One Night

by Lorhainne Eckhart

“Ryder, do you know her?” Kate asked, holding up the strap of her dress.

  “That would be Cindy, remember? I was just telling you about her.”

  “The woman you met online, who was stalking you?” Kate staggered a bit, balancing on one heel. Walker noticed a stain on her dress.

  “Excuse me, you know this woman?” he asked. He was starting to wonder what the hell was going on.

  “Ryder, is that you?” the woman called out, her hand on the door of the wrecked sedan. She didn’t have a mark on her. She tucked her long dark hair behind her ears and then smiled over at Slick as if this was just an everyday occurrence and they’d simply run into each other. Good God, this was going to be a nightmare.

  “Cindy, are you following me?” Slick sounded really pissed. Hell, Walker was pissed, because although people talked about coincidences, he didn’t believe in them. Not at all.

  “What? No, what happened?” She put her hand to her head and weaved a bit. Either she was a really good actor or she was hurt. “Oh my God, this is awful,” she cried.

  “You have got to be kidding me. Seriously?” Slick said.

  Walker didn’t know where to look: at the outrage on Kate’s face or at this Ryder dude she was with, who appeared a little frightened and really annoyed.

  “You know her?” Walker asked Kate, who was now shaking her head and still holding up her dress strap.

  “I don’t, but it seems my date does. Man, I cannot win with men. What are the odds the woman he picked up on the net for a one nighter is now stalking him and drove a car right through the front of a restaurant where I was sitting with him? I’ll tell you what it is. It’s karma or some bullshit fucked-up nightmare that’s telling me I can’t pick a guy if my life depended on it.”

  Walker slipped off his jacket and held it out to Kate as he asked Ryder, “Is that true? She stalking you?”

  Kate accepted his jacket and slipped it on. He kind of felt sorry for her.

  “Yes, ended my marriage, she did,” Ryder said. “Won’t leave me alone. She just keeps showing up. Holy God, did she try to kill me?” He didn’t move but also made no effort to console his date—a date with killer legs, a tight ass, and the perfect curves poured into an amazing red dress, the kind of dress Walker would have loved to peel off after a night on the town, anticipating what was to come. Something so sweet, sweaty, and satisfying.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Ryder Connelly.” He went to hold out his hand, and Walker looked down at it as he put both hands on his hips, thumbing the gun clipped to his belt. Ryder obviously thought better of reaching out and touching a cop, as he squeezed his fist and lowered his hand. “Oh, and this is Kate—I’m sorry, what was your last name?”

  Smooth dude. Walker noticed the way Kate bristled. What was it exactly that she saw in this joker, anyway? She was obviously now seeing him as Walker did. Maybe she was smarter than he’d given her credit for, after all.

  “Kate Sikes,” she said a little sharply. “We met online. Evidently, I still can’t pick ’em.”

  Ryder gave her a sour look. “Hey, look, it wasn’t as if I was going to ask you out a second time.”

  “Yeah, you were just looking for another one nighter. Guess you haven’t learned.” She glanced over to Cindy, who was now pushing away from the waiters and people around her. Two uniformed cops walked in and gestured to Walker. He pointed at Cindy, and they stopped her from taking another step.

  “You get a restraining order against her?” he asked Ryder, but he didn’t miss the way Kate rolled her eyes. He was sure she had to be thinking what an idiot this guy was. He hoped she realized guys like this slick were often more talk than action, but then he felt sorry for the dude with a broad stalking him. That was downright creepy.

  Ryder was looking truly miserable. “For all the good it’s done. She won’t leave me alone. Not a week goes by that she doesn’t turn up where I am—the coffee shop, the newspaper stand, even my gym. She was suddenly there. I quit the gym and lost the money I paid for the membership. She always just stays that thousand feet from me. No more, no less. I want it to stop!” he shouted. “Get the hell out of my life!”

  Walker stepped away from Kate to the uniformed officers, who were talking to the stalker broad. “Take her in for questioning,” he said. “I’m not liking this. I’ll be right in. Have the paramedics check her out, though, too.”

  He walked back over to Kate, who was still wearing his jacket, a mess, and was now lifting a chair and part of a table. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Looking for my shoe so I can go home and try to forget this disaster of a night.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. You can’t go home. I need a statement from you. I need both of you to come to the station.”

  “For what?” She stood up, lifting one of those sexy black fuck-me heels and leaning against the wall to take off the other. She now stood barefoot, glaring over at Ryder and then him.

  “Well, for one, the car she drove through the front window was coming right for you.”

  Maybe she hadn’t realized what Walker had already figured out. Her face paled, and those sharp amber eyes that a moment ago had been filled with outrage now shone with fear.

  ***

  Chapter 5

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Jean said.

  Walker handed a napkin to her as she sat on a stool in the now empty bar. Emergency lights flashed outside, and crowds of people milled around, watching the accident scene much like they would have watched a train wreck. Her brother, the chef, was on the phone with someone. He was upset, rightly so, and slammed the receiver down. Crime scene had arrived and had taped off the area, and witnesses were now having their statements taken.

  It was clear that the woman had driven straight into the restaurant, but no one could say whether she had simply lost control or it was deliberate. Tire tracks showed she hadn’t swerved, but he couldn’t say either way for sure.

  “I’m sorry, Jean,” he said. “This is shitty.”

  She dried her eyes, about ready to start crying again, but Walker wasn’t the type to console a woman in despair. This was when he got itchy feet and found an excuse to slip away. Some guys were good at this, but Walker liked women who could hold it together. Emotions made things messy.

  “Shitty? It’s criminal,” she said. “Now what’s going to happen? We’ll be closed for how long, and what the hell are you doing with the woman who ran into my place? Who’s going to pay for this?”

  “You need to call your insurance company,” he said. “I feel for you, Jean, but there’s nothing more you can do tonight. You should go home. We’ll let you know when we’re through here.”

  “Are you kidding? So now the cops are going to hold my restaurant hostage and decide when I can start getting in here and fixing things up? I want that car pulled out of here now so we can get repairs started and have this restaurant open again in a few days.” She sounded determined and bossy. “Every day we’re closed, I lose money, reservations are cancelled, and wages are lost, not to mention food is wasted…” She was going on and on, and he wondered at what point he had tuned her out, as she kept slapping her hand to emphasize each statement.

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her things just weren’t going to go her way. “Jean, go home,” he said. “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, Walker, I have my car in back.”

  “Detective!” one of the officers on scene called out, walking toward him. “Kate is wanting to go home, and Ryder Connelly has asked for a timeframe of when they can give their statements.”

  Walker turned to the uniformed officer who had been first on the scene. He had dark hair and was young, of average height. He couldn’t remember his name, so he glanced down at the tag on his uniform. MacDonald. “Take them to the station, MacDonald. I’ll be right behind you. Do you have statements from all the witnesses?”

  The young cop flipped through his notebook. “Just an elderly
couple left, but we have names and contact information for everyone who was here. Oh, and paramedics checked over the driver and cleared her. Other than being a little shaken up, there wasn’t a bump on her. She was taken down to the station already.”

  “Great, thank you. Jean, you going to be okay?” Walker asked. He hated leaving her like this. He felt bad even though none of this was his fault.

  She waved a tearstained napkin at him. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

  “Jean, are you okay?” someone shouted. “Oh my God, I just heard!”

  Walker turned as a light-haired young man with glasses, a leather coat, and blue jeans hurried in. He held out his arms, and Walker watched as Jean stood up, her face crumbling into another fit of tears as she walked into the man’s arms. He was much younger than Walker. He looked as if he was just out of high school, but he was probably closer to Jean’s age. By the way the man held her, Walker realized that all his own flirtatious banter would never have gone anywhere.

  He didn’t hear what Jean said as he started out of the bar with MacDonald and spotted Kate in the foyer, sitting barefoot, wearing his coat, and Slick about as far away from her as he could get. Walker gestured to Ryder with his chin and told MacDonald, “Take him, and I’ll take Kate down.”

  She was now glaring up at him, and he noticed she had a scrape on the side of her chin.

  “You have no idea how lucky you are that you weren’t injured,” he said. “From where you were sitting, I half expected things to turn out a lot worse than they did. You are one fortunate young woman.”

  “You think I’m fortunate? I’ve got to tell you, from where I see it, I think this is the universe’s way of flipping me the bird. So no, thank you, I’m not lucky. I am so far from lucky. All the expense—the shoes, the dress, my hair…so I think I won’t agree with you.”

  He wondered whether she was thinking of something else to add when she stopped and took a breath. “Look on the bright side,” he said. “At least this saved you the wasted time of having a relationship that was headed down a one-way street to nowhere.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like someone who has no clue what it’s like to date in the real world. Can we go, please? Just take my statement. Why can’t you do it here? It’s not as if you’re hauling everyone in this restaurant down to the station. No, I think I might just decline. I’d really like to go home.”

  He held out his hand. “Well, that’s not an option. You’re coming. Just think of yourself as special. Come on, I’ll drive you. Car’s not parked far.” He glanced down at her bare feet. “You might want to put your shoes back on. Can you walk in them?”

  “Yes, I can walk in them.” She slipped her shoes back on, and he noticed, as she rose on those stilts and wobbled a bit, that she might not be as steady as she’d let on. He often wondered how women could walk in shoes that high without breaking their necks or at least their ankles.

  Maybe that was why he held out his arm for her to take.

  “I can walk, just so you know,” she said. Nonetheless, she slipped her hand over his arm and held on. “I’m just shaky from all that happened. I’m not a total klutz.”

  In those heels, she was almost his height. There was something about long legs and a woman whose eyes he could look right into without having to look down at her that really appealed to him. He held the door, and she walked beside him, holding on tight, so close that her leg and hip were brushing against him. Then she leaned closer and—Jesus, it really had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, because he was having all kinds of indecent thoughts about leaning her against his car and running his hand up the side of her thigh, over the curve of her generously rounded ass… Stop it! He was going to be a fine mess if he allowed himself to keep thinking of Kate in such an inappropriate, X-rated way. For all he knew, she could be some psycho nutcase too.

  He opened the back door, and she froze beside him, letting go of his arm and crossing hers over her generous bust. She glanced up at him with a look he easily deciphered. The woman was digging her heels in and had no intention of getting into the car.

  “What am I, a criminal?” She gestured to the backseat.

  He slammed the backdoor. “Sorry, habit,” he said before opening the passenger door. This time, she climbed in and reached for the handle to pull it closed herself.

  The woman didn’t just ignore him, she held her chin up as she stared out the front windshield as if he didn’t even exist. Bitch, he thought as he strode around to his side and climbed in.

  “Fasten your seatbelt, or are you going to argue with me about how you have no intention of wearing it?”

  She didn’t look at him as she clicked her belt in place.

  He started the car, punched it in gear, and gunned it a little harder than was strictly necessary.

  ***

  Chapter 6

  “She says she’ll only talk to you,” MacDonald said. He stood about four inches shorter than Walker’s five foot eleven, but he was young and pumped, always wearing short sleeves—maybe to show off those bulging biceps he had to be proud of.

  Walker had just left the interview room where Cindy Schmidt was being held. He glanced back through the one-way glass to where another detective, Kruso—a short redhead, married, with a brood of kids—continued to talk to the distraught woman.

  “Great, where is she?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I moved her to interview one. She demanded a tea, herbal with no caffeine, and she’s hungry. Asked if we had a salad or something light she could eat since the car that drove through the restaurant arrived before she’d actually had dinner.”

  He laughed. “Seriously, who does she think we are?”

  MacDonald shrugged. “Just telling you what she said. I told her no, tried to get the statement, and that was when she demanded to see you. What do you want me to do?”

  Kate was beginning to sound like a pain in the ass. Walker let out a sigh he knew sounded annoyed. Hell, he was annoyed. Couldn’t she just give her damn statement and then get out of his hair? “I’ll talk to her,” he said.

  “What about her demands for food and tea?”

  Walker turned to the cop and stared at him. “You planning on whipping up a salad?” He gestured toward the station’s break room.

  “No, was going to grab someone’s leftover sandwich from the fridge.”

  Walker was speechless. “And do we really have that herbal crap here?”

  MacDonald just looked at him. “I don’t know, was just going to grab whatever I saw and give it to her.”

  Walker just shook his head. “No, don’t. I’ll deal with her.”

  He opened the door to the interview room. Kate was sitting in the hard-back chair in which criminals usually sat. He wondered why she had been brought in here. Maybe he needed to have a word with MacDonald. After all, he’d left Kate sitting at his desk—but then, he was pretty sure being a pain in the ass was what had landed her in here.

  “Well, it’s about time.” She crossed her arms. “Is this how you treat everyone you need a statement from, or just those who’ve almost been run down? I’m the victim here, am I not?”

  Walker shut the door and took in the pad of paper and pen sitting in front of Kate. He strode over to the chair across from her and pulled it out. Her eyes were deep brown and seemed to dance with gold around them. He’d never seen eyes the color of hers before, and that hair…even after crawling out of that debris, she had gold highlights he loved. The color seemed to match her eyes.

  “We were full up, trying to give you some privacy,” he said, though he knew that was bullshit. Evidently, Kate had pushed the wrong buttons with MacDonald, so he’d moved her to less comfortable surroundings.

  She slid the yellow lined pad of paper toward him. He took in the full page of neat penmanship with that day’s date filled in at the top. “Here’s your statement,” she said. “Do you want to go over anything else with me, or can I go now?” She leaned forward, tightly wound.

>   When was the last time she got laid? he couldn’t help wondering. “Well, just let me have a look here and make sure you’ve left nothing out.”

  He should have been hurrying to get her out of there, out of his hair. What the hell was the matter with him, keeping her there? At times, he wondered why he seemed to get himself embroiled in such grief. This woman, he had no doubt, could be the end of a man.

  She took a slightly exaggerated breath, and he glanced her way. She widened her eyes at him. “What?” she snapped.

  He just shook his head as he glanced back to her very detailed description of her conversation with Ryder Connelly while sitting at the table. How this was their first date, how they’d met online, how many emails they’d exchanged, how she’d met Ryder for the first time at the restaurant, and a word-for-word transcription of their conversation, including the moment when she saw the car right before it crashed through the restaurant window. He flipped over the paper, realizing she had written four pages. “You’re very detailed,” he said as he read.

  “It’s my job. I have to be. It helps to pay attention, which is what I do. I notice things about people so as to avoid potential problems.”

  “So what job has you paying this much attention?”

  “I’m the assistant front desk manager at the Hotel Monaco. Now can I go home?” She was direct.

  “I can have one of the uniformed officers drive you.” He pushed back his chair, and for the first time she appeared very much alone as she glanced down and seemed to soften from the tough-girl attitude she’d been carrying since walking into the station.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little sharp with everyone,” she said. “Did she really drive into the restaurant heading right for me?” There was a slight hitch in her voice.

  Walker rested his hand on the back of the chair. “From what I saw.”

  “That was just a coincidence, right? I mean, are you sure it wasn’t Ryder she was trying to take out? I just happened to be sitting at the same table with him, and it was a big car.”