by Linda Berry
“You’re a beautiful woman, Sidney.”
His warm brown eyes were level with hers and she saw tiny flecks of amber in the irises. She didn’t trust herself to speak, or to stay in the room alone with him. “Maybe we should go have that drink you promised me.”
He blinked and gently pulled away. “Of course. Actually, let’s have dinner. I was too busy to eat tonight. I’m starving.”
“Me, too.” She hoped her smile hid her nervousness.
“Is the Black Rabbit okay?” he asked.
“Best restaurant in town.” Small and cozy, two blocks down the street. They could walk. “I have a soft spot for their Chicken Marsala.”
“I love everything on the menu. Just had their stewed lamb shank. So tender, the meat just fell off the bones. I think rabbit with fig sauce is next on the list.”
“Hmmm. I may have to get more adventurous.”
David gave her a flirtatious smile. “I hope you do.”
Her stomach fluttered.
He glanced at his watch. “If we hurry, we can squeak in before they close.”
David locked up the gallery, and they stepped out into the chilled night air. Storm clouds scudded across the moon. Venus twinkled above the lake and a damp breeze blew inland off the water.
“A good storm’s coming in,” he said.
“A slammer.” Sidney stopped at her Yukon parked at the curb and grabbed her coat and handbag, which held her gun. Even off duty, she was a cop, and she felt more prepared for trouble with her Glock close at hand.
David helped her into her coat and then he reached for her hand. Though he looked worldly and playboy handsome on the outside, his values appeared to be pleasantly old-fashioned. Sidney appreciated that his hands were strong and larger than hers.
Fingers interlocked, she and David strolled down the sidewalk through the soft light cast from the storefronts. He picked up their conversation about cuisine where he’d left off. Sidney loved listening to him. His voice was smooth and deep, and he had a gift for making ordinary gab sound charming and consequential.
“They have a wonderful Merlot here,” he said. “Cakebread from Napa Valley. Rich, with dark cherry and plum flavors, and a hint of sage.”
“You know your wine.”
“Nah, I memorized it off the label last time I was here. But it is like drinking velvet.” He squeezed her hand. “A glass will make you forget you got slugged in the mouth.”
His touch, his scent, his closeness was doing a very good job of making her forget. “Wine is always good medicine.”
“Gets better the more you drink.”
The first drops of rain plopped in her hair as David ushered her through the door into the Black Rabbit. A couple left as they entered, and though late in the evening, a few tables were still occupied by couples speaking softly. Candlelight reflected off crystal glasses and silverware, and Sidney’s stomach clenched when luscious smells reached her nostrils.
The smiling host stepped forward with menus, and said a bit formally, “Nice to see you, Chief Becker.” His tone lightened when he turned to David. “Hey, David.”
“Hey, Carson. Could we get that table by the window?”
“You bet. Great view of the lake. Right this way.”
As was her habit, Sidney positioned herself at the table so she could view the whole room, the doorway, and the sidewalk. David’s eyes sparkled in the wavering candlelight as he studied the menu. She bowed her head to do the same. Minutes later, a red-haired, smiling waitress dressed all in black approached and stood poised to take their order.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
GRANGER STOLE A GLANCE at Selena, who sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her gaze focused straight ahead, eyes glistening in the glow from the dash. Rain drummed the roof and the wipers worked furiously to clear the cords of water coursing down the windshield. The highway unfurled like an iron-gray ribbon and the forest streaked past in a dark blur. She hadn’t said a word since getting into the truck. Just sat there in stony silence.
When Granger spotted her in the gallery in that red dress, she took his breath away. Willowy figure, bared shoulders and back, skin smooth as ivory, hair a soft sheet of gold. Then he saw the misery etched on her face, the rigid way she held her body, and he understood something terrible had just gone down. Then he saw Chief Becker’s face.
He cleared his throat. “What exactly happened at the gallery tonight?”
She looked at him with level green eyes and said coolly, “Is this official business? Are you interrogating me?”
“Heck no, I’m not interrogating you. I’m off duty.”
“Sorry. That was rude.” She sighed. “It’s been a rough night.”
“Who were those people? The cowboy and the pregnant girl?”
“The cowboy is my husband, Randy. The pregnant teenager is his girlfriend.”
Granger frowned, trying to understand. “You’re his wife? She’s his girlfriend? I take it you and Randy are no longer together?”
“Good deduction, Sherlock.” Her voice was cool again. “Soon to be divorced.”
Granger shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. He didn’t want her to think he was grilling her. He’d leave it be. Still, she was a strong presence in the car. He was conscious of her slightest move and the faint scent of her perfume, which reminded him of his mother’s flower garden.
The headlights of a cargo truck momentarily blinded him. A wall of water flooded the windshield as it roared past.
Selena gasped.
The windows cleared and Granger could see the road again, a pale gray snake in the darkness. “We’re okay,” he said firmly, watching the taillights disappear behind him in the mirror.
She fidgeted with her bracelet and then started talking in a rambling monotone. “Randy and I have been separated for a year. He used to be a big rodeo star. Wasn’t too successful the last couple years. I paid the bills. But it wasn’t finances that broke us up.” She swallowed. “I had two miscarriages in the last four years. After the last one, he went crazy. Moody and angry all the time. He blamed me. Made living together total hell.” She lowered her head and hid her face behind a veil of corn silk hair. “A year ago, he just up and left.”
Granger felt a rush of sympathy for her. Losing two babies had to be tough, without her husband rubbing salt in the wounds, and then abandoning her. “I’m sorry, Selena. Randy sounds like an insensitive ass.”
“Yeah, it’s finally sinking in. I’m tired of making excuses for him. Anyway, long story short, Randy’s with Allison now.” She sniffed, took a tissue from her purse and wiped her nose. “He’s done well for himself. Got a new career and the baby he always wanted. I just wish I had some warning they were going to show up tonight. I made a total ass of myself. I slapped him pretty hard.”
“Can’t say I blame you. What happened to the chief?”
“Allison tried to slug me. She got Sidney instead.” Selena’s voice choked a little. “Seems all Sidney does is pick up the pieces of my life.”
“Hey, she’s your sister. You would have done the same for her.”
“In a heartbeat.” She wiped tears from her eyes with trembling fingers, her face quiet and luminous. Their eyes met in the dim light. A smile lifted one corner of her beautiful mouth. “You’re a really decent guy, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I try to be. My parents brought me up right.”
New tears welled in her eyes.
Granger regarded her with concern and tenderness, searching for words of comfort, but he came up short. Instead, he did what came naturally, and offered his hand. In Afghanistan, he had clasped the hand of many a Marine who was injured or dying, lending support to someone in a world of pain.
Selena accepted, cradling his hand gently between her long, slender fingers—a fragile connection that he hoped would strengthen and grow.
The storm increased in tempo, loudly pelting the roof and exploding off the hood of the truck. The wipers squeaked against the windshield.
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, holding the wheel steady against the hard-driving pummels of wind.
〜 〜
“Hey, Bailey.” Toweling her hair, Ann entered the kitchen fresh from a shower, the holstered .22 attached to the belt of her jeans. The hound whimpered by the front door, looking over his shoulder, and she knew he was itching to get out for a hike. Tired of her self-imposed exile, Ann also longed to walk in the forest, get wet leaves beneath her shoes, feel the damp breeze on her face. But that wasn’t going to happen.
She stepped out on the porch and watched Bailey carve a pathway through the drizzle, furrowing the grass with his nose, looking for the perfect spot to pee. The rain played a soft percussion on the roof, and she smelled the sweet scent of apples coming from Miko’s farm. Always alert, Ann studied the periphery of her property. To the south, the forest gave off a blue-black chill. She studied the opening in the trees between the two farms and saw the red glow of a cigarette through the leaves. Hunched over the glow was the barely discernible shape of a man. Noah. Then he was gone.
Feeling a chill, Ann called to Bailey, and they barricaded themselves in the house, all doors and windows locked. She rubbed the hound dry with a towel and poured kibble into his bowl. While Bailey crunched, she poked the stew on the stove and took a little broth in a wooden spoon, blowing on it to taste. She forced herself to concentrate on cooking, not the man outside who watched her house. Chicken, peas, potatoes, carrots, onions, in a white wine broth perfectly seasoned with garlic, thyme, and bay leaves.
She ladled a bowlful and ate the stew seated at the island, dipping in buttered bread, sipping a luscious Pinot Noir. The handgun felt bulky on her hip so she pulled it from the holster and laid it next to her bowl.
The storm increased dramatically. The roar of the rain on the roof put up a mask of white noise that drowned out everything. She didn't hear footsteps on the porch and was surprised when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Had Selena forgotten her key? Was it Granger?
She crossed the great room, lifted a slat in the blinds and peered out at the porch. Her heart skipped a beat. Miko stood there holding a large basket of vegetables, his hood pulled up to keep out the rain.
Thrilled, she swung the door open wide. The man straightened, and at once, she knew he wasn’t Miko. Too tall. Shoulders too broad. An alarm wailed in her brain.
“Hello, Ann.”
Her pulse began to accelerate. Noah!
He shifted the weight of the basket. “I’m dropping this off for dad. And I wanted to say I’m sorry for hurting those ravens.”
Caught by surprise, Ann stared blankly.
“How’s the bird?” he asked.
“Arthur will need a lot of recuperating,” she said angrily. “You broke his wing.”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was your pet.”
Ann pictured Noah in the cornfield stalking the raven, shotgun trained on his back. If it wasn’t for Miko, he would have killed Arthur.
“You forgive me?”
He was vile. Repugnant. But she nodded because she was frightened. “Yes.”
“All better between us?”
She couldn’t read his face. Was he smiling? “Yes.”
Noah advanced a step. “I’ll put this in the kitchen for you.”
“Please, leave it on the porch.” Instinctively, she started closing the door.
“It’s too heavy for you.” He inserted a foot and pressed against the door with the basket.
“Leave it.” She tried to keep her voice neutral, but she felt the strain, felt a touch of panic. “Please go!” She shoved the door hard, knocking the basket from his hands. It lodged in the entryway, potatoes and yams skidding every which way across the floor.
Noah didn’t move. He was absolutely still. His face and body betrayed nothing, but his eyes burned with a kind of cruel energy, and she sensed malice in his stance.
“Now look what you’ve done, Ann.” He spoke with a frightening stillness. “That wasn’t nice. I came as a friend.”
The strong smell of alcohol wafted off him, and she had a sharp déjà vu of her husband, moments of calm before an outburst of violence. Her only thought was to get to the gun on the counter. She made a dash for the kitchen.
Dropping all pretense of a polite visit, Noah bolted into the room and encircled her from behind in his powerful arms. Ann struggled, but his strength was immense. It was like fighting a grisly. The sour sweetness of his breath sickened her.
“Calm down, Ann. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Let me go!”
“Relax. Let me show you what a nice guy I am. That’s all I ask.”
Feigning consent, she stood immobile.
“That’s better. Just a friendly visit.” He held her for a long time. An eternity. Neither moved. Ann barely breathed.
“You smell good.”
Silence.
“It’s not good for a woman to be alone all the time. Without a man.” She felt his face in her hair, his voice low and husky. “It doesn’t have to be that way.” His nose rubbed against her scalp. “I’m right next door. I can come over any time you want. Help you around the place. Too much work for a woman.” He bit the outer edge of her ear. “We can have a little fun. I know how to make a woman feel good.” He breathed deeply into her hair. “What do you say, Ann?”
She released a long careful breath. “Okay.”
His sloppy tongue dove into her ear and his hands moved up to cup her breasts.
Ann head-butted his chin, kicked his shin hard with the heel of her shoe.
He gasped, loosened his hold.
She wrenched away and made a break for the kitchen. As her fingers skimmed the butt of the handgun, Noah yanked her back into a vise-like grip. “Jesus, Ann! Why’d you hit me?”
“Let me go!”
“A minute ago, you wanted it.” He started dragging her to the couch. “Guess you like it rough.”
Ann screamed.
Bailey started barking, jumping on Noah’s legs, growling, teeth clenching tight on his sweatshirt. Noah released an arm to shove the hound away. Ann grabbed the heavy brass candlestick from the end table and swung it over her head. She heard it thwack Noah’s skull.
He let out a shrill cry and released her. Then his fist slammed into her face. Ann’s knees seemed to liquefy and she slumped on the couch. Noah’s massive weight fell on top of her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
“Crazy fucking bitch,” he rasped.
Ann shut her eyes, breathing through the exquisite pain. There was light in her eyes, pain in her head, warm blood in her nostrils. She couldn’t move. Noah had her legs pinned beneath him. He shackled her wrists above her head with one huge hand. Through the pain, she felt the release of her zipper, then he started yanking down her jeans.
Ann struggled to breathe. Bile surged up her throat. Noah’s hand fumbled with her clothing. The wind pushed against the house, its timber frame groaning. The rage of the storm almost drowned out a pair of voices yelling sharply, getting louder, closer, and then Noah’s body was yanked away from hers. With the dead weight off her chest, Ann gulped in oxygen and tried to focus, but double vision shot through in nauseating flashes. She heard Selena’s muffled voice, saw a blurred face looming over hers.
“Ann, are you okay?” Her friend’s voice sounded anxious as she helped Ann into a sitting position. Shaking with adrenaline, Ann took big gulps of air, and the fog in her head started to lift.
“Ann, are you okay?” Selena repeated.
“I don’t know.” Ann shook her head, blinking hard, willing herself to focus. She saw a blurry man in uniform roughly handcuffing another blurry man. “Is that Granger?”
“Yes. You’re safe now.”
Her vision was clearing. Noah didn’t look so big any more. Granger was just as tall, just as strong. She saw blood running down Noah’s face from a gash on his forehead. Had Granger hit him? No, she remembered now. She had.
“He’s lying!” Ann said. “He attacked me!”
“Yeah, I punched her. Self-defense. She’s a crazy bitch.”
“Shut up!” Granger snapped.
“See this blood on my face? I was holding her down to keep her from hitting me again.”
“Liar!” Ann was on her feet, ready to pounce. Selena held her back.
“See? She’s fucking nuts. She killed her husband. You know that, right?”
“Shut the fuck up. Get on the floor.” The intensity in Granger voice was so fierce it was frightening.
Noah didn’t budge.
Granger leaned toward him in a threatening manner. “Want to add resisting arrest to assault?”
Noah obeyed, sinking to his knees, and then he lay prone on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, motionless, as quiet as Bailey when he was sleeping.
Granger crouched in front of Ann and asked very gently, “Are you okay?” She nodded yes.
“Is it okay if Selena takes a few pictures of you? We’ll need it for evidence.”
Ann realized her jeans were unzipped and halfway down her hips. Blood stained her white t-shirt. She touched her face, felt sticky blood around her nose.
“So sorry, Ann. Hold still for a second.” Selena held up her cell phone, and a few flashes went off. “Okay. All done.”
Feeling her face burn hot and red, Ann adjusted her clothing and slumped back on the couch.
Selena moved the basket out of the entryway and shut the front door, and the ruckus of the storm faded to a background noise. She disappeared and returned with a warm washcloth and gently washed Ann’s face. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Is my nose broken?”
