They pulled up in front of her grandmother’s house. He would have opened her car door for her, but she had already stepped out and slammed it behind her when he reached her.
He trudged behind her as she marched up the porch steps like a freight train, anger evident in every step. She reached to open the door, but he stopped her by laying his hand on her arm.
“Let me search the house before you go in,” he said.
“No. Go away.” She reached for the door again, but he put his arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest. He expected her to fight him, but she didn’t. She remained stiff and unyielding, holding herself as far away from him as she could.
“Lacy, the person who attacked you might know who you are,” he whispered. Their contorted position put his mouth very close to her ear. “He could be waiting in your house right now. I need to search the premises; let me do my job.”
She didn’t relax, but she didn’t protest further. He let her go and she stepped away from him, still keeping her eyes trained toward the dark horizon.
He took her key, opened the door, drew his weapon, and walked inside. Although his first impression upon entering the house was that it was empty, he took his time making a detailed sweep, checking the basement and closets.
“It’s all clear,” he said when he stepped back onto the porch. Lacy remained silent, still looking away from him. He sighed. “Look, Lacy, I’m sorry. We’ve both had a lousy day. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”
She rounded on him then and he resisted the urge to take a step back from the cold fury in her green eyes. When she put her hands on her hips and advanced on him, he did step back until he butted against the front of the house. She kept coming until she was only a few inches away, and then she unleashed the full power of her rage.
“You think I have issues? Well maybe I do, but I have good reason for my issues. What reason do you have for your overpowering fear of commitment, Jason? Soon you’re going to find yourself as a forty year old cliché--chasing younger girls and reliving your glory days while the rest of the world settles down to responsible adulthood. Why don’t you take a look in the mirror before you start handing out insults to me? I may be an ice princess, but I have a good reason. You have always been the center of everything. Your life is perfect. What’s your excuse for your emotional barriers? Don’t pretend you don’t have them because I’ve seen them, and they’re as solid as mine.”
She stood in front of him, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving with anger, and her long hair streaming around her face in wild disarray. Her cheeks were flushed, she was frowning, and he was certain she had never looked more beautiful. Instead of feeling upset by her reprimand, he found himself forgetting everything they had just said to each other.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “We’re both a mess.” Tentatively, he reached out and put his hands on her waist. She gave him a wary, surprised look, but she didn’t back away. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, he pulled her closer, reeling her in slowly like a fish until she was pressed solidly against him. “Do you think it’s possible our combined issues cancel each other out?”
“No, I think we’re a horrible combination.” Her palms flattened against his chest as if she were going to push him away, but instead she circled his neck and clasped her hands behind his head, standing on her toes to move closer to him.
“So do I,” he agreed. He closed his eyes and bent to kiss her when his lapel radio crackled to life.
“Unit five, checkup,” the dispatcher said.
Jason froze. “What time is it?” He checked his watch without waiting for an answer. “I got off duty an hour ago. I was supposed to report to the station for shift change. I’ve got to go.”
Slowly her eyes opened and she stared up at him, dazed. Was he saying he was leaving? Now? “You’re going?”
He smiled and touched her cheek with his index finger. “I have to.” He paused to speak into his radio, and then he turned to look at her again. “I could come back after I go to the station and retrieve my car.” There was a question in his statement.
Thankfully some sanity was beginning to return to her overheated brain. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” She unclasped her arms and stepped back out of his embrace.
He almost shivered from the new chill in the atmosphere. He wanted to be angry with her for rebuffing him, but she was correct. Together, they were a horrible idea. Better to keep things at the level of friends, if they could even be considered that. After all, they had less than nothing in common. He straightened and moved away from the wall.
“See you around, Lacy. Stay out of trouble.”
She put her hands on her hips once again and frowned as she watched him walk down the steps. “I never look for trouble,” she called after him.
“And yet it has a way of finding you,” he called over his shoulder. Then he got in his cruiser and drove away.
Chapter 10
Not until Lacy undressed for bed a few minutes later did she remember the journals she had slipped into her waistband. Jason’s bullet-proof vest was undoubtedly the only thing that had kept him from noticing the journals when they shared their latest embarrassing embrace.
She pulled the journals from her waistband and smacked them on the kitchen counter, too angry even to look at them right now. Issues. Jason had accused her of having issues, and the most frustrating part of the whole thing was that he was correct. Of course she had issues, how could she not after her fiancé dumped her for her sister?
Robert had been her first love, her first everything. Before him she had barely dated, but with him she had let down her guard entirely, giving him her complete trust. And what had he done with that trust? Shredded it. How could she ever trust anyone again, especially someone like Jason who looked too good to be true, told her repeatedly he didn’t want her, and alternately ran hot and cold?
Lacy slammed a few cupboards until she found her grandmother’s pain reliever. Checking the date on the bottle, she realized it was like most of the medicine in the cupboard: outdated. Still, what was the harm in taking pain reliever that was too old? Her head was killing her and there was nothing else, so she popped a couple of pills and downed them with water straight from the faucet, not even bothering with a glass.
With that task completed, she returned her attention to her furious thoughts about Jason. Really, she was angrier with herself than with him. Of course he was going to toy with her; it was his nature to do so. The problem was her reaction to him. Why did it seem like whenever she was within a few feet of him she turned into the sort of simpering idiot she had always despised? While other girls allowed their hearts to rule their heads, Lacy had remained sensible, always following her head. Even with Robert she had first made a list of pros and cons before going out with him. Only when she deemed he was an adequate risk did she say yes to his request for a date.
But with Jason she completely lost her mind the minute she looked into his beautiful face. He smelled perfect. He looked perfect. The only problem was that he wasn’t perfect. Far from it--he was a mess for myriad reasons that leapt to the surface of her brain whenever she thought of him. Whereas with Robert she had turned a blind eye to his faults and deluded herself into believing he was okay, she had no such difficulty seeing the reality of Jason. Like a cardboard cutout of a model, he was all looks and no substance. She would have an easier time making a list of his faults than his assets. There was no way she could delude herself into thinking he was perfect; he wasn’t. And yet she couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
She crawled into bed, placing the journals on the pillow beside her. Before she could open them, her thoughts turned suddenly to Tosh. How odd that she should trust him after just meeting him, but she did. She had probably shared more of herself with him tonight than she had anyone except her grandmother.
And that was her final thought until the sun filtered through her window the next morning. Lacy woke with a start and looked at the pillo
w beside her, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the journals lying sedately on the pillow. How could she have fallen asleep when she her only purpose last night had been to read those journals?
Her stomach rumbled, further delaying her purpose as she rolled out of bed and trudged to the kitchen for some food. Her grandmother’s prune cake greeted her, offering up familiar comfort. Lacy picked up a fork and dug in, not waiting to cut a piece and put it on a plate.
Only after her belly was uncomfortably full did she realize how much of the cake she had eaten. She groaned and shoved the half-empty cake pan away from her. Now she would have to run in order to try and circumvent the calorie overload she had just consumed.
She took her time changing into her workout clothes, willing her food to digest so she wouldn’t get sick while she ran. If there was one thing she hated more than running, it was running on a full stomach. Just as she was about to leave her room, she turned and caught sight of the journals. Maybe Jason was making her paranoid, but she thought maybe she should hide them on the off chance that someone came looking for them. Her first instinct was to shove them under her mattress, but if she had thought to look there at Barbara Blake’s house, someone would most likely think of searching for them in the same place here. Instead she searched her closet for a loose board she remembered from her youth.
A distant cousin had once shown her the hiding place, and they had spent a happy afternoon pretending to be spies, hiding secret messages in the small space. The boards were warped when Lacy tried to pry them up, forcing her to retrieve a hammer from the garage. After painstakingly pulling it up, she slipped the journals inside and pushed the board back into place.
“There,” she said out loud, dusting her hands on her pants. With her task completed, she forced herself to leave the house and jog the circuitous three miles she had staked out during her first week in town. Ideally, running three miles four times a week was what Lacy needed to keep her figure in tact. Without giving up the foods that she loved, she would never be skinny. But she liked her body as it was. Her hourglass figure was shapely, but she firmly believed women were supposed to have curves.
As she let herself in, the phone started to ring. She paused in front of the answering machine, vowing to take a hammer to it if she heard Ed McNeil’s voice once again.
“Lacy, it’s Jason.” His voice sounded groggy, as if he had just rolled out of bed and dialed. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Last night was…intense. Catch you later.”
Almost as soon as his message ended, the phone started to ring again. She lunged for it, fumbling it to her ear. “Hello,” she blurted.
“Lacy, it’s Tosh. I’m calling to make sure you’re not in the slammer. How did last night go?”
“Not well,” she said, sinking into a kitchen chair. “I got hit over the head and knocked out.”
“Are you kidding me? You could have been killed.”
“That’s what Jason said.”
“Jason,” he repeated.
“He showed up right after I got knocked out.”
“So he saved you,” he said.
“I suppose,” she drawled, not understanding his dry tone.
“Did you at least find anything helpful?”
“I found some journals,” she said with no idea why she was sharing such vital information with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger.
Tosh whistled. “Nice. I was also calling with some potentially good news. Apparently the deceased was a longtime member of my new church. I’ve been asked to do the funeral. There’s a viewing tonight, and the service is tomorrow. Maybe if you show up and circulate you might find out something useful.”
“Tosh, that’s brilliant,” Lacy replied. “Thank you.”
“I was also calling to ask a favor of you. As far as I can tell, you seem to be the person in town who knows the most about Barbara Blake. Since this is my first funeral, and since I’ve never met the woman, I was wondering if you might be able to meet with me and impart some information about her.”
“I would be glad to, but I have to warn you: most of what I know is pretty bad.”
“At this point anything is better than the nothing I have. I’ll do my best to put a positive spin on things. Can you do supper again?”
“Okay,” she stammered, not sure how she found herself going out with this newcomer for a second night in a row.
“Great. We’ll have to eat early and quickly because the viewing starts at six.”
“No problem,” she assured him. “I’m skipping lunch today. I just ate my body weight in cake.”
“That sounds good,” he said.
“I’ll bring you some. I need to get it out of the house.”
“Awesome. Later, Lacy.”
“Later, Tosh.” She hung up and stared at the phone so that she startled when it rang almost immediately.
“Hello,” Grand Central Station, she added mentally.
“Lacy, it’s Travis from the jail. Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all.” Apparently this is my morning to receive gentleman callers. “How are you?” She bit her lip, hoping he wasn’t calling to ask her out again. She didn’t want to have to reject him again.
“I’m good, and I have some good news for you. I spent a long time talking to your grandmother yesterday. She’s agreed to see you this morning during visiting hours.”
Lacy sat up, gripping the phone tightly to her ear. “Travis, that’s amazing. How did you convince her?”
“I may have embellished your emotional state a little bit. It might be a good idea to work up a few tears before you see her,” he suggested.
The back of her head throbbed, and she winced as tears of pain filled her eyes. .”I don’t think that will be a problem. Travis, how can I ever thank you for this? This is possibly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.”
“I can think of one way,” Travis said. There was a breathless pause while she waited for him to continue. “Pick me up a coffee on your way in. I’m working overtime, and I’m zonked.”
She smiled and relaxed. “Sure thing. I’ll see you at ten. And, Travis, thank you.”
“No problem, Lacy. See you later.”
They disconnected, and Lacy sat back, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Three phone calls from three different men in the space of thirty minutes was definitely not a part of her normal routine. Maybe there was something to be said for living in a small town. Here she was a big fish in a little pond, and it was apparently mating season.
Her nose wrinkled at the unbidden imagery her thought created. “Gross,” she murmured. Dispelling all thoughts of fish from her mind, she walked to the bathroom and took a lengthy shower.
A half hour later she was prepared to emerge from the house, clean, refreshed, and ready to start her day. She had even listened to the weather forecast, found out it was supposed to be humid, and secured her hair in a braid down her back. People with wavy strawberry-blond hair know better than to let their hair have free reign on humid days. If she let her hair have its way, by noon she would be able to try out for the starring role in Annie. She opened the door and swallowed a yelp of surprise when she ran into a solid form on the front porch.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” Jason said accusingly. He was scowling at her, but it was difficult to take him seriously when his lustrous black hair stuck up in patches all over his head. Apparently she wasn’t the only one with hair humidity issues.
“I didn’t know your hair was naturally curly,” she blurted, staring at his head.
He used his hand to try and tame his locks to no avail. “I haven’t showered yet. I just woke up and had a mini panic attack, wondering if you made it through the night. How’s the head?” Now it was his turn to stare at her hair. “Nice braid.”
Since she wasn’t sure if the compliment was sincere or sarcastic, she ignored it. “It hurts, but I took some pain reliever from the eighties, so it should start feeling
better any minute now.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
As they stood on the porch inspecting each other, an awkward silence descended between them. “Have you eaten?” she asked for lack of something better to say.
“Since I rolled out of bed, called you, and then hopped in my car, you mean? The answer is no,” he said grumpily.
She turned and led the way back inside. “Come on. Sit down.” She pointed toward the kitchen table. “Do you like prune cake?”
His lip curled. “I don’t know. It sounds awful.”
Offended by his mockery of her favorite food, she retrieved a clean fork from the drawer, scooped a bite of cake onto it, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He grabbed her hand and plucked the fork from it, but dutifully chewed and swallowed the cake.
“All right, that’s pretty good,” he admitted. “But I can’t just eat sugar for breakfast. Do you have any eggs?”
“Are you actually suggesting that I cook for you?” she asked.
“After I drove all the way over here to check on you? You’d better believe it.” He leaned back and grinned at her, lacing his fingers behind his head and propping his feet out in front of him.
She stared at him, trying to decide if she was going to refuse his request, but the longer she gazed at him, the better he looked. After a few beats, she gave up, turned toward the fridge, and retrieved the eggs.
“Do you have any coffee?” he asked.
“I usually get my coffee from the café,” she said.
“Does that mean you don’t have any?”
“I do have coffee, but I don’t know how to make it,” she admitted sheepishly. Since her freshman year of college, she had always bought coffee already made by someone else.
Jason stood and shuffled to the counter where he began opening cupboards until he located the coffee. “C’mere,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward him. “The water goes here.” He poured water into the back of the pot. “Then you put in a filter and add coffee--one tablespoon for every two cups. I’m making eight cups, so that’s four tablespoons of coffee. Close this, push the button, and that’s it.”
Morning Cup of Murder Page 8
