“Hello?”
Still nothing. He didn’t have time for this.
“What are you wearing?”
The voice was breathy, soft, feminine. And probably belonged to a thirteen-year-old accepting a dare from the other slumber party denizens. He hung up without responding.
“Who was that?” James was shrugging back into his parka.
“Prank call.”
“They want to know if your refrigerator was running?”
“Something like that.” Justin followed his favorite baby brother out the back door.
KATHLEEN drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove through the city, the candy box colors of the buildings lined on either side, like architectural confections, buoying her already bright mood. She should probably be tired, given how many hours she’d put in over the past few days, but conversely she felt energized. As it sometimes happened in her line of work, all the puzzle pieces had come together to form a clear, if terrible, picture. She and Mac had nailed the black widow they’d been investigating. The woman slowly murdered her husband, poisoning the coffee he’d taken by thermos every day to work. All because she had a thing going with his brother. She would like to pin an accessory charge on the brother – a nasty piece of work if she’d ever seen one – because she was pretty sure he’d been pulling the proverbial strings, but they hadn’t yet been able to dig up enough evidence. And the woman refused to point the finger.
Kathleen tried to imagine by what twisted thought processes one would decide that murder, rather than divorce, would be the least objectionable course for ending a relationship. Particularly murder by poison. It would take balls of steel – and a heart of stone – to watch the cumulative results of your handiwork day by day. Not to mention that given the relative sophistication of modern forensics, poison – at least the types which most people could readily lay their hands on – was pretty easy to detect with an autopsy.
But then people were batshit crazy. She saw evidence of this almost every day.
Whistling in accompaniment to her drumming, Kathleen turned the corner.
And eased her foot off the gas pedal.
He was oblivious to the fact that he was being shadowed by her car. The wind tore at his dark hair, his broad shoulders hunched against the bite of it as it shrieked banshee-like down the alley. He wasn’t wearing a coat.
Kathleen shook her head, wondering what he was thinking. With Justin, it was sometimes difficult to tell. He was probably too lost in thought to realize that it was cold. Perhaps contemplating the latest advances in robotic surgery techniques, or the implications of quantum superposition in macroscopic objects. Equally likely, he was debating what sort of tile would be both the most durable and aesthetically pleasing for a backsplash. He was the oddest mix of common sense, hands-on practicality and the cluelessness that was often typical of frighteningly intelligent individuals that she had ever encountered in a human being.
The absentminded professor crossed with Bob Villa.
Part of his appeal, she admitted with an inward sigh. Especially for someone like her, with her fascination for puzzles. The more complex, the better. And Justin was nothing if not complex.
She could simply drive past, pretend she hadn’t seen him. And let this ridiculous crack which had arisen in their friendship widen into a chasm. But she wasn’t the type to just let something she valued be irreparably damaged from lack of care. And besides, she wasn’t an emotional coward.
Much.
She slowed the car further and rolled down the passenger window. “Need a ride, little boy? I have candy.”
His shoulders went back as his head whipped around. Was that… anger she saw on his face? Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He looked at her through the open window, hesitated, and then finally clasped the handle on the door.
“Thanks.” He slid into the passenger seat. “It’s not really that cold, but the wind coming off the bay is downright nasty.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them.
“Especially when one isn’t wearing a coat,” she pointed out the obvious.
“Right.” He looked grim.
Kathleen eased away from the curb before glancing at him again. He was still in scrubs, she realized, which hadn’t registered before because she was so used to seeing him that way. Almost like a uniform. But he very rarely wore them outside the hospital. If she had to guess, it was because he was uncomfortable with the attention they drew from a certain segment of the female population. Not that he wasn’t gorgeous enough to draw women like flies, anyway. But some women saw the MD as more important than the actual man.
“You lost?”
“What? Oh. No.” He shook his head when he realized she was indicating his clothes. He shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I’m on my way to Murphy’s, actually, if you wouldn’t mind dropping me off. I’m meeting my brother for dinner.”
“One of your brothers is in town?” Kathleen asked with interest. She’d met his three older brothers at her cousin Tate’s wedding a couple years ago. Tate’s husband, Clay, was a close family friend of the Wellington’s. The older brothers all had families, so she knew they sometimes visited in the summer to bring their kids to the beach, but this was the off season. Way off, she mused, as the wind rattled the windows of her car.
“I hope everything is okay.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “Well, mostly fine. James dropped out of law school. And it appears he’s moved in.”
“What?” Kathleen had to laugh. She’d never met the youngest Wellington, but she knew after nearly three years of friendship with Justin that he liked his personal space. Having also grown up in a large, boisterous family, it was a sentiment with which she could sympathize. “So you have a housemate?”
“Temporarily.” Justin shifted his gaze her way. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I was afraid it would feel like babysitting. Of course, it’s only been a few days, and James is on his best behavior. But he’s matured. It’s making it easier to remember that he’s not a little kid anymore.”
“I know what you mean,” she said as she cut down the back street which essentially dead-ended at Murphy’s. “Declan is only two years younger than me, but up until recently, it felt like ten. But now my annoying kid brother is a married man and an expectant father. It boggles the mind. So where’s your truck?”
“What?”
“Your truck,” Kathleen repeated as she turned onto the cobblestones of Murphy’s lot. “I know you’re a health nut and all, but you don’t usually walk here from the hospital.”
Justin avoided her gaze. “It’s in the shop.”
Spotting a compact parking space toward the back – Murphy’s was almost always crowded – Kathleen whipped her car in.
She shifted into park, but left the engine running. Then laying her arm across the steering wheel, turned to look at Justin.
“Why?” Justin usually did all the work on his truck himself. He’d rebuilt the thing from a veritable shell back in his college days, the manual labor being cathartic with the side benefit of helping him focus better, or so he’d explained. It was the same reason he did most of the work on his house himself now. If the truck was in the shop, that meant something major must have happened.
“Because I don’t have time right now to… fix… what needed to be fixed.”
Which was an evasion if she’d ever heard one. That he felt the need for evasion piqued her interest.
“What needs to be fixed?” she persisted.
He thought about not answering. This was one time that his mental roadmap was not only apparent, but lit with neon signs. His jaw was set as he stared out the windshield.
“The lock. I’m having it rekeyed.”
Kathleen studied his profile. He was often serious, but rarely bad-tempered. Now he looked irritable, to say the least. “Which indicates that you’ve suffered a breakin and the lock was damaged. Or that you have reason to believe that som
eone whom you don’t wish to have access to your vehicle is in possession of your keys.”
“It’s pretty damn annoying to have you play detective with me.”
“Just like it was pretty damn annoying to have you play doctor with me.”
His gaze met hers with an almost audible click, and heat shot instantaneously into her cheeks. Kathleen froze with mortification. She hardly ever got embarrassed, especially about something as minor as an unintentional innuendo. Her annoyance escalated as the heat spread downward, making her nipples peak and finally pooling between her thighs. Thank God at least one of them was wearing a jacket.
“You know what I mean,” she muttered.
The edges of his lips quivered, easing his frown. “Are you blushing?”
“Stop trying to change the subject. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
His frown came back, and he glared through the windshield. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to discuss it. She should probably give him his space. There was already enough tension between them – hell, it hung like an invisible curtain in the car – but if something was troubling him, she wanted to know it.
And besides, she’d never held back with him before. She wasn’t going to start now just because he’d kissed her.
“You know I’ll find out eventually,” she told him. “You might as well save us both the irritation and tell me now.”
He gritted his teeth, obviously recognizing the truth of what she said. They had too many mutual friends, which made it difficult to keep secrets. Not to mention – as he already had – that she was a detective.
“Last week – the night I saw you outside the theater, actually – someone… got into my truck. It was locked when I left it, and it was locked when I returned, but it was clear that someone had been in it. And before you ask, there was no sign of tampering. No visible sign, anyway. So I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have it rekeyed.”
Well this was interesting. “How did you know? That someone had been in it, I mean. Was it vandalized?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. They left something. It wasn’t a big deal, really.”
Uh-huh. “What did they leave?”
“A book.”
Odd. “I didn’t realize the Gideon’s had expanded their efforts beyond hotel rooms.”
He smiled, but his amusement faded quickly. “It was a Koontz novel”
“Your favorite.”
He nodded.
“One ‘someone’ borrowed from you and decided to return in the most intrusive possible fashion or…”
Justin shot her a look that said she was playing detective again. “It was meant to be a gift, judging by the fancy bag. But like I said, it wasn’t that big a deal. And I’ve taken steps to see that it won’t happen again.”
“By having your truck rekeyed.”
“Yes.”
At the tone of his voice, a puzzle piece clicked into place. “And by telling Mindy to piss off.”
He snorted and shook his head, but he didn’t bother to correct her about his ex-girlfriend’s name. “I’m pretty sure ‘Mindy’ won’t be making any further advances in my direction.” Justin hesitated, then glanced at his watch. “I better get going. I was supposed to meet James ten minutes ago.” When he looked up, his gaze locked with hers.
The heat came back, a slow, creeping warmth that reminded Kathleen there were things they hadn’t discussed. The curtain of tension rippled.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“You bet.” Kathleen swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat as he climbed out of the car. “Justin?”
“Yeah?” He leaned down, one hand resting on top of the open door. She looked at those long, elegant surgeon’s fingers curled around the frame. For some reason, she flashed back to the autopsy she’d witnessed last month, the striated nails of the man who’d been poisoned by his wife.
“Just be careful, will you? Women are nuts.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. “Don’t I know it.”
He shut the door, and Kathleen watched him walk away.
JUSTIN’S smile faded as the cold air stung his cheeks. He could have stopped into one of the men’s apparel stores near the hospital, he guessed, before he’d dropped his truck off, and bought himself a new coat. But his irritation burned so hot that the frigid wind was more balm than bite.
He hadn’t told Kathleen everything. There was no need to get her riled when he couldn’t be sure where to place the blame. He was riled enough for both of them.
Besides, it was a little embarrassing. And God knew he’d embarrassed himself enough lately where she was concerned.
He’d been in a rush this morning. There’d been an accident – there was always an accident – on a construction site. A man had been crushed beneath a steel beam. In his haste to get to the OR, Justin had left his gym bag with its change of clothes, along with his coat and his extra pair of sneakers in the truck.
He couldn’t remember if he’d locked it. He thought that he had – it was an automatic activity, like turning off the coffee pot. But like any automatic activity, there were times that you simply couldn’t recall having engaged in it.
And when he’d come back to the truck this evening, his clothes were gone, the truck unlocked.
The security guard hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. So Justin wasn’t sure if he’d simply been a victim of his own carelessness – there were plenty of opportunistic homeless people who wouldn’t hesitate to avail themselves of a nice coat and a relatively new pair of shoes – or if it meant that Mandy had decided to engage in a little childish retaliation.
Justin paused as he laid his hand on the Celtic knot handle of Murphy’s front door. When had he gotten so ridiculous?
Of course he’d been robbed. Hell, there were signs all over the hospital warning people not to leave valuables in their cars. It was a known hot spot for breakins, security guards and cameras be damned. And if Mandy wanted to get back at him, surely she’d be able to find a better way than taking a few articles of his clothing.
Shaking his head at his own idiocy, Justin pulled open the door, the familiar smells of beer, corned beef and seafood greeting him like an old friend. He resisted the urge to turn, watch Kathleen pull out of the parking lot.
All things considered, he’d been a big enough schmuck for one day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHELLEY Kinson pushed up the sleeves of her long-sleeved T-shirt as she headed toward the patrons who’d just been seated. She wasn’t used to wearing full-coverage clothing to work. Not that she was complaining about that state of affairs, mind you, but given the size of the crowds this place drew, the fact was it got a little warm when you were being run off your feet. Strangely enough though, her tips had been better since she’d been at Murphy’s, despite the fact that her boobs weren’t hanging out. She guessed that said something for the clientele.
She slapped two coasters down on the high top table and put on her public smile. “Hi, I’m Shelley and I’ll be your… Doctor Wellington.” Her mouth stretched even wider when the man who’d had his back to her turned around. “Lookin’ just as fine as always, I see.”
“Shelley.” Surprise, and just the faintest tinge of discomfort, colored his face. She probably shouldn’t be so blunt – her new employers might not appreciate her flirting with the customers – but he was just too damn cute not to tease some.
“I didn’t know you worked here now.”
“First week.” She leaned a hip against the table. “I just couldn’t go back to Jugs after… well, after what happened.” She still woke up at night, sweating, hearing the sound of glass shattering in her dreams. And sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could see Natasha lying in a pool of blood. But she didn’t like to remember that, so she turned up the wattage on her smile instead. “Your friend, Ms. Harding, recommended I apply here. It’s a pretty good gig. Stays plenty busy and the people I work with are nice. And I
don’t have a constant wedgie from those tight satin shorts.”
The dude he was with made a noise that sounded like he was choking back a laugh, but Shelley ignored him, watching to see if disapproval dawned in Doctor Cutie’s gorgeous, smoky eyes. Ms. Harding was her rehab counselor. Shelley wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d been an addict, but she was proud of the fact that she was clean, and had been for nearly a year. So she wasn’t going to hide it.
Not even from him.
“The Murphys are good people,” he said, no trace of superiority in his voice, and his eyes remained friendly on hers. It was what had impressed the hell out of Shelley initially. That he was a real person, down to earth.
Well, that and the fact that he had saved Natasha’s life with plastic wrap and a roll of masking tape. It was kind of hard not to be dazzled by that.
“So what can I get you to drink?” she asked, realizing that she was going to fall behind if she didn’t move it.
“Do you have Guinness on tap?”
Shelley looked up in response to the question coming from across the table, and had to blink. “Oh man,” she said without thinking. “You two just have to be related.”
“I’m James. The younger, better-looking sibling.” The other man grinned lazily, flirting with his eyes, which were even more lethal than his brother’s. Same dark hair, similar builds. Although this one was clearly trouble. To the female half of the population at least. “If you do have Guinness on tap, I’d be delighted if you’d bring one my way. And I for one think it’s a pity about the satin shorts.”
She turned back to see Doctor Wellington shaking his head. “I’ll just have some coffee, no sugar” he told her, leaning back in his seat. “And maybe a muzzle for my brother.”
Shelley chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
AFTER her shift, Shelley practically skipped up the steps to her apartment. The stairwell smelled like someone had tossed up their box wine again, but she just breathed through her mouth, not about to let that spoil her good mood. She’d made a killing in tips, not the least of which had come from her very favorite MD.
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