Weddings Can Be Murder

by Christie Craig

  “I know.” He didn’t say it sarcastically, but calmly. “Did you see it happen?”

  His voice was deep, solid, and comforting. She let herself soak up that sound before answering.

  “No. From the office, all I could see was Tabitha. But he chased me in here. He grabbed me and slammed me into a wall.” Her mind replayed the scene in her head like some low-bud get movie. “He held the gun to my ear.” She hated low-bud get movies.

  “Did you see him at all, enough to give a description?”

  Right then, Katie remembered another reason why she trusted this man. He was police. Yes, she’d heard him tell her that.

  No wonder he made her feel safe. No wonder he wasn’t too worried. Police never worked alone, did they? Surely, he had a partner who would let them out. And if he didn’t have a partner, he would have radioed in his location.

  Hearing the man move, she recalled he’d asked her a question. Oh, yeah: he wanted a description.

  “He was taller than me. But it was so dark, I didn’t make out his features. I’m sorry.”

  “Considering what you’ve been through, you’re doing good.”

  She rocked back against the wall, tightened the blue cardigan around her, and hugged herself against the cold. She wished rescuers would hurry up and let them out. Not that she was looking forward to seeing Tabitha. Maybe there was a back door. Katie inhaled and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. But they chattered anyway, like a windup toy that wouldn’t stop. Click. Click.

  Her companion shuffled around. “The heat’s not on in this part of the house.” He inhaled, the sound of his breath filling the darkness. “Here. Take my coat.”

  “No, I’m fine,” she lied. “I’ve got a sweater.”

  “It’s thin.”

  “How…” Could he see that well in the dark?

  “I felt it,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Take this.”

  The whish of material dancing in the air filled the room.

  “Here.” He had one of those deep voices that demanded obedience. Probably learned it in the police academy.

  “Only for a few minutes.”

  She reached out in the darkness until she touched something leathery and soft. She threw the worn material around her, where it melted against her shoulders like a hug. The warm scent of leather, along with a masculine spicy smell, floated up and brought on images of a rough-around-the-edges cop type to go with the voice. She found herself squinting, trying to make him out. While she could almost see a shadow, she couldn’t identify his features or figure out his size. He could be short and round or tall and lean. Then, for a flicker of a second, she remembered landing on top of him. Nothing too soft or paunchy, he’d been hard and—

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” She inhaled, and let his scent fill her senses. “But aren’t you cold?”

  “Nah, I’m thick-skinned. What’s your name?”

  “Katie Ray. And yours?”

  “Carl Hades.”

  Silence crawled back into the room like an unwanted guest. She listened to see if she could hear anything happening in other parts of the house. Not a sound, not even a murmur of voices. “Why aren’t they letting us out?”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “The other police.”

  His pause lingered like a fog. “I…I’m not the police.”

  “You said you were.” She scooted closer to the wall. Okay, the man’s unexplainable, I’m-Mr.-Safe presence started to fade.

  He shifted. “Yeah, I did sort of say that, didn’t I?” She waited for him to offer an explanation. He didn’t.

  “So, you just lied?” Her teeth started to chatter again. She couldn’t feel her butt or thighs at all now.

  “Sort of.” His footsteps padded across the floor.

  “Sort of? How do you ‘sort of’ lie?”

  “It sounds as if you’re getting nervous of me again.”

  “Well, yeah. After witnessing a murder and being chased by the murderer, I’m locked in a dungeon with a man who tells me he’s a cop and then tells me he’s not a cop. I thought I was being rescued. Now I’m back to just being locked up with a guy who cusses too much.”

  He chuckled.

  “I’m not trying to be funny.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Sorry? She’d bet he wore a smirk on his handsome face. Not that she knew he was handsome. He could be hideously ugly. Not that she cared how he looked. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and cop or no cop, she was begging him to get her out of here. He could be bowlegged and missing his front teeth for all she cared. She ran her thumb over her left ring finger and a hint of nausea tightened her throat.

  After several calming breaths, she raised her shoulder and inhaled from his jacket. Carl Hades didn’t smell ugly. No. He smelled like one of those kinds of guy so good-looking that they were stuck on themselves. Then again, he had been nice enough to lend her his coat. And she didn’t care how thick-skinned he was, he had to be freezing.

  A clatter echoed, and her heart jumped into her throat. “What was that?”

  “I knocked something over. I’m looking for a light switch.”

  “Oh.” She shook from the cold—or was it from the panic? Her teeth chattered again.

  “You know, we’ve been in here for…a while, and the only one who’s sustained any bodily injuries is me. If one of us should be nervous of the other, I got dibs.”

  She recalled kicking him and maybe more. “I was scared.”

  “Which is why I’m working on forgiving you, but by now I’d hoped you’d learned that I wasn’t out to hurt you.”

  “I have, sort of, but when people lie, trusting them is hard.”

  “I used to be a cop.” His footsteps filled the dark. “Now I do PI work. Sometimes I forget and say ‘police.’ Sometimes I say it because it gets people’s attention.” His dark shadow moved in a circle around the room. “Ms. Jones wanted to hire me.”

  “Hire you to do what?” Her teeth clicked together.

  “To…She didn’t give me…details.”

  His pause said a lot. It said big fat lie is what it said. Oh, she believed him about being a PI; it was the not knowing the details he lied about. So he cussed and lied.

  “What were you doing here?” he asked.

  “Tabitha is…” Nausea pulled at her stomach. “Was planning my wedding.” She took deep breaths through her nose.

  “You okay?”

  “Just my stomach.”

  “Not again,” he groaned.

  In spite of the nausea, she smiled. “I think it will pass.”

  “Good.” Relief echoed in his voice. “Is it something you ate, or are you pregnant?”

  So, the guy cussed, lied, and asked inappropriate questions. “No! Neither!”

  “Sorry. It’s just…you’re getting married.”

  “People don’t have to be pregnant to get married.”

  “No. Just crazy.” His shuffling footsteps sounded.

  “Well, I’m not crazy.”

  “Good. I’d hate to be locked up with a psycho.”

  “You got something in particular against marriage?” she asked, just because talking felt better than the silence.

  “Nothing in particular. It’s pretty much everything about it.”

  She didn’t offer a comeback. Why should she? She didn’t care how this man felt about marriage. She switched topics. “No light switch?”

  “Not so far, but I can’t get to all the walls. There are boxes everywhere.”

  She glanced in the direction of the door, and her heart picked up its pace. “Do you think he’s still out there?”

  “Nah. He ran the moment he locked us in.” But her companion’s voice lacked its earlier confidence. She could have used that confidence right now.

  “What if he wants to get rid of us first?”

  “He would have done something by now.”

  “What if he thinks I can identify him? What if—”r />
  “Don’t work yourself up,” the man said. “You’re going to start your teeth chattering again. And that makes me nervous.”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing and not chattering. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned painting slow, easy strokes. “How long before you think someone will find us?”

  “Soon,” he said. “Will someone miss you this after noon?”

  “I was supposed to meet Joe and Les at five.”

  “Joe and Les?” He continued making padding sounds.

  “My fiancé and my best friend. Oh, shoot. They don’t even know the other is showing up. They probably won’t even—”

  Another clatter sounded. But this one didn’t come from inside the room. “He’s still out there!” she said. Her insides commenced to quiver, followed by the chattering of her teeth.

  Chapter Six

  Les walked into Dave’s Place, trading the thick, cold smell of the storm outside for the restaurant’s warmth and aroma of grilled meat. Too much garlic, she knew immediately. Luckily, she liked garlic. She scanned the restaurant for Katie. Then she walked into the bar and did a visual rundown. No Katie.

  She almost turned to ask for a table, but spotted two empty stools at the bar. Three men sat there with their backs to her. Two watched the TV, which hung from the ceiling; the other read the paper.

  Reaching up, Les fingered the ring resting between her breasts and remembered what she’d told her brother only a few minutes ago: She was moving on. Getting past losing Mike. But was she really?

  If she were trying, wouldn’t she want to practice flirting instead of slinking back into the restaurant and waiting alone? Yeah, she would, but right now Les didn’t feel like faking it. God knew she’d faked being interested with all three of her dates.

  She had her foot poised to swing around when the guy reading the paper swung first. He had an eager expression on his face, as if he expected her to be someone else. Their eyes met. Locked. He had dark, straight hair and amazing eyes. Bedroom eyes. A deep blue. Then his mouth, also pretty amazing, turned up in a smile. At her. A secret smile. Right then, and for the first time in eighteen months, Les heard it. That little voice. Her wow voice.

  Returning his smile, Les hitched her purse up on her shoulder and moved to the empty stool next to him. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her after all.

  Another big boom sounded, and Katie jumped an inch off the floor. “I hadn’t planned on dying today,” she squealed. And she really did like sticking to her plans. The Ray family always stayed on course.

  “It’s just thunder,” her companion said. “Take some deep breaths.”

  Katie counted to ten to keep her mind from flashing to the other bang she’d heard. She tried to keep the image of Tabitha hitting the carpet from replaying in her head, and she turned back toward the voice of the man named Carl.

  “Your best friend and fiancé don’t get along?” he asked, believing she needed to talk.

  He was right, and she answered. “They’ve never met before. She’s been living out of town.”

  Another pause. “Do they know where you are?”

  “Les does.”

  “Will she be worried enough to come looking for you?”

  Katie considered the question. “Yeah, but I don’t think she knows where to look.”

  “Maybe she’ll call your parents?”

  It had been months since the mention of her parents brought on that stabbing grief. But she supposed that, after today’s events, she was vulnerable. “They died.” Her eyes stung.

  “Sorry.” His feet moved, followed by a slight popping of his knees as if he was lowering himself down again. “How long ago?”

  His question told her he’d probably heard the emotion in her voice. “A year and a half.” Tomorrow. Crazy how the mind kept up with those things, even when you didn’t want it to.

  “Accident?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Katie answered, and tried not to sniffle.

  “What happened?”

  “An 18-wheeler happened.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. Damn.” Katie pulled her knees to her chest and wiped her wet cheeks on her pants.

  Neither of them spoke for a long time. Then his voice filled the room. “I lost my mom when I was fifteen.” His words sounded as if they had lingered on his tongue, as if he’d had to force them out.

  And she heard a lot in the deep timbre of his voice. He didn’t talk about the loss of his mom, but was offering her a glimpse at his own pain to let her know he understood.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered. “What happened?”

  “Cancer happened,” he said.

  “It must have been hard.”

  “It wasn’t easy. But it hurts less as time passes.”

  “Yeah.” But it still hurts too much. Silence took another lap around the room. Katie’s thoughts tried to return to Tabitha. Not wanting to go there, she reached for another topic of conversation. “What about your dad?”

  “He lives a few miles from me. Does some odd jobs for me, with my business. But he thinks he has all the answers and doesn’t mind sharing. He’s a pain in the ass.”

  “But you love him a lot.” She got that from the softening in his voice.

  “He’s an okay guy.” Even more softening.

  She stretched out her legs. Her foot bumped up against his. They both pulled back at the same time.

  “Will someone come looking for you?” She waited for him to answer, wondering if he had a wife. Sure, he’d practically told her he didn’t believe in marriage, but that could mean he felt shackled in one now. “Your dad, or…anyone?”

  “Dad’s in Austin. My dog will miss me when he doesn’t get fed. But I haven’t trained him to call 911 yet.”

  The mention of 911 made her recall how she’d looked for a phone in Tabitha’s office. Fighting off those thoughts, she tried to envision Carl dishing out food to his dog. “What kind of dog is it?”

  He paused. “A big one.” His whole tone had changed. He’d lied again—though why he’d lie about having a dog was beyond her.

  “How big?” The coldness of the floor continued to seep through her thin jeans and into her butt.

  “Big-big. There has to be a light in here,” he said.

  Was he a compulsive liar? If so, he needed practice. Or maybe he wasn’t that bad at lying, but there was something about how a person spoke and listened in complete darkness that made lies more apparent. Maybe she and Joe should try it. Cut off the lights and just talk one night. What would she hear in Joe’s tone? What would he hear in hers? Would he explain why these last two weeks he’d been too busy for her? Would she understand why it hadn’t bothered her that he’d been too busy? Her stomach trembled, and she decided not to think about that.

  The sound of Carl moving again brought Katie’s gaze up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to move some of these boxes so I can find a light switch.”

  Was he just trying to stay warm? “You should take your jacket back.” She pulled from the wall and slipped it off.

  “No. Keep it.”

  “I’m warm now,” she lied, and held it out.

  “Well, I’m practically sweating,” he insisted.

  Another lie. Determined to win this argument, she stood, and took a step. Her foot hit something and she tripped. The jacket fell and she followed it. Fortunately, instead of hitting the floor, she hit him. He caught her around her waist. Since she was a good eight inches shorter than him, her head rested against his chest. A solid, hard, masculine chest.

  “You okay?” His breath brushed across her temple.

  His touch was so warm, she didn’t pull away. “I’m scared.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but something about being near him made her want to confess.

  “Don’t be. Someone will find us.” His hand eased up her waist to her back.

  She let herself soak up his body heat. She got this fluttery feeling in her stomach, and she
hoped he wasn’t going to pull away. It wasn’t the masculine appeal that she longed for, she told herself, it was…safety. He felt so safe.

  He cleared his throat. “You should put my coat back on.”

  Inhaling, she caught that spicy scent, the fresh woodsy smell that had clung to his jacket. It smelled better on him than it did on the leather. “How do you know?”

  “Because I can feel you’re cold.” His hand whispered up her back to touch her hair.

  Okay, she had a nipple alert going on strong and he’d noticed, but she chose to ignore his comment and her nipples. “No, how do you know someone will find us?” She stayed where she was, the side of her face resting lightly against his chest, feeling warmer than she had since this whole thing started.

  “Ms. Jones sounded as if she worked around the clock. Someone is going to come for an appointment and they’ll see…her body and call the police.”

  Katie remembered something about Tabitha and groaned the words aloud. “But Tabitha doesn’t work on Mondays. And we were probably her last appointments today.”

  “Shit.” His body tensed against hers.

  “Yeah.” She raised her cheek off his chest to look at him. This close, she could make out some of his features. He was…he was as good-looking as he was good-smelling. Right then, something familiar tickled her mind. Not as if she knew him. But as if she knew someone who looked like him.

  Her gaze moved over his face. Big eyes—brown, she thought—a wide forehead, thick lashes beneath dark eyebrows. Straight nose, angular face, cheeks…One of his cheeks had scratches. Vaguely, she recalled fighting him.

  She touched his chin. The stubble of his five o’clock shadow teased her fingers. “Did I do that?”

  “Yeah.” He caught her hand in his.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “I’ve just about decided to forgive you,” he whispered back, his tone teasing, yet soft and comforting.

  They stood there staring at each other. Bodies touching.

  His warm hands moved back to her waist. “Hello, Katie Ray,” he said as if he were seeing her for the first time, too.

  “Hi,” she managed to say, but her mouth had gone dry.

  His head lowered. The soft touch of his breath warmed her cheek and caressed her senses. “Green or blue?” he asked.