Lois Lane Tells All

by Karen Hawkins

  “Heck no. He’ll just want to lick you, and he’s liable to catch something from that dirty lake water you’re wearing.”

  “Thanks,” Susan said with a sardonic glance. “I’m sure he appreciates your concern.”

  “I’ll go and feed him. That will settle him down.” Mr. Collins went inside and they could hear him talking to Krypton.

  Susan dropped her tennis shoes on the lawn, where they landed with a splash. “What are you doing here, Treymayne?”

  “Me? Oh. I ah, I came by to … to return this.” He fished the thumb drive out of his shirt pocket.

  “You couldn’t have waited until we were in the office?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a good thing I came. Lucy Carpenter showed up before you returned and she was hopping mad.”

  “Lucy?”

  “She says people are talking about Preacher MacMillan because of all the questions you’ve been asking around town. It took both me and the new preacher to talk her out of confronting you here in your own yard.”

  “Hmm. That’s very interesting.”

  “You don’t look surprised.”

  “The only thing that’s surprised me today is my boat sinking right out from under me. We didn’t notice we were taking on water until we were out in the middle of the lake.”

  “Good God! Are you sure you’re OK?”

  She shot him a look brimming with irritation. “My boat is underwater—so no, I’m not okay!”

  He threw out his hands. “Easy, I was just trying to figure out what happened.”

  She grimaced. “I know. Sorry. It’s been a long day. We went out—”

  “Wait. Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Doc Wilson. He and I fish together once in a while. Anyway, we went out to our favorite cove and were just setting in when we noticed water lapping at our feet. At first I thought it was the plug, though I checked it before we lowered her into the water.”

  Damn, it was hard to think when she was close by. With her hair slicked back, he could see the line of her face clearly. Even drenched head to toe, she looked as sexy as most women who’d spent hours on their appearance.

  The porch door slammed as Mr. Collins reappeared. He shuffled to them, stopping just short to eye Susan’s drenched state with a shake of his head. “Did you save the fishing rods?”

  She jerked a thumb toward the pile of equipment by the road. “Yeah. Two cushions floated away, though.”

  “Those’ll be expensive to replace.” He shook his head. “You just missed Mrs. Carpenter.”

  Susan smiled wearily. “So Mark was telling me. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  Mr. Collins frowned. “It wasn’t good for me or Mark here. We had to listen to her.” He glanced around. “How bad is your bass boat?”

  “It’s submerged in Lake Hope.”

  “What did you do?”

  She sent her father an exasperated glance. “I didn’t do anything. Someone drilled a hole in it.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know, but it pissed me off.”

  Mark realized Susan’s words were more clipped than usual. “You think it’s our murderer?”

  “Do you have to call him that?”

  “Until you prove it otherwise, yes.”

  “Well, he still sucks at it.”

  Mr. Collins’s brows lifted. “Murderer?”

  Mark shot him a hard glance. “This is the second time your daughter has been the victim of foul play, Mr. Collins. Someone cut her brake lines a few weeks ago, and now that person’s drilled a hole in her fishing boat.”

  “But,” Susan added, “whoever it is, they are really bad at it, so you don’t need to worry that I’ll die anytime soon.”

  Mr. Collins rubbed his chin. “That Lucy Carpenter was pissed off. Think she might’ve done it?”

  Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Whoever it is, messing with my bass boat means war.”

  “That’s my girl,” Mr. Collins said approvingly.

  “Doc had just found a great fishing hole, too.”

  Her father blinked, suddenly looking older and confused. “You usually go fishing with old Sheriff Thompson.”

  Susan gave her father a tired smile and patted his arm, her voice softening. “I told you I was going fishing with Doc this morning, remember?”

  “I must have been sleeping when you told me.” He gave an uncertain chuckle. “I sleep like a log sometimes.”

  Susan’s shoulders drooped as if she were exhausted.

  Mark turned to Mr. Collins. “I think a pot of coffee is in order. Mind if I make some?”

  “No, no, son. Go ahead—”

  “Mark,” Susan began, “there’s no need for you to—”

  “It’s as much for me as for you.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the house.

  “Mark, seriously,” Susan said. “There’s no need to make coffee. I need to put the life vests away and—”

  “I’ll get them on my way out. You just want them stored in the garage, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Is it locked?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then what’s wrong, Collins? Afraid my coffee’s too strong for you?”

  She gave him a flat stare. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just need to get that equipment inside.”

  “Yeah. It might get wet.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.

  Having scored his point, he reached for the door, but she was quicker, grasping the door and holding it for him instead. Her gaze met his, challenging him in every way.

  He winked.

  Her cheeks pinkened and she turned on her heel and led the way to the living room, Krypton trotting up to greet them.

  Mark looked around and silently whistled. “Wow. Someone’s been watching HGTV.” Everything was new, modern, and bespoke quality. Well, everything except the broken-down lounge chair by the fireplace. Mark had a suspicion why that particular piece occupied the center of the room like a shabby throne.

  Krypton ran in behind them, licking whatever fingers he could reach and wagging his huge tail. Mark watched as the dog flopped on the rug before the fireplace and completely covered it. “Good God, he’s getting big.”

  Susan smiled, rubbing the dog’s ear. “He’s a wee, tiny thing, aren’t you, Krypton?”

  The dog gazed adoringly at Susan as Mark headed out of the room. “I’ll make some coffee,” he said as he went.

  “Yes, please!” Susan said fervently.

  Mark was impressed by the kitchen’s granite countertops and professional appliances. After a brief search he found the coffeemaker, which looked like something one might see on the space shuttle. Then he found the coffee and creamer in a convenient cupboard, right where he would have placed them himself.

  He heard the murmur of voices from the living room but made no effort to listen to the conversation. Susan wouldn’t appreciate him knowing or seeing more than he already had.

  His stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t had dinner. It was unlikely that Susan had, so he found some soup and bread and enough ham and cheese to make sandwiches.

  Moments later, he had the soup on the stove, sandwiches made, and the coffee ready. Not bad for a bachelor man.

  He heard Susan’s voice. “Go to sleep, Dad.”

  Her father’s answer was indistinguishable, but Susan answered, “I know. It’ll be OK. I promise.”

  Mark’s throat tightened. The child was the parent. It saddened him to hear the matter-of-factness in Susan’s voice. How long had it been so? He tried to remember Susan in high school and found his images of her were of a self-sufficient, coolly regal girl who had no time for anyone or anybody.

  He poured two cups of coffee just as she walked into the kitchen, Krypton padding behind her. Sometime in the process of putting her dad to bed, she’d stopped to change into a dry T-shirt and jeans. Her damp hair was tied with a bright green band, and the faintest hi
nt of color was back in her cheeks.

  Mark handed her a steaming cup. “How’s your dad?”

  She held the cup in both hands, cradling the warmth as Krypton went to sniff the stove, then settled down across from it as if on guard. “He’s gone to bed. He hasn’t yet slept off—” She looked away.

  “He seemed tired,” Mark said noncommittally. “So do you.”

  “It’s nothing that a good cup of coffee won’t fix.” With a strained smile, she crossed to the stove. “Whatcha got cooking?”

  “A little soup and I made some sandwiches. Thought you could use something warm to eat after being dunked.”

  She looked surprised. “Thank you. It … it smells delicious.”

  His heart ached as it dawned on him how alone she was. She gave the impression of being surrounded by friends and of possessing an active, successful life—well, she was successful and she did have a large number of friends. But he wondered how many of them were aware of her father’s condition, of her responsibilities, and how she’d shouldered the burden of his total care, all without complaining.

  He found some bowls and dipped out some soup, then put it on the plate with the sandwiches, and placed them on the counter. Krypton watched with an air of long suffering.

  Mark eyed the dog. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The dog sighed and dropped his head to his paws, looking as forlorn as could be.

  “Aww, poor baby,” Susan said.

  “Baby? He’s a horse.”

  She grinned. “He may be a horse, but he’s my horse.”

  “Good thing I didn’t send you to the prison to do a story. You might have adopted an inmate.”

  She chuckled. “You wouldn’t have been able to walk away from this puppy, either. He knows how to look pathetic. Check his expression now.”

  Mark glanced down at the dog, who sadly met his gaze, though he never raised his head. Mark had to fight a grin. “That’s desperate.”

  Krypton wagged his tail weakly.

  Mark shook his head. “Pathetic.”

  Susan bent to pat the dog, whose tail began to wag in earnest. “Poor baby puppy. So misunderstood. Tell mean Mr. Mark that you’re a good dog, the very best ever.”

  “Go ahead, pander to him,” Mark said dryly. “He’s incorrigible.”

  She rubbed Krypton’s ears, making the dog blissful.

  Mark pulled out a stool at the granite counter. “Here. Have a seat.”

  She sat and hugged the coffee cup to her, shivering a bit. “What an evening.”

  He pushed her soup closer and sat on the stool beside hers. “Here, it’ll warm you up.” He waited until she’d eaten a few spoonfuls of soup, a bit more color returning to her face. “Is the boat salvageable?”

  “The engine’s ruined, but the rest of it’s waterproof. It’ll just take some time to repair.” She took another swallow of soup. “Thank you for making this. It’s just the thing. I should take a hot shower, but I’m too tired.”

  Mark was silent a moment, eating his sandwich. “I really believe this is another attempt on your life.”

  “I don’t believe that. Everyone knows I’m a good swimmer.”

  “I didn’t,” he said promptly.

  She raised her brows. “I was on the school swim team and we won regionals that year.”

  He should have known that. “I didn’t really pay attention to much in high school.”

  “Yes, you did. I never saw anyone more attentive to our cheer squad than you.”

  Mark had to grin. “I was young, foolish, and didn’t understand the concept of quality.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took a bite of her sandwich, her expression reflective. “Why would anyone want to kill me?”

  “Maybe they just want to scare you.” He went to refill their coffee mugs. “It sure feels like it to me. When I arrived and you weren’t here—” He shook his head and placed the mugs in front of their plates. “Who would want you dead or harmed or scared off or whatever is going on?”

  “The only controversial piece I’ve written lately is about the Baptist Bake-Off.”

  “Lucy Carpenter is angry, but she doesn’t seem the sort to drill holes in a boat or scoot under a Jeep and cut the lines.”

  “Yeah, she’s more the knife-you-in-the-shower type. Subtlety is not her strong suit. Still, I can’t think of anyone else who might be mad enough to do something like that.”

  He sipped his coffee. “By the way, I ran into Tundy and the gang on my way here, and someone broke into her apartment at the assisted-living center.”

  “Oh no! Was anyone hurt?”

  “No one was injured. But what’s interesting is that they think the same person who cut your brake lines is responsible for the break-in.”

  “How did they come to that conclusion?”

  “I don’t know, for they don’t have a shred of evidence, yet in an odd way it makes sense. Someone in town is upset and they’re letting us know.”

  Susan mulled this over. “It’s possible, I suppose. They have good instincts; the Murder Mystery Club has uncovered far bigger mysteries than this one.”

  “I don’t give a damn about mysteries, so long as you’re safe.” He collected their empty sandwich plates and carried them to the sink.

  “There’s no one else who would want to scare me.” Susan sent him a glance from beneath her lashes, aware of how nice this was, sitting in her cozy kitchen and chatting with someone who seemed genuinely worried about her.

  She was glad Mark was here. She wished Dad had been more sober, but that was probably too much to ask. She searched Mark’s face for some sign of pity or condescension, but all she found was concern and determination.

  She took another spoonful of hot soup, feeling stronger by the minute. If Mark hadn’t been here when she returned, she would have dealt with Dad, then taken a shower and maybe, much later, finally eaten a sandwich. It felt good to be taken care of.

  “So who would have drilled a hole in my boat?” she mused.

  “Maybe someone from out of town? Someone who didn’t know you could swim?”

  “Like who?”

  “Hmm. There’s the new pastor.”

  Susan laughed. “He might be the sexiest pastor ever, but he’s no killer.”

  Mark’s jaw tightened. “You think he’s sexy?”

  “Every woman in town does,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “What do you all do? Meet and discuss men?”

  “Nothing so formal but that sort of covers it. We share our intel.” She grinned. “That’s how I know he’s a pretty upright guy. Besides, he has no motivation. What did someone have to gain by drilling a hole in my boat?”

  “I don’t know,” Mark said grimly, “but if I find out, I’ll make sure he never does it again. I’ll—” He clamped his mouth closed, his lips almost white.

  She sipped her coffee, uneasy with his obvious concern. She wasn’t used to having someone worry over her, and she found it flattering yet unsettling.

  Not that she needed someone to take care of her; she’d been on her own for too long. Besides, she couldn’t ask anyone else to put up with Dad. That was her job and not one she’d willingly dump on someone else’s shoulders, especially someone she cared about. It was a good thing Mark wasn’t long for Glory. As much as she hated to admit it, she could easily get too used to having him around. She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge a ball of sadness.

  Buck up, Collins, and get it over with. “Mark, thanks for making dinner.” She got off her stool. “Guess I should get in the shower. I really appreciate that you stopped by.”

  Krypton lifted his head and then rolled to his feet, shambling off toward the living room.

  Mark had his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, but at her statement, he replaced it on the counter.

  Susan stretched and yawned. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes, it has been.” He slid off his stool and shoved a hand into his pocket. His arm rippled with muscles at the smal
l effort, and Susan’s mouth went dry. “Here. Before I forget.”

  He held out her thumb drive. As she reached for it, he closed his big hand over hers. “Susan, I—”

  A sound came from the front of the house, and Susan’s heart sank.

  Mark frowned. “What was that?”

  She pulled her hand free, dropping the thumb drive on the counter as she headed for the living room. “That was the screen door.”

  Mark followed silently. Krypton stood by the front door, wagging his tail in vain hope. He sighed and lumbered to his pile of blankets and began gnawing on a toy.

  “Your father left?” Mark asked.

  She nodded mutely, worry shadowing her eyes. “He hasn’t been feeling well today and I’d hoped—” She turned her face away, but not before he caught the faintest downturn of her lips.

  “Will he be back tonight?”

  “Probably not. Once he’s gone—” She shrugged and forced a smile. “That’s OK. It means more hot water for my shower. Thanks again for coming, Mark.” She opened the screen door and held it there.

  As he walked through, he looked down into her face, her blue eyes so clear, her red hair starting to dry and curl about her face. Mark lifted a hand to her cheek. “I hate for you to be alone.”

  She moved away. “I’m not. I’ve got Krypton for company, and if I get lonely, I only have to make a phone call. I’m not a hermit, you know.”

  He forced a smile to match hers. “I’ll get your life vests and fishing equipment from the sidewalk where you left them.”

  He collected the pile of fishing rods, tackle, and life vests. As he gathered the last one, he turned back toward the porch. She was still holding open the screen door, a wistful expression on her face.

  That did it. He carried his burden to the porch and stacked it neatly to one side of the door. Then he slipped an arm around her waist and yanked her close. Without giving her time to protest, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her. The banked passion that simmered between them roared to flames, and it was several moments before he lifted his head and gulped air. “God, you drive me crazy.”

  Her eyes warmed with laughter. “I don’t mean to.”

  “You’re not going to make me believe that.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead to hers. “Just how big is your shower?”