No Harm (The Kate Teague Mysteries Book 1)

by Wendy Hornsby

  He stopped the car and held out the keys to her. “Come in for a drink?”

  “Yes.” She pocketed the keys.

  “Theresa,” he called as he opened the front door. When there was no response, he smiled. “She’s flown the coop.”

  “Where is she?” Kate asked. She thought he should seem more concerned; they’d been gone several hours.

  “She’s in the neighborhood.” He led the way to the kitchen. “Since my wife left, Theresa never leaves the block without telling me. Her counselor says it’s insurance so I’ll know where to find her if I suddenly decide to leave, too.

  “What’ll it be?” He opened the refrigerator and looked at its meager contents. “Diet root beer, or …” He moved a wilted head of lettuce. “Or half a diet root beer?”

  “Make it half a diet root beer.”

  He opened the can and divided it between two glasses, handing one to Kate.

  “Dad!” The front door slammed. “Are we going to have lunch or what? I’m starved.” Theresa stopped suddenly when she saw Kate.

  “I haven’t been to the market yet,” he said. “If you’re hungry, you’ll just have to scout around and find something.”

  “That means hot dogs again.” She sighed and looked up at Kate. “Did you guys eat already?”

  “No,” Kate said. “I’d love a hot dog.”

  “Daddy, couldn’t we go to McDonald’s?”

  “I’ll go to the market later.” He took Kate by the hand and led her toward the living room. “Right now Mrs. Teague and I have some things to talk about.”

  From the living room Kate could hear Theresa banging cupboard doors and pots in the kitchen and she felt like an intruder. Tejeda had family things to take care of. She jangled the car keys in her pocket. “I should go.”

  “Where?”

  She looked down at the keys in her hand, but they gave her no help. “I don’t know.”

  He put his arms around her. His lips, cold from the drink, brushed across her cheek. “Stay here.”

  “Oops.” Theresa stood in the doorway, holding a napkin-covered plate. Kate laughed, caught in the act by a twelve-year-old chaperon, but stopped when she saw the red rising from under Tejeda’s collar.

  He covered his eyes. “What’s up, squirt?”

  “I’ve, uh, made some hot dogs in the microwave,” Theresa said. “You wanna come and eat them or should I go back to Kirsten’s?”

  “You make it sound like I kick you out all the time so I can have women in here.”

  “Does he?” Kate asked, putting her hand in his.

  “No. But I’ve sort of practiced in my mind what I would do if he ever did.”

  Tejeda walked over and bent his head close to his daughter’s. “Maybe you should go see Kirsten.”

  “Right.” Theresa wrapped a catsup-oozing hot dog in a paper napkin. “Anyway, I left my books at Kirsten’s.”

  “You didn’t take any books with you,” Tejeda reminded her.

  “Mmph,” she said around a mouthful, banging the door behind her.

  “Sorry.” Tejeda was trying, unsuccessfully, to look stern. “How do kids know so much?”

  “Their parents teach them,” Kate said. He turned to her and she saw again that softness in his eyes. She put her hand on the back of his neck and brought his face down to hers. Lightly, she kissed him. “I can’t stay very long.”

  “Might not be the Ritz around here, but you get round-the-clock police protection.”

  She burrowed her hand inside his shirt and kissed the corner of his impish grin. “Think I’m safe here, Lieutenant?”

  “Only if you want to be.” He held her close as they walked down the hall to his bedroom. With his hand on the doorknob he hesitated. She covered his hand and turned the knob.

  Late afternoon sun filtered through his blue drapes, casting the room in a cool, gray light. Tejeda sat on the corner of the bed and held out his arms for her, inviting her into this private place. Kate moved into the circle he made and pulled his shirt over his head. Under her fingertips she could feel a slight trembling as she stroked the smooth, honey-colored skin of his back.

  “Is that desire,” she said, “or second thoughts?”

  “Anticipation.”

  She pulled her blouse out of her skirt band.

  “Let me.” He unbuttoned her blouse, tasting the bare flesh as he exposed it. Drawing her blouse down over her shoulders, he traced the contours of her firm, round breasts with his tongue.

  He reached behind her to unfasten her skirt. At that moment she remembered about Carl’s vasectomy. All those years he had led her to believe she was sterile. But it was only part of his fraud. The realization was like an unexpected gift; there was no reason anymore she couldn’t have a child. She held Tejeda’s face in her hands and saw the gentle strength there. There was something they really needed to talk about later.

  The skirt fell down around her ankles and she kicked it away. She wanted to get closer to him, to feel every part of him next to her. There was so much about him she still didn’t know. But there was time.

  With one hand she pulled his zipper down over the mound in his jeans, guiding them off his rump and onto the floor. “God, you’re beautiful,” she said, combing the hair on his long thighs with her fingers.

  “Mmm,” he sighed, burying his face between her breasts. He cupped her buttocks in his hands and brought her up to straddle his lap. “Something I meant to tell you that first time we met.”

  “What?” Her bare legs circled his waist. She tucked a foot under him and massaged him with her toes.

  “You have a great caboose. Most thin women never get theirs out of the roundhouse. But you…”

  She covered his mouth with her own, running her tongue along his even teeth, memorizing the taste and smell and texture of him, as if in that way she could always keep a part of him.

  He drew her back across the bed and she stretched along the length of his body, sandwiching one leg between his to feel the dark bristles scratch the tender inside of her thigh. With their heads together, her toes barely reached past his knees.

  “Something else I meant to tell you.”

  “I hadn’t noticed you being so shy.” Her fingers traced his spine from his neck to the hollow of his back.

  He flinched in reflex. “No fair tickling.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “I meant to tell you I’d be back for you.”

  NINETEEN

  KATE TURNED AROUND to let Tejeda button her skirt. The room was awash in the cool, gray light of dusk. Everywhere it was so quiet. The calm before the storm, Kate thought. Or was it the eye of the hurricane? She parted the bedroom drapes to look outside, to make sure they hadn’t somehow been cut adrift. “It’s getting foggy.”

  “Looks like it.” He flicked on the overhead light so he could see what he was doing. Then, button finally fastened, he hugged her from behind, kissing the back of her neck. “Might be hazy out there, but I think things are pretty clear in here. At least I hope they are.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up into his smiling face. “I love you, Lieutenant.”

  His sudden bark of laughter made her back up, afraid she had asked for too much, or asked it too soon. “That bothers you?”

  “Yes, it bothers me a lot.” He was trying to control his mirth.

  “Sorry.” Crestfallen, she went over to the dresser and tried to plump her hair. Maybe she was just susceptible right now to any display of affection, she thought. And maybe out of her need to pump up her sagging self-esteem, she had read too much into what Tejeda had said. She looked into the mirror and saw him watching her, the softness still there, deep in the Indian-brown eyes. “I’m ready to go now.”

  “Kate, that’s not what I meant.” He stood behind her and talked to her reflection. “Say ‘I love you, Roger,’ not I love you, Lieutenant.’”

  “I love you, Roger.”

  The last syllable of his name was lost as he kissed her, lifting her up to
him so that her feet left the floor. Seeming almost overcome by emotion, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, cradling her in his lap. He held her that way, her head against his chest, rocking her back and forth slowly, for what seemed a long time.

  The pattern of his breathing, the rhythm of his heart became sounds so intimate they were excruciating. She wanted to keep this peaceful moment for as long as she could; the hours ahead would be filled with confrontation as she tried to pick up the thread of her life among the ruins of her family.

  “This might not be what you want to hear.” He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. “This place has been awfully empty since my wife left. I was mad at her for going and hurt that I failed her somehow. I didn’t want to let anyone get close enough to hurt me like that again.”

  She didn’t dare to move.

  “But you salved the wounds.” She could feel the intensity of emotion in his voice echoing through his chest. “Don’t go home.”

  “I have to. For a while, anyway.” She smoothed the collar of his shirt to have something to do with her hands. It made her remember the texture of his bare flesh against hers and she wished she could stay. “There are too many things that need to be settled.”

  “I know you’re right. But I don’t like it. Let me drive you, make sure you’re okay.” They left the bedroom holding hands, not ready to break physical contact. “I need to make some phone calls first.”

  Tejeda called Mrs. Murphy and arranged for her to keep Theresa overnight. Then he called for a plainclothes unit to meet them at Kate’s. She listened to him giving orders, playing the ranking policeman, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  He hung up the phone. “You look like the cat who caught the mouse. What’s up?”

  “What would they say down at headquarters if they could see you now?”

  “Probably,” he kissed the end of her nose, “‘You’re fired.’ Listen a minute.” His tone became very official, very serious. “Miles is dead now, and he isn’t cover anymore for whoever has been harassing you. I expect that pretty soon now ‘whoever’ is either going to desist or get more serious about it. I’m not sure that taking you home is a good idea. Except that you might flush the buzzard out by being there. Tonight we’ll stay close, keep an eye on you. But after that,” his fingers bit into her shoulders, “I don’t know what I can slide past accounting.”

  Fog was rolling in from the beach as they drove, blurring lights and landmarks into a surreal diffusion. By the time Tejeda parked in the courtyard, the fog was so thick that visibility was less than ten yards. From the car, her house, even with its lights on, loomed like a vague shadow against the sea of whiteness.

  “Come in,” Kate said, pausing in the doorway.

  “Just to check it out,” he said, squeezing her hand. He looked around the broad foyer with its polished marble floor and antique appointments and shook his head. “Home sweet home?”

  “‘Tis a humble place, but mine own,” she said, laughing.

  “But I hear the neighborhood’s going.” Carl, like a rigid martinet, slowly descended the long staircase toward them. It was an awful moment for her as the three of them stood frozen in an awkward tableau.

  Kate wished she could spare Tejeda the embarrassment of a confrontation. From the sly tilt to his eyes, Kate knew Carl saw that something had happened between Kate and Tejeda and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it as ammunition. Tejeda might be in a vulnerable position professionally because of her. She waited for Carl to reach the bottom step. “What are you doing here?”

  “You asked me to stay, remember?”

  “That was last night. Now you have a place of your own.”

  Carl looked at Tejeda, then at Kate; his pale gray eyes turned to ice. “I like it better here.”

  “Do you want him to leave?” Tejeda asked her.

  “He’s going,” she said. “Aren’t you, Carl?”

  “If we can talk first. Alone.” He glared at Tejeda. “Do we need your approval?”

  “No. You need hers. Kate?”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Outside,” Tejeda said. “The other unit’s on its way. I’ll go watch for them.”

  “Then it’s okay,” she said. “We do have some things to settle. Thanks for bringing me home, Roger.” She took his hand and tried not to linger in his grasp. She didn’t want to give Carl any more ammunition. Brushing past Carl without another word or glance she walked up the stairs to the bedroom.

  “Damn,” she groaned as she flipped on the light. The room was in a depressing state of decay because neither she nor Esperanza had been home to clean it. Pink roses, withered after two days without water, littered her bed and gave off a sickly, funereal scent. Brown petals trailed across the carpet like footprints to nowhere.

  The unopened bottle of champagne was still in the ice bucket, its label floating on the tepid water. Leaving her shoes in the general clutter of dirty clothes and wet bath towels on the floor, she uncorked the wine and sipped it from the bottle as she walked into the bathroom. The first taste bit her throat. Resting her back against the sink, she took another drink and held it in her mouth a moment to smooth it before she swallowed it. She was still standing there, holding the bottle by its neck, when Carl walked in.

  “Hello,” she said, chin down, focusing on the floor. Dread and the wine hit her stomach at the same time. Seeing him hurt more than she had expected. It had been too easy when she was with Tejeda to put aside the twelve years with Carl. But Tejeda wasn’t with her now, and the twelve years were.

  He stood in the doorway and watched her. “How long has this been going on between you and Lieutenant Taco?”

  “Ah, yes. The football ploy.” Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard after all, she thought. “The best defense is a good offense. Or is that backward?” She poured the wine into the sink.

  “I know you’re pretty mad at me right now, Kate.” Carl took a step toward her but stopped when she turned away. “If you think about it, nothing actually has happened.”

  “You’re going to give me your tits and ass courtroom routine, right? I think you’d better shut up before you make this worse than it already is.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You have a right to be upset. But so have I. This has been the worst day of my life, not knowing where you were or what you might be doing.”

  She hadn’t a clue about what he was up to. “Doing?”

  “Are you going to tell?” There was an edge of panic in the way his voice slipped half an octave. “Are you going to take out a two-column ad and announce to the world that I’m …” The words died in his throat.

  “No.”

  He exhaled in that peculiar way the accused at the bar have when they hear they’ve been acquitted. It’s like they’ve held the same breath through the entire trial and can finally let go of it.

  “I’m not going to lie for you, either.”

  “But the family.”

  “Of course, we should be concerned about the family.” She walked into her closet and came out with a suitcase. “Like Uncle Miles. What do you think it did to him all those years, sitting at his window, watching you come and go without giving him the least acknowledgment?”

  “That’s the way he wanted it.”

  Kate carried the suitcase down the hall to the room Carl had been using, tossed it onto the rumpled bed, and opened it.

  “And Helga?” she asked as he came into the room. “He wanted her here, too?”

  “Yes.” Carl reclined on the bed next to the bag, curling around it a little, as if to anchor it.

  “How do you know this? Did you ever talk to him?”

  “We talked on the telephone all the time, when I was at the office. Every month when he sent Mom her check he begged her to come. He wanted her here, where he felt she always belonged.”

  “But she wouldn’t come until my mother was gone, right?”

  “Do you blame her?”

  “That’s all it means to you?�
�� She opened the top dresser drawer and looked at the neat rows of socks. Packing them would be an intimate contact she didn’t want, so she pulled the whole drawer out and handed it to him. “Do you understand what Miles did for you and Helga?”

  He held the drawer on his lap, making no move to unload it into the suitcase or to get up off the bed. “We don’t know for sure he did anything.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you’re safe now, right?” Angrily, he pushed the drawer aside and it spilled to the floor. Folded socks rolled eccentrically around his feet; navy, black, charcoal, the whole range of his spectrum. “If Miles killed your mother, what do you need with that Saint Bernard out there?”

  “He’s trying to make sure I’m not murdered in my sleep.”

  “You aren’t afraid of me, are you, Kate?”

  She listened for the emotional tremor in his voice, looked for the concerned crease in his brow. But it wasn’t there. “I know one thing. It wasn’t you who tried to kill me.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “If it had been you, you would have succeeded.” She pulled out another drawer and put it next to him. “Are you staying at Miles’s house?”

  He rolled over, put his hands behind his head and gazed at the ceiling. He was trying to seem nonchalant, Kate thought. But his skin had gone very pale, and tense white parentheses framed his mouth. “I’m not packing anything, not if you’re really in danger.”

  “Suit yourself. But you’re not staying here.”

  “I’ll be at Miles’s, then.”

  She watched how much time it took for him to get to his feet and knew that it wasn’t all over yet. “I’ll see you out.”

  Hoping to hurry him, Kate went down the stairs first, setting a fast pace. But she had time to call and make sure Reece had cleared out of Miles’s house before Carl finally made an appearance at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Went back for my toothbrush.” He held it up in front of him like a candle. “We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’ve had time to think.”