Bogeyman

by Gayle Wilson

  “I can pick it up on my way out there. Boy or girl?”

  She laughed, which he didn’t understand. Didn’t dolls come gender specific?

  “Actually…Just look for one dressed in pink.”

  “Got it.”

  “Are you leaving now?”

  He glanced at the clock. Despite the fact that it was twenty past six, he was still waiting on the state lab to fax the outcome of the tests they’d done on the items collected out at the Hollow. He didn’t expect those to give much information, but he’d asked for priority processing due to a child being involved. They had promised to get the results to him tonight.

  He had also intended to grab supper before he showed up out at the Mitchell place. He could stop for that at one of the fast-food places on the highway when he went to get the doll.

  “Maybe a couple of hours. I’m waiting on a fax.”

  There was another brief silence on the other end of the line. “I promised her,” Blythe said finally.

  “I know. I’ll take care of it. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just…don’t get impatient and go yourself.” The lack of an immediate response made him add, “Promise me you won’t do that, Blythe.”

  “What if the deputy—”

  “Promise me,” he demanded. “You all stay right there. Where it’s safe,” he added, and then, turning the screws, “where Maddie’s safe. Promise me, Blythe.”

  “Okay. We aren’t going anywhere.” The tone of resignation was more convincing than her words.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of here.”

  The only reply was a click on the other end of the line.

  It was after nine before Cade climbed the steps and rang the bell at the Mitchell house. The discount store had been as crowded as he’d anticipated, and several people had stopped him to ask for the latest information on the Comstock shooting.

  They were probably wondering what the hell he was doing in Wal-Mart while there was a murder investigation underway. He had wondered the same thing as he’d searched among the cellophane-covered cardboard boxes in the toy department.

  There were dozens of baby dolls, all sizes and colors, each with a different array of accoutrements. He’d read a few of the descriptions on the packages before he’d given up, grabbing the one with the longest list. It had a pacifier stuck into a hole in its rosebud-shaped mouth and was wrapped in a blanket. Although he couldn’t see enough of what it was wearing to put a name to the garment or to tell if it was shod, it was definitely dressed in clothing of some kind.

  Close enough, he’d decided, as he threw a couple of miniature baby bottles into his cart, just to be safe. He had fished the list he’d made back in the office out of his inside jacket pocket, mentally checking off the items.

  On his way down the aisle, his attention was caught by a tiny pink fold-up stroller shaped like an umbrella. Maybe Maddie would like to play mama and push her baby around, he decided, adding the stroller to the loot in his buggy. He wasn’t sure the size was right, but to his admittedly uneducated eye, it looked as if the doll he’d selected would fit.

  Despite the crowd, it had taken only a few minutes at the checkout. He’d spent a few more after he’d pulled into the Mitchell driveway, conversing with the deputy on duty. Leroy Smothers had been on watch since seven. According to him, everything had been as quiet as a tomb.

  Cade hadn’t been particularly taken with the comparison, but as he waited for someone to open the door, he found himself hoping it would stay that way. When no one responded to the bell after several minutes, he punched the button again.

  He glanced at his watch and discovered he was almost an hour later than he’d told Blythe he’d be. Maybe she wasn’t answering the door because he was so late.

  When a couple more minutes had dragged on without a response, a frisson of anxiety began to build in his chest. As he reached out to stab the bell again, the door opened.

  Although she was fully dressed, he could tell by Blythe’s eyes that she’d been asleep. She crossed her arms over her chest, huddled against the cold coming in through the open door.

  “Sorry,” he said, examining her face in the glow of the porch light. The fragile skin under her eyes was dark, and her hair disarrayed.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Almost nine-thirty. You okay?”

  “I fell asleep. Maddie and I were waiting and then…I guess I drifted off, too. She didn’t make it much past eight.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. As if to make up for his tardiness, he held the plastic bag that contained the doll and the stroller out to her. “If it’s not right—”

  “It’ll be fine. Come on in.” As Cade stepped into the hall, she closed the door behind him, checking the lock. “I don’t know that I can wake her. She’s out like a light.”

  “You can give it to her in the morning. I’m really sorry it took me so long.”

  “I’ll put it on the bed. That way when she wakes up, she’ll see it.”

  Although he had as little experience with four-year-olds as with dolls, Cade nodded agreement. He unzipped his jacket and hung it, along with his hat, on the hall tree.

  “Would you mind…?” Blythe hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” The anxiety he’d felt outside was back.

  “Nothing. I was wondering if you’d carry Maddie upstairs. None of us have slept very well around here lately. Actually, my grandmother’s already gone to bed. Doc’s promised to take her and Lettie Delray to Montgomery in the morning to see Lettie’s son. You knew he had a heart attack?”

  “I hadn’t heard.” Not surprising, perhaps, with the department so involved with the investigation.

  “I just thought if I didn’t have to wake Maddie—”

  “I’ll be glad to carry her.”

  “She’s in the den.”

  She turned to lead the way down the hall. Even in the dim light filtering from the back of the house, Cade noticed how well her jeans fit, hugging slender curves and at the same time emphasizing the length of her legs. And providing exactly the kind of distraction he didn’t need right now.

  When they reached the den, only the lamp on the end table was on. Bathed in its pleasant glow, the little girl on the couch looked like one of the dolls he’d seen at the discount store. She was on her side, blond hair falling over her shoulder, a few strands touching her cheek.

  “You want me to take her up now?” He was reluctant to disturb the picture she made. And with all that she’d been through, he couldn’t help but wonder how the child would react if she woke up to find herself in the arms of some strange man.

  “She should have been in bed more than an hour ago.”

  He had said he was sorry. He’d brought the doll, shopping for her when half the town thought he was slacking in his duty.

  And what the hell do you care what they think?

  He didn’t, he acknowledged. And there was nothing he could do if Blythe was angry at him being late. He’d done the best he could under the circumstances.

  He crossed to the couch and scooped up the sleeping child. She didn’t wake, not even when he used his shoulder to push her head more firmly into the crook of his neck. Her hair smelled of shampoo and faintly of her mother’s perfume.

  Even the climb didn’t awaken her. Blythe led the way to the same small bedroom where he’d carried her after the fire. He waited while she turned back the coverlet and sheets before he carefully laid the sleeping child in the center of the bed.

  With an economy of motion that proclaimed long practice, Blythe slipped off her daughter’s sneakers. She hesitated, maybe trying to decide if she needed to undress her.

  Cade couldn’t see any point. The knit sweatsuit would be as comfortable as pajamas. And leaving it on would reduce the risk of waking the child, something she had wanted to avoid.

  Having apparently reached that same conclusion, Blythe pulled the sheet and one of the quilts up over her daughter. Then she retrieved t
he box that contained the doll from where she’d laid it against the leg of the bedside table. She held it a moment as if contemplating where to place it. Finally she leaned the package against the bedside lamp, where it would be clearly visible from the bed.

  Then she bent, pressing a kiss against the little girl’s forehead. There was no response.

  Blythe straightened, looking at him across the narrow bed. The light from the hall was reflected in her eyes, which glistened with unshed tears.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Her eyes tracked back to her daughter, but his whispered question had clearly not disturbed Maddie. When her gaze returned to him, she nodded. “Long day. Several long days.”

  He knew the feeling. “You’ll sleep better tonight.”

  She smiled, the indulgent kind a parent gives a child who’s just said something not particularly bright. “I hope.”

  Like the scene downstairs, there was something relaxing about the dimness of the room, with its faint scent of lavender. Restful. And if there was anything he would welcome after the last few days…

  Not yet. Not tonight.

  “Think Ruth will mind if I make coffee in her kitchen?”

  “I know she won’t,” Blythe said, starting toward the door. “I’ll make it for you.”

  He had expected her to disappear into one of the other bedrooms, so her offer surprised him. “You don’t have to do that.”

  She turned in the doorway, looking back at him. “My grandmother doesn’t believe in modern coffeemakers. Have you ever used a percolator?”

  “I could figure it out.”

  “You probably could. Eventually. But if you want drinkable coffee anytime soon…”

  Cade had watched closely as she’d gone through the process of filling the pot with water and then spooning the coffee into the mesh basket. The aroma released from the freshly ground beans wafted upward, making her mouth water.

  Despite the temptation, she knew that caffeine this near bedtime was the last thing she needed. Cade intended stay up and keep watch. That meant—barring nightmares or visions or whatever it was Maddie had had several nights ago—she could afford to sleep more soundly. Someone else would be guarding her daughter tonight. Someone far more capable of ensuring that no harm would come to her than Blythe was.

  “Then you put the top on and set it on the stove.” She matched her actions to the instructions. “Turn it on high. When it’s hot enough, the water will begin to percolate up into the bubble at the top.” She put her hand on the glass ball to point it out. “I usually cut it off at that point, but Ruth and Delores just turn it to low.”

  “I think I’ll try your version. At least that way I won’t set the house on fire—” The sentence ended abruptly as Cade realized what he’d said. “Sorry. Bad memory, I know.”

  “One of many.” She was too tired to hide the bitterness. Besides, good or bad, she’d been honest with Cade from the first. He had no illusions about her courage or her endurance.

  “They can’t all be bad.”

  “They aren’t,” she admitted. “But that’s what I hate most about this. I came back because this was the place of good memories. Despite my father’s death, I was happy here. In Crenshaw. In this house. I was cozened and pampered and spoiled rotten. That can be very appealing when life doesn’t seem to be playing fair. And frankly, I didn’t think it had been. John was too young to die. Maddie didn’t deserve to be orphaned. I shouldn’t have to cope with either of those things. So I ran back to the place where someone had always taken care of me. Classic coward’s way of dealing.”

  “If that were true, you would have moved in with your grandmother like she wanted you to.”

  “And in the end, that would have been the smarter thing to have done. Even in that…” She shook her head over the irony.

  Realizing they were still hovering over the percolator, she turned away from the stove to lean back against the counter. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms over her body again.

  “No consolation, I know, but…” Cade hesitated.

  She turned to look at him and realized that, although he hadn’t moved from his position by the stove, he had been watching her. Something in his eyes was different. Although she couldn’t have said exactly what it was, the realization that the difference was there caused that increasingly familiar sensation in her lower body.

  A reaction that she’d already acknowledged as sexual. Only now, more than ever, this was not the time or the place for it.

  What will be the time? When Maddie’s grown? When you no longer have the total responsibility for her life and happiness?

  Right now, the thought of sharing that responsibility, the same kind of sharing she and John had done, was almost as appealing as what she’d just glimpsed in Cade’s eyes.

  Again, the coward’s way. Seeking the easy solution.

  Still, she desperately wanted to know the ending to that broken sentence. Maybe Cade wasn’t thinking what she thought he was. And it would be better to know that now before she allowed any more of those old schoolgirl fantasies a place in her head.

  “But what?”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  The reaction that quiet assertion produced was different, centered in her chest and crowding her breathing. “Why? I’ve brought you nothing but trouble. Including a murder.”

  “You don’t know that. Besides…”

  She waited through this hesitation, willing Cade to say any of the things she needed him to say. No matter what came of this—or didn’t come of it—she wanted to at least hear them.

  “No matter what, I’m glad you’re back.”

  Not all she had hoped for, but more than she could have imagined he’d be willing to say only a few short days ago.

  “Thank you. I don’t know why you would, but—”

  Before she could complete the sentence, he was beside her. As he had once before, he put his hands on her shoulders, using them to turn her to face him.

  Although she was tall for a woman, he seemed to tower above her until he began to lower his head, his mouth descending to meet hers. At the last second, just before their lips made contact, he hesitated.

  As frustrated by his hesitation as she had been when he’d stopped in mid-sentence, she didn’t wait. She put her hands on his shoulders, stretching upward to bridge the gap between them.

  His mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and firm. There was no awkwardness about the kiss. No hesitation on his part. Or on hers.

  With the eagerness of her response, he gathered her closer, her breasts pressed against the wall of his chest. His tongue demanded admittance to her mouth.

  She never thought about refusing, although for an instant the memory of John and all he’d meant to her was in her head. But John was dead, and she was still very much alive.

  This was right. And she had no reason to feel guilty about responding to another man’s embrace.

  She stood on tiptoe, her arms locking around Cade’s neck. As her body moved into a closer alignment with his, she became aware of his erection.

  Excitement tinged with a touch of fear coursed through her veins. She had been ready for his kiss—had known she was ready long before she’d admitted it—but she wasn’t ready for this. To pretend she was would be a lie. And unfair to him.

  She pushed away, breaking the kiss. Cade refused to release her, but he raised his head, his eyes looking into hers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, lips aching for the touch of his.

  “Blythe? What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  His mouth opened, but he closed it again without saying anything. His lips flattened, pressed together hard enough that the muscle she’d noticed before jumped in his jaw. After a moment, he stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  “It isn’t what you think.”

  She could only imagine what he was thinking. That it was too soon after John’s death. T
hat she didn’t want him to hold her. Or to kiss her.

  “My grandmother’s upstairs,” she said, and then realized how that sounded.

  “Are you warning me off? Or do you think we need a chaperone?”

  She was relieved that there was amusement in his question. “Maybe both.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  She laughed. “I told you it wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “This is just…a little scary.”

  His head tilted. “My kissing you? Or…”

  “Yeah. The ‘or’ part. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve done something like this? With someone other than—” She stopped, knowing how off-putting that must be. “It isn’t John. He’d be the last person to want me to stop living, but…This is just new. Even thinking about…the possibilities.”

  “Then you are thinking about them?”

  “Almost since I saw you again.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Again?”

  “You honestly never knew?” She couldn’t believe he hadn’t been aware of her crush. Looking back on that time, she had believed it must have been painfully, blatantly obvious.

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  He did, though. Maybe he hadn’t before, but his eyes had again given him away. After all, he’d been the heartthrob of Davis County High. Half the girls in the school had probably fanatisized about him. About this. He had to know that, too.

  “I think you do.”

  “Are you talking about high school?”

  “Junior high. For me, at least. I was twelve. I thought you had hung the moon.”

  “Along about then, I thought so, too. I figured out pretty quickly once I got out of Crenshaw that the rest of the world didn’t have a clue about my importance to the universe.”

  “We spoiled you. All the adoring throng.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t permanent.”

  “I was a little surprised…” She hesitated, unsure how to express something she’d wondered about since she’d been home.

  “Surprised?”