he needed to do was to refocus. Think about something besides Tess. To channel this prowling sense of urgency, he’d begin the investigation into his sister’s murder. That was why he’d moved back here, wasn’t it?
So now he dialed the number he’d extracted from another old-timer at the Clear Creek Police Department. A man answered. “Nolte here.”
“Sergeant Nolte, my name is Zach Carter.”
“Wife said you called. What do you want? I can tell you we’re not buying.”
“I’m not selling.” Zach would have smiled if he hadn’t been so tense. “I’m hoping you’ll talk to me about a murder you investigated almost twenty-five years ago.”
“Sheila Murphy.” Darren Nolte was still sharp.
“Yes.”
“This isn’t Brandon Murphy, is it?” the retired sergeant asked suspiciously.
“No, I’m his younger brother, Zach.”
“I thought you said your name was Carter?”
“I ended up adopted by a stepfather.”
“Why in hell are you asking questions about this now?” He didn’t sound real thrilled with the opportunity to reminisce. “It’s too late, son. And what makes you think you’d like anything you learn?”
“I want the truth, whether I like it or not,” Zach said flatly. “It’s my understanding you think our father killed her.”
“That’s my best guess.” The gruff voice softened, just a little. “Couldn’t prove it.”
“So I understand. Will you tell me why you focused on him? And who else you looked at?”
After a long pause Nolte said grudgingly, “Suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He started talking, picking up steam as he went.
Zach jotted in the notepad he held on his lap. Not very many notes, though. It became clear to him right away that then-detective Nolte had zeroed in on a preferred subject right away.
When Zach asked why, Nolte said, “Best opportunity, and, I got to tell you, I had the feeling he was lying to me then.”
He was right. Michael Murphy had lied to him. He hadn’t slept through the night, the way he’d insisted to investigators he had. Maybe he’d lied because he’d committed a terrible crime. But it was always possible he’d been afraid if the detectives knew he’d been up at any point, they’d be more likely to suspect him. People were stupid that way, Zach had long since discovered.
“I’m assuming you knew that my mother had had affairs,” Zach said bluntly.
“You kids knew?” Nolte sounded appalled.
“I didn’t at the time. Bran did. He tried to tell me and I accused him of being a liar. But I lived with her for another nine years, you know. She’s remarried several times, but she never stays for long.”
The sergeant harrumphed. “We knew. She never admitted to it, but we came up with a couple of names. Neighbors and coworkers notice things like that, you know.”
“I do. I’ve been a detective for a couple of years now.”
“Have you? Where?”
“Portland. I’ve taken a job recently with the Harris County Sheriff’s Department because I wanted to look into Sheila’s death.” He looked down to see that he was drilling a hole through several pages with the nib of the pen. Cool as a cucumber, that was him. “Do you remember the names of either of those men?”
“Good God, it’s been twenty-five years!”
“Big case and one you never closed. You can’t tell me you don’t still think about it sometimes.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Hell, yeah, I’ve thought about it. Truth is I knew one of the men. Kind of shocked me. I’d met his wife, too. Nice lady.”
“Did he stay married?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have to make any claims, and I didn’t have any other reason to see him. At the time, we interviewed him real quietly. She never knew anything about it.” He sighed. “Duane Womack. Insurance agent. I guess he handled your parents’ auto and homeowner insurance. Mine, too.”
“What did he say when you interviewed him?”
“That it was none of our damn business but that he was with his wife. What else? He says he and your mother always met during the day. He’d take a long lunch hour. Being married, neither of them ever tried for an evening date or an overnight.”
“Had he met Sheila?”
“A couple of times,” he said. Now the sergeant sounded uncomfortable. “Commented she was a pretty little girl.”
The hair on the back of Zach’s neck prickled.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ZACH MENTALLY REPLAYE
D what the retired detective had just told him.
One of the men his mother had been seeing on the side had gone out of his way to comment on how pretty a six-year-old girl had been, only days after some sicko had raped and strangled her?
If the investigators had been any kind of cops at all, that should have sent off burning hot flares for them.
“Those were his words? Not yours?” Zach asked carefully, hoping his incredulity wasn’t leaking into his tone.
“His,” the retired sergeant said. “Bothered me, but people say things like that all the time. ‘What a handsome boy!’ ‘Oh, your daughter is so pretty!’ You’re reading something into it that isn’t there.”
“You so sure about that?”
Again there was a momentary silence. “He had two daughters, one a couple years older than your sister, one a little younger,” Nolte said. “Best I could do was talk to the older daughter’s teachers and have the school counselor sit down with her. There was no suggestion she’d been molested.”
In other words, he’d done his job. Above and beyond, even.
“And you took his word for it that he hadn’t slipped out of his house that night?”
“No, I managed to run into his wife real casually and say, ‘Hey, I thought I saw Duane driving home, middle of the night. Hope there wasn’t an emergency.’ That kind of thing. She looked completely puzzled and said Duane wasn’t a night owl. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been up past eleven. I couldn’t find any hint he’d had an inappropriate interest in little girls. What else could I do?”
“Probably nothing.” Those prickles hadn’t subsided, though. “I might get a little further now, though, in case he was later accused of anything.”
“Guess that’s true. Twenty-five years ago we couldn’t find out everything we ever wanted to know about someone on his Facebook page.”
Zach smiled. “I’m willing to bet people were just as dumb.”
“Took different forms.”
Turned out Nolte remembered the other name, too. Sam Doyle. Sam was a plumber. Zach recalled a plumbing disaster, a pipe broken in the wall behind the shower. The wall had had to be torn out and Dad had replaced the saturated plywood on the bathroom floor and the vinyl. Zach was even able, kind of vaguely, to picture the plumber who had responded. He’d been a young guy, with hair long enough he kept having to push it out of his eyes. Zach had wondered why he didn’t cut it. No guarantee he was this Sam Doyle, but what were the odds?
The Closer He Gets Page 10