Deadly Bonds (7 page)

He stiffened as the neighbor’s sliding glass door opened and the old lady’s dog trotted out. Toxin backed farther along the fence line, glad that Mrs. Mendelson had poor eyesight without her glasses. Glasses she was too vain to wear most of the time, even at home with only her precious dog for company.

Still, his pulse was pounding. Damn, these drugs Henry had cooked up made him jumpy. He’d requested alertness, but Henry had apparently gone a little too far. He’d talk to him about adjusting the mix.

Reaching into his pocket, his fingers wrapped around the treats he’d brought for Roscoe. It hadn’t been difficult to make friends with the pudgy pug. And it had kept the dog from barking on evenings like these, when he chose to spend his time observing Holt Patterson from the shadows near the back fence. The narrow alley that ran behind their yards, occupied only by trashcans awaiting pick-up day, was perfect for people-watching.

But Theo would be back at school Monday. And Holt would be back to his boring routine of home, work, home, work, and sometimes, when Theo was staying with his grandparents, not going home but sleeping at the office.
Yawn.
Perhaps he’d have to shake things up a bit.

His blood pumped harder as he thought about the next phase of his plan. He’d savored the details for weeks. He’d taken a break from finding justice, let things cool off until Holt and the police had likely exhausted all their measly leads and were left frustrated. There was only so much time Toxin could allow to pass before he felt the pressure to fulfill his destiny.

He was a hero. Heroes weren’t allowed breaks. They didn’t get time off. There were things to be done.

Chapter Seven

Parents’ Weekend

A year ago, Theo had been preparing to attend his mom’s funeral. He’d worn the itchy suit and neck-strangling tie Grandma had bought him and watched them sink Mom—inside the white-pearl coffin with gold trim—into the ground and throw some shovels of dirt on top of her.

Today, he led his father across the school’s lunchroom, crowded with students and parents gathering for a dinner to kick off parents’ weekend. He didn’t dare bring up the anniversary. He didn’t want to see his father shut himself away again the way he had this past year, when Theo had received clear signals that his dad didn’t want to talk about any details regarding Mom.

Besides, he had Miss Sara. He’d talked with her about his mom during their chess game a couple of hours ago. He’d pretended not to see her eyes tear up. She’d been at the funeral, though he’d barely known her then and she’d been way at the back. He’d just started going to the Academy. But his mom had told him before she died that, whenever he was missing her, he could talk to Miss Sara.

He liked Miss Sara. She liked his stories.
Really
read them and asked him questions, so he knew she was serious and not just blowing smoke up his ass.

The cafeteria was already full as Theo wove his way toward the far table where his friends sat. Jeremy had held a couple of seats for them.

“My dad couldn’t make it to the dinner,” Jeremy said, “but he’ll be at the mixer later.” He sounded disappointed. Theo was glad Mr. Rochard wouldn’t be around. He didn’t want Miss Sara to be so tense.

Jeremy’s brother, Neil, kept his head down and dug into his food, finishing the whole plate in about five bites. Then again, he was a football player, and they all seemed to eat that way. The other parents at their table asked Theo’s dad questions about the murders and the investigation. His dad avoided answering most of them, but Theo could tell the parents were interested. As were his friends. That was kind of cool.

“My dad says you’ve stopped Toxin from killing again,” Jeremy said before shoveling a bite of chicken parmesan into his mouth.

Dad poked his fork at the spaghetti on his plate. “I don’t know about that. He hasn’t hurt anyone in two months, but that doesn’t mean we can stop looking. He hasn’t paid for what he’s done.”

Theo wondered how Jeremy felt about that, given Mr. Rochard didn’t have to pay for bullying people. People like Miss Sara. Theo looked around the cafeteria but didn’t see her. He frowned.

“You okay?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Just looking for someone.”

“I’m sure they’ll show up later.”

“Right.” He ate a bite of butter-soaked toasted garlic bread, thinking over his options. It seemed he didn’t have any if he wanted to make sure Miss Sara was okay. “Dad, will you look out for Miss Sara tonight at the mixer?”

His dad paused in the middle of lifting a bite to his mouth. A noodle slid off his fork. “Look out for her?”

“Yeah, you know, since she’s alone. I don’t want her to be alone, or in danger.”

He set the fork down. “Danger? Why would she be in danger?”

Theo looked around to see that everyone at the table was talking or otherwise busy. “We didn’t think Mom was in danger, either. But then she found out she was sick. Anything can happen.”

“That doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to Miss Sara. Or to me.”

“I know. Still, there are things you can do to keep safe.”

His hand reached out to rest on Theo’s shoulder. His wedding ring was missing. Theo’s throat closed up, but he swallowed past it. His mom had said they might let go of her one day, and that it was okay. Natural. But nothing seemed natural about it. “I know it’s hard to believe after you’ve lost someone you love, but I’m not going anywhere. You can trust me to take good care of myself.”

“Grandma would say that means eating your veggies.”

His dad laughed and Theo felt warm all over. “I’ll eat my veggies if you do.”

“If we want some of Grandma’s apple pie, I suppose we’ll have to.”

Dad checked his watch. “Speaking of Grandma, we’d better get to their house. Grandpa rented a movie for you.”

“What about Miss Sara?”

“I don’t think she’s in danger. And I’m certain she knows how to take care of herself. But if it’s that important to you, I’ll make sure to check in with her tonight.”

* * *

Part sports bar and part happy-hour venue for the professors and local government offices that seemed to populate this stretch of town, Heather Hedge Lodge was the perfect place to unwind, and for Academy parents to mingle. The log cabin look and soft music provided a sedate, comfortable setting that stood in sharp contrast to Sara’s anxiety level, currently ratcheted up to red alert. John Rochard had been shooting her dark looks since she’d walked in. She felt each glance like a jolt of caffeine to her system.

“Sounds like your son enjoyed the Monterey Bay Aquarium.” She inserted the comment as her conversation partner paused for a breath. She’d kept half an ear on the topic and half on her surroundings. The skill came from living with an alcoholic husband with unpredictable moods and a caustic tongue. Yes, she’d learned many things—mostly about herself and what she wanted from life—during the two years she’d endured with him.

Thankfully, not all parents were of the same frame of mind as John or her ex-husband. In fact, most parents were happy with the school’s improvements. But John was the squeaky wheel. As such, he was currently encircled by three board members and seemed to have the run of the conversation. She had no doubt he was making an important move in whatever chess game he had going on with her in his head.

“Oh yes, my son loves all things aquatic, so it was right up his alley,” the mother in front of her was saying.

She smiled. “I’m glad to hear he was able to feed that passion this summer.”

A flicker of movement near the entryway caught her eye and she turned her head, her gaze colliding with Holt’s. Her eyes widened in surprise, prompting his lips to twist into a smile that she found an intriguing combination of boy-next-door sweetness and sexy hellraiser. A tug in her abdomen told her to tread carefully. He was attractive, but he’d been Elizabeth’s. Sara had stifled any feminine response she’d had to him long ago, but apparently she needed to shore up her defenses.

“Yes, well, passion is important,” the woman opposite her said.

Passion?
Had the woman read her mind? Sara nearly choked on her drink but managed to recover. As she chatted, she couldn’t help but chart Holt’s progress around the room. He said brief hellos to a few people but always moved on. No attachments, no deep friendships. If she hadn’t known better, she would have wondered if lack of social connection was a casualty of his job. Or a protective layer. Maybe that was why Elizabeth had appealed to him. She’d been his complete opposite and probably shielded him at these kinds of functions.

Sara grew restless. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink. Don’t forget there’s an appetizer buffet along the wall.”

She sat at the bar and ordered a fresh glass of white wine. Her limit was two. After all, she represented the Academy. That didn’t appear to stop some people. The board members were already knee-deep in the bottle of 12-year-old scotch John had bought them. A shout of laughter came from their direction. A moment later, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.

“They look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Holt said from behind her. “Maybe more than they should.”

She swiveled on the barstool and met his hazel gaze. How had he known the direction of her thoughts? Was she that transparent? She turned back to the bar and toyed with a cocktail napkin. “They’re big boys and girls.”

He slid onto the stool next to her, so close his thigh brushed hers. She felt a warmth that wasn’t due to consumption of alcohol and subtly shifted to break the contact. “I take it you’re not happy they’re so captivated by John Rochard.”

Surprised, she glanced at him. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw the looks between you and him. Whatever happened at the picnic hasn’t blown over, has it?”

She avoided Holt’s much-too-perceptive eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

The bartender arrived with her glass of wine and took Holt’s drink order. “Put her drink on my tab,” Holt added.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said as the bartender left to make Holt’s Jack and Coke.

“You look like you could use a friend, and friends treat each other to a drink now and then.”

A friend? Boy, could she. She’d missed Cheryl’s advice these past few days while she’d traveled with her husband to a reunion of his retired military friends.

“Am I wrong?” he asked when she didn’t reply.

“No, but you and I can’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

“You know very well why not. You don’t really want to be. It would be too much work.”

He shrugged as if dealing with their turbulent past was nothing. “Water under the bridge.”

“A flood’s worth?”

“It’s been ten years, Sara. The waters have receded. Besides, you’ve had dinner at my house, cast some kind of spell on my son and...” He paused in midsentence, then shook his head, discarding whatever he’d been about to say. “You apologized. I’m willing to move on if you are.”

She thought about that a moment, wanting to set things right between them but not even knowing where to start. She couldn’t be friends with someone who didn’t trust her. “Friends, though? That’s stretching it a bit. I’m certain you’re a good listener...”

“Comes with the job.”

“But friendship is a two-way street. It wouldn’t be fair for me to do all the talking.”

He considered her comments. “Okay. Tit for tat. How about you give me a chance to show you I can give as good as I get. After all, there was that one night...we didn’t have any trouble connecting then. I’m sure we can get back to that.”

She ignored the shiver his comment generated. He surely hadn’t meant anything sexual by it, referring to the night they’d spent hours just talking at a bar, much like this one—the night the sexual tension had been so thick she could almost see it in the air—and yet her body had reacted to his husky words as if he were a lover.

“Okay,” she said. “You go first. Let’s have a conversation.”

“All right.” He glanced around. “Good showing tonight.”

“One less expense I’ll have to justify to the board.”

He laughed.
Damn.
She should have eaten something before she’d left. The alcohol had gone straight to her tongue, loosening it. She’d missed the dinner to deal with a problem, and she was paying for it now.

She took a breath and tried again. “What I mean is...this gathering was my idea, and the board shelled out some money to reserve the bar for the night. Not everyone thought it was a good idea.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea.” He took a sip of his drink.

She slid him a sideways glance. “Right. And you’re such a great judge because you
always
attend school functions.”

“No, but I’m enjoying this one.”

She flushed with pleasure. “Thanks. Could you, maybe, run for the board?” He laughed and she couldn’t help but laugh too. “I confess I had an ulterior motive to organizing this shindig.”

“Free appetizers?”

“Well, there is that...but I want the parents to get more involved...to help the kids see how important education is. Active families create more invested learners.”

“Smart.”

She examined him. The light of the bar bounced off glasses that weren’t geeky, but intellectual-looking. Actually, she’d always thought his look was understated and bookish. So very unlike Elizabeth. And so much more Sara-like. But she’d been wrong, and she’d severely underestimated Elizabeth’s charisma...and her desire to get what she set her sights on.

“He’s all wrong for you, Sara.” Elizabeth had stood at Sara’s dresser, picking up items, seeming to examine them, and setting them down again. Her gaze had met Sara’s in the mirror. “But perfect for me. You know it. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes it too.”

“We had a connection.” Before Elizabeth had shown up.

Elizabeth shook her head as if amused by a small child. “But look how long that lasted. I’ve been on several dates with him in the past few weeks. How about you? Have you even heard from him?” She turned and moved to the bed. She sat in front of Sara and took her hands. “I didn’t plan this. I think he’s really into me, and he’s got that hunky nerd thing going for him. I can see why you like him.”

It’s not like
,
it’s love
, Sara wanted to scream. She’d watched Holt from afar for months, during class and sometimes seeing him on campus. She’d come to know his behavior and how the small quirk upward at the corner of his mouth was an indication of deep amusement.

Elizabeth had squeezed her hands. “Save your heart, Sara. He’s not for you. He wants me. In fact, he’s already invited me into his bed.”

Elizabeth’s words were over ten years old now but stung as if they’d just been spoken. And, sure enough, they’d been true. Holt had wanted Elizabeth. So much so that he’d married her a few months later.

“So far this conversation is about me,” Sara said, snapping her focus back to the present. “I thought you were going to show me that we could talk about you too. Tit for tat, remember?”

Behind the glasses, his hazel eyes connected with her blue ones and held. “You know what today is, right?”

She swallowed.
Really?
He wanted to go
there?
She wasn’t sure she was up to discussing it with anyone, let alone him. “Yes.”

“Holt Patterson?” John Rochard slid onto the empty barstool on the other side of Holt, and her intense but fragile bond with him was broken.

“Yes?” Holt didn’t hold out his hand to greet the other man, who hadn’t offered his hand either. Sara found that odd, and a bit comforting.

“I’m John Rochard. My son Neil is a senior and my younger son Jeremy is in your son’s class.” He paused as if Holt had heard of them, but Holt let the silence drag on. After a moment, John chuckled. “His grandpa is on television constantly, running for re-election to the U.S. Senate, and all Jeremy can talk about is how his friend’s dad is hunting a killer. Isn’t that what the media is saying...you’re some kind of mindhunter?”