Rick followed Katie up the neatly swept concrete porch steps, flanked by terra-cotta pots brimming with yellow and white petunias. There were no memories for him here, nothing to distract him from the case.
Except the woman whose hips swayed so compellingly as she moved across the porch.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of silver. He turned in time to see the tail end of a sedan across the intersection at the end of the block. It looked like the same car he'd seen a few minutes ago on May Avenue, right before Katie had turned into her neigborhood. Which could mean that they lived nearby. Or that someone was tailing her.
The little pinch in his gut told Rick it was the latter, but he'd check again for the car before he left to speak to Harrington's parents. He turned his attention to her home as she opened the front door and stepped inside.
He put a finger to his lips, then walked in, motioning for her to stay in the entry hall as he activated his bug detector. The late-model CPM-7307 had been modified by a buddy to also pick up the presence of hidden cameras. In addition to locating commonly used transmitters, the tool allowed Rick to test AC outlets and phone lines. The small metal box, no wider than his wallet, included an output so he could listen for any phone modifications such as resistors or infinity bugs, anything placed on the wire itself.
Katie shook her head, wearing the same expression of amazement and disbelief she'd worn when he performed a search at her brother-in-law's apartment.
Rick bit back a grin. Making a quick sweep, he moved through the living room, peripherally aware of the honey-colored walls and ivory woodwork, the bold punctuation of color around the room. One wall of built-in bookcases boasted two shelves devoted to titles regarding functional family relationships. Interesting.
The scent of Katie's light perfume trailed him, but he kept his focus narrowed. He found no bugs or cameras in the kitchen, no bugs in the phones or outlets there or in the living room. Moving down the short hallway off the foyer, he checked two bedrooms and the bath, then the ceiling fan in the living room and one in Katie's bedroom. He felt along the undersides of her fluffy, distinctly feminine bed, keeping a firm lock on his imagination.
He returned to the front part of the house to test the phone. The dial tones hummed normally, and he removed the earpiece, snapped off his machine and tucked the device into his back pocket of his jeans.
"All clear." He turned to where she still stood in the doorway. Red-gold sunlight pooled around her legs and shimmered through the light fabric of her dress, outlining her slender calves.
"This thing only scans one room at a time, but it's thorough. One tone sounds for bugs, another for video equipment."
She gave a short laugh and closed the door. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"I've picked up some things."
A shadow passed through her eyes and she nodded tightly, wrapping her arms around her waist.
"Think you'll find anything on that computer?" She referred to the desktop unit Rick had confiscated from Tommy's along with some disks.
"If there's anything to be found on it. I've got a guy who's a whiz with that stuff."
"I hope so," she said doubtfully. At his raised eyebrows, she explained, "Tommy's a computer genius. If he wants to hide or erase anything, he can probably do it."
As she moved from the wood floor of the foyer into the carpeted living area, Rick was careful to stay in the center of the room. When she flipped on an overhead light, he took a closer look at the living room and the visible part of the kitchen. The soft neutrality of the walls, woodwork and carpet was offset by jewel tones of ruby, emerald and sapphire in pillows, candles, an area rug beneath the dark pecan oval coffee table and frames scattered on the walls.
Katie watched him intently. So still, so quiet. Waiting. Awareness prickled his skin. As his gaze scanned the living room, he tuned in the soft snick of the undulating ceiling fan, the faint barking of a dog down the street. Something was off. Something --
Pictures. The realization hit him like a one-two punch. Rick stepped closer to the wall, his gaze narrowing on the framed photograph there.
It was of Katie and her sister, brunette heads together, laughing. The distant sound of Katie's laughter filled his mind, and he shoved away the phantom sound, his gaze skimming the wall.
More pictures. Some of Katie and Grace. One of Katie with her father.
One of Grace and a nice-looking man. Tommy?
Katie walked over and removed the photograph from the wall. "This is Tommy, just before he went to prison."
Rick nodded, taking the picture, studying the man's intelligent pale gray eyes, the shaggy, medium brown hair. Though Rick tried to concentrate on the image in front of him, his thoughts skipped back. In college, Katie had never wanted her picture taken. She's been almost fanatical about that. Rick had come to learn that was due to her innate shyness.
The only photograph Rick had never had of him and Katie had been taken at his fraternity's spring formal. His mother probably still had it in his box of college stuff in the attic. Judging from the amount of pictures in this room, Katie seemed to have gotten over her aversion, he thought ruefully. Such a small thing, but not for her.
The Katie he'd known then, he reminded himself forcefully. Dragging his attention to the face of Tommy Harrington, he struggled to bring to life something besides regret and a resentment that should have cooled long ago.
Katie walked to the mantel and took down another framed photograph. "This one of Tommy was just taken about a week ago. He sent it to Grace."
Rick nodded, careful not to touch her as he took the frame. Harrington had cut his hair, almost a buzz cut. He'd grown a mustache and wore glasses. "I'll want to make some copies of this."
"Sure. Let me take it out of the frame." Her fingers brushed his as she took the picture.
Casually, he turned away, squelching the jolt of electricity that jumped up his arm.
"Tommy had some pictures of Grace. When we checked his place earlier, I noticed they weren't on his refrigerator, where she told me he usually kept them."
Could've been a smart move by Harrington to keep Henderson from getting a good look at Grace. Or it could've just been Harrington's way of disappearing.
The photo Rick had requested appeared over his shoulder, sans frame, and he took it, too conscious of the way Katie's breath tickled his neck. His gaze scanned the entertainment center, the collection of CDs that ranged from the Eagles to Elvis Presley. Before it could fully form, Rick aborted the reminded of his and Katie's mutual pleasure in Elvis's "Can Help Falling in Love."
More pictures lined the curved-leg table behind the sofa, and Rick moved toward it. This case was all that mattered. There was a picture of Katie and her sister. Another of Katie in a pale pink satin gown that hugged every curve, bared her gorgeous shoulders. She stood next to Grace, who wore an ivory tea-length wedding gown, her hand on the tuxedo-clad arm of a man whose face was cropped off. Their father? Tommy or another groom? Katie's lover?
That last thought ambushed him, and before he could stop, Rick wondered how many men Katie had seen since their college days. Had she ever come close to marriage or had she pulled them all away before they could get too close? Was she involved with someone?
Rick knew he should leave those questions alone, but there was one he had to ask. "Are you seeing anyone now?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Dating anyone?"
A frown snapped her dark brows together. "I thought we weren't going to talk about anything except this case."
"That's the reason I'm asking." Even while his chest tightened in anticipation of her answer, he managed to sound detached. "I need to speak with anyone who's had recent contact with your sister. They might know something without being aware of it."
"Or they might have something to do with her disappearance?"
"Right."
"I'm not seeing anyone." she said stiffly, avoiding his eyes. "Haven't for... a while."
&n
bsp; He nodded, silently cursing the bubble of pleasure that bloomed inside him. "I'd like to take a closer look at Grace's room."
"This way." She walked past him and down the hall.
His gaze slid down the slender line of her back to the taut curve of her butt, the lean line of her thighs. Rick's gaze lingered on the soft magnolia flesh of her neck.
He forced himself to look away and rejected the awareness that had started a dim, persistent throb in his pulse after the initial shock of seeing her in his office.
As he'd asked -- or rather ordered -- she'd kept her conversation limited to answering his questions, nothing about the past. He could do the same.
Stepping into Grace's bedroom, Rick took in the unmade full-sized bed. Katie walked over and began pulling the leopard print sheet taut, straightening the matching comforter.
A black bra strap hung out of the top of one dresser drawer; three pairs of stiletto heels cluttered the space between the dresser and the wall.
"Are any of her clothes missing?"
Katie stepped over to take a quick look in the closet. "No, I don't think so. And her suitcase is here."
He nodded. "Who did Tommy work for before he went to prison?"
"Another computer manufacturer. He worked with hardware back then, rather than software."
"Any friends who kept in touch after he was put away?"
"Not that I know of." Nervous energy poured off her. Her voice grew quieter with each answer.
Rick could see that she was trying to stay out of his way. Regret stabbed at that, but he didn't try to put her at ease. The more distance, the better. "Did Grace go see him?"
"Yes, at first. I don't think she's been in the last couple of months."
In here, it was easier to pretend Katie was just another client. In here, there was no danger of running into the past they shared.
He followed her into the hallway, paused when she halted in front of an open closet that housed a washer and dryer. A laundry basket full of clothes jutted out, and Katie reached to move it out of the door's path.
"Where does Grace work?"
"At a day-care center. It's by the airport. We drive to work together sometimes."
Rick nodded, not sure how to define the strange heat that pushed under his ribs. Katie had become a woman he didn't know; she had a life he knew nothing about.
"She's had this job for more than two years, and I think she's really getting her life together."
Grace didn't sound much different to him that she had when he'd known her ten years ago, but he said nothing.
"What number was Tommy? Which husband?"
Katie half-turned, eyeing him flatly.
"Number two, three, four?"
"Number three." She flipped the tail of a shirt into the basket, then suddenly made a strangled sound. Her gaze shot to his.
"Katie?" He stepped toward her, concern spiraling through him. His gaze dropped to the basket then the shirt she fingered. At first he scanned for blood, something to explain why she'd gone so pale. Then he froze as he recognized the crimson-and-white basketball jersey.
His gaze locked on hers. Panic, disbelief, memory rippled across her features. Two bright spots of red crested her cheeks. His stomach flipped like it had the first time he'd taken up a fighter jet.
His thoughts wheeled back to the day after the Oklahoma University basketball team had made the NCAA playoffs. His college team hadn't had practice that day; he had hoofed it back to the frat house, intending to shower and pick up Katie for supper. But she'd been waiting in this room, wearing his jersey--this jersey-- and nothing else. Number twelve.
He swallowed hard, his gaze sliding over her before he could stop himself. Memories burst in his head like popping flashbulbs. The full curve of her breast peeking out from the deep-cut armhole of his jersey, the hem skimming the center of her smooth, bare thighs, the flush of shyness she's never lost even though they'd been lovers for months.
That fast, he went hard. He could taste the sweet musk of her skin, smell his scent on her. His body quivered like a newly strung bow.
He sucked in a ragged breath, and his gaze went to hers. He saw the way her eyes darkened to purple, the pink that climbed her neck, the frantic tap of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. She remembered, too.
Every touch, every kiss, every whispered forever.
Her reaction only hollowed his gut, sheared the edge off and control he thought he possessed. Involuntarily, he stepped toward her. For one hellacious, gut-twisting instant he wanted to drag her to him, kiss her and prove to both of them that there was nothing left.
As if coming out of a trance, Katie jerked into motion. She shoved the basket against the washer face and shut the door.
"Is that--"
"No." She flashed a brilliant smile, so brilliant it cut home to the core. "Looks like yours. Not yours."
Bull. He was tempted to call her on it, but he resisted.
Where would that get them? Why had he thought he could ignore the past? Katie was his past. And he was good and pissed over her slingshotting back into his life. Hell.
Rick clenched his teeth against the razor-edged desire that slashed through him.
Remember, the ordered, trying to escape the grasping hands of memory, of want, pulling at him. Ruthlessly he dredged up the rejection he'd felt when Katie had refused his marriage proposal. When he'd said forever, he'd meant it; she hadn't.
"What about friends? Tommy's friends?" He asked quickly, his voice rough, the words scraping his throat.
"Can you think of anyone who might let Tommy and Grace stay with them? Anyone who might hide them or know where they've gone?"
"No," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "Maybe you can ask his parents--"
His cell phone jangled, and Rick grabbed at it like a drowning man going for a rescue line. "Yeah," he said, almost ashamed at the enormous relief that rolled through him.
It was Walker, and as the cop spoke, Rick's jaw clenched tighter. The ambivalence he'd tried to shake off seconds ago surged back. Displeasure merged with concern. And his protective instinct, always deeper and stronger with Katie, roared to irritating life.
"Thanks, Kyle." He disconnected, his hand curling over the phone. "We'd better get going if we want to make it back from Davis before midnight."
She started, taking a step toward him. Her soft scent curled around him. "What? You want me to go?" Hel-lo! Just two hours ago you flat out told me you didn't want me along on this case."
Rick exhaled and turned to fully face her. "That was before I talked to my buddy at the OCPD."
She frowned.
"He says the officer investigating Grace's accident believed she wasn't paying attention to her driving. That her accident wasn't deliberate."
"But--"
"I've dealt with this officer before, and I don't trust his judgement," Rick said baldly. "Neither does Kyle."
"Are you saying you believe what Grace told me? That someone ran her off the road?"
"I'm saying..." He gentled his voice. "I don't like the odds, Katie."
"So Tommy was right," she murmured.
"Maybe. Kyle said he also might have an idea about this Henderson person. And..."
"And what?" Anxiety pulled her features.
He hated dumping all this on her at once, but she deserved to know what they might be up against. "I noticed a car behind me on the way over here. The same car, three different times."
She shook her head. "What--"
"It's possible you're being tailed. I'll know better when we leave here."
"Tommy was right about that, too?" She sagged against the wall, her features wan and suddenly ravaged by fatigue.
Compassion and protectiveness swept through him. His first impulse was to put an arm around her, but he stayed where he was, giving her time to absorb it.
She stood quietly for a few moments, her fingers thrusting repeatedly through her hair. Fear, uncertainty skipped across her features then resign
ation. She straightened, her voice shaky. "I guess we'd better get going."
"You all right?"
"Yes." She wouldn't meet his eyes, and Rick couldn't stop the hard squeeze in his chest.
Fighting the vortex of memories, the emotion sucking at him, he pivoted and walked out of the room. "On our way out of town, I'll drop off these photos and have some copies made."
He didn't like the concern for her that chewed at him. He wanted space, needed it; instead he was spending the next three to four hours with her.
"Tomorrow I'll take Tommy's computer to the office, see if my contact can salvage anything useful off there. I'll also check out Tommy's current employer and his parole officer."
She nodded and followed him into the hallway, still looking shell-shocked.
"Could you write down the name of anyone else who might've been implicated in the scam he pulled, anyone who testified against him?"
"Sure," she said faintly.
His body humming with frustration and remembered passion, Rick waited on the lawn while she locked the front door, then walked toward his car. She halted uncertainty at the edge of the driveway.
His gaze shot between her car and his. It would be dark soon, but he'd made the drive south between Oklahoma City and Davis many times. The Department of Public Safety was more tolerant of his night blindness than the United States Air Force had been. Besides, he needed something to occupy his hands and his mind. Needed a release for the energy seething inside him, needed to feel the raw power of the 'Vette beneath him. "We'll take mine," he said gruffly.
She moved to the passenger side and opened the door before he could. Once inside, she shut her door with a loud click.
Gripping his keys so tightly they bit into his palm, Rick walked to the driver's side. Maybe he didn't need to take her to Davis. Maybe she'd be safe here. But could he risk it?
No. He slid behind the wheel and started the car, leashing the resentment churning inside him. He could tell himself he might feel the same caution for any client who was possibly being tailed by the mob, but this wasn't just any client. This was Katie.
You're Still the One Page 3
