“Did you have a date?” she pressed.
“No.”
“Aw, come on. I remember how girls approached you everywhere you went, even when I was standing right there.”
“Yeah, I remember when you were one of those girls,” he muttered.
“I wasn’t—” Her protest broke off. “I guess I was.”
It had been at a food festival. He’d been standing in line for Korean barbecue and kimchi fries, and she’d walked right up to him. As it happened, one of her friends had known one of his, and they’d spent the rest of the afternoon together. And the evening. But not the night. She might approach strangers, she had told him, but she wasn’t casual about sex. That was an entirely different matter.
For...eh, maybe ten days, and there had been absolutely nothing casual about it. It had been... It sounded sappy, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. Life-changing.
But that was a long time ago. A time best left in the past.
Luckily for him, because his brain insisted on recalling the way she’d looked that day—long hair in a ponytail, shorts that revealed a mile of leg and a tank top that clung so sweetly it was almost better than seeing her naked—the door opened, admitting loud conversations and laughter, along with Morwenna and Ben. Her British accent was noticeable again as she ragged Ben about something his mother had said.
The two joined Daniel and Natasha at the table, sitting opposite each other. “We have to separate them so they don’t poke and kick each other during the meal,” Daniel said.
Morwenna reached across to pinch his arm, but he anticipated it and leaned away far enough that she mostly caught his sleeve. “It’s not our fault you’re an only child and have no concept how siblings behave.”
“I was happy being an only child.” It was true, as far as it went. Though sometimes he’d envied Natasha’s intimacy with Stacia or Ben’s affection for his sisters. But not all siblings had that kind of closeness. Morwenna rarely saw her brother and didn’t know what to do with him when she did, and Ben’s own younger brother had abandoned the entire family years ago.
But Daniel had had it good: all his fathers’ love, all their affection, all their attention.
Ben handed Natasha a menu, and she opened it before glancing around the table. “No menus for you? What are you getting?”
“Fry-bread tacos,” they answered in unison. Ben added, “It’s the Friday-night special.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have, too.”
She would be surprised when she saw it. Mrs. Little Bear didn’t skimp on quality or quantity. But given the way the last day had gone for Natasha—the last year—a good surprise was in order. Daniel could use one, too.
He just didn’t see one coming his way any time soon.
* * *
Natasha didn’t want to move. Between the taco the size of a dinner plate, necessitating a fork and a knife to eat, and the comfortable presence of her dinner companions, she’d been lulled into a sense of security that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Her senses were dulled, her brain too relaxed to think about something as ugly as danger. She wanted to stay there. Didn’t want the night to end. Didn’t want to go back to her hotel room or the fear and the dread.
But Ben had already hidden a few yawns, and Morwenna hadn’t bothered to hide hers. Natasha had also caught Daniel sneaking glances at his watch. Unlike her, he wasn’t one bit relaxed. He was counting down the minutes until he could go home, close her out of his mind and get on with whatever he’d planned before dinner had interrupted.
“Sorry, guys, but I’m pooped.” Morwenna stood and stretched, an eye-popping flow of colors, then stepped away from the table. “Mum never learned the concept of being quiet while others are sleeping. She’ll be waking me at five when she goes out to run.”
“If you got a place of your own, she wouldn’t wake you,” Daniel pointed out as he, too, stood.
“A place of my own? On what the city pays me? We dispatchers don’t make nearly as much as you detectives do.”
“I got my first place on way less than you make,” Ben said.
“Yes, but you were living with your mother, three sisters and two brothers. You had incentive. And I’m sorry, but I will not live in a mobile home in Oklahoma. I need a solid foundation when the tornados come blasting through.”
“It wasn’t a mobile home,” he retorted. “It was a travel trailer in Weezer’s backyard. My great-granddad moved it in twenty-five years ago, and it hasn’t blown away yet.”
Natasha smiled as she pushed her chair back. She missed friends and dinners out and good-natured squabbles. In the past year, her world had gotten progressively smaller, until the only person she spent much time with now was her sister. Stacia couldn’t be Natasha’s whole life, even though she was willing.
And Natasha had better not get too attached to this warm, pleasant feeling. These people weren’t going to be around for long. The police would catch RememberMe, or he would catch her, or when the investigation stalled, she would eventually be forced to move on. However it went, she would probably never see Morwenna or Ben again.
Probably never see Daniel again.
She’d had five years to get used to that idea, but she never had. Even the night she’d pressed his ring into Stacia’s hand and begged her sister to return it to him, she’d known she would miss him like crazy. She was ripping apart the very essence of who she was, and she’d hated it, but she had done it anyway. Despite its incredible wrongness, it had seemed her only option.
How sad that loving him so totally hadn’t been enough to make her stay. She had joked about her family earlier in the evening, but seriously, what would it take to make her settle down? It was what she wanted—a husband, kids, a dog and a cat—and she’d had four chances to get it. What was wrong with her that she’d kept running?
“Natasha?”
Daniel’s voice startled her. He hadn’t spoken much through dinner—no need with Morwenna and Ben there to entertain and probably no interest on his part—and he sounded tired but patient. He was almost always patient.
While she’d been lost in her thoughts, he’d crossed the room and now waited at the door. The other two were already down the hall.
With a mental slap from Tasha, she pushed her chair in then slung her purse strap over her shoulder. Daniel stepped back, letting her leave first, then closed the door, caught up and walked beside her down the hall and through the kitchen.
Ben was staying at the restaurant to help out, so Natasha, Daniel and Morwenna put on their slickers in the storeroom then headed into the night. The light that had gone out earlier was burning again, flickering, buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the rain and the rushing creek water. They walked quickly to the truck, climbed in and fastened their seat belts, then Morwenna heaved a sigh. “I wish Mum cooked like Mrs. LB. Can you believe, all the years we’ve lived here, Mum’s never had fried catfish or chicken or chicken-fried steak?”
When Daniel didn’t respond, Natasha did. “You said she runs?”
“Like a crazy woman. Seriously, seventy-five to a hundred miles a week.”
“That makes my joints hurt just thinking about it.” Natasha liked to walk. She liked hiking, too, but in her opinion, time outside should be peaceful and relaxing, not jarring your bones pounding the pavement for mile after mile. Though, given the circumstances, it probably wouldn’t hurt if Natasha could run a little faster and a whole lot longer. Just in case it was necessary to save her life.
The time to start training would have been a year ago. Not now, when he’s followed you halfway across the country and set your car on fire.
A year ago, Natasha hadn’t known she was getting a stalker. She’d thought the next ten years of her life would go on like the last ten: normal, average, unique only to her.
She gazed into the dreary night as Daniel drove back the way they
’d come, slogging over potholes and puddles, and she let her weary body sway in time with the truck. Only a few feet after reaching pavement, they rattled and bumped over railroad tracks, then it was a smooth drive back to the hotel.
Until Morwenna yawned loudly. “I’m knackered. Drop me off first, would you, Daniel?”
Natasha fancied she could actually see the tension shimmering around him. He turned his head slightly, giving Morwenna a long and most likely meaningful look. “You live two blocks from me.”
“It’s not that far out of your way, taking me home, taking Natasha back to the hotel, then going home yourself. Don’t be a prat.”
It couldn’t be too far, Natasha agreed, but tonight it was the company that mattered, not the distance. Was he thinking he’d already been bullied into having dinner with the fiancée who’d jilted him? That he’d done his duty and shouldn’t now have to endure extended time alone with her? If she thought even remotely that he might let her, she would ask him to stop at the corner and leave her to walk the last few blocks by herself.
After another moment of that heavy look, he turned on the blinker, turned left and, a block later, crossed First Street, heading south.
Poor Daniel. Despite her occasional wishes, Natasha hadn’t been switched at birth. She was proving to be a true Spencer, creating chaos everywhere she went.
Now that he’d acceded to Morwenna’s request, the other woman’s exhaustion morphed into energy. “My best friend from high school used to live in that white house on the corner, and our family doctor lived in the brick house next door. That empty lot over there has been turned into a community garden, and that’s the church our neighbor took me to as a kid. Sunday is the only day Mum’s guaranteed off, so she tries to run twenty to twenty-five miles then. I had to put on dresses, listen to sermons and be on my best behavior while she worshiped at the church of endorphins.
“Oh, and this house on the corner—” She twisted around to point in the dark. “That’s Daniel’s house. The south half of it, at least. The entrance is on the other street.”
Streetlamps were evenly spaced along the block, but with mature trees mostly still in full leaf, much of their light got lost in the crowns. Natasha had an impression of a house old and solid and traditional, vastly different from the sleek glass-and-steel contemporary he’d grown up in. In Malibu, he’d had a deck overlooking the ocean, but he’d wanted a porch overlooking a yard with big trees and lush grass and room to run. It looked as if he’d gotten it.
At least a few things had worked out for him since she’d ripped the rug out from under him. He had good friends and a great place to live. He probably, at least sometimes, had someone to share it with.
Odd how it could hurt her heart that it wasn’t her.
Morwenna’s commentary continued until the moment Daniel pulled into the circular driveway of another traditional two-story house. She leaned around the seat to smile. “I’m so glad you came to dinner. You can’t imagine the headaches those two give me sometimes. We’ll do this again, as long as the guys say it’s safe, okay? See you.”
Before Natasha could form a thank you, Morwenna had slid to the ground and slammed the truck door behind her. In that one moment, damp air rushed into the vehicle, bringing a chill but also a fresh, clean scent that reminded her of mountain hikes on drizzly days. Snuggling with Daniel under the waterproof blanket she always kept in her pack. Talking or kissing or just being still together, listening to the rain dripping from branches overhead. They’d had some lovely conversations at those times. They’d had some lovely quiet, too.
She glanced at him. His attention was on Morwenna, illuminated by the porch light and shielded from the rain, wiggling a key into the lock. When the door opened, she turned back, grinned and gave them a thumbs-up, and he slowly began pulling out of the driveway. Morwenna was locked inside the house before they drove out of sight.
Chills shivered through Natasha. In a few minutes, Daniel would park in front of the hotel, get out and walk her inside to her room. He would check to make sure it was empty and safe, and then he would leave her to spend the night there alone. That reality made her warm pleasure in the evening trickle away. How could she sleep knowing that RememberMe had found her yet again? Sleep was her most vulnerable time, when he could come right up to her so easily, could have his hands around her throat before she knew what was happening. Sleep made her an easy target.
One that RememberMe might be watching even now.
Chapter 5
Despite Daniel’s friends’ early end to the evening, it wasn’t late. Barely eight, according to his watch. Ben and Morwenna really were the early-to-bed, early-to-rise type. Keeping them out past ten was almost impossible. Tonight he shared their longing for their beds and a night of restful sleep, but he was almost too tired. He felt like a spring that had been wound too tightly and was just waiting for the worst possible time to come undone. His head hurt, and so did his jaw, and he was pretty sure the muscles in his hands were strained from clenching everything too tightly—his keys, his glass, his fork, the steering wheel. He needed a few hours of oblivion. Eight sounded good, twelve even better.
He would pencil them in on his schedule after this case was done.
There were no cars parked in front of the hotel. After this morning, the other guests most likely thought the tiny little lot out back was perfectly fine. At least their cars hadn’t self-combusted.
He lined up the vehicle’s back door with the hotel door to minimize the time Natasha would be outside, visible to anyone who might be watching. There were no guests in the lobby, no sign of Claire Baylor and no one on the outside who appeared to be watching. That didn’t mean the stalker wasn’t nearby. He could have broken into one of the other businesses on the street or be staying in one of the apartments above them. He could be hiding in the empty building two doors down or even renting a room in the hotel.
Except every guest in the hotel had checked in at least two days before Natasha had arrived, and a cursory background on each of them had checked out.
“Are you waiting for me to get out?” Natasha sounded unsure, because he’d never failed to walk her to the door, and timid, because she didn’t want to go inside by herself. He’d never seen her scared, and he didn’t like it.
“No. Just...” Grimacing, he shut off the engine, pocketed the keys then withdrew his pistol from the holster and slid it inside his jacket pocket. “Wait until I come around.”
“All right.”
He’d never seen her so compliant, either.
After a quick look up and down the street, he got out, circled the truck with long steps and opened the back door. She slid out, close enough for a moment for him to recognize the exotic floral scent that clung to her, the fragrance that had clung to his bed and his clothing and every single item in his house for months, it had seemed, after she’d left him. Quickly, he forced himself back a step, filled his lungs with fresh air, closed the door and gestured toward the hotel.
Claire locked the exterior doors at 8:00 p.m., so Natasha had her key ready. The door was original to the building, but the lock was well oiled and smoothly tumbled to the open position. They ducked inside, and Daniel twisted the lever to secure it again before they headed to the stairs.
How many flights of stairs had he followed Natasha up, admiring the way she moved and smelled and sounded, wanting all things she promised with the slightest look or smile, wondering how he’d been lucky enough to meet her? Not enough. Not a lifetime’s worth. That was all he’d wanted.
All he’d wanted. Just the entire world.
The stairs were grand, still in their original stain, broad and heavy with carved balusters and elaborate moldings on the risers and treads. So many feet had trodden them in the past hundred years that there was a noticeable dip in the center of each step. Natasha kept to the right side, her hand sliding along the polished railing. When
she reached the landing, she turned toward her room, and he followed her.
At the door, he drew his pistol from his slicker pocket, took her key and went inside. She’d left a light burning on the desk, the blinds open, the book she’d been reading on the bed. The bathroom door was open, a night-light giving the room faint illumination, and nothing appeared out of place. More importantly, nothing felt out of place.
“You can come in.” Putting the gun in its holster, he went to the window and closed the blinds. The window locks were secured, but that was just a precaution. Fifteen feet above the ground and twenty from the roof, with no ledges, balconies or trelliswork nearby, they weren’t a likely point of entry.
Natasha’s steps were hesitant as she entered. She dropped her slicker on the bathroom counter, set her purse on the dresser then stood beside the bed, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights—more than a few of which he’d seen since moving to Cedar Creek. “I appreciate...” A gesture finished the sentence for her: dinner, the room check.
It seemed ungracious not to respond with You’re welcome, but he hadn’t wanted the dinner, and the room check was part of his job. So he let the comment slide and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nice room. Archer would love that bed.”
“And Jeffrey would cringe in horror.”
“Yeah.” His dad claimed he’d spent forty years trying to teach his father some class, and Archer gleefully insisted the lessons hadn’t taken yet. Maybe after another forty.
“Well...” It was time to go home. Get out of these perpetually damp clothes and into bed. Make a start on his Cary Grant comedy marathon. But despite his brain’s command, his feet didn’t carry him to the door. They just stood there. He just stood there.
Natasha just stood there, too, looking cold and edgy and awkward. “I—I like your friends.”
“They’re good people.” Geez, how inane was that? Would they discuss the rain—again—next?
She looked about to speak when a shriek sounded down the hall, sharp and piercing. The color drained from her face, and his heart thundered as he fumbled beneath his slicker for his weapon. Before it cleared the leather, there came a round of feminine laughter, and Natasha sagged with relief.
Killer Smile Page 10
