Whispers and Lies

by Diane Pershing

  He watched her as she gazed down at her hands, played with her knuckles as she spoke. “It’s just that, well, I’ve had just about nothing but trouble with the male of the species all my life. The heartache kind, the being-lied-to kind, the being-left-feeling-useless-and-ugly kind. Mom had a boyfriend for a while, then he stole money from her and took off. I had a husband and he cheated on me. No dad, no male role model while I was growing up. Stuff like that.”

  She raised her gaze to meet his; the expression in her eyes was one of rueful resignation. “I prefer my animals. They always tell the truth. If they’re hungry, they let you know. If they want to be left alone, they go off. They’re soft, eager to please and never leave you.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Now who got naked?”

  He sat still for a moment, taking in all she had told him. This woman moved him, deeply. Words seemed shallow, but he managed to say, “Thanks for trusting me.” He took one of her hands in his and squeezed it.

  She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him. “Actually, I’m not sure I do.” Her expression was both sad and apologetic at the same time. “But then, that could be more about me than about you.”

  “A real possibility,” he said lightly, wanting her to trust him, but knowing that, at least on one level, she had a right not to. The personal and the professional again.

  He lightly massaged each of her small fingers, one at a time, thoroughly enjoying the physical connection. The hitch in her breath let him know the sensation was mutual.

  “Back to the animal thing,” he said. “The comparison doesn’t hold up. Humans have certain needs—for verbal communication, for the touching of flesh that isn’t all fur. And,” he added with a grin, “unless you’re twisted, there are some fairly basic needs that can’t be filled by them.”

  “Um, yeah, I’ll give you that.”

  He really wanted to ask her what she did for that one specific, very basic need—namely, sex. But he had a feeling it would disrupt the fragile sense of trust they’d established. Instead, he set her hand down on his bended knee and picked up the other one, rubbing the fingers, one at a time.

  Frozen in time and space, Lou simply couldn’t move. Will’s touch was everything she’d fantasized all those years ago. Firm and sure of itself, yet gentle at the same time. Her pulse quickened, her breathing grew louder in her ears.

  “Why did you move so much?”

  His question startled her out of a sensual haze. “Excuse me?”

  “When you were little.”

  “Oh.” Still reacting to his touch, she heard herself answer as though from a distance. “Mom worked as a nanny, for newborns, mostly, and they were short-term jobs.”

  “And so you moved every time a job ended?”

  She managed a shrug. He was massaging the palm of her hand now; there was something amazingly intimate about the whole thing. Hands, knees, touch, warmth. “I guess so. I didn’t question it—I just thought that’s what you did. A job stopped, it was time for a new town. She made packing and moving an adventure, so it wasn’t too bad.”

  “Why’d you finally settle here?”

  You, was what she nearly blurted out. But she was not ready to get that naked with him. In fact…

  Withdrawing her hands from his ministrations, she clasped them around her bent knees. “I begged her. I was thirteen years old and I wanted to start and end a school year in the same place. She managed to get a nice job with the Griswalds as a full-time housekeeper, and she came into a little money from an inheritance so we could put a down payment on this place. I got jobs after school and we got by.”

  “Tell me about her. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. She was a sweet woman, totally devoted to me. To her detriment, I’m afraid. Not that she martyred herself, trust me. She had hobbies that she loved and good friends. We made a nice life here.”

  And Mom’s had been way too short. Lou felt her eyes filling with tears. “You know what, Will? I’m tired.” She rose from the steps and realized she was actually exhausted.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

  Will followed Lou up the stairs, reluctant to have their evening end. There had been something different, something special about it. Sitting with Lou on the steps, talking quietly in the dark, he’d felt an affinity, an intimate connection to her that was rare for him to feel with anyone.

  At the door, she pulled her keys out from her purse, then turned to him. “Well, thanks,” she said. In the yellow light, he could see the tired lines under her eyes. Large brown eyes. Kind brown eyes.

  “For what?” He handed her the to-go package.

  “Dinner. The talk. The hand rub.” She smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve had human discourse. Conversations with animals tend to be kind of one-sided.”

  Without thinking, he placed his palms on her soft cheeks, angled her head up, bent over and kissed her. He felt her body tense for a moment; then she relaxed. Her lips softened, parted slightly. He slid his tongue in and tasted her. Moist. Sweet. His body responded instantly…and way too intensely.

  Breaking the kiss, he drew back, dropped his hands.

  She gazed at him, eyes wide. “Why did you kiss me?”

  It had been a momentary lapse of judgment, following through on something that should never have begun in the first place. He didn’t want to play around in his hometown, then leave. Not with someone vulnerable to hurt the way Lou was.

  Still, he owed her the truth. “I told you I was attracted to you. Nothing since has changed my mind. I’m sorry we don’t live near each other.”

  “Oh.” He could see she was not sure what to do with that. Embarrassed, she fumbled for her house key and inserted it in the lock. Then she turned again to face him. “Good night, Will.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Whistling, he began to descend the stairs and was halfway down when he heard a piercing cry shatter the stillness of the night.

  Chapter 3

  Will rushed right back up the stairs and flung open the door to see Lou standing in the middle of the living room, her hand to her mouth and shaking her head. It was a small, high-ceilinged room with two archways, one that led to the rear of the house and another through which a kitchen was visible. The entire place was in shambles. Lamps were overturned, couch pillows strewn about, the drawers of a tall sideboard pulled out and their contents, mostly table linens and large platters, dumped on the floor. Paintings had been torn off the wall, their backs ripped open.

  Quickly, Will closed the door, went to Lou and guided her to a small chair near the fireplace. “Sit,” he ordered, then added, “Stay here.” She did.

  He picked up the fireplace poker and quickly searched the rest of the small living quarters. The rear arch led to two small bedrooms and a bath. The first bedroom was in as much disarray as the living room: clothing heaped on the floor of a closet, drawers opened, sheets and blankets tossed about. Whoever it was who had done this had been in a hurry. It looked as though a tornado had tunneled its way through. In the small bathroom, the contents of the medicine cabinet lay scattered on the tile floor. The second bedroom, however, was amazingly neat. It seemed obvious they hadn’t had time to get to this room before they’d taken off.

  Will ran back to the living room and checked to see that Lou was still in the chair. She was, though she was still shaking. Then he headed into the kitchen and gazed around. Oven doors were open, cabinets had been gone through, even the refrigerator door stood ajar. He closed it, then returned to Lou.

  Kneeling down in front of her, Will took both her freezing hands in his. Her face was white, her eyes huge and vulnerable. “No one’s here. You’re safe.”

  She nodded.

  “They didn’t get to the smaller bedroom, at least.”

  She nodded again.

  “Are you in shock? Talk to me.”

  She shook her head, then managed, “Just…horrified.” She shrugged, a small helpless gesture. “And confused. Why? Who would do thi
s?”

  He stood, took out his cell phone and paced back and forth in front of the small fireplace as he placed a call to 911. After ascertaining that there didn’t seem to be imminent danger, the operator told him she’d report this immediately to the police.

  Will squatted on his haunches, again took her cold hands in his and rubbed them together. “They’re on their way. Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

  “Yes,” she said, licking around her mouth. “That would be nice.”

  After double-locking the front door just to be safe, he headed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water that Lou gulped down quickly. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she set the glass down on a side table, then gazed around the room again.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This happened to me once in D.C. and when I got home I was shocked at first, then really pissed off. It’s a kind of violation, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, but seemed distracted. After a moment, she shook her head slowly. “I thought it was nothing.”

  “You thought what was nothing?”

  “The last few days. I’ve had this…creepy feeling, like someone was watching me, following me.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded again, her brows furrowed. “It was nothing I could see, nothing tangible, but I sensed it. It was like he, they, whatever, were waiting for something. For me to do something.” She turned her gaze on him. “Since Mom died, I go down to the clinic in the morning and come back up here at night. I don’t much go anywhere else. And what I think, although I could be wrong, is that they were waiting for me to leave so they could do this. Does that sound nuts?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “And tonight there was a break in the pattern. I went out to dinner with you.” A look of sudden realization came over her face. “The men! Remember the two men, the ones who were in such a hurry right before we got here? They must have seen us coming and ran out before they could finish whatever they were here for. Oh!”

  She stood abruptly, rushed to the smaller of the two bedrooms. Will followed. “Don’t touch anything before the cops get here.”

  She knelt in front of the bed, lifted the spread and reached under. “I have to get Anthony.”

  “Anthony?”

  “My baby.” After a moment, she pulled out a highly protesting small black kitten with white paws, shivering and emitting tiny, pitiful little mews. Instead of rising again, Lou sat on the floor, leaned back against the bed and, cradling the terrified animal in her arms, murmured comforting words in a low, soothing voice.

  Gazing down on the picture the two made, Will was oddly moved. The woman was something else; her place had been invaded, but she had put that aside to take care of a small, helpless animal.

  The sound of heavy footsteps on the outside stairs was followed by a loud rapping on the door. “It’s Kevin Miller!”

  “Kevin?” Will asked as he helped Lou to her feet and they made their way toward the front of the house.

  “He’s our police chief.”

  Will opened the door and sure enough, one of his buddies from high school stood there, wearing chinos and a dark blue sweatshirt with the legend Police Do It In Handcuffs scrawled across his ample chest. “Will?” he said, surprise on his round face. “Hey.”

  The two men shook hands. “Kev.”

  Kevin’s short hair was beginning to gray and his gut was somewhat more pronounced than it had been back in their school jock days, but he hadn’t changed much. He was still placid-looking and good-natured. He stepped inside, followed by a youthful uniformed cop. The rookie officer was introduced as Jack Kingman.

  “How you doing, Dr. Lou?” Kevin asked.

  She shrugged. “Not great.”

  He perused the room, nodded. “So I see.” He turned to the kid. “Check the place out.”

  “I already did,” Will offered. “No one’s here.”

  “Not too smart.”

  He shrugged. “I needed to make sure Lou was safe.”

  “Check anyway,” Kevin told Kingman. “You know the drill, don’t touch anything.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And please,” Lou added, “the clinic downstairs? I need to know everything’s okay there.”

  Kevin looked at the rookie. “Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the young man took off, Kevin tugged a notebook and pen from his back pocket, and told Lou to sit on the part of the couch that was still cushioned. Kevin then pulled up a wooden chair from the dining room table and sat in front of her.

  As Will perched on the arm of the couch, Kevin asked Lou, “Can you talk to me now?” When she nodded, he said, “Tell me what you know, from the beginning.”

  She did so—the feeling of being followed the past few days, the men rushing down the street as she and Will came up, opening her door to discover the place had been thoroughly trashed.

  “Anything taken?” Kevin asked, jotting down notes.

  “I haven’t really had time to look around, but not as far as I can tell.”

  “Any idea why they’d pick you or your place?”

  “Not a one.”

  “You got any valuables here?”

  “Not a thing. Kevin, I swear I can’t think of any reason for this, none at all.”

  The rookie cop returned. “All clear up here, sir.”

  “Check the clinic now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He left by the front door and Kevin returned his attention to Lou. “So, you think you’ve been under some kind of scrutiny and that the two men who nearly knocked you guys down are connected to that. Do you know that, or just think it?” He framed the question neutrally, but Will could see the skepticism behind it.

  “I think it.”

  “Okay, then. Any enemies?”

  “Me?” She shook her head again. “Honestly, I have nothing of value and no enemies.”

  “Old boyfriends?”

  “No one of any consequence. An ex-husband who I haven’t seen in years—he’s remarried and happily, so I hear. He lives out west in Oregon.”

  Will mused aloud. “They were looking for something, don’t you think, Kev?”

  He nodded. “Money, probably, or something they could pawn.”

  “If they were,” Lou said, “they were clean out of luck. I mean, what with student loans, the mortgage, then setting up the clinic, Mom and I only recently got out of the red. All the furniture you see here is from thrift shops, with Mom working her magic on them. The only thing I can think of is some silver. You know, a few old place settings that we happened to pick up at a swap meet.” Still cradling the kitten, she rose from the couch and walked over to the sideboard where she peered into one of the drawers that was hanging open. “Nope. They’re still here.” She turned around, shrugged. “There’s nothing, Kevin, trust me.”

  “Could be a random thing,” Kevin said. “But I don’t think it was.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it was too thoroughly gone through,” Will said, then addressed the chief. “You mind, Kev?” An amused smile on his face, the other man shook his head. Will angled his body toward Lou, still standing behind him by the sideboard. “I used to be a beat reporter covering the D.C. cops and went to a lot of crime scenes. This is the kind of damage you see when someone is looking for one specific thing of value, something that might be hidden. You know, a first edition, a valuable painting, family heirlooms. Maybe important papers, like financial records in a divorce or some kind of evidence to be used in a lawsuit.”

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing that complicated in my life, trust me.”

  He believed her, as far as that went. But there could be something she had no knowledge of. The timing of the break-in was bothering him. Had his conversation with Lincoln earlier in the week set something sinister in motion? Lou said she’d had the feeling of having been watched for a few days. It was just three days ago that he’d
talked to Linc and Lou’s mother had been mentioned.

  Was there a connection? Was this reporter’s intuition or reporter’s overactive imagination at work?

  He couldn’t be certain. In his profession, a prime credo was that all threads had to be followed to their source. “How about your mother?” he offered.

  “How about my mother what?”

  Kingman, the young officer, came pounding up the stairs and reported that everything downstairs was fine. The whole place was locked up tighter than a drum.

  Lou seemed to relax just a bit at the news. After she thanked him, Kevin told him to wait at the foot of the stairs and to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

  “Yes, sir,” the young man said and went pounding down the stairs again. So much energy, Will thought with a smile.

  Kevin said to Lou, “Your mother? Maybe she had something valuable here, something you didn’t know about.”

  Shaking her head, she returned to the couch and sat down again. “I guess it’s possible.”

  “Did you go through all her effects?” Will persisted.

  “Her effects?” She snorted. “Her clothes and a couple of boxes in the attic, that’s all. Baby pictures, my school report cards, stuff like that.”

  “Did she have a safe-deposit box?” Kevin asked.

  “One at our bank. It contained her will, leaving everything to me. A small insurance policy.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  “You holding up okay?” Will asked Lou.

  “I’m tired, but I’m fine,” she said. “And now that the initial shock is over, you’re right, I’m starting to get pissed off.”

  Kevin nodded. “Good. Can either of you describe the two men who rushed by you?”

  Lou shook her head, but Will closed his eyes, pictured the scene. “Both wore black. One had longish brown hair tied at his neck. The other wore a baseball cap, black also, didn’t notice a logo. Their heads were lowered as they ran so I couldn’t see their faces, but I got the impression they were mid to late twenties.”