by Deborah Camp
“Okay, okay,” Levi laughed, breathless. “Let’s head home.”
“Which one?” Stuart asked with a grin.
“The one we live in, smart guy.” Levi rested his hand on Stuart’s head. The look he gave the boy – affectionate and warm – made Trudy’s eyes sting and her heart swell. She turned away, gathering her purse and cardigan while she composed herself. If Sissy Franklin could have seen what she’d just witnessed, the woman would be eating crow.
Chapter 15
Levi took time off work to meet Trudy and Stuart at the police station for Stuart to examine mug shots. Trudy watched him stride down the hall to where they waited for him, looking dashing, as usual, in a three-piece dark blue suit, blue shirt, and black tie with a silver pattern running through it. She admired the cut of the suit and the sexy aura of the man wearing it.
“Hello, my pretty,” she greeted him, rising up a little in her heels to kiss his cheek. He smelled luscious. “I still love you.”
“Oh? After all this time away from me?” He laid a hand against his heart. “I’m relieved to hear it.” With a quick grin, he rested his other hand on Stuart’s shoulder. “Ready for this, Stu?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How was school today?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Anybody try to bully you or call you names today?”
“Not today.” Stuart angled his gaze up to Levi’s. “But when they do, I’m just going to laugh and walk away.” He looked at Trudy, sharing a conspiratorial smile with her. They’d discussed this very thing over breakfast and Levi had agreed that Trudy’s suggestion of laughing at the bully instead of getting hurt or mad was a good defense. For now. Out of Stuart’s hearing, Levi had also said that he was going to teach the boy some boxing moves in case Trudy’s suggestion didn’t pan out.
“Hey, there’s Deputy Harper.” Levi lifted a hand, signaling her, then shook her hand when she joined them. “You’ve met Stuart, right?”
“I have. Hello, Stuart. Thank you for coming today to help us out.”
Stuart went shy, ducking his head and shuffling his feet. His ears turned red.
“I have everything set up in this room down the hall.” She motioned for them to walk with her. “This won’t take long.” She lowered her voice, glancing over her shoulder at them. “Did you hear about us finding the pickup?”
“No,” Levi answered for them. “Where?”
“Abandoned by Stone Mountain. Out of gas. He’d wiped it down. Not a print anywhere on it.”
Levi puffed out a sound of contempt. “Slick bastard. So, he has other wheels now.”
“That’s right.” Harper opened a door and stood back to allow them to enter the room first. “Which means, he’s feeling the heat. He might not even be in the Atlanta area. We put out an APB listing him as a person of interest we’d like to question concerning a murder case. Hopefully, someone will spot him.”
Trudy could tell from Levi’s droll expression that he shared her opinion of that – not likely. She had the feeling that Lincoln changed how he looked every so often, making it more difficult for him to be spotted or remembered. If Ike Lincoln had killed the McFarlands, then he’d been bald that night. Now he had a crewcut because his hair had grown out. In mug shots, he had longer, blonder hair. Sometimes he had a walrus mustache and sometimes he had a full beard.
They sat at a table with the deputy on one side of it and the three of them on the other, with Stuart in the middle. Elena Harper opened a large manila envelope. She was in uniform today, but her braided hair, shot through with red and yellow ribbons, was a nice touch of personality peeking out. The braids went perfectly with her freckled nose and cheeks.
“I’m going to show you four photos of four different men, Stuart. I want you to look closely at them. If you feel as if you have seen one or more of them, point to them. Understand?”
He nodded, his blue eyes big and serious in his pale face. She withdrew the photos and placed them in front of him in a line.
“Take your time,” she cautioned him.
With her breath trapped in her lungs, Trudy releasing it in a sigh. She couldn’t help but focus entirely on the third photo from the left. Ike Lincoln. Back when he had longish blond hair and a floppy mustache. She sensed Stuart’s examination of that photo, his gaze lingering there, moving away, coming back to it. Frown lines formed between his eyes. Finally, he sighed and sat back in the chair.
“No. I don’t know them.”
Trudy stared at him, nonplussed.
“You sure?” Harper asked.
“Yes.”
Trudy looked at Levi and shook her head. “Are there any other photos of these men?” she asked. “They might not look like this now, right?”
“That’s right.” Harper agreed. “But their faces are clear in these photos.”
“They aren’t bald,” Stuart noted, confirming Trudy’s suspicions. He was totally hung up on that. The man he’d seen that night had been hairless and that was his whole impression of him.
“Maybe the man you saw isn’t always bald,” she suggested. “Maybe he was that night, but he’s let his hair grow out.”
“Trudy,” Levi said, making her name a warning. “Don’t put ideas in his head that are yours, not his.”
Harper gathered up the photos. “You’re sure the man you saw outside your new house that day was Lincoln?”
“Yes. I’m certain.” She placed her arm around Stuart’s shoulders and hugged him. She felt him stiffen for moment before relaxing against her. “And Stuart felt him. He felt the evil. The same feeling he had that night.” She gave him another squeeze and this time there was no resistance. It felt natural hugging him, she thought, deciding that she should do it more often and even throw in a kiss now and then. Her bond with the boy had deepened past affection and her instincts now were to love him and protect him.
Harper flipped her braids over her shoulders. “Okay, well, we all get goosebumps sometimes, I guess. He didn’t ID any of the photos.” She shrugged. “That’s okay, Stuart. You did your best. And we know from your first-hand identification that Lincoln drove by your place at Peachtree Heights East. He’s still a person of extreme interest.”
Stuart stared at the envelope, a frown marring his features. He straightened away from Trudy. “May I see the pictures again, please?”
Harper exchanged glances with Levi and Trudy before giving a shrug and removing the photos from the envelope. She laid them on the table for Stuart to examine. He leaned forward, staring mightily at Ike Lincoln’s mug shot.
“Can I touch this?” he asked, and the deputy nodded. He laid his finger across the top of Lincoln’s head and then shifted to rest it across the bottom of his face. “I’m pretty sure this man was at our house once. But not that night. I didn’t see him that night.”
Trudy’s heart kicked. “When was he at your house, Stuart?”
“I think he came with the alarm man.”
Interest sparkled in Levi’s eyes when he caught Trudy’s gaze.
Harper hunched forward. “Alarm man?” the deputy repeated. “What’s that?”
Stuart folded his arms on the table and aimed his blue eyes at her. “Our alarm thing stopped working. Daddy said he couldn’t get it to turn on or off, so he called someone. They came out. Two men and I think one of them was that man.” He looked at Lincoln’s photo again. “But he didn’t have hair on his face then. But he had sunken in cheeks like that and thin lips. And his eyes were all sunk in, too. Like this man’s. They took the push-button panel off in the kitchen and had to put a new one there.”
“You know the alarm company they used, right?” Levi said, addressing the deputy. “You’ve interviewed them already.”
“Yes, we have, especially since it was disarmed that night. Company records revealed that the McFarland panel had shorted out in a storm and they had to have a new one installed. Nothing else seemed suspicious. It happened early last spring, so it wasn’t recent, and we int
erviewed the man who did the work. Didn’t know that Lincoln also worked for the company back then.”
“Maybe he used a different name.” Levi shrugged. “But it would explain how he disarmed the alarm system that night. He knew the code.”
“I didn’t see him that night,” Stuart spoke up, still stuck on the bald man.
“Yes, I know.” Levi patted his head. “It’s great that you remembered seeing this man there before, though, Stu. Good job.”
“Yeah. Super job.” Harper smiled at him, then held out her hand and shook Stuart’s, who seemed flustered to be congratulated by the officer. “Thanks.”
“S’okay,” he murmured, red faced.
“Are we done here?” Levi asked.
“Yes.” Harper slipped the photos into the envelope again. “I’ll fill Myers in on all of this. He’s hung up on another case today.”
They filed out, shook hands again, and then Trudy, Levi, and Stuart exited the station. Levi walked them to their car, even though they had a security detail following them. He kissed Trudy and ruffled Stuart’s hair.
“I’m headed to a job site in College Park. You two stay out of trouble, okay?”
“We’ll try,” Trudy assured him, motioning for Stuart to climb into the backseat of the Navigator before joining him. Dixie Beach was driving the car with Adam Beckell following in a black SUV. Once she was settled with her seatbelt on, Levi leaned in for another quick kiss before closing the door. She waved at him as the car pulled away.
“He likes you a lot,” Stuart observed.
“More than that,” she corrected him. “Levi loves me. And I love him.”
He was quiet, staring out the window for several minutes before releasing a wistful sigh. “Daddy used to kiss Mommy a lot.”
“Did he? They loved each other, too. And they loved you.”
He dropped into silence again.
“You did great back there, Stuart,” Trudy said. “I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Very proud.”
He still didn’t look at her. “What about love?”
Her heart stuttered when she realized what he was asking her. She paused, wondering how to answer him. Didn’t he already know that he was loved by her? Obviously, he needed to hear it from her again. It pained her to think that they wanted to adopt him, but that act alone didn’t show him how much he meant to them.
“I love you, Stuart Atticus McFarland.”
He blinked, his long, curling lashes, getting damp before he swallowed hard enough for her to hear it. “I thought so,” he whispered.
She waited, but he offered nothing more. When they arrived at the apartment, he was back to his usual rambunctious self, racing to the elevator, then racing out of it and slamming his hand against the front door panel to hear, “Good afternoon, Master Thor.” That always got a giggle from him.
“Do you have any homework?”
“No.” He made a beeline for his room, where she knew he’d change out of his school clothes and then raid the kitchen for milk and cookies.
Wes emerged from the bedroom wing, vacuum in hand. “How’d it go at the police station?”
“He recognized Ike Lincoln, but not from that night. Lincoln was at his house repairing the broken house alarm system.”
Wes hummed. “Interesting.” He bent and plugged in the vacuum, preparing to go over the living room rug.
“Wes, you’ll still work for us when we move, won’t you?”
He looked up, clearly surprised by her question. “I was planning on it.”
She rested a hand against her heart in a near swoon of relief. “Good. I just . . . well, we’ve assumed you would, and then I started thinking that you might decide you wanted to work for someone else or go back to working as a restaurant chef.” She caught her breath and laughed at his indulgent smile. “Anyway, I’m glad. You mean a lot to me. To us. You and Mya.”
“It’s mutual. Actually, the new house is a few miles closer to mine. It’ll be a quicker commute.”
“Oh, right! I hadn’t considered that.” She sat on the sofa and removed her heels, her thoughts meandering back to Stuart. “I just told Stuart that I love him,” she said in a near whisper. “He surprises me sometimes. I think he knows how I feel about him, but then he reveals that he needs to have me say it out loud. Maybe he needs to hear it more often. I sure don’t mind saying it to him, but I didn’t want to get all mushy on him, you know?” She laughed. “I’m running off at the mouth. Sorry.”
Wes, all brawn and flexing military tattoos, sent her a softly chiding glance. “So, you’re mushy. Nothing wrong with that, Trudy.” Then he switched on the vacuum.
Sorting through her email requests from individuals and police officers who wanted her to work on murder cases, Trudy laid aside one or two that intrigued her and were within driving distance of Atlanta. With Stuart in residence now, she didn’t like to be away from home. Even before Stuart, she hadn’t liked being away from Levi more than a night or two. Working remotely was the answer, she thought. She should hone her skills so that she could do most of her psychic work through email and phone correspondence with her clients.
Mouse scampered down the steps and into the office. She stared at Trudy for a few seconds and then trotted to a doggy bed they kept in the corner for her.
“Were you wondering where I’d gotten to?” Trudy asked the Chihuahua. “Can’t let me out of your sight for long, can you?”
She noted that it was nearly ten o’clock, so she put her computer in sleep mode. She’d tucked Stuart into bed at nine and had come downstairs to work while Levi finished watching a movie about the war in Afghanistan that was too violent and bloody for her liking.
Lounging back in her leather office chair, she picked up a squishy dog toy from the floor and tossed it at Mouse. The dog blinked, yelped, and then pounced on the poor, stuffed porcupine, chomping and whipping it back and forth in a frenzied attack that made Trudy laugh.
“That’s right. Sic him, you mean, lean doggy machine,” she encouraged Mouse.
When the porcupine had evidently surrendered, Mouse plopped down with a little sigh of contentment.
Trudy gathered up the emails and notes, but paused when a strange sensation wiggled through her. Her stomach clenched and her vision dimmed.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered, letting the papers fall from her numb fingers as the room swam, colors swirled, and then she found herself looking at a pouty-mouthed brunette dressed in tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt.
Nice. Very nice.
“Hey, there, babylicious. Let me buy you another drink.”
The brunette turned her head slowly and her gaze dripped over him, slow and sticky. Her red lips turned down at the corners and when her dark brown eyes met his again, he didn’t see anything in them that he liked.
“No, thanks,” she said, and she might as well have told him to fuck off.
Anger stirred in him, but he forced a smile to his lips. “That’s not very nice. Your glass is empty. All I’m doing is offering to fill it on my tab.”
She stared at him via the mirror behind the bar. “And all I’m doing is minding my own business. You should try it.”
He bit back a response that would have been as good as a slap across her smug face. He’d been watching her ever since she’d sauntered into the place about an hour ago. He liked the look of her and could tell she was in the dumps. He’d spoken to a few of the other women that night, but they’d all been too giggly and were traveling in herds. This gal was alone. He liked that.
“Another one, Sally?” the pony-tail wearing bartender asked, moving down the bar toward them. He reached for her empty whiskey glass. He was young – in his twenties – and had been flirting with every girl in the place. It was ladies’ night and drinks were half price for the gals.
The brunette clamped her hand over the glass. “No. I gotta drive myself home tonight.”
“Where’s Ted?”
She
flung back her head and barked a harsh laugh. “Good fucking question, Andy. Probably with his new skank. Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah. We broke up. He’s balling his boss’s ex-wife now. You know her. She comes in here sometimes.”
“Laney Mills?”
She made a pistol out of her hand and shot him. “Bingo. That’s her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sally. I thought you and Ted were tight.”
“Yep. Oh well. Guess he likes them loose.” She smirked at him. “After three kids, we know that Laney isn’t tight, don’t we?”
She and the barkeep shared a chuckle. Leaning sideways, she eyed him as if she were surprised he was still sitting next to her at the bar. He grinned because he knew it would piss her off. Did she expect him to feel sorry for her? After she’d treated him like a venereal disease? Not fucking likely. With a frown, she slid off the bar stool.
“Gotta go. See you, Andy.” She wiggled her fingers and sashayed to the front of the bar.
“Take it easy, Sally,” the bartender called after her. “What can I get you, pal?”
He tore his gaze off Sally’s backside and shook his head. “Nothing, pal.” He swiveled around and watched as several women danced with each other, laughing and gyrating while a few men stood off to one side and ogled them.
Pathetic.
The burn of “Sally’s” rejection still stung. He stared at the exit sign at the back of the bar for a few seconds, then made for it, knowing that it would let him out into the parking lot. He saw her right away. She’d made it to her car – a late model Toyota – and was digging around in her saddlebag of a purse for her keys.
Perfect.
She didn’t look up until he was almost on top of her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open. It made him think of that McFarland skank right before he’d ended her.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?”
