The Closer He Gets

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “No.” Zach hesitated. “The two he admitted to knowing about were Duane Womack, who was apparently Mom and Dad’s insurance agent, and a younger guy named Sam Doyle. Him, I remember. He was a plumber. He came out to the house when the pipe broke in the bathroom wall.”

  “God, I remember that.” Bran looked stunned. “He was practically a kid.”

  Zach nodded. “I’ve already traced him. He’d have been twenty-one.”

  “That’s sick.”

  “Mom was a beautiful woman.” He thought about that. “Still is, for her age.”

  His brother appeared to be stuck on the idea of their thirty-five-year-old mother sleeping with a kid only a few years out of high school. His expression suggested he was doing his best to swallow something indigestible. Zach knew how he felt.

  Their food arrived. Neither reached for silverware.

  “Here’s the interesting thing,” Zach continued. He’d begun some serious digging in the past couple days. “Duane Womack is ten years older than Mom. He had two daughters, one only a little older than Sheila. Nolte told me he was bothered at the time when Womack commented on how pretty Sheila was.”

  Bran’s gaze sharpened. “After she was raped?”

  “Yeah, kind of gives you pause, doesn’t it? Nolte did a little investigating and came up with nothing to support the idea that Womack was molesting his own kid. He decided the comment was just one of those things people say.”

  “And it might have been.” Although Bran didn’t sound convinced.

  “Yes, except it turns out Womack’s wife left him later, taking the girls with her.”

  “The man was screwing around on her.”

  “Uh-huh. But she ended up with sole custody. No visitation.”

  “Isn’t that interesting.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m going to try to get in touch with the plumber and with the ex-Mrs. Womack or one of the daughters. I’ll follow up on Jack, too, unless you’ve stayed in touch and know what’s up with him.” He started eating.

  Bran shook his head. “Dad and he stayed friends. Can you believe it?” He ate a couple of fries. “All I know is, he’s still married. He and his wife had a couple of kids, but they were enough younger than us I don’t really remember them.”

  Zach frowned, vaguely able to picture Jack carrying a cranky toddler during a backyard cookout.

  “There might be something there.”

  “Let me have him,” his brother said. “I’ve held a grudge for a long time. It would give me pleasure to find out that scumbag is a pedophile, too.”

  Seeing Bran’s expression, Zach tossed aside his reservations. “Go for it. The only thing that bothers me about all three of these guys is that they were sleeping with Mom. I know pedophiles are sometimes married, but that may be partly cover. Do they have affairs with adult women, too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They both concentrated on their meals for a minute.

  “I’m surprised you’re not focusing your efforts on Dad,” Bran said suddenly. “Given your hostility to him.”

  Zach looked at his brother. “I’m casting a wide net,” he said carefully. “Dad will be caught in it if there’s anything there to find.”

  Anger tightened Bran’s face but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Nolte still thinks Dad did it.”

  “Nolte is full of shit.”

  Zach shrugged and polished off the BLT that he’d ordered along with chili.

  “Speaking of sleeping around.” That same anger darkened Bran’s eyes. “Rumor has it you’re spending nights with Tess.”

  “Now, how did rumor come up with something like that?” Zach said sarcastically.

  “Is it true?”

  “That I spent last night at her house? Yeah.” He didn’t even try to hide his anger. “Did rumor tell you she called me at almost 3:00 a.m. because someone was at her bedroom window while someone else phoned to tell her she’d change her story when she talked to the new investigators today or they can get to her anytime? Close enough to a direct quote.”

  “Crap,” his brother said quietly.

  “Busy night. We invited a Clear Creek officer to spend part of it with us. By the way, he’s having photos taken of the footprints under the window and the broken branches in the shrub. Fingerprint technician is doing his thing, too. Did I stay the rest of the night, so she’d have a prayer of getting some sleep?” He pushed away his unfinished chili. “Yes, I did.”

  Bran squeezed the back of his neck. “You haven’t said what you think of the new investigators.”

  Zach shared his impressions and doubts. “The DA was there, too. Mad because my version of what happened had altered since the initial one. If I’d accused Hayes of wrongdoing from the beginning, she’d have been involved. Now she feels like she’s playing catch-up.”

  “Altered?” Bran said in disbelief.

  Zach’s temper spiked again. “Edited, apparently.”

  His brother shook his head. “The threats might stop now that you and Tess have both talked to the Stimson detectives.”

  Zach gave a short laugh. “You’re kidding, right? It’s never too late for a witness to develop amnesia.”

  “You sure she’s not making all this up?”

  This jolt of anger he didn’t try to hide. “You saw her roar in to talk to Delancy. Did that look like someone simply seeking attention?”

  Bran grimaced. “Nobody is going after you.”

  “Except for the beheaded rabbit.”

  “That could have been a frat-type prank. You’re the new guy. Some of the others might have wanted to see if you had a sense of humor.”

  Zach stared at him in disbelief. “Did anything about that strike you as remotely funny?”

  “No, but I heard some people laughing.”

  “Who?”

  “You think I’m going to tell you? All you need to know is it wasn’t anybody close to Andy.”

  “Andy?” This time his laugh held even less humor. “Good friends now, are you?”

  “You know better than that.”

  “Do I?” Zach shifted his weight to pull out his wallet. He tossed a twenty on the table and slid out of the booth. “Glad we had this talk.”

  When he walked out, he felt more than a little juvenile, but also too mad to go back.

  He’d been right about how the evening would end, but wrong about who would do the walking.

  * * *

  IT WAS LATE afternoon on Saturday when Tess ended a phone call and lifted her head to see Zach walking into Fabulous Interiors. Deputy Carter. He was very obviously a cop in his olive-green uniform and badge, his weapon and all kinds of other implements hanging from his belt. He swept the store with an assessing eye that paused briefly on every customer present before his gaze settled on her.

  In turn, those customers stared at him.

  Hunched at the computer behind Tess, Greg was filling out an order for vast amounts of a hugely expensive textured carpet that was certified green. The house being built, he’d told her, was to be nearly five thousand square feet. There would be hardwood in the entry and dining room, but most of the acres of flooring were going to be carpeted.

  Tess rose and smiled. “Deputy Carter. Is this business?”

  He stopped on the other side of the counter. “Considering Fabulous Interiors is out of my jurisdiction, no. I’m here to look at tile.” He glanced ruefully down at himself. “I was afraid if I went home to change, you’d be closed by the time I got back.”

  “Let me show you what we have available,” she said in her best sales voice. “I can answer any questions, too.”

  He stopped to exchange a few words with Greg, whose glance at Tess was quizzical. She hadn’t said that much about Zach, had she?

&n
bsp; As soon as she politely could, she led him toward the back of the store.

  “Are you serious?” was the first thing she said.

  Zach raised expressive, dark eyebrows. “Very. You were right. The bathroom has to be done first. Since I need to gut it—which means no bathroom for me to use for a few days—I want to have materials on hand so I can put it back together as quickly as possible.”

  “Do you have a shower available at work you can use?”

  His mouth twisted. “Yes, but I haven’t been real enthusiastic about using the locker room since the one episode. Not sure I like the idea of being alone and naked in the shower room. I think I’ve seen scenes like that in prison movies.”

  Tess had to laugh, although she was transfixed by the idea of him naked, water sluicing over his dark hair and long, muscular body.

  “I may get a hotel room for a couple days,” he continued as he started moving along the rows of display tiles. “Depending on the alternatives.” He turned and pinned her with a stare. “Speaking of...”

  “Of what?”

  “I don’t like you being alone.”

  “I was fine last night.” If sleeping in jerky, ten-minute segments could be called fine. She had taken a variety of possible weapons to bed with her, including a marble rolling pin and a butcher knife.

  Not that she could, in a million years, imagine stabbing someone.

  “I wasn’t fine,” Zach said. “I drove by your house at midnight and again at around five. Didn’t do a lot of sleeping in between.”

  She stared at him. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Tess nibbled on her lower lip. “My father wants me to move home.”

  “Your father, who just had a stroke?”

  “Three years ago. He’s made an amazing recovery,” she said defensively.

  Zach shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  She looked away from him. “No. I know it isn’t.” She hesitated. “I have friends...”

  “This isn’t the kind of trouble you want to bring down on most people.”

  “Nothing that terrible has happened,” she fired back, her argument losing force when she barely stopped herself from finishing with a yet.

  Zach did it for her. “Yet.”

  She crossed her arms. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Part of me thinks I should stay with you.”

  Wow. Nice of him to let her hear his deep reluctance.

  He shook his head. “Bran told me yesterday that a rumor was already going around about me spending the night at your house.”

  Her mouth fell open. It was a moment before she could form words. “But...how?” Then she scowled. “Officer Parish.”

  “I doubt it.” His voice wasn’t much better than a growl. Zach wasn’t a happy man. “I think somebody had to be watching your house.”

  Goose bumps rose on her flesh, giving her the sensation of invisible fingers moving over her.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  She didn’t have to say anything. Zach swore. “I’m sorry, Tess. Damn it! I wish they’d come after me.”

  “No!”

  “I’m ready for them.”

  There he was again, terrifying her with his certainty that he was invincible. Just like her father, who was so sure he could protect her even if he was still semi-crippled from the stroke—and was on a blood thinner.

  “They...they won’t go after you the same way,” she said. “You know they won’t.”

  Zach tipped his head in a form of acceptance. “You’re right, of course.”

  Suddenly desperate not to be talking about this, she said, “We close in half an hour. If you were serious about looking at tiles, you’d better do it.”

  He grinned wickedly at her. “Of course, I could go to Home Depot and pick up some plain black and white tiles. Do the classic checkerboard.”

  “You could.” Despite herself, she was smiling. “Have you?”

  “Yeah, looked good in one of the houses I flipped. Did glass blocks between the toilet and sink, a shower with etched glass, chrome fixtures. It came out great.”

  “It sounds like it.” And, truthfully, it probably didn’t make sense for Zach to buy super high-end materials of any kind for a relatively modest older home he intended to sell once he finished the remodel.

  He reached for the tile he’d picked up the last time he was here. “I really like these.”

  “Anything you buy here will be at cost,” she told him.

  He turned his head. “Why? You have to make a living.”

  “You’re the guy who comes running, night or day, when I call. It’s not like I’m losing anything to order whatever tiles or flooring you want at cost.”

  “How about cost plus ten percent?”

  They negotiated, but he won. Or lost, depending on your point of view. He took out his wallet and removed a piece of paper with measurements. Tess led the way to her office, carrying the sculpted tile and the plain one that worked best with it, and filled out the order form. Concentrating was a challenge with Zach in the straight-backed chair on the other side of the desk from her, his legs outstretched, his gaze never leaving her. She watched as he wrote a check to cover the deposit. He’d come prepared.

  “Will you have dinner with me?” he asked suddenly, the words hardly spoken before he looked disconcerted, as if he’d never meant to say any such thing.

  Her eyes widened. “You mean...go out?” Where anyone at all could see them together?

  “Actually, I thought I’d put dinner together at home.”

  “Is this part of the Protect Tess program? Or—” She couldn’t make herself finish.

  But of course he prodded. “Or?”

  “I suppose this has to do with you kissing me.” You wanting to get me into bed.

  Now he had the strangest expression. “No,” he said slowly. “That isn’t what I was thinking. But let’s just forget I suggested it.”

  Even with her alarm bells ringing, she wanted to have dinner with him. Listen to him tell her what he intended to do with his house. Get to know the man who did come running every time she needed him.

  “If you meant it, I’d like to have dinner with you,” she said a little shyly.

  He studied her face for a moment before he nodded. The set of his shoulders eased just enough to betray that he hadn’t been enjoying what must have felt like rejection. “You’ll be glad to know I even have a table and chairs now.”

  “You went furniture shopping?” If she sounded amazed...well...she was.

  “Me? God, no. I stopped at a garage sale.”

  Her bubble burst. Of course he hadn’t bought anything that might be permanent.

  Before she could dwell on it, a worry struck her. “What if someone follows me there?”

  “I’ll follow you there.” His voice had become steely. “I kind of hope someone does show up on your tail. I’ll hang around until closing.”

  “Actually... I can probably go once I find out whether the customer looking at wallpaper is still here.”

  He strolled out into the main showroom while Tess stuck her head into the back room. The woman had decided to check out several books and carried them to the counter in front. Tess jotted her name and phone number on the cards and filed them, chatting as she did so.

  As soon as the customer had carried her hefty pile out the door, Zach quit pretending interest in carpet samples and planted himself in front of the counter. He turned a now-serious gaze on Tess. “Got your purse? Let’s do this.”

  She hadn’t known Greg had popped out of his own small office until his voice came from behind her. “Do what?”

  “Oh.” She swung around. “I’m cutting out early, if that’s okay?”

  “You know
it is.” His gaze went past her to Zach. “I repeat, do what?”

  Tess made a face at him. “You know the trouble I’m having. Zach asked me to have dinner at his place and he’s going to follow me to be sure no one else does.”

  “You need an escort home? Damn it, Tess!”

  “Zach wants to see if anyone tries to follow me,” she said uncomfortably.

  “But they already know where you live.”

  “They” had become one of her least favorite words, assuming horror movie proportions. She could still picture Andrew Hayes’s face, first with his lips drawn back from his teeth as he’d swung his fist over and over, then when he’d tried to resume his cop facade but forgotten his face was flushed a deep purple-red from his killing frenzy. And then there were his bloody hands.

  She hated that his confederates were still faceless to her. It was almost creepier to imagine one of them watching her than him.

  Zach stayed silent, letting her handle this. Of course, he had no way of knowing how much she’d told her business partner.

  “But they might like to be sure that’s where I’m going when I leave work,” she explained, knowing Greg could tell how disturbed she was.

  “I suppose that’s true,” he said grudgingly, not looking any happier.

  “And there’s nothing I’d like better than to have a license number to run,” Zach interjected, after which he determined where she was parked and which way she’d be emerging from the alley.

  “All right. Give me a minute before you go out.”

  Tess nodded and watched him leave. When she turned around, she found Greg frowning at her.

  “Tess, you’re welcome to stay with Josie and me until this is resolved.”

  “And your children?” She shook her head. “Thank you, Greg, but there’s no way I want to have something happen that scares the daylights out of Maddy and Dominic.”

  He raised his hands in acceptance. “Then let your cop take care of you, Tess. Don’t get stubborn.”

  “Stubborn?” she said, trying to lighten the moment. “Me?”

  Greg didn’t laugh.

  She knew his eyes were still on her as she made her way to the back door.

  CHAPTER NINE