She grinned, liking that he’d kept up with her. “You’re practically a stalker.”
He laughed. “Not a stalker. I had you on my radar. Beautiful woman lives across the street, it’s natural I would know some things.”
“So if you’ve had me on your radar, why didn’t you ever come over and introduce yourself?” Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t still in love with his ex-fiancé. Maybe he was as open to them . . . to them being a “them” as she was.
He picked up his own cup of coffee. “I was worried you lived too close.”
She digested that. “And you’re not worried about that now?”
He twisted his cup in his hand. “No.”
She met his gaze. “Really?”
“I figured it was worth the risk.”
Risk? “What risk?” But then she didn’t really need to ask. She knew what risk. The risk of what would happen when he told her he really wasn’t open to a real relationship. That this was just fun and games. Sex and more sex.
He set his coffee down and stuffed his hands in his jeans. “The risk of . . . You know what, I think what’s important is—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand. Yup, she should have waited until she knew if he was open to a relationship before she got naked. “I should go to work.” Disappointment coiled in her gut. She set her cup in the sink and turned to leave.
“Whoa. No. I didn’t mean . . .” He gently caught her by the shoulders and turned her around.
Instantly, she realized she was acting like a psycho girlfriend. They’d spent one night together, and what did she want from him? Promises? What was wrong with her?
“It’s okay.” She stepped away from his touch.
“It’s not okay,” he said. “You’re obviously upset and I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I just didn’t like that you said there were risks—”
“But I didn’t mean—”
“No, you’re right. Anytime you meet someone, there are risks. Like with your fiancé. I just . . . I haven’t . . . You are the first guy I’ve seen since my divorce, and I think I’m just . . . mixed up, right now.”
“You’re not mixed up,” he said.
“Yeah, I am. And I think maybe we need to . . . to maybe slow it down.”
• • •
Mark dropped down into his office chair.
Jake walked in. “Where’s breakfast?”
“Don’t start!” Mark didn’t look up.
“So dinner didn’t go well last night?”
“I said don’t start!”
“Alright. ” Jake propped his butt against Mark’s desk. “I got a call from Mrs. Curley. She’s driving home today and said she’d be happy to come talk to us.”
Mark looked up. “Can you friggin’ please explain how a woman’s brain works?”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m assuming you don’t mean Mrs. Curley?”
“No, I don’t mean Mrs. Curley.”
“Okay.” Jake paused. “Women are . . . difficult. I mean, religion, world politics . . . I could help you out on those, but women . . . they’re a mystery.”
Mark raked a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have pushed. I knew it was too soon. Her ex-husband was murdered and she’s a suspect, her friends are suspects and what the hell do I do but take her to bed? What the hell was I thinking?”
“Shit. You slept with her?”
“I told you not to start!” Mark snapped.
• • •
Savanna was miserable. She’d started to call Mark a dozen times, but to say what? ‘I really didn’t mean that.’ Jeepers, she was so . . . embarrassed. She’d acted like a fruitcake. He was probably counting his blessings she’d put the brakes on things.
Thankfully, it was a slow day, and since Janice was working, she called an emergency early dinner. At three-thirty, she met her two best friends at the new restaurant. She arrived early, so she walked around the restaurant’s little shop.
Her heart clutched when she came across the bins of Jelly Belly jelly beans.
When Jennifer and Bethany arrived, they ordered margaritas, and within a few minutes, Savanna had spilled her guts. She told them about the great sex. About how he made her feel giddy and happy, and how she behaved like a complete idiot.
“It’s aftershock,” Bethany said.
“I don’t think so. The flashes, seeing Clint dead, have stopped.”
“Not from Clint’s death,” Bethany said. “Great sex messes with your mind, especially if you haven’t had any in a while.”
“She’s right,” Jennifer said. “Sex can make you stupid.”
Savanna moaned. “Why did I do it?”
“Why did you sleep with him, or why did you break up with him?” Jennifer asked.
“I didn’t break up with him,” Savanna insisted.
Her friends looked at each other and then back at her with their poker faces.
“You think I broke up with him?” Savanna asked.
Bethany put her hand on top of Savanna’s. “You sleep with a guy for the first time and then you tell him you need to slow down, that’s pretty much a breakup.”
“I didn’t want to break up with him. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Jennifer said. “You’re scared. Clint did you wrong. You lost your mama. Mandy slept with your ex-husband. You’ve had some tough blows.. It’s understandable that you’d be insecure when it comes to building a new relationship.”
“Understandable maybe, but still stupid,” Savanna said.
“True” Bethany said. “Hey, he’s hot. We’re not arguing the stupid point.”
• • •
Mark and Jake left the retirement home where the witness on a cold case now lived. Mark had just got behind the wheel, when Jake spoke up, “Can I say one thing and then I’ll shut up?”
Mark knew what Jake was talking about. “No.”
“Good,” Jake said. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about how you were wrong to encourage the relationship because of all the shit happening.”
“I said no,” Mark growled.
“Yeah, I heard you. I’m ignoring you. You see, when Macy and I met, it was raining shit. I had the crap with my family, and her brother had escaped from prison. There were piles of shit everywhere. But sometimes when crap happens, people need each other. And sometimes when crap happens people do things and say things they shouldn’t. If it wasn’t for you Macy and I wouldn’t be together. What I’m saying is don’t give up. Things might work out.”
Mark gripped the wheel. “She asked to slow things down.”
Jake frowned. “After your first night?”
Mark nodded. “And it’s probably best. I didn’t have my head completely wrapped around it anyway.”
Jake leaned back in the seat. “Because of that Robyn bitch?”
“No.” Hell, why was he lying? “Probably. I’m not sure I’m ready for a real relationship.”
“Hmm,” Jake said. “You think Savanna might have picked up on that and that’s why she called it off.”
“No,” Mark said.
Jake shrugged. “You sure? Women pick up on shit like that. It’s like they read you, can see right into our minds. Scares the hell out of me.”
Jake’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Mrs. Curley.” He flipped it open. “Jake Baldwin.”
Even from the other side of the car, Mark heard Mrs. Curley’s panicked voice. “He’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” Jake looked at Mark.
“Nick. He’s dead. He’s at my house. He’s really, really dead.”
“Calm down,” Jake said. “My partner and I are on our way.”
Mark wasn’t sure what ‘really, really dead’ meant, but he had a few ideas, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out if he was right.
• • •
By the time Mark and Jake pulled up, Piperville’s homicide department was al
ready there. Jake’s buddy, Tom Hinkle, and his partner stood out front. Mark could guess the reason they were outside was because of the ‘really, really dead’ comment.
Mark spotted Mrs. Curley and two young boys standing across the street. He had no idea how bad the scene was, but he hoped the young boys hadn’t seen it.
Hinkle met them in the middle of the lawn. “She said she called you.”
“What we got?” Mark asked.
“You’re going to have to see it,” Hinkle said. “I’d recommend you cover your nose.”
Mark glanced back across the street. “Did the kids go inside?”
“No. Luckily they went over to the neighbor’s to get the dog. But the Mrs. didn’t get spared.”
They walked in the house. The smell was horrendous. Mark’s throat tightened. They made their way into the living room.
“Shit!” Mark said.
“I know,” Hinkle said. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?”
Mr. Curley didn’t have a ribbon tied around his dick, but he had one tied around his chest. His throat was slashed, he was naked, and placed under the tree as if he was a gift.
“Yeah,” Mark said, but still couldn’t see the connection.
“Body’s here, it’s our case,” Tom tossed out the statement.
“I think that’s fair,” Mark said, the smell turning his stomach, and making him eager to let go of the case He turned and walked out.
“Totally your case,” Jake seconded and followed Mark.
Outside, Mark inhaled trying to clear the smell from his nose.
Mark glanced over at Mrs. Curley. “Can we chat with her?” he asked Hinkle, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes.
“I talked to her, but knock yourselves out. If you get something new, however, you let me know.”
Hinkle walked back into the house. Mark and Jake went across the street. The first thing they did was get her away from the kids. “Ma’am,” Mark started. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Tears filled her eyes. “It’s not my loss,” she said. “But I feel bad for my kids.”
“I’m sure you do,” Mark said.
“Ma’am, do you happen to know a Ms. Savanna Edwards, or a Clint Edwards?”
She wiped her eyes. “No. But the other officer asked me that, too. Why?”
Mark inhaled. “I hate to ask hard questions now, Mrs. Curley, but we were told you and your husband had a disagreement a day before he was killed. Do you recall what you were arguing over?”
She hiccupped. “It was . . . he was supposed to be paying my truck payment. And he wasn’t. That’s why I went to Dallas. To borrow a car from my parents.”
Jake and Mark looked at each other. “Was your truck repoed?”
“Yes.”
Mark got that ah-haa moment.
“Did you see the man who took your car?” Mark asked.
“Of course. He pulled it right out of my driveway.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Hell yeah. Red suit, white beard. It was Santa Claus.”
Suddenly, Mrs. Curley paled. “Oh, my God. I told him that all I wanted for Christmas was to have Nick dead and . . . under my tree.” She let out a sob. “ I didn’t mean it.”
“We know, ma’am,” Jake said.
Mrs. Curley ran to her kids. “Shit,” Mark said. “Santa did it. But what doesn’t make sense is that Savanna said the only people who heard the ribbon statement were the people at the diner.”
“She probably said it to Santa and just doesn’t remember.”
“I don’t think so,” Mark said. “I was there most of the time when the wrecker driver was there, and I don’t see her saying something like that to anyone but her friends . . . and in a moment of frustration. She’s not that crass.”
“Maybe Santa followed her to the diner,” Jake said.
Mark’s gut tightened. “If he did, then maybe he’s still following her. She could be in danger.” He started the car. If Santa touched Savanna, he was one dead jolly red-suited dude.
Chapter Fifteen
Savanna was in the ladies’ room, midstream, when the sound of the main restroom door swishing open filled the small space and she heard a masculine voice call out, “Savanna?”
A masculine voice that sounded a lot like Mark Donaldson. That margarita was stronger than she thought.
She lost her stream. Gave herself a quick pat and dry.
“Savanna?” the voice repeated. Zipping up, certain she was imagining things, she still offered a weak, “Yes.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Still unsure, she said, “Mark?”
“Yeah.”
She stood there a second trying to think. “Why are you in the women’s bathroom?”
He didn’t answer. When she stepped out of the stall, he wasn’t there. Had she imagined it?
When she saw Mark and Jake sitting at the table with her friends, she felt better about her mental status, but still concerned. Why was he here? Her gut said it wasn’t about their disagreement. Had they found Clint’s killer? They weren’t back to thinking it was Jennifer, were they?
When his gaze found hers, she felt an emotional tug on her heart. Had she really broken up with him? Could she take it back?
She moved in and dropped into a chair. “Is something wrong?”
“I think it’s time you guys start talking,” Bethany said, in her lawyer voice.
Mark met Bethany’s gaze. “There’s been another murder that appears to be connected to Clint’s.”
“I’ve been here all afternoon,” Jennifer spoke up. “Ask the waitress.” She started trying to flag her down.
“We know.” Mark offered her a calm look and then focused on Savanna. “Do you happen to know a Nick or Cindy Curley?” He looked around the table. “Any of you?”
Savanna let the name run around her mind. “No, I don’t know anyone by those names.”
Jennifer and Bethany both shook their heads.
Jake leaned into the table. “Savanna, when the wrecker driver took your car, did you happen to say anything about your ex?”
She nodded. “I told him the car belonged to me.”
Mark spoke up this time. “Did you say anything about wanting him dead with any . . . ribbons?”
Savanna’s chest tightened. How many times would she regret saying that? She shook her head. “No, I only said that at the diner. I was mad, and everyone was being silly.”
“Could the wrecker driver have followed you there?” Mark asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I think I’d noticed if Santa Claus was there.”
“What if he’d removed the suit?” Mark continued.
“Maybe,” Savanna said. And she got the heebie jeebies. “Do you think he’s following me?”
“We think it’s a possibility,” he said.
“No.” Bethany broke in. “He wasn’t there. I know that for a fact, because I was on the phone with him.”
“He was on the phone with you when Savanna said that?” Mark asked and he and Jake looked at each other.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think he could have heard her?” Jake asked.
“I . . . I supposed he could have. Shit,” Bethany said. “You think Santa Claus did this?”
“Do either of you have the driver’s telephone number?” Jake asked.
Bethany pulled out her phone. “I have everything. And he claims his real name is Nicolas Claus. You might be dealing with a crazy.”
“He’s killed two people,” Savanna said. “And you think his name makes him sound crazy?”
“People kill all the time, but they don’t change their names to do it.” Bethany pushed a few buttons and read off the info. Jake wrote it down. Savanna felt Mark’s eyes on her. He was sitting right next to her and she wanted to touch him, but she wasn’t sure he’d want that now.
“Thanks.” Mark and Jake stood up. His gaze shifted to the others, then
back to Savanna. All he did was offer her a nod. What did that mean? Goodbye? Good riddance? Her chest tightened. She watched him start out.
“Don’t just sit there, go after him!” Jennifer elbowed her. “He’s too hot to let slip through your fingers.”
Savanna didn’t need to be told twice. She popped to her feet and hurried to the tune of Jingle Bells across the restaurant. The two men had just stepped through the front door.
“Mark?” she called his name as soon as the cold wind hit her face.
He had his hand on the door of his car and he stepped back. Even in the mild, dusky darkness she saw the question in his eyes.
When he stood directly in front of her, she found herself without the right words. “I . . . about this morning, I . . .”
He put a fingertip to her lips. “I understand. You’ve got a lot of stuff happening right now.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I live across the street. We’ll talk later.” He glanced back at the car where his partner was waiting. “I’m sorry, but we have go and see if we can find this guy.”
Her chest gripped. Was his “we’ll talk later” an “I’ll call you” kind of comment that would never happen?
“Okay.” Watching him walk away hurt. Hurt because her gut said what they had, or what they almost had, was gone.
• • •
“Did you apologize?” Jake asked when Mark climbed in the car.
“No. But I told her we’d talk later.”
“So there’s hope?” Jake asked.
“Yeah,” Mark said, “not that it’s any of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t. I already told ya, you’re easier to work with when you’re getting laid.” Jake laughed.
Mark rolled his eyes. But damn if the heaviness that had settled in his chest since this morning hadn’t lightened. He recalled Savanna mentioning something about Robyn and he wondered if Jake couldn’t be right. Had he said something that gave Savanna the impression that he wasn’t ready to explore what was happening between them?
Hell, maybe he would apologize.
But right now they needed to concentrate on snagging Santa. “So,” Mark looked at Jake. “Now do we call your buddy Hinkle and tell him what we got? Or do we chase it down ourselves and take all the glory?”
The Cop Who Stole Christmas (Tall, Hot & Texan) Page 14
