“Are you OK?” I asked against his shoulder.
He nodded.
“Are you sure?”
Another nod.
“I love you,” I said.
He took a breath. It shuddered through his chest. His arms tightened and he seemed to find his voice, finally. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t think he’d stop you.”
“I didn’t either,” I said.
“I wanted to get you outta here before anything happened.”
“I know.” I stroked his back through the T-shirt. His muscles were bunched hard as rocks.
“I should have realized—”
“How could you? It made sense that he wouldn’t bother if Tanya wasn’t with me.” He didn’t answer, and I added, “Did he hurt you?”
He chuckled. It sounded half-choked. “Less than I deserve.”
Oh, God. I pulled back to look at him. “Are you in pain?”
“Just my pride, darlin’.”
“Why?” I said, stepping in to put my head on his shoulder again. For comfort, both because I wanted it and I figured he could use some. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He spoke into my hair. “I shoulda protected you. Not sent you away so he could get at you. It was my fault. If something happened to you..”
“It didn’t. You saved me. You saved Tanya, too.”
She was still standing in the window, looking out. Justin seemed to be asleep by now. Wendell had stuffed Desmond into the back of the Buick and was standing by with his gun at the ready.
“Oh, no,” I said.
Rafe lifted his head. “What?”
“My car.”
“What happened to it?”
“I ran into a telephone pole two blocks away. Desmond hit me.”
I felt him turn to stone, and added, “I was practically standing still when it happened. I didn’t get hurt. The car was still running when I left it, but it didn’t sound happy. Grinding, you know?”
He hesitated a moment. “I’ll go look at it.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said.
He glanced down. “In those?”
“They’re only a couple inches tall. And I’ve had training.” Hours of deportment in finishing school. With a book on my head. Going up and down a spiral staircase. Yes, in three-inch heels. I’d also practiced how to dance in them for a couple hours and keep a smile on my face. They don’t call Southern Belles steel magnolias for nothing. “A few minutes’ walk is not going to hurt me.”
He hesitated.
“Please,” I said. “I don’t want to stay here.” And besides, Tanya would probably be happy to put Justin back to bed and go to sleep herself, with no worries about Desmond coming to get her.
“I’ve got this,” Wendell told him. “Take her home.”
Rafe hesitated again, but eventually he nodded. We walked down the driveway with his hand on my lower back, leaving Wendell to deal with Tanya and with Desmond. Once we hit the street, however, he turned to me. “Darlin’...”
“I know,” I said. “If something goes wrong—if Desmond makes it out of those handcuffs and hurts Wendell—you’ll never forgive yourself.”
Rafe nodded.
“Call him. Then we’ll keep going to the car. It’s only a couple of minutes. He can stop on his way past and make sure I can get home on my own. And then the two of you can go off with Desmond. And do your job.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
I shook my head. There was no need to thank me. I was feeling guilty enough. My voice had a catch when I told him, “I never wanted to stop you from being who you are. I just wanted you to be safe.” And I was trying to keep my heart safe at the same time. Because if something happened to him, I wouldn’t know what to do.
But I didn’t want to hamstring him. Didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t be himself because I’d worry. That was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want him domesticated. It occurred to me, much too late, that that’s what I’d been trying to accomplish, with my home-cooked meals and regular sex.
And in an ironic and quite uncomfortable twist, it was also one of the things that drove me the craziest about Todd Satterfield. I’d told Rafe once that if I married him—Todd, that is—he’d wrap me in metaphoric cotton wool and put me on a metaphoric shelf, and never, ever let me do anything. Because he cared.
Now I was guilty of the same thing.
Rafe was busy talking to the phone, and wasn’t looking at me. When he finished the conversation, he reached out and took my hand. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“Don’t mention it,” I managed.
He peered more intently at me. “Are you crying?”
I sniffed. “No.”
“Liar.” But his voice was warm, and so was his hand around mine. “He’s gonna pick me up at the car. He’s settling things with Tanya right now.”
“What’s going to happen to her?”
Rafe shrugged. “I guess she’ll just stay here. She’s settled. I’ll transfer the lease. Not like I need the place anymore.”
“Why did you keep it?” Was it a safeguard in case things didn’t work out between us?
But no, he had Mrs. J’s place for that. And LaDonna’s trailer in Sweetwater, since the people who had bought the Bog with the intention of building a subdivision there, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.
“Not sure,” Rafe said. “I used it off and on up to Christmas. Whenever I didn’t wanna stay at my grandma’s place. Whenever I was dealing with someone I didn’t wanna bring there. Someone I wanted to keep away from you and my grandma and David.”
Understandable. “Is it OK to give it up now?”
“I ain’t undercover anymore,” Rafe said. “Tanya’s welcome to it. And it’s paid for through July, so maybe she can get ahead a little.”
Fine with me.
We turned the corner and saw the Volvo up ahead. The lights were still on and shining into the night, the door still open. “The battery’s probably dead,” I muttered.
“If the battery was dead,” Rafe answered, “the lights would be off.”
Of course.
I checked my watch, and was astonished to see that it hadn’t even been twenty minutes since I’d run the car into the telephone pole in the first place. It seemed like a lot longer.
Behind us, a car came around the corner from the road we’d just exited. “Here’s Wendell,” Rafe said and picked up speed. “Just let me make sure she’ll drive and won’t break down on you between here and home.”
I nodded, and watched as he got in, maneuvered the car away from the pole, and popped the hood. After a look at the engine, he pronounced the car ready to go. “I’ll take another look tomorrow. But she’ll get you there.”
I nodded. I was already behind the wheel, strapped in and ready to take off.
“Park on the street. If she doesn’t start in the morning and we have to have her towed, it’ll be a lot easier if she isn’t in the garage.”
Indeed. “Just go,” I said. “I’ll see you at home.”
“This could take a while.”
No problem. “I’ll be in bed,” I said.
“I’ll see you there.” He walked off. I moved the gearshift into drive and rolled away with the Buick keeping pace behind me.
Chapter Twenty One
It was the next morning before I had the chance to tell Rafe about my adventures the day before. The adventures I’d had between following him to the Booby Bungalow and being followed home by Desmond Johnson, that is.
Or more specifically, about Tim. How Sally had said she’d seen him at Chaps on Friday night, how I had deduced that Heidi was bringing Tim food, and how I had shadowed her to Walker’s old house in Oak Hill and had my tête-à-tête with him.
Rafe wasn’t amused, of course. “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded. “He could have carved you up and left you for dead and nobody would have found your body until Lamont gets out of pr
ison in twenty years. I wouldn’t have known to look for you there.”
Since the very same thought had crossed my own mind yesterday, there wasn’t a whole lot I could say except, “I’m sorry.” And then I added, “But nothing happened. I’m fine.”
“No thanks to you.”
No arguing with that.
“You didn’t really think he was a murderer, did you?”
“I don’t know that he ain’t,” Rafe said tightly. “And I don’t want you taking stupid chances. Especially because you’re pissed off at me.”
He had me there. I’d done it partly because I was angry with him. Or if I hadn’t been angry with him, I would at least have told him where I was going and why, before I went. So that if something had happened, he’d know where to start looking for my butchered body.
“I’m sorry about that too. I should have let someone know where I was.”
“Yeah,” Rafe said. “You shoulda.”
“Do you want to know what he said?”
“Soon as I calm down.”
He looked calm to me. It was early, or at least semi-early, considering how late we got to bed. We were still under the blankets, and the time was just after eight. And he looked perfectly relaxed, all dusky skin and hard muscles against the white sheets. Except maybe the eyes. His eyes were roiling with an emotion that wasn’t the heat I usually see there when we’re naked in bed together.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and snuggled close.
He let out a breath and then wrapped his arm around me. “Me too. I ain’t used to worrying.”
I shifted my head on his shoulder to peer up at him. “You’re not going to turn into Todd, are you? Telling me that I can’t go out and do things?”
His mouth curved. “No, darlin’. Don’t think I have it in me to turn into Satterfield.”
“Thank God.” I rubbed my nose against the side of his neck, and followed up with a brush of lips. He tilted his head to catch them, and a little time passed.
“He said he didn’t remember killing Brian Armstrong,” I told him after I’d gotten up for air.
“Course he did.”
“He said he didn’t kill Beau either.”
“Beau?”
“Didn’t I mention that?” I guess I hadn’t. “Tamara Grimaldi and I had lunch together yesterday.”
He quirked a brow. “Ragging on me, darlin’?”
I flushed. “I was upset.”
“Guess I’m lucky she didn’t hunt me down and slap me in a cell.”
“She doesn’t like me that much,” I said, although I must admit the thought appealed.
“She likes you more than you think.” He added, “Beau?”
“He’s dead. An overdose of sleeping pills mixed with a poisonous mixture of bleach, drain cleaner, and ammonia.”
“Chlorine gas?”
I blinked, surprised, and he smiled. “I like chemistry.”
“I didn’t think you liked any part of school.”
“Chemistry’s OK,” Rafe said, and proceeded to show me just what he meant by chemistry. Which we had, in spades.
It was a while before we returned to the conversation, and by then we were out of bed and dressing. It would be only too easy to spend the day under the covers, but I had places to go and people to see. “Do you think I should tell Grimaldi about Tim?” I asked while I watched Rafe put his clothes on. “Where he is, and what he told me?”
“Yes,” Rafe answered, pulling a T-shirt over his head, “I think you should.”
“He won’t be happy with me.”
“If he didn’t kill nobody, he ain’t got no cause not to be happy.”
It took me a second to decipher what he’d said. Most of the time I have no problem understanding him, but once in a while the multiple double negatives trip me up.
“He said he didn’t,” I answered eventually. “Or at least that he doesn’t remember.”
He shrugged. “Then he’s safer talking to Tammy.”
“Safer?”
“If somebody dumped the body on him, it was to set him up. If it was Beau, then Beau killed himself when it didn’t work. If it was somebody else, Tim could make for a pretty good next-in-line. Specially if they could pin Beau’s murder on him, too.”
“You think Beau was murdered?”
“Seems like he might be. Though you’d be a better judge of that than me. I never met the guy.”
“I find that easier to believe than that he committed suicide,” I admitted. “He seemed like he enjoyed life too much to kill himself. I could see him killing Brian Armstrong, maybe. In self-defense. If Brian tried to force him to do something he didn’t want to do.”
Rafe nodded.
“And if he did, and then felt guilty, I guess he might have killed himself. Maybe. But I’d rather believe someone else did it. And then killed Beau. I liked him. I don’t want him to be guilty of murder.”
“What about Tim? You think he killed Beau?”
I hesitated. “No. He seemed genuinely shocked when I told him Beau was dead. I could believe that he killed Brian, maybe. Same scenario as Beau. Brian tried to hurt him, and Tim defended himself. And then blocked the memory of it.”
Rafe nodded.
“But I can’t see him killing Beau. He liked Beau. And he kept telling me he didn’t remember anything that happened on Friday night, until he woke up and found Brian next to him in bed. But he knew exactly what he did on Tuesday night, when Beau died. So he didn’t block anything then.”
Rafe nodded.
“Do you really think he’s in danger?”
“If he didn’t kill either of them, and somebody else did,” Rafe said, “then yeah.”
I pulled a blouse out of the closet and shrugged it on. “I should go back there and tell him that. See if I can’t convince him to turn himself in.”
“Not without me, you won’t.”
I stopped buttoning to look at him. “Don’t you have other things to do?”
“More painting.”
“What about Wendell and the TBI?”
“Got an appointment tomorrow,” Rafe said. “Wendell said he’d set it up and call me with the time.” He peered at me. “You OK with that?”
“Fine. I just want you to be happy. And here. With me.”
“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy, darlin’.”
Good to know.
“And I don’t want you going there on your own.”
“It’s Tim,” I said. “How dangerous can he be?”
“Not sure. But I don’t aim to find out when the hospital calls to say he’s stabbed you twelve times. So just put up with me breathing down your neck today.”
No problem at all. “You’re welcome to breathe on me anytime you want.”
“Glad to hear it,” Rafe said. “I’d like to ask Tim a couple questions myself too. Let’s go.”
We went. Down the stairs and across the courtyard, out the gate to the Volvo.
“Oh.” I stopped. “I forgot. Do you need to look it over?”
“Any problems getting home last night?”
I shook my head.
“Grinding noises? Flames shooting out from under the hood?”
“Lord, no.”
“Then I think we’re good,” Rafe said and held out his hand for the keys. “She ain’t sexy, but she’s solid.”
And in a car, maybe that isn’t a bad thing.
I directed him down the interstate to Battery Lane, and down Granny White Pike into Oak Hill. We drove up to Walker’s not-so-humble abode about thirty minutes later.
“Nice place,” Rafe said, looking around at the acre-plus lot and the many upscale houses dotting the landscape in every direction. Pseudo-chateaus, English manor houses, and a fair few overgrown mid-century ranches like Walker’s.
“Way out of my price range.”
He shot me a look. “Would you wanna live here if you could?”
“In this neighborhood? It’s very nice. Peaceful. Lovely. Proba
bly quite safe. As safe as anywhere is these days.” And with a great big yard for a passel of kids.
He nodded.
“I’m not that girl anymore.” And I’d rather be with him, wherever that was. Clearly not here, though. I couldn’t imagine Rafe fitting in in a neighborhood like this, nor could I imagine him wanting to.
I left him looking at his surroundings and wandered over to the kitchen door. While I waited for Tim to respond to my knock, he joined me. “No answer?”
“Maybe he’s still in bed.” I knocked again.
“Maybe he’s gone,” Rafe said. He fished in his pocket. “Keep an eye out.”
“For...? Oh.” He went to work on the lock while I looked left and right to make sure no one was watching. There wasn’t much chance of that. With the size of the properties in this part of town, the nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away.
It took him less than a minute to open the door. “Shit,” he added when an alarm cut through the air. “You know the code?”
I shook my head.
“Lucky guess?”
“Um...” I rattled off the street number. I rattled off the alarm code we used at the office. I rattled off the street number for the office, and the phone number for the office. I rattled off Walker’s birthday, best as I could recall it. Nothing worked.
Rafe started keying in numbers at random while he told me over his shoulder, “You have three minutes before the cops get here. See what you can find.”
“If he’s not responding to this, he’s—” I stopped before I uttered the dread word ‘dead.’ “Uh-oh.”
“I’m sure he’s just gone,” Rafe said calmly. “Or I’d be right behind you.”
Right. I ran off.
The kitchen was empty, and pristine. No sign that anyone had been there at all. Tim must have washed the dishes and put them away after I left last night.
The bedrooms were equally spiffy. If he’d spent the night in one of Walker’s beds, either last night or the night before, he’d done a stellar job of remaking the bed afterwards.
Change of Heart Page 22
