“I'll just get my coffee,” she said, heading back for the kitchen. “I'm probably going to need it. Two late nights in a row are a little much for me.”
Will followed her, silently cursing himself. He had only himself to blame for this. The moment he realized Karen was Michael's wife, he should have turned and run. Anything associated with Michael Way was a guaranteed pain in the ass for him.
His mind silently voiced the decision that he realized he'd already formed. He wasn't touching this woman again. Ever.
Karen sipped her third cup of coffee and swung her foot. She had needed the caffeine, but perhaps she'd overdone it just a bit.
Then again, maybe the nerves had more to do with the company than the caffeine. Will had not stopped glowering since he'd broken into her house.
Did he honestly think she had anything to do with this? Did he really think she was working with Michael to sabotage him? And did she really think having this guy she did not know in her house at midnight was a good idea?
Hell no. She hadn't made a smart move since the impulsive moment she'd decided to get a tattoo. She'd been nothing but stupid and immature and now she was facing a drug charge. She tried to keep that horrible thought at bay, but it rose to a crescendo behind her eyes and she fought the urge to slap herself on the forehead to get it to shut up. She had to do something to keep her mind off everything.
“So…you inherited a tattoo parlor. Did you grow up there, or did your dad open it after you were grown?”
The look he gave her didn't bear analyzing.
“I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just trying to get a conversation started. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
He sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Sorry. I'm a little preoccupied.”
“All the more reason to do something to pass the time.” Uh-oh. Did that sound like an invitation?
It didn't matter. Whenever he looked at her, it was with overt suspicion that she was, perhaps, evil incarnate.
“Look.” She leaned toward him. “I didn't do anything wrong. A few things that were stupid, granted, but not wrong. I'm not trying to set you up. I have absolutely nothing against you and no reason to want to hurt you.”
He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I'm sorry. This whole thing has me…”
“Freaked out?”
“Completely. I don't think you realize the gravity of the situation.”
“I'm trying very hard not to.”
He studied her for a moment, then licked his lower lip. “If it’s any consolation, I really don't think you're in that much trouble.”
“Are you kidding me? I had the stupid box in my hand. Isn’t possession nine-tenths of the law? Doesn’t that mean I’m fried?”
“Not necessarily. The more I think about it, the more I know it was a set up. And you were definitely not the target. You got caught in the middle by accident. Michael will find some way to wiggle things around so you’ll be in the clear.”
“If I hadn't been nosing around your desk…”
“Then everything would have gone off just as planned and I'd be in this alone, as it was supposed to be.” He frowned. “I’ve been thinking about it. I got that phone call, but when I answered it no one was there. The phone call was supposed to get me out of the back room. She came in while I was in the front. She left the box, then told the police where to look. I knew there was something going on under the surface between those cops.” He scratched his goatee, shaking his head. “This was aimed at me. You got caught in the crossfire.”
Karen leaned over and put a hand on his knee. “Still, if you're innocent, they can't do anything to you.”
“Yeah, right. All the innocently convicted felons in prison right now will be happy to hear that.” He frowned again, making a noise almost like a growl. “But in any case, I think you're safe. Michael wouldn’t proceed with charges against you. This is about me, not you.”
“That should give me some comfort.”
“Yes, it should.”
“Don't get me wrong. I like hearing that I'm probably not going to prison, I really do. But I can't seem to bring myself to sigh with relief when things don't look any better for you.”
“Don't worry. I'll figure out something.”
“And I'll help.”
He turned his head, his blue eyes meeting hers, intense and searching. He looked lost, afraid, furious and determined, all at once. And a little shocked that she'd said that.
“I mean it,” Karen said. “If Michael is behind this” – and that was a big ‘if’ – “then I want to do everything I can to make sure you're cleared. Even if Michael is not behind it, I can't stand by and see an innocent man railroaded.”
He clasped his hands together between his knees. “And why are you so convinced that I am an innocent man?”
“I have no clue. I’m a big putz, maybe? A sucker for sincere blue eyes?” She winked at him.
“I’m serious. You're taking a big risk here. You could be alone in your house with a criminal right now.”
She didn’t answer, but a shiver ran up her spine.
“For all you know, that girl could be my drug connection and I could have been expecting her to bring that box.”
“I’ve thought about that. And I decided I have nothing to lose by tracking her down and trying to find out the truth, do I? Doing so will exonerate me, even if it doesn’t you.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and her heart raced. What was she doing? She was in completely over her head.
She should be worried, not thrilled.
She licked her lips, and saw sparks in his eyes. He swallowed.
“Exactly. Listen.” He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “It would probably be best if you and I…you know, until this thing blows over, just…”
“Just cool things off?”
“Yes, cool. Exactly.”
“Take a step back?”
“Right.” He shifted in his seat and rubbed his palms against his thighs. “Is that…okay?”
“Okay?” She said brightly through a pasted-on smile. “Of course. Actually I was about to suggest the same thing. You just beat me to it.”
“Okay, good. Good.” His gaze remained fixed on her lips, then drifted up to her eyes and hovered there.
“Yes, good. Glad we can agree.” It was the right decision, after all. She didn’t need any more complications in her life at the moment. And the lips that were inches from hers right now were probably just going to make everything all wet and messy.
The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. She felt a little dizzy and realized it was because she'd stopped breathing. She tried to fix that by taking a deep breath. It came out a little too Ginger-from-Gilligan’s-Island, but at least she wasn’t going to faint in his lap.
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat again. He reached around for something, and his fingers caught in a crocheted afghan. He latched onto it. “This is nice. My grandmother had one kind of like it.”
“Thanks. Pam made that last year in home economics.”
“Pam? Oh, your daughter.”
“Yes. The one who’s not a smart-ass.”
He studied the afghan like it was absolutely fascinating. “Cool. Umm…how old is she?”
“Nineteen. I know. Not a lot of nineteen-year-olds like to crochet. But Pam is an old soul. She likes to do homey things. Cooking and sewing and decorating. I tease her that I found her in Martha Stewart’s cabbage patch, but…” She had to swallow suddenly. God, she wished things were back to normal and Pam was here and she wasn’t wishing she could throw herself at Will to take her mind off wondering what her cellmate would be like.
“She’s at Roosevelt, right? What’s she majoring in?”
Karen blinked back tears and tried to smile. He was doing his best to change the subject, to keep her mind off their current situation. “Communications. Which is totally wrong for her. But she’s trying to make her da
d happy. And he’s idiot enough to let her.”
Karen heard steps on the front porch and jumped.
“Cait's home!” She leapt up and looked frantically around the room. “Hide!”
Will stayed seated and cocked his head. “Seriously?”
“She's going to see you!” Her key was turning in the lock. Oh God oh God! She felt just like she had the time her dad caught Tommy Womack hiding in her closet. “Get down!” She picked up the afghan and threw it over him just as Cait walked through the door.
“Hi honey.” Karen threw a big smile on her face and hurried across the room, hoping to block Cait’s view of the sofa. “I thought you were spending the night at your dad's.”
“I left. Who is that lump on the couch?”
Will, who had not even ducked or otherwise tried to hide himself, pulled the afghan slowly off his head. “Hello,” he said solemnly. “It's good to see you again.”
“The tattoo guy?” Cait turned scornful eyes back to her mother. “Really, mother. You've hit rock bottom.” She turned away, her hair swinging in Karen's face.
“Hold it,” Karen said. “You will apologize to me and to Mr. – Mr.…”
“Corcoran.”
“Mr. Corcoran. You will not talk to anyone like that.”
Cait turned and nodded coldly. “My apologies. I don't know what I was thinking. Really I should be happy that my life if falling apart. I was so upset when Daddy left and immediately moved in with a woman who was young enough to be his daughter. But now you've hooked up with a drug-dealing pimp. So it’s true what people say. Everything works out for the best.”
Karen cringed. She knew there was no way she could keep Cait from finding out about her arrest this afternoon, but she had hoped she could be the one to break the news to her, or at least discuss it with her and explain.
But she couldn't let her get away with talking to Will like that. “You don’t know the situation and you have no right to talk to him or me that way. We've had a very difficult day –”
Cait cocked her head and thrust her lower lip out. “Oh, I'm so sorry. Did the handcuffs hurt? We should call the ACLU and report the Piedmont PD. After all, drug dealers and felons are just people, too –”
“Enough! I am not going to stand here and argue with you over something you know absolutely nothing about.”
“I know you were arrested for possession of crack cocaine. And so does everyone else in town!” She threw up her hands. “My mother is a crack ho.”
“We will discuss this later. Go to your room.”
“Gladly.” Cait stalked off toward the stairs, then turned back. “You're a joke, you know that? The divorced woman who's never been on her own, so she runs out and takes up with the first guy she sees to prove she's still attractive. You're pathetic.” She ran upstairs.
Wow. Karen took a deep, shaky breath. She and her daughter must really be more alike than she thought. They were both thinking the same thing.
She turned to Will, who had risen and looked as awkward as she felt.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “Now I see why you wanted me to hide.”
Karen dropped her shoulders. “I'm the one who's sorry that you had to see that. She's always been like that.” She hooked her thumb in her jeans pocket and twisted it hard enough to hurt. “She was a colicky baby,” she added, to have something else to say.
Will gave her a sympathetic smile. “Listen, I should go. I'll watch the broadcast on my television and see if I recognize the girl. I can call you tomorrow.”
Karen nodded. “I guess that's best. I have a raging fire to put out here.” She blew out a gust of air.
The answering look on his face was so tender and sympathetic that she felt another lump in her throat. As much as she wanted to chalk Cait’s words up to the heat of the moment, they hurt.
Will stopped at the door and turned to her. “Listen…” He frowned and dragged a hand through his hair. “Try not to worry, okay? Call your lawyer, tell him the truth. Everything. Tell him about the girl. No one's after you, and you have nothing to worry about. It's all going to work out okay.” He gently lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “It's going to be okay.”
She smiled, but his words did nothing to alleviate the heavy ball in the pit of her stomach. “Thanks. Call me tomorrow.”
“I will.” He looked toward the stairs, then leaned down and kissed her lightly on the temple. “She's wrong, you know. Just a hotheaded teenager who's lashing out because she's scared. But she's wrong.”
“You're a good guy, Will.”
“Nah, I'm a lowlife drug-dealing tattoo guy. Oh, and a pimp. Don’t forget that part.”
She laughed, grateful because his joke stopped her tears.
“Don't worry, Karen. Things look bad tonight. They'll be a lot better in the morning.”
He backed down two steps, then stopped and cocked his head. “Oh, and as for your question…I didn’t grow up there. I didn’t even know he was my father till I was fifteen. He only left me the shop because…well, to make up for lost time, I guess.”
She watched him go, biting her lower lip hard enough to taste blood. Everything spun around her head and she couldn’t latch onto any of it.
She sank to the couch and ordered herself to take things one moment at a time. The tension of her argument with Cait thundered through the silent house, and Karen reached for Pam’s afghan. She checked the satellite guide to make sure she’d scheduled the recording right. Jay Leno was going off and an infomercial for a steam cleaner came on.
She walked upstairs and tapped on Cait’s door. Cait didn’t answer. She put her ear to the door, and heard the faint sound of the shower running. She waited a second, then moved away.
She was too tired and Cait was too emotional for either of them to discuss things rationally tonight. She’d get up early in the morning and talk with her before school. Will was right. Things always looked better in the morning.
She turned to go back downstairs, and saw something on the floor out of the corner of her eye. The flower arrangement she kept on the hallway table under the window was lying on the floor.
She put it back in its place, then frowned. Dust scattered across the table. And the curtain was crooked.
Will must have come through this window to break in. It was right over the garage and on the backside of the house. He could have climbed up and gotten in unnoticed fairly easy.
So, he had broken into her house, and she’d invited him to stay. If Pam or Cait showed as much stupidity as she had during the last few days, Karen would be contacting a therapist for them all.
She sighed and slumped down the stairs, still convinced that the quickest way to solve this problem was to find the blonde girl who’d left the box on Will’s desk. Who was she? If Will really didn't know her, why would she set him up?
She just couldn’t believe Michael was behind this. Michael may be small and petty, but he would never stoop to actually framing someone, seeing them go to prison, simply to satisfy an old grudge. He wouldn't do that for any reason.
Would he?
She lay her head on the arm of the sofa and tried to become interested in how clean the grout of her shower would be if she bought this fancy steamer, but her eyes grew heavy and she fell asleep.
Will was wrong. Things looked bad last night, but they looked even worse this morning, Karen decided. She'd fallen asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until she heard a horn honk in the driveway and Cait trotted through the living room.
“Wait,” Karen said, rubbing sleep from her eyes and stumbling off the couch.
“Dad called. He wanted to pick me up early so we could grab a latte before school.” She sounded cheerful, excited about her dad picking her up.
“Michael called you? Seriously?” His mornings were sacred, reserved for racquetball and schmoozing with judges and other attorneys.
“Don’t sound so surprised, Mom. Some people actually get up early and start their day productively.” She slamm
ed out the door and ran on long legs to Michael’s SUV.
“I’m going to start my day productively,” she said as she watched the two of them drive away. “I’m going to exonerate myself from drug charges, you self-righteous little brat. Have a good day.”
She remembered the DVR and checked to make sure the broadcast had recorded. She watched for a few seconds and was fairly sure the girl on the video was the same one who’d left the box, but the shot was quick and she decided a few cups of coffee and a hot shower should come before she actually tried to think.
She was turning off the shower when she heard the front doorbell. “Come back later,” she muttered as she toweled off her hair. “After I've moved.”
But whoever it was kept ringing. Karen pulled on robe and slippers and trudged downstairs, yanked open the door, ready to unleash on the guy.
“Yes, can I –”
A cop stood on her doorstep. He didn’t look like he was there to sell her candy.
“Karen Elizabeth Way?”
She tried to answer but could only nod.
“I’m going to need you to come with me. You’re under arrest, and you will be charged, for possession of a controlled substance.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Larry the Divorce Lawyer put his briefcase on the table and sat across from Karen. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
Karen told the story again. Larry kept his hands linked together on top of the table, nodding occasionally as she talked.
When she’d finished, he nodded again. “Okay, that story is never going to work.”
Karen blinked. “Work for what? It’s the truth.”
“Some mystery girl that no one else saw came in, planted the drugs, then left.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Karen, this is almost verbatim the story my four-year-old gave us last night when she got caught at her mother’s makeup mirror. Except she actually knows her imaginary friend’s name.”
“I can’t help it, Larry. It’s the truth.” Karen wrapped her arms around her stomach. If she made it through this nightmare without an ulcer it would be a miracle. “What am I going to do?”
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