by Julie Miller
Kelsey turned around and looked at the scattered pile of clothes, lying in the box, on the floor and over the edge in between. She didn’t have to take one step closer to identify the item that had triggered the impression. She didn’t have to touch it again to remember the overwhelming terror that had imprinted itself on that cloth. She recognized it from before. Faded and frayed now, but no less vivid in her mind.
A long yellow scarf with fuschia polka dots.
With both gloves on, she picked up the long ream of worn silk and held it out to him.
“Here’s your fact.”
“An old scarf?”
“The murder weapon.”
When he wouldn’t take it, she draped it over his shoulder and marched out the door. “Kelsey. Kelsey!”
She heard his hurried, uneven footsteps on the planked floor behind her, but she had the door closed before he could stop her. The cold, clear air took her breath away, but she didn’t stop to button her coat. Overlapping the placket in front of her, she hugged it shut, bent her head into the north wind and hurried down the steps.
“Kelsey, stop.” He caught up with her halfway down the block and limped along beside her. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“It’s minus twelve frickin’ degrees out here. My car’s parked across the street. I said I’d drive.”
“No, thank you. I’ll find a cab.”
“There are no taxis in this part of town at this time of night.”
She put her hand out beside her, refusing to listen. “I’m not going to be any more of an imposition on you than I already have been. If I can’t find a cab, I’ll take a bus or I’ll walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You already think I am.”
He muttered a curse beside her. “Was this the scarf used on Jezebel or all nine victims?”
Kelsey’s steps faltered and slowed. She hadn’t expected him to ask a question about the murder. “I don’t know. He used it on somebody. I’m only getting images of one death.” She spotted a distinctive yellow car speeding through the intersection more than a block away. She ran toward it and waved. “Taxi!”
It disappeared before she reached the curb.
“What was the scarf doing at the mission?” he called after her.
Was he really interested in her ideas, or was he just using the questions to slow her down? “I don’t know. But the mission seems to be a lightning rod for this case. Too many leads keep bringing me back to this neighborhood. Maybe it was just a convenient place to stash it. Hundreds of people go in and out of there every day.”
“Would it kill you to slow down? You’re not going to find a taxi.”
She stopped and faced him. “Is this slow enough? I just want to get home. Not that you care, but I usually get nasty headaches after I have an impression that strong.”
She spun around and hunched her shoulders in defense against his arguments and the wind.
“I care. I just—”
“—don’t believe me. Woo. Hoo.” She twirled her finger around in the air. “Your compassion overwhelms me.”
“Dammit, Kelsey.” He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. He grabbed her again, tugged her to a halt and turned her around. “We can either walk until your butt freezes and my knee gives out, or you can let me drive you home.”
She couldn’t resist looking at his knee. Why couldn’t she just stay mad? Why couldn’t she just walk away? Why did she have to care that he was in pain? “Is it really hurting?”
“Probably like your nasty headache.”
As guilt and compassion dissipated her temper, her gaze fell to the strip of yellow and fuschia hanging from his coat pocket. “I thought you didn’t believe.”
“That you see things? I don’t know.” He finally eased his hold on her shoulders. “That you know something about those murders? I intend to find out.”
Chapter Five
Kelsey had to admit that practicality and logic kept her a lot warmer than stubbornness and hurt feelings.
Once inside T’s boxy black Jeep Cherokee, he’d cranked up the heat and offered her a lap blanket, which quickly thawed her fingers and toes and warmed her chilled body.
She wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of winter and a long day on her feet. The late-night drive through the streets of Kansas City’s business district into an old Italian neighborhood near the City Market passed by in relative silence. The quiet journey allowed Kelsey plenty of time to study T. At every stoplight and every long stretch of straight road, he slipped his right hand down to his knee and rubbed it through the khaki slacks he wore.
She was guessing now that his limp was a chronic injury, aggravated by cold weather and running after her. His hands worked methodically, efficiently, just like that logical brain of his. There was no wasted motion there. Everything was planned, precise.
The same way he’d taken her hand, the same way he’d played with her hair, the same way he’d held her in his arms and comforted her—even when he refused to understand why she was afraid. He tried her patience with his old-fashioned, inflexible ways. But that same, staunch approach to life had also made her feel safe. And warm.
Merle Banning had warmed her with his eyes, his hands, his body, his words and his consideration all day long. It had been far too long since any man—since anyone—had been able to chase away the chill she lived with every day of her life.
If only she could find a way to fit into a logical world.
Then maybe she could feel warm—and secure—every day.
“Turn here,” she instructed, when they reached her street. “It’s the fourth house on the left. The little gray stone cottage.”
“Quaint,” he commented as he turned into the driveway. He nodded toward her front porch. “You should have left a light on.”
She pulled her keys out of the side pocket of her backpack purse where she’d zipped them in. “I didn’t plan on being gone so long. Thanks for helping out at the mission tonight. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Neither did you.”
Shrugging aside the compliment, she folded up the lap blanket and set it behind the seat. “I guess I thought I’d find the answers I needed this afternoon. Then I could just give you a phone call and be out of your hair.” It had taken longer than she’d anticipated, but it was time to make good on her word. She opened the door and stepped down. “I appreciate the ride home. I’ll call you tomorrow about the stolen-car report. Good night.”
Summoning a decent smile, she closed the door behind her.
She hadn’t taken two steps when the engine died and T was climbing out on his side. He met her in front of the Jeep.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He brushed his fingers against the small of her back and turned her toward the house. “Walking you to the door.”
“I know the way.”
“It’s dark. It’s late. Humor me.” In other words, you won’t get rid of me until I do this.
With a reluctant nod, Kelsey led the way up to the porch. The instant she opened the storm door, the barking started. Insistent, high-pitched, guarding-the-territory barking. Kelsey grinned and inserted her key into the dead-bolt lock.
“You’ve got a guard dog?” T asked, holding the storm door open.
“Of sorts.” She unlocked the doorknob next. “Are you afraid of dogs?”
“Only the ones that attack me. Look…” He put his hand on her wrist when she would have opened the door. His steadying sigh filled the air between them with a cloud of warm air. When the cloud had dissipated, the moon in the clear sky above them offered enough light for her to see the frown crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry this hasn’t been a better day for you.”
“You didn’t steal my car.”
“I’m not talking about that.” He glanced at the door, considering the barking still coming from the other side. Whatever he wanted to say, ultimately, it was more important to him t
han silencing the ferocious noisemaker.
“I’m sorry I was such a jerk today.” He put up a hand to deny her protest. “I’ll admit, I’m pretty much a skeptic about psychic powers. If they really exist, and they can read criminal minds and the clues they leave behind, then we should be able to solve every crime on the book. At least we’d know who to go after.”
“We’re not infallible. Sometimes we get bombarded with so many images and emotions, we can’t pick out what’s useful and what’s not.”
He pressed a leather-gloved finger to her lips. “Let me finish.”
Her breath caught behind the gentle caress, but she warned herself not to read anything personal into it. She simply nodded her acquiescence.
He pulled his finger away and reached for her hand. The slim turquoise glove seemed to disappear inside his larger black one. “It wasn’t very gentlemanly of me to make fun of you or discount what you believe to be true. I didn’t take you seriously when I should have. My mother raised me better than that.”
Kelsey decided sight unseen that she liked his mother. Mrs. Banning had done a fine job with her son.
“If I’d paid better attention to what you were trying to say earlier today, you wouldn’t have gone to The Underground. That creep wouldn’t have put his hands all over you and you wouldn’t have had your car stolen.”
“Neither of those things were your fault.”
“I let my emotions rule my head today, and I don’t know why. It was just like I was a rookie all over again. I should have done better by you.”
“I didn’t see anything rookielike about you today. Despite dealing with my impulses—which I’m sure were not choices you would have made—you were large and in charge and completely in control, as far as I could see.”
His earnest expression relaxed into a grin. “Then you don’t see as well as you think, Ms. Ryan. I think you just helped a skeptic prove his point.”
She was either going to burst into tears or hug him if he went any further with his apology.
Kelsey laughed out loud instead and knocked on the door to get the dog’s attention. “Frosty. Cool it. It’s me.” The barking stopped, but was quickly replaced by eager scratching at the door. “He’s very protective.”
“I can see why he needs to be.”
Standing on her front porch, trading apologies and teasing, felt silly. Intimate. Wonderful.
T made her forget for just a few moments that relationships didn’t work with her. He made her think that a man might actually want to spend time with her. He made her think…oh, hell. She was tired of thinking. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
“What, no herbal teas?” he joked.
Kelsey made a face. “Have you ever tasted the stuff?”
“Sure.” He shrugged as if he couldn’t find any reason to say no. “Coffee would be nice.”
Coffee was nice. They sipped the warm, rich java and wasted an hour doing nothing more than getting acquainted and pretending they could actually get along. But the coffee was getting cold. The hour was growing late.
Reality had to happen sometime.
After insisting he get a share of the home-baked cookies she’d set out on the table for her and T, Frosty had settled at Kelsey’s feet for a snooze. But the instant she got up to carry their mugs to the sink, the dog was on his feet, following her every step. He followed her into the living room to retrieve T’s coat and gloves from the couch. He followed her to the front door to hand them over to T. Her miniature silver bear of a dog allowed T to scratch his ears, but managed to keep himself squarely positioned between Kelsey and T.
So, no chance of a good-night kiss. Not that T would be thinking along those lines. Not that she should.
She should just be happy they’d reached a truce.
T grinned as he pulled on his coat. “He’s a good guard dog. Makes a lot of noise when someone’s outside the house and stays right by your side. He’s a good little alarm system.”
The poodle seemed to think T was a decent guy, too, as long as he had cookies and tummy rubs to share. But once the food and petting was gone, his allegiance was clear. “He stays close because he knows I’ll spoil him.”
T shrugged as he buttoned his coat and pulled on his gloves. “I thought familiars were cats.”
He was just asking a curious question. More fodder for that fact-oriented brain of his. But Kelsey bristled, anyway. “Witches have familiars, Detective. I’m not a witch.”
Jeb had called her that. And worse.
“Uh, oh. Back to Detective, huh? I was just getting used to T.”
The truce had ended.
She didn’t know why she was suddenly so irritated with him. Or why she was making the comparison. In one, long crazy day, T. Merle Banning had already shown more kindness than Jeb Adams had in the six months she’d dated him. Still, it hurt that she was feeling something more, wanting something more, than any man could ever want from her.
God, she was lonely. And all she had were nightmares and a dog to keep her company.
“I’m just tired.” She excused her testy reaction. “You must be, too.”
“Sure. But I was just commenting on how close the two of you are. I imagine he’s good to have around. You probably don’t worry about touching him, do you?”
He’d noticed her reluctance to touch unknown objects and people with her bare hands? He probably thought it was just some eccentric phobia she had. He couldn’t understand that her fear of crowds and skimpy summer clothing were matters of mental survival and emotional security to her. She couldn’t protect herself 24/7 from every person in every environment. So she limited her exposure where she could. She kept to herself. She wore her gloves and pretended she didn’t need human contact like everybody else.
But an explanation like that would blow his logical thinking right out of the water.
“Frosty’s a pet. A damn good one.” She reached around him to flip on the porch light and open the door. The perpetual blast of winter was a welcome wake-up call to her fairy-tale thinking. “Good night, Detective. I need to get to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”
He opened the storm door, but seemed oddly reluctant to leave. “You won’t go into the mission neighborhood by yourself again, will you? I promise I’m going to do some more investigating myself. Please leave it to me.”
She’d make no such promise. That dying woman’s terror would haunt her until she found answers. And the sooner she found them, the sooner she could say good-bye to Merle Banning and these crazy, foolish longings he stirred in her. She could go back to her safe, lonely existence. “I’ll try to limit my search to daylight hours. Good night.”
He stopped the door with his hand. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not your responsibility.” She held on to her side of the door and pushed.
“Every citizen in this town is my responsibility.”
“Fine. Go be rude to one of them.”
“I already apologized—”
“Your words mean nothing to me, Detective.” The resistance on the other side of the door suddenly stopped. “Now go away. Good night.” The door clicked shut and she fastened the dead bolt.
Kelsey held her breath for an endless moment until the outside door slammed shut. She jumped back, startled, and stared at the reinforced steel that kept the outside world from getting to her.
That kept the outside world from ever finding her.
Once the Jeep had pulled out of her driveway, the house was quiet. Morosely quiet except for the rattle of the wind against her windows.
Before, she’d always found the quiet soothing. The solitude a blessing.
But not tonight.
She’d invited the outside world into her home tonight.
She’d let T. Merle Banning into her life.
And now he was gone.
She turned her back to the door, sank to the floor and cuddled a willing Frosty in her lap.
She’d gotten her wish, ha
dn’t she?
She was finally alone.
WHAT THE HELL had happened last night?
And why was he still thinking about it this morning?
Merle pushed the elevator button that would take him to the top floor of the historic Peabody Building. Ginny shared the loft condominium with her entrepreneurial husband—and the building’s renovator—Brett Taylor.
He stuffed the manila envelope he carried under his arm to peel off his gloves and unbutton his coat. He’d been dreading this visit for several weeks. Not that he ever dreaded spending time with his partner. But jealousy and unrequited feelings were hard things to live with for as long as he had. It hurt inside to see her at home with Brett—to see her so obviously in love and so happy.
She deserved it. She’d lost her entire family and had been so closed off before meeting Brett. All work. She didn’t even know how to play. But Brett Taylor had changed her life.
Merle had somehow hoped that he’d be the man to change it.
Now she was pregnant and on leave. Despite an open invitation to pay a visit, he’d put this off because he’d known she’d be even happier. And he’d miss what he didn’t have even more.
Until last night.
Until Kelsey Ryan wreaked havoc on his orderly life.
Now, instead of obsessing over a woman he couldn’t have, he’d spent the night obsessing about a woman who drove him crazy.
One minute he’d been all relaxed, sitting in Kelsey’s homey, intimate kitchen. The coffee hit the spot, the cookies were delicious, the conversation stimulating and the woman sitting across from him was beautiful in a way he’d never considered before.
It was the sort of evening he’d always pictured with Ginny. Only, Merle was having a hard time picturing the petite blonde sitting across from him, a dog practically in her lap, laughing out loud at that goofy story he’d told about starting a fire in his dorm room when he’d tried to soup up his computer without upgrading the electrical outlet in the wall.
But Kelsey had laughed. She’d talked about collecting dolls and Santa Clauses and quilts and magnets. She’d talked about her grandmother with love and pride. She’d asked intelligent questions, offered insightful opinions. She’d dubbed him with that goofy letter that seemed to fit when she said it, that made him feel as if he was more than just his father’s namesake. That he was his own man.
