The Green-Eyed Doll

by Jerrie Alexander

  So he had a sense of humor. How would he handle a more serious question? “Marty and some of the customers were talking about a missing woman. That sort of thing doesn’t happen a lot, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. And we’re doing everything we can to find her.”

  His words sounded thick with concern, and his sharp jaw was set with determination. For some reason, she believed the statement came from his heart.

  “Is that why you’re out late?”

  “No. I live close by, and none of my deputies were in the area.”

  “I get it. You can’t talk about the case.”

  “I can tell you every available resource is working the case. And she’s never far from my mind. Will that do?”

  “Now you sound like you’re reading a press release.”

  He laughed a hollow sound. “That did sound rehearsed. But it’s the truth.”

  His mood had shifted. The tone of his voice was solid yet warm with worry when he spoke of the missing woman.

  A slight musky, woodsy scent filled the car and her senses. Her stomach fluttered. Not butterfly wings, Mallard ducks. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her nervous. Well, this kind of nervous.

  “Hello?” His voice pulled her attention back. “You drifted off. Keep that up, and you’ll give me an inferiority complex.”

  “Sorry.” Her cheeks heated, making her grateful for the darkness. She’d forgotten how to make small talk with a man.

  Relief hit her when Matt drove around a half dozen big rigs and found a parking spot. He brought out feelings she didn’t want to remember, sensations she thought were long forgotten. She was more than uncomfortable at the revelation.

  “Doesn’t look like they’re too busy.”

  He got out and waited for her at the front of his cruiser. She accepted his extended hand as she stepped up on the walk. His nearness slammed home the absence of human contact in her life.

  The waitress laid menus in front of them seconds after they slid into a booth.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Whatever the lady wants, works for me. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll wash up.”

  Catherine ordered while Matt made a trip to the men’s room. He stopped to visit with a couple of people on the way back. She averted her gaze when he glanced across the room and caught her watching him. He broke off his conversation and rejoined her when the waitress delivered their food.

  “Sorry. I didn’t plan on being gone long. Hard to walk away when people are concerned about the missing woman. The guy sitting in the far booth is the café manager. He said the locals who eat here are getting jumpy.”

  “I could see the worry on their faces.” She pushed the basket of fries over to him. “These are for you. I hope you wanted a combo.”

  “Works for me.” He ripped open a pouch of catsup for his fries. “Eat up.”

  “So what’s your story?” She unwrapped her burger. “You don’t have the typical Texas twang. I’m guessing you’re not a country boy. Yet you’re working out here in the mesquite trees and underbrush.”

  “You’re wrong. I was raised one county over. After I graduated from The University of Houston, I stayed in town. Spent the better part of ten years on their police force.”

  “You’ve been home over a year or so.”

  “Wait a minute. Have I been the topic of conversation at the bar?”

  The booth seemed to shrink in size. Heat rushed up her cheeks, and she stared at her food. He obviously wasn’t comfortable with the idea they’d been talking about him.

  “Sorry. Marty might’ve mentioned you once or twice.”

  “Believe only the good things. What about you? I’ve met a few vagabonds in my life. None of them looked like you.”

  “Born and raised in Oklahoma. I was married. Now I’m not. One day my life fell apart. And here I am. Alone, on my own, and loving it.” She laughed, trying to keep it light. She’d kept her sentences short and to the point, intentionally not sharing much information about herself.

  “May I ask...are you divorced?”

  “Widowed.” She swallowed a couple of times. “I hung around wondering what to do for a year, until I figured out I didn’t belong. I decided to see the country, working my way across each state. Every three or four months, I leave again.” Her chin lifted, and her gaze locked with his. “I always leave.”

  Catherine was positive he got the message. She had no interest in a permanent relationship. His eyes narrowed as he studied her over the top of his drink.

  “Aren’t you too old to run away from home?”

  She arched an eyebrow and straightened her shoulders to let him know he’d hit a nerve. “Apparently not. I’m enjoying a freedom at thirty other people had in their twenties.”

  The waitress interrupted when she cleared away their trash. Catherine was through sharing information. “You ready to head back? I need all the rest I can get for tomorrow night at the bar.”

  On the ride back, she felt his eyes on her occasionally, heating her skin from the inside out, making her super uncomfortable. The interior of the car warmed in spite of the air conditioner being on high.

  “Thank you for supper. It was nice,” she said when he reached the bar’s parking lot.

  “You’re welcome. We’ll find someplace nicer next time.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Him asking and her accepting shocked the hell out of her. She remained seated in the cruiser when he parked, and for some unexplainable reason, she hated to get out. Their bodies almost touched when she stepped out. Heat rolled off him and slammed her in the belly.

  “You saw worry on people’s faces at the café. What do you see now?”

  She spoke softly, “John Wayne.”

  Catherine’s insides trembled. The sheriff’s laser blue eyes had delivered his message loud and clear. It was a message she didn’t know how to handle. She’d had no interest in sex for a long time. Besides, Andy had assured her many times, she was a lousy lay.

  After Matt escorted her to her car and started toward his cruiser, she put the keys in the ignition and prayed. Nothing happened. The door to the bar opened, JC stepped outside, and lit a cigarette. Like it or not, she had to ask if he or Matt would give her a hand. Damn, she hated to ask for help.

  She got out and spoke loudly. “Can I get a jump? My battery seems to be down.”

  Matt made an about face and both men headed her direction immediately.

  “I’ve got cables,” JC said. “Let me pull around beside you. Won’t take a second.”

  Catherine stood out of the way while Matt hooked up the two batteries. After a couple of tries, they quit. JC, with his shaggy brown hair and kind hazel eyes, turned his truck’s engine off. He got out and shook his head.

  “I can pick you up a new battery tomorrow. Cheap one is around fifty bucks.”

  Catherine dug out her tips, handed over the money, and thanked him profusely. Her heart grew heavier. Getting ahead would take time.

  Matt lowered the hood. “I can give you a ride home and bring you back tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Thanks, both of you.” Being obligated to anyone didn’t appeal to her, but she was in a bind.

  Matt held the door to his cruiser for her, walked around, and climbed in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me your car wouldn’t start?”

  “I don’t like asking for help. I prefer to take care of myself.” Leaning on other people would make her vulnerable, something she never wanted to be again.

  “What if Marty and JC had been gone?” He drove out of the parking lot, then quickly pulled to the shoulder, and stopped.

  “I would’ve figured something out. Why did we stop?”

  “Because I don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Catherine hid her embarrassment. Would this night never end? “I can’t remember the name of the road, county something. I’ll show you.”

  She directed him t
o the highway and off at the County Road 617 sign. Darkness swallowed them the minute they left the main drag. No streetlights, no housing additions. Dead quiet except for the gravel roadbed crunching under the tires.

  She broke the silence. “Take a left at the next turn.”

  “Looks like we’re neighbors. My house is not far from here.”

  “Turn right at the next place then follow the driveway around back.” The cruiser’s headlights swept across the lawn and came to rest on the small white frame cottage.

  “Hang on.” Matt killed the engine, reached across her, and pulled a flashlight from the dash compartment. “I can at least get you inside safely. Might be a good idea to leave the porch light on tomorrow when you leave.”

  She stiffened. “Are you always this bossy?”

  Matt got out and waited for her. “It’s hard to turn off being a cop.” He shined the beam in front of her feet and took the key from her to unlock the door.

  Catherine found the switch, and the toy-sized living room was flooded with light. “I can imagine.” She stood back and let him enter.

  The white lace curtains and hand crocheted doilies on the furniture made Catherine feel like she was playing dress up. A love seat and small rocking chair filled the room to capacity. Hardwood floors covered with tattered throw rugs added to the ambience.

  “I think this is what you call shabby chic. Mrs. Williamson and her late husband built the little house for their handicapped daughter who lived in it all her adult life. They cared for her until she died at the early age of forty. Mrs. Williamson seemed happy to have someone rent the place. “

  “I live right behind you. Hadn’t paid any attention to this house. My office is about twenty miles away in Curry. Guess I need to do a better job of getting to know my neighbors.”

  “Can I see your place from here?” She followed Matt into the kitchen.

  “There.” He pointed out the backdoor window.

  He stepped back, allowing her to stand between him and the door. Matt didn’t touch her. He moved up and stood directly behind her.

  “See the light in the distance? In the dark, I can’t tell exactly how far, but I’m fairly close.”

  His warm breath brushed across the top of her head. His rapid heartbeat reverberated in her ears. Or did the pounding come from her chest? She couldn’t tell. Fear snaked through her veins, slithering under her skin. He’d trapped her between his body and the door.

  She bit back a cry of relief when his boot heels hit the hardwood floor as he walked away. Damning herself for lack of control, she braced her hands on the doorframe, rested her cheek on the glass, and collected herself. She prayed her reaction to being cornered had gone unnoticed.

  “Thank you for supper and the ride home.” Catherine hoped she appeared poised and self-assured.

  “You’re welcome. What time tomorrow?”

  “Marty wants me at the bar by one.”

  “I can manage that.” He moved toward the door. “See you then.”

  Catherine leaned against the wall and listened to the gravel crunch under the cruiser’s tires when Matt backed out of the drive.

  Marty had said women drooled when they talked about him. Catherine could see why. His blue eyes set her stomach churning. At first, she thought him to be distant. Expected him to be bad-tempered. Wanted him to stay away. Now, she hoped he’d settle for being a friend.

  She’d flipped the living room light off and moved to pull the curtain closed when her skin came alive as every hair stood on end, electrified. A familiar sensation crawled up from her stomach, sending goose bumps racing up her arms. Familiar, because she’d been watched from the shadows in the past. She shook her head, tamped down foolish memories. No one was out there. She was safe.

  Chapter Three

  Sunday, July 30th, 11:30 a.m.

  Catherine’s sheets lay on the floor and sweat soaked through her sleep-shirt. She smoothed her hands over her neck. Swallowed. Breathed. Touched her ribs. Her back and kidneys. Felt no bruising. Another nightmare.

  The feather bed, hand embroidered pillowcases, and butter yellow bedroom reminded her she was safe. Dropping her head in her hands, she used her breathing technique to slow her racing heart.

  A male laughed, and Catherine bolted up in bed. Was Matt already here? She dressed, made a mad dash through the bathroom, and then went in search of the voice. A brown pickup sat beside the main house. With no sheriff’s cruiser in sight, she sighed in relief, her heart rate slowing.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Williamson,” Catherine called out.

  “We’re in the garden.”

  When Catherine reached the tool shed, she stopped. A sizzle of fear stood the hair up on her arms. The man who caused the ruckus at the bar last night by flirting with her stood next to her landlady. Even though he wore a ball cap today, Catherine recognized Vince immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to leave.

  “Don’t go on my account,” he said.

  “Please stay, and call me Emma.” Mrs. Williamson beamed at her. “We’re talking about some handyman work.” Emma introduced Catherine to Vince Bradley and told him Catherine had rented the cottage.

  “Mr. Bradley and I met last night at the bar.” Catherine shook his extended hand. His palm was sweaty, and he held on to her a second too long. Vince had been all over her last night at the bar. His smile made her fear antennae rise and vibrate.

  “Yes, we did.” He paused. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  He was tall like Matt but proportioned differently. Proof of Vince’s appetite for beer hung over the top of his jeans and pushed outward on the snaps of his western shirt. His gaze trailed over her body, setting her temper right on the edge.

  The sun beat down on her head and within minutes sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. After a minimum of small talk, Catherine used the heat to excuse herself and retreated to the air conditioning of the cottage.

  She made her bed and laid out the night’s work clothes. Matt would arrive soon, and the building excitement spooked her a little, confused her. A light tap on the door put an end to her mind wandering. She swung the door wide to find Vince on her porch. The smile disappeared from her face.

  She braced her feet apart. He wouldn’t get inside. “What do you want? There’s nothing we need to say to each other.”

  The heat had taken its toll on Vince. Last night’s alcohol mingled with perspiration and drained profusely from his pores. Catherine instinctively recoiled. He smoothed a hand over his receding hairline and then wiped across his belly.

  “Sorry about last night. Jessie acts pretty stupid when she’s drunk.”

  Catherine’s anger edged toward relief. “Fine. No real harm was done. We can forget it as long as it doesn’t happen again.” If Vince wanted to put things right, she’d accept his apology. She stepped out on the porch when he offered his hand, because no way was he coming inside. He clasped his fingers around hers tightly and squeezed. Then he leaned closer.

  “I’m leaving her at home from now on. You and me, we can be good friends without her getting all bent out of shape.”

  Catherine jerked free, disappointed in herself for trusting. She glared at Vince, hoping to drive her message through his thick skull. “Get this straight. We’ll never be ‘friends,’ whether Jessie’s with you or not.”

  She stepped backwards. When she felt the knob under her hand, she stepped inside, slammed the door in his face, and then locked it, trembling at the fury churning through her body. Her knees went weak and brutal memories came crashing in, but she pulled herself together. Fear would not control her. She’d taken self-defense courses and learned how to fight if she had to. Nobody would mistreat her again. No more being bullied and no more accepting the blame for someone else’s behavior.

  Getting showered and dressed for work took precedence over fretting about a foolish drunk. She fixed her face and hair, then slipped on the yellow western-cut blouse to go with her jeans. Cat
herine studied herself in the mirror. Nope. No outward signs she was a killer. The Tulsa newspapers and reporters told a different story. As had Andy’s family. In her mind, she knew the truth. Her heart never let her forget she’d taken another human being’s life.

  Considering the treatment she’d received from the cops in Tulsa, being drawn to the sheriff seemed odd to Catherine. Matt made her warm inside, and the feeling scared her. She’d shared her bed with only one man...her husband. He’d repeatedly pointed out her sexual performance was stiff and inept. Something was missing in her. The subject was moot. No way would the sexy sheriff want her.

  The knock on her door startled her. She hurried to the front window and peeked out, careful not to open the door without checking. A shiny black pickup was parked in the driveway. Matt stood on her porch, and the sudden lift to her mood made her smile.

  “Hey,” she said while her brain searched for something clever to say. “Nice truck.” She hurt inside that she didn’t know how to make casual conversation. The sheriff had a quiet, self-assured manner, and Catherine thought it might be nice to have a friend. At least until the time came for her to move on.

  “Hey, yourself.” He handed her a cup of coffee. “It’s black and from the Stop’ N Go. You won’t find a Starbucks for miles. I don’t know your cell number or I would’ve called.”

  “It’s perfect. And appreciated.” She backed out of the way, commanding herself to relax. He’d only asked for her number, yet her heart sputtered as if he’d asked for a date. “Come in. I’ll write it down for you.”

  He stood quietly looking at her.

  She felt her cheeks color under his scrutiny while she jotted down the information. She slid the cheap throwaway phone into her purse and handed the scrap of paper to him. His hand closed over hers when he traded her slip of paper for his business card. An open flame wouldn’t have sizzled more than his touch. A shock of heat ran through her, straight to unfamiliar places.

  “Mine’s on the back.”

  “Are you stopping by the bar?”