Adele wanted to believe Natalie. She couldn’t help it. She liked Natalie and the fact they’d connected so easily and comfortably. Adele craved even the chance to go back and start over. At the same time, she didn’t feel like sticking her neck out again, only to risk having her head lopped off. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
Natalie threw back her own disbelieving look. “How can you not want to know what actually happened that night? How can a detec—”
“Don’t call me that,” Adele snapped harshly. “I’m not a detective anymore.”
Taken aback by the poison in Adele’s voice, Natalie licked her lips nervously. “Okay, fine.” She held up a placating hand. “Ella—”
“You don’t get to call me that either.” Adele pushed to her feet, cursing under her breath when her cane rattled to the ground.
“Then what am I supposed to call you?” Natalie asked reasonably. “You mentioned before that you didn’t like to go by Adele.” She quickly reached for the cane, but Adele beat her to the punch and nearly snatched it from Natalie’s grasp.
“I can get it myself,” Adele bit out, hating the petulant way she was acting but unable to stop herself.
Even when they’d parted three years ago, Adele had been more hurt than angry at Natalie’s words. Natalie’s reaction to everything that had happened hadn’t exactly been unexpected. But something in Adele didn’t want to let Natalie know that. Adele had lost so much already—nearly everything she held dear—that she wanted to keep any tiny kernel of pride that still remained and not give in as easily as her heart demanded. The problem was, with every earnest, apologetic look from Natalie, she felt her resolve weakening.
She loathed feeling weak and Adele fairly shook with the need to explode. With every fiber of her being she wanted to raise her voice and yell at the top of her lungs. She wanted to feel the satisfaction of causing pain instead of stinging from it. She wanted to push all the frustration, hurt and anger she felt outward instead of allowing it to fester inside. Adele knew her reaction to seeing Natalie again was out of proportion with what had happened, but she was spoiling for a fight and Natalie wouldn’t engage!
“Only my family and friends call me Ella,” Adele rasped. “And remember? You made it clear that I was never your friend. So I guess that leaves you with nothing.” Just like me.
Natalie sucked in a sharp breath. “I told you…I didn’t mean what I said.”
Voila. Adele saw the flash of hurt she was looking for, but it only left her feeling empty. With effort, she consciously lowered the volume of her voice. “Go home or go back to the police, Ms. Abbott.”
Natalie shook her head. “You calling me that isn’t annoying me as much as you’re hoping. And I already explained that the police wouldn’t help me. It’s obvious they aren’t interested in taking things any further with Josh’s case.” She sighed. “You’re the only one who can really help.”
Outwardly, Adele shrugged. Inwardly, she seethed at her former coworkers’ apathy…and her own lack of capacity. “Then I guess you’ll have to go home now…disappointed again. I hear third time’s the charm.”
“Jesus Christ!” Natalie shouted, hitting the wrought-iron table with two flat hands, her temper finally flaring out of her control. “I may go home disappointed, whether you help me or not, but I won’t go home until after I at least try to find justice for Josh.”
“There is no justice here.” Adele turned away.
Natalie barked out a harsh laugh. “Drama queen! That’s the biggest bullshit drama queen answer I’ve ever heard!”
Adele spun back, eyes blazing, grasping her cane with both hands until blood fled from her knuckles. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me.” Natalie shot to her feet. When Adele tried to turn away from her again, Natalie followed her and inserted herself directly in front of Adele no matter which way she moved.
Adele suddenly felt cornered, and an unexpected surge of panic caused her breathing to shallow and a cold sweat to erupt across her back.
At the flash of stark terror on Adele’s face, Natalie’s eyes widened and she took a big step backward. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Are—are you okay?”
Adele wet her lips and glanced away. That hadn’t happened in a long time, and it was unnerving that it could still sneak up on her. “I’m fine,” she said quietly.
“But—”
“I said, I’m fine! If you’re finished now—”
“I’m not finished.”
Adele groaned. “Natalie.”
“No matter what you say, I don’t believe that you don’t want to do everything you can to make things right now. Not when you risked everything to do it before. And I sure as hell don’t believe you don’t want to be vindicated over Crisco.”
The mere thought of it sent a bolt of longing through Adele, but she pressed her lips together in a thin line and refused to acknowledge it.
“And I don’t know what happened to you. At least not more than what I could read online. But this,” Natalie waved her hand around the yard, “isn’t you! I know you were dedicated to your job and helping people. I could tell that was your life. And now I’m supposed to believe that you don’t care about one of your cases and that you’d rather spend all your time plucking weeds and making dinner reservations for tourists?”
Adele felt that one squarely in the chest. “You think I wanted to leave my job? I had no choice but to leave the NOPD!” she hissed, her face mottled.
“Your leg—”
“You don’t know anything.” Adele bared her teeth. “Even if I were one hundred percent healed and healthy, I couldn’t be a cop. Not here.”
Carefully, and telegraphing her every move, Natalie reached out and wrapped warm hands around Adele’s biceps and squeezed hard. For a second, Adele was certain she was going to shake her. Because it didn’t catch her off guard, she didn’t have the slightest urge to pull away. Instead, and despite herself, Adele wanted to lean in to the touch.
“I don’t need just any cop,” Natalie said, voice quivering. “I need you.”
Just then, a reed-thin black woman in her early sixties, wearing a crisply pressed navy blue shirtdress, and carrying a can of WD-40, breezed through the back door and into the courtyard. “Ella, I brought you some—” she paused at the scene before her.
Natalie immediately stepped away from Adele, looking at her hands as though they’d acted completely without her permission.
More unsettled than she cared to admit, Adele set her cane on the table and leaned against the cool wrought iron, letting her eyes slide closed. She’d been itching for a fight, and now that she had it, she felt as though she was the one walking away bruised.
“I’m Georgia Trotter.” The woman held out her hand. “You must be Ms. Abbott.”
Natalie nodded, her mouth clamped shut as though she didn’t trust her voice to speak.
“Am I interrupting something?” Georgia asked, though it was obvious she was.
Adele pushed away from the table with a grimace and reclaimed her cane. “Ye—”
“It’s nothing,” Natalie broke in with sudden brightness. “We were just catching up. And I got excited about our upcoming plans.”
Adele’s eyebrows shot upward.
“You know each other then? Ms. Abbott didn’t mention that on the phone.” This time Georgia made a point of looking at Adele for an answer.
Adele only shrugged one shoulder. “Vaguely.”
Natalie shot Adele a covert glare. “We’re old acquaintances who are about to get to know each other better.”
“That’s great. Things are working out perfectly then.” Georgia’s white teeth gleamed with her welcoming smile. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I had to make a quick run to the hardware store. But your room is all ready.”
Adele’s eyes popped wide open. “What? She can’t stay here!”
Georgia waited for Adele to elaborate.
�
�We’re…we’re closed!”
Georgia nodded. “I explained all that to her, and she was such a doll about it. She found us on the Internet. Ella, I told you that picture of you on the ‘About’ page would help drive business.”
Adele’s eyes rolled at the memory of another battle lost.
“And Ms. Abbott insisted she wouldn’t mind the noise or that there wouldn’t be housekeeping or breakfast service. And she even insisted on payin’ full rate for the entire week in advance.”
Adele’s mouth dropped open. “A week?”
Obviously thrilled with this arrangement, Georgia beamed at Natalie. “Isn’t that right?”
Natalie smirked openly at Adele. “That’s right. And please call me Natalie.”
Adele started to protest, but Georgia stuffed the can of WD-40 into her hands before she could argue. Georgia lowered her voice to a whisper. “You wanted to look for ways to offset some of the renovation costs. And this fell into our lap. What luck, huh?”
Adele could only shake her head in disbelief. “Yeah. I have amazing luck.”
Georgia smiled again and patted Adele’s shoulder affectionately.
The older woman had known Adele since she was in diapers, and their relationship went far beyond that of an employer and employee.
“After you finish the flowers you can fix the door,” Georgia said. “I’ll show Ms. Abbott to her room.”
Natalie grabbed her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. She followed Georgia across the courtyard toward the back door, stepping around a rake and garden hose as she moved. Natalie waved over her shoulder without looking back. “Will I see you for dinner, Adele?”
Georgia clucked woefully and spoke from the corner of her mouth, “Didn’t she tell you she doesn’t like to be called that?”
Natalie chuckled unrepentantly as a large dirt clod sailed through the air and came dangerously close to hitting her in the head as it exploded against the side of the house. “Yes.”
* * *
It was nearly midnight that same evening when a cold December wind invaded the city like a conquering army, and the temperatures plummeted into the high 30s.
Wearing the only other clothes she’d hastily shoved into a bag as she packed for the airport, a pair of sweatpants, and a cardinal red and white UW–Madison T-shirt, Natalie wrapped her arms around herself, a little shiver running through her as she padded in socked feet through the dark, silent house in hopes of finding something to eat. The fourteen-foot ceilings, while probably a godsend in the smoldering summer months, helped a cool draft travel through the house with ease. Natalie rubbed her hands up and down over the goose bumps on her arms in a vain attempt to warm them.
Her hair was loose, and more than just a little disheveled, as it flowed over her shoulders and several inches down her back. She’d considered hiding in her room the remainder of the night and burrowing under the covers until the next morning, but her hunger drove her up and out of bed after this endlessly long day. She poked her head around each dark corner, hoping to find Georgia still awake or at least a fruit bowl she could raid.
Natalie hadn’t seen Adele at dinner that night. In fact, she hadn’t seen Adele since their argument in the courtyard and had skipped dinner entirely—and breakfast and lunch for that matter—because her stomach had been in knots. Feeling a little queasy after everything that had happened, Natalie had collapsed on the luxurious bed in her room, intent on planning out a strategy for what she was going to do next about finding Josh’s killer, or at least how she might jump-start the police. Problem was, Natalie had no idea where to begin.
In the end it hadn’t mattered, because instead of strategizing, the lack of sleep from the night spent in the airport, and the stress of finding Misty’s body, talking with the police, and arguing with Adele caught up with her all at once. The moment her head hit the pillow, she promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted the entire evening. Feeling oddly hungover, even though she hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol, and having had the longest nap of her life, Natalie gave herself permission to worry about tomorrow…tomorrow.
The sudden delectable scent of chocolate caught Natalie’s attention and led her into the darkened kitchen. Moonlight shone into the room through a large window above the sink and cast the room in deep shades of indigo. Full of hope, she headed straight for the oven, confident that even blindfolded she could identify the smell of freshly baked brownies.
Natalie’s mouth watered. She wasn’t sure exactly what she would do when she found the brownies that were teasing her. Steal them? Yes, she decided, she could live with thievery in extreme circumstances. But sadly, the oven was empty.
“They’re on the cooling rack by the fridge.”
Natalie nearly jumped out of her skin. Hand flying to her chest, she gasped and jumped at the same time. “Jesus! You scared the crap out of me.”
Adele, who was sitting in her pajamas on a barstool in the darkness, a cup in her hands, chuckled softly from across the large kitchen island.
For a few seconds they stared at each other, unsure whether their argument from the afternoon would roar to life and shatter the peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen.
It didn’t.
“Sorry about that,” Adele murmured, blowing gently across the top of her mug of cocoa. She tilted her head toward the brownies. “Hungry?”
Natalie nodded vigorously. “God, yes.”
“You missed dinner.”
“I fell asleep.”
Adele hummed a little. “Today’s been insane, huh?”
Slowly, Natalie nodded in disbelief. She never thought she’d hear from Misty, or be back in New Orleans, or speak to Adele Lejeune ever again. Yet here she was, doing just that, in the middle of the night, in socks, and with bed head. “That pretty much sums it up. Yeah.”
Adele took a sip of her cocoa. “Do you, um, want some real food to go with the brownies?”
“I thought meals didn’t come with my stay.”
Natalie was smiling when she said it so Adele’s response was equally playful, if still a bit awkward. “They don’t. But I’ll make an exception just this once.” Adele set her mug on the granite-topped island and slid off her tall barstool.
It was only a couple of steps to the refrigerator, but Natalie noticed Adele’s cane was nowhere in sight.
“How about a turkey sandwich?” Adele’s head disappeared inside the fridge, the harsh refrigerator light causing them both to squint.
Natalie opened her mouth to answer, but her growling stomach beat her to the punch.
Adele laughed softly. “Well, okay then. I’ll take that as a yes.” She began setting sandwich fixings on the countertop. She spoke with her head still inside the refrigerator, “Cabinet to the right of the sink has the plates and glasses.”
Natalie nodded and retrieved them, not missing Adele’s laser-like focus on the plate of sliced turkey covered in plastic wrap that she had placed next to the brownies. “Uh…do you want a plate too?”
Adele hemmed and hawed mentally for a few breaths before declaring, “Definitely.” She held up a jug of milk with one hand and a jug of orange juice with the other and waited.
Natalie pointed to the milk.
For a few minutes the women worked wordlessly, preparing their own sandwiches, using only the light that streamed in from the kitchen window to guide them. Things were much less tense than earlier that day, but Natalie still longed for the easy camaraderie she’d gotten just a taste of on her last two visits.
Natalie had come to a decision as she watched Adele scavenge in the refrigerator for mustard. If the former detective couldn’t be persuaded to help find Josh’s killer, Natalie wouldn’t allow that to keep them from being friends. I could use someone like her in my life. An honest-to-God good person.
Time, Natalie decided, was what they needed. Time to get to know each other not as a detective and the brother of a crime victim. Time as who they were now, beyond those two things.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, signaling the witching hour as Natalie watched Adele sip her cocoa and pick at her sandwich. A tiny part of her mind had wondered when she saw Adele again, if she’d associate the other woman with worry, or grief or pain, since the only times they had been together had been rife with one or all of those emotions. Instead, Adele brought to mind strength, security and determination. Not to mention she’s freakin’ beautiful.
“You’re up late,” Natalie observed with intentional casualness, all the while trying not to inhale her sandwich, which was proving impossible. It was delicious and she couldn’t help the little moans of pleasure that escaped her as she ate.
Adele released an amused smile at Natalie’s groans of satisfaction. “I couldn’t sleep. Too much work outside today.” She pointed downward. “My leg is killing me.”
It was on the tip of Natalie’s tongue to ask more about Adele’s injuries, but she held back. “I’m sorry.”
“How are your folks?” Adele asked, quickly changing the subject before wiping some mayo from the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin.
Natalie cleared her throat and smoothed her shirt as if preparing to make an official proclamation. She affected her best Wisconsin accent. “Ya know, thanks for askin’. Things up nort’ in Wuh-Skaaaahn-sin, dere real good.”
Adele smiled softly. “You don’t speak like that.”
“No.” Natalie chuckled. “I suppose not. At least not too much. But you should have heard my grandparents and, to a lesser extent, my mom. I spent my late teens and up until I was almost thirty years old out-of-state and on the East Coast where I went to school and did my postdoc. So I’ve lost a bit of my Sconnie street cred. Then again, I’ve been known to enjoy a good tailgating party with brats and a couple PBRs for supper as much as the next gal.” Cautiously, she peered over her shoulder as though someone might overhear the conversation. “Don’t tell anyone about the Pabst Blue Ribbon, okay?”
A tiny smirk appeared. “Scout’s honor.”
Natalie’s gaze dropped to Adele’s mug. “Hot chocolate and brownies? You’re a girl after my own heart. Your sweet tooth is epic.”
A Dark Horse Page 16
