Deathblow (21 page)

“That’d be great.”

He was hanging up as Wendy padded down the stairs.

He pushed up from the couch and walked over. “Justin?”

“Still sleeping.”

“Breakfast?”

“I’ll wait for him, if you don’t mind. We have a little routine.”

That was fine; he wasn’t hungry yet either. “Coffee?”

At that, she smiled. “Oh God, yes, please.”

She was barefoot, wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, all that blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, no makeup.

He couldn’t look away from her. “Still making your decision about us?”

She nodded.

“No pressure,” he said and then he kissed her.

He went in slow. He liked to take things slowly. Gave him more time to enjoy the process. That she relaxed against him instead of stiffening was gratifying.

She was beginning to trust him. That could be the start of something.

He inhaled the scent of her citrusy face cream, mixed with the scent of minty toothpaste. He rubbed his lips over hers, doing nothing more than enjoying the contact, enjoying that he had her in his morning.

She cut to the core of him.

That was new. He’d never had that before. Afterward, he would wonder, as he’d done before, if the kiss had been as potent, as powerful, as primal as he had it built up in his head. But it was, each and every time with Wendy. Nobody had ever felt this right.

He put his arms around her and gathered her closer. She didn’t pull against the restraint as he half expected. She put her arms around him.

He was hard as rock all over, but he didn’t let that hurry him.

He nibbled her lips, kissed the corners of her mouth, nudged her into opening for him. Slow exploration was the name of the game. He tasted her, drank her in, kept that slow, easy mood, even if part of him wanted her then and there on the stairs.

Worth waiting for.

And waiting wasn’t difficult, not with her slim body filling his arms, her lips pressed against his, a soft, soft sound of pleasure rising from her throat.

He drank his fill of her before he pulled away.

“That was no pressure?” she asked weakly, still hanging on to him.

“Think of it as a sample of coming attractions.”

She gathered herself. Stepped away. “You don’t play fair.”

He wasn’t playing at all, he realized. Not with Wendy.

Wendy spent the morning taking care of Justin and working with Sophie over the phone to set up her own website for a serious photography business. She didn’t have a studio, for now, but she could do on-location work.

She needed to find some future income beyond the royalties she made from taking stock photos and posting them in online databases. Once she began showing, a few more weeks if she was lucky, the modeling gigs would come to an end. Even maternity wear wasn’t advertised with real pregnant women, but with models who wore padding. Nobody wanted to see swollen ankles.

Joe spent most of his morning in his bedroom with a load of file boxes someone dropped off for him. She could also hear him on the phone, his voice a low murmur, setting up something important judging by the urgent, hushed conversations. He was investigating his friend’s death, and something else, something big.

When lunchtime rolled around, he came down and announced that he was taking them to the diner. So she bundled up Justin, and they went with him.

The Broslin Diner was packed, people lined up two-deep at the counter to pick up their takeout orders.

“Oh my goodness, there you are!” Eileen greeted them as if they were family. “I was about to call Joe to ask him how I can reach you,” she told Wendy as she seated them in the only free booth and handed Justin a box of crayons from her half apron.

She dramatically swept her free hand toward the display case behind her. “Sales of take-home baked goods have been up over twenty percent since you rearranged the display. I’ve been meticulously keeping the order.” Her smile widened. “Nobody walks by the display case anymore. People stop and look. And then they buy.”

“Really?” How nice. Wendy smiled back. Has she gotten something right for a change?

“Cecilia at Cecilia’s Broslin Boutique a couple of doors down wants your phone number. The girl who did the window display quit. Cecilia could use your help. And would be happy to pay,” Eileen added. “Me too. Your lunch is on me. And if you could come in maybe once a month and rearrange to keep things interesting, I’d love that. Let me know your fee.”

Wendy blinked. “Okay, sure.”

Eileen put a piece of paper in front of her on the table. “I can pass on your number.”

Wendy thanked her as she wrote down her contact information, then they ordered. She went with chicken in a mushroom sauce and shared it with Justin. Joe asked for the lunch combo platter.

“When did this happen?” he asked after Eileen left. He scanned the display case. “I didn’t know you did window dressing.”

“Me neither.” She smiled. “But I think it would be fun. I’ve been surrounded by fashion most of my life, listening to designers and photographers discuss color and composition and harmony and contrast. And sales,” she added. “I suppose some of that stuck with me. Do you think I could run a business on my own successfully?” Then she quickly said, “Wait. Don’t answer that. Yes, I can.”

He smiled at her. “That’s the spirit.”

“I’m trying. It’s scary to do something new all alone. With the modeling, there’s a whole team around me. I’m not responsible for everything.”

“You’re not alone.”

She bit her lip. She’d felt so incredibly isolated this past year, keeping secrets from the few friends Keith hadn’t been able to run off. Secrets were like walls. They were nasty little things that boxed you in. Well, she was done with them.

“Eileen does it, right?” She looked toward the woman. “She runs this diner by herself and even has employees.” She sighed. “I really envy how strong she is. And look at Sophie, overcoming all that life threw her way this past year. Maybe there’s something in the water here.”

“Maybe you should move to Broslin permanently,” he suggested lightly.

“No, thanks.” She had no intention of moving from the apartment. She pushed away the idea as Joe told Justin they were going to the display to pick dessert.

He didn’t have a million rules, definitely not about diet. She liked that, she thought, as she looked after him.

Joe chatted with Eileen while Justin considered his choices, then he squatted down to her son’s level to point things out.

Eileen came over, slipped into the booth across the table from Wendy, flashed that warm, motherly smile that kept people coming back to the diner. “Joe asked me to share a little of my story with you. He didn’t tell me why. I didn’t ask. You take pictures. Maybe you work for a newspaper and you’re doing research for a story on abused women. I was one.”

Wendy shifted, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. She’d just admitted her dark secret to her best friend. She so wasn’t ready to discuss the topic with strangers.

She opened her mouth to deny that abuse was an issue for her, personally, but then she stopped herself.
No more clinging to secrets.
No more boxing herself in and away from everybody. She wasn’t ready to share yet, but she wasn’t going to lie about it either.

“I’m really sorry,” she told Eileen.

But the woman shook her head. “It made me stronger. It made me who I am today.”

She reached to her mouth, and Wendy nearly fell out of her seat when Eileen popped out her teeth. She held her dentures hidden in her hands under the table.

Oh.

Her lips collapsed without the support, making her look ten years older. The contrast was so incredibly harsh in comparison to the soft, mature beauty she normally possessed that Wendy caught her breath.

This time when Eileen smiled, she kept her lips together. “My ex-husband used to beat me on a daily basis. When I moved out, he found me and knocked my teeth out. He choked me so hard, I was unconscious for twenty minutes. A good thing. He thought I was dead, so he left.”

She smiled a toothless smile that broke Wendy’s heart, then popped her teeth back in. “Sorry for the ick factor. Anyway, that’s my story. If you’re interested in it because you want to work with abused women, great. If your story is like my story, I want you to know that you’re not alone. One out of four women here in the diner right now will have violence committed against them by a man in their lifetime. That’s the statistics. I know for a fact that it already happened to three, in addition to me.” She smoothed down the place mat. “It’s a small town. People know each other.”

Wendy could only stare at her. Eileen was a successful business owner, so beautiful, so self-assured. She glanced around, scanned the other women at the tables. Everybody looked so normal and happy.

Eileen stood. “And now I’m off to wash my hands. If you ever have any questions or want to talk, I’m here.” With one last smile, she walked away.

Wendy blinked.
Eileen
. And at least three other women. Right here, right now. Something caught inside her chest.

She’d been feeling all alone for so long now. Alone and stupid. A big part of the reason why she hadn’t reached out for help had been that she’d been scared of Keith finding out. But also because she’d been so ashamed. Who would even understand her?

Except maybe Eileen did, and three other women right here.

That terrible sense of loneliness dissipated a little as she looked around. She swallowed hard. Lifted her glass to her mouth to drink as Joe and Justin came back.

“Shoofly pie. Hope you like it.” Joe helped Justin up to his seat, then put a mini pie in the middle of the table.

Since Wendy didn’t trust herself to speak yet, she simply nodded.

Joe didn’t ask about her talk with Eileen. He went on goofing around with Justin, playing Freeze & Wiggle, until their food was delivered.

When they were leaving, Eileen rushed after them to the front door to give Justin another sheet of animal stickers.

She put a hand on Joe’s sleeve. “I forgot to ask. Can I put you down for the Mushroom Festival kissing booth again this year?”

“Can I be inside the booth?”

Eileen grinned. “Scared of the gropers?”

Joe gave a good-natured shrug. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m wearing Kevlar.”

Eileen laughed as she turned to Wendy with a good-bye wave. But Wendy stepped in and hugged the older woman. “Thank you.”

Eileen hugged her back, strong and sure, a true motherly hug. “You’re more welcome than words can say,” she whispered back, adding as they pulled away, “I’m always here. I’d love it if you came in to chat. Best pies in town. Guaranteed.”

Wendy thanked Joe too on the way home.

He glanced over. “I wasn’t sure if you would be mad. I should have asked you first.”

“I would have said no,” she told him the truth. “But I’m really glad that Eileen talked to me.”

He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it briefly.

At home he went back to work on his boxes of paperwork while she put Justin down for his nap. While her son slept, Wendy wrote up some ads and posted them on local online bulletin boards, advertising her on-location photography services. She also called Cecilia from Cecilia’s Broslin Boutique and set up an appointment for the following week.

All too soon, Justin was up from his nap and it was time for her doctor’s appointment. She was pouring her son some juice when Joe came downstairs.

He leaned against the doorway in the kitchen, all tall, sexy male. “Are you ready to go?”

“In a few minutes.” Then she bit her lip when something occurred to her. “What if Keith shows up?”

He had no way of knowing she had an appointment this afternoon. But he did know she was pregnant, and she was using the same doctor she’d used with her first pregnancy. So Keith would know that she was bound to show up there sooner or later. Was he obsessed enough to watch the doctor’s office? She wanted to think he wasn’t, but she couldn’t be 100 percent certain.

Joe didn’t look worried. “If he shows, I’ll take care of it.”

“We’ll take care of him.”

Instead of getting annoyed at being corrected, he smiled. “Yes, we will.”

She smiled back at him as she grabbed Justin’s little red boots and coat from the hallway, but her phone rang before she could dress her son, so she picked up the call, and Joe took over the dressing.

The man on the other end of the line introduced himself as Officer Perkins from Wilmington PD. “I’m calling to let you know that your car has been released. You’ll need to pick it up within the next day or two.” He rattled off the address of the police holding lot.

Wendy wrote it on the nearest piece of paper she could find—a chunk of paper towel. “Thank you. Can I ask something? Were you able to obtain any fingerprints from the brake lines?”

“Nothing beyond yours, Officer Kessler’s, and the rescue teams’. I’m sorry.”

Joe had Justin dressed and ready to go by the time she hung up.

“That was about my car,” she told him. “I have to have it removed from the police lot. They’re done with their inspection. No fingerprints.” She blew the air out of her lungs. “It can’t go to my apartment building. The on-street parking spots are provisional. The cars have to be operational.” The apartment building didn’t want busted-up junkers surrounding it. “Do you know a tow-truck service in town?”

“I’ll send Artie over for a pickup.” Joe magically produced a piece of candy from behind Justin’s ear.

As Justin giggled, Joe said, “Artie can tow it straight to his garage. Then I can look at it there. He’s all right. Has the best rates in town.” He pulled his cell phone and made the call right away.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said as he held her coat out for her, her mind returning to the thought of partnership again, how nice it was to have someone on her team.

Dare she trust that life could actually be like this?

* * *

The white walls of the examination room were decorated with bright posters featuring tiny, sleeping children inside giant flowers. Alien-sounding swooshing filled the air as Joe stood by the examining table, his eyes glued to the monitor.