Murder Comes by Mail (13 page)

Thirteen minutes past Michael’s final deadline for giving up on Alex showing, the black sports car turned into the parking lot and slid up beside his, a sleek panther next to a spotted hyena. The tinted window glided down and Alex peered out at him. “Well, Michael, did you get them to hold our favorite table?”

He always forgot just how gorgeous she was between the times he saw her. He’d think he remembered, think he had her pictured exactly in his mind, but then she’d show up and blast all those past images to smithereens. A few strands of dark hair escaped the twist on the back of her head to curl around her face. Eyes just a shade darker than her blue jacket smiled over at him. When she stepped out of the car to stretch after the drive, her skirt inched up to show a lot of thigh. Nothing about her outfit was flashy. Instead, it was quietly elegant down to her small gold earrings. Her firm believed in conservative dress. She was what put the zing in whatever she wore.

“I hate these long drives.” She gracefully smoothed her skirt back to its mid-thigh length.

Michael made himself stop staring at her before he did something stupid like tell her how beautiful she was. “Nice car,” he said.

She laughed a little as she clicked a button on her key ring to lock the doors and set the alarm. “It’s a cop car magnet. See, it’s even cozied up next to one here in the parking lot.”

“Maybe it thinks that will keep it safe.”

“I don’t think many people around here will worry about the Hidden Springs police force.”

“Then they don’t know the deputy there.”

She smiled and tucked her hand under his elbow. “They will if they see him. It appears you didn’t have time to change out of your uniform either.”

“I like yours better.” The touch of her hand was enough to make his heart start beating faster.

“I’d be a lot happier in blue jeans.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re just a country girl at heart.”

Walking into the inn together, they made as odd a pair as the two cars out front. Nothing matched about them. She drove in the fast lane; he poked along in the slow. She liked Chinese; he liked Mexican. She liked tennis. He liked baseball. She liked philosophy. He had an obsession for Civil War histories. To her, the law was something to be used to her and her clients’ advantage. To him, the law was something to be respected and enforced. Yet somehow they had no problem being easy with each other, even if it had been months since they’d last gotten together.

Maybe she really had been his best friend in the fifth grade, but he had the suspicion that even then he’d been in love with her and afraid to admit it for fear it might spoil their friendship.

A young girl, who looked as if her sixteenth birthday might have been yesterday and this was her first day on the job, let them sit at the table Alex pointed out to her, gave them menus, and promised a server would find them even if none of the other tables in that section of the restaurant were being seated right now. Michael slipped the girl a five-dollar bill, and she flashed him a smile that slammed the picture of Hope, excited and smiling, front and center in his mind again. He was glad Alex had her eyes on the young girl moving away from their table instead of on him.

“Do you think you should find the owners and arrest them for violating the child labor laws?”

He pushed thoughts of Hope away. He was going to tell Alex about her, but not yet. He managed a smile. “You’re just trying to drum up business. You’d be handing them your card before I could get the handcuffs on.” Coming up with reasons for him to arrest people they saw was a game they’d been playing ever since he’d first pinned on a badge.

“I need some way to turn this trip into billable hours. Of course, the depositions I reviewed on the way down here should make for a few billable hours.” She opened the menu.

“I guess your client is innocent as always.”

“At least until proven guilty.” She looked at him. “We can agree on that, can’t we?”

“Every person is entitled to his or her day in court, but do you guys have to find so many ways to get around the law?” He didn’t pick up his menu. He preferred looking at her.

“We don’t get ‘around’ it. We use it, and you’d want us to if you were the client.”

“And wouldn’t want you to if I was the victim.”

“Sometimes our clients are the victims.”

He let her have the last word. “Whichever way, I pity the poor opposing attorney. You look great.”

She smoothed back a loose strand of hair. “Nobody can look great after a day in court and a four-hour drive right in the middle of three cities’ rush hours.”

“You do.”

“You always were a great liar.” She touched his hand lightly and turned her eyes back to the menu. “What used to be good?”

“The blackened chicken or the steak fajitas.”

“Maybe a salad.” Alex didn’t look up. “And don’t I remember that they have pie to die for?”

They gave their order to the tired middle-aged waitress who found them. A frown lurked under her “I can’t afford to blow a tip” smile. As she took the menus, she checked their hands for signs of wedding rings, and by the time she brought their drinks, she’d forgiven them for making her walk too far.

“I hope you brought a lot of cash for a tip,” Alex said.

“No doubt it will cost me six months’ worth of my expense account.”

“You have an expense account?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Uncle Reece said Keane County was coming into the modern era. Next thing I know, you’ll be saying Lester is on the take.”

“A dedicated deputy sheriff like Lester Stucker would never be on the take.” He wanted to reach across and capture her hand but he didn’t. “But the place is growing. Lots of lawyer work.”

“I’m sure. Uncle Reece has probably updated three wills in the last month and done two deed searches, one estate probate, maybe an adoption. Probably not a divorce. I mean, we are talking about Hidden Springs.” Her eyes danced with amusement.

“People get divorced in Hidden Springs same as anywhere else.” He sat still and watched her, hardly able to believe she was right across the table from him.

“Nobody I know, I hope.”

“Some of us would have to get married before we could worry about getting divorced.”

She rearranged the salt and pepper shakers between them. “Oh, is that what this is all about? Somebody getting married?” She looked up at him, the smile gone from her eyes. “Are best wishes in order for you and your preacher friend? Karen, isn’t it?”

Michael laughed. “Not likely. I’ve been gun-shy ever since I asked this girl to marry me when I was fourteen or fifteen and she said no.”

“I don’t remember saying no.” She leaned back, her smile dazzling now. “The trouble is, you went out and banged your head and forgot you asked.”

“But you told me I did. Some years later.”

“Hearsay. Not permissible in the court of love.” A faint blush colored her cheeks.

He couldn’t stop himself. He reached over and captured her hand. “What is permissible?”

“It’s hard to say. It all depends on the kind of judge you draw. Fairytale romantic or ‘this is your life’ practical.”

Alex pulled her hand away as the waitress approached with their orders, and Michael retreated. One of these days he was going to ask. He just hadn’t figured out the right way yet. Besides, if he never actually asked, then she couldn’t actually say no. That way he could keep believing that maybe someday they would find a way to be together.

While they ate, she talked about some of her recent cases. One had netted her clients a million-dollar settlement. Another hadn’t gone as well. She kept away from actual names and skirted sensitive information, but she had a way of making the courtroom scenes come to life.

Michael listened to her talk, drinking in her presence. He’d needed to see her. Asking her to come had little to do with getting an expert contact. He could have done that over the phone in three minutes. He needed someone to talk to who would see the issue clearly. Yet here he sat, letting her do all the talking.

She savored every bite of her lemon meringue pie. “Almost as good as the one Aunt Adele used to make.” She put down her fork after the last bite and gave him a long considering look. “But as delicious as that was, I’m guessing you must have had some other reason to command my presence.”

“I didn’t command. I just asked.” Michael paused a second before he added, “And hoped.”

“You knew I’d come. How could I turn down Hidden Springs’ own hero, after all?”

The word “hero” stabbed through him, brought forth the pictures in his mind, and robbed some of the pleasure of the night. He looked around. They were the only customers left in the restaurant, and their waitress was hovering in the background while the little hostess upended chairs on the tables in the front section.

“I think they’re rolling up the carpets.” He peered at the check and tossed down double the amount. “Let’s go find a bench out in the garden.”

Shadows played across the garden paths as the heavily leaved trees blocked out most of the light from the streetlamps. When they found a secluded bench, he wiped the dew off it with his handkerchief. The summer night wrapped warm arms around them and gave off the faint fragrance of roses from somewhere in the garden. It didn’t seem the best place to talk of murder, but he told the whole story from beginning to end.

She stopped him three or four times with a quick question or two. When he was through, she was quiet for a long minute. At last she said, “What could you have done differently, Michael?”

“I don’t know. But because of me that girl is dead.”

Alex put her hand on his cheek and turned his face toward her. In the dim light, he could still see the shine of her eyes. “No, not because of you. Because of him.”

“Maybe so, but what can I do, Alex? He’s going to send me more pictures.”

For once in her life, Alex didn’t have an answer.

14

By the time he got home to his log house by the lake, it was that deep of night when even Aunt Lindy might see monsters in the shadows under the trees. Since monsters had been stalking Michael all day, armies of them swarmed in the darkness around him now.

He smiled at the thought. Armies of ghosts maybe, soldiers from a forgotten Civil War battle still marching across this ground toward their destinies or maybe an army of bats from a hidden cave across the lake, but hardly an army of monsters. Monsters were loners, intent on their own path of destruction without thought or regard for any other monster. And one monster at a time was plenty, whether you were the chaser or the one being chased.

Jasper jumped up on the side of the car and whined at the window.

“Sorry I’m so late, buddy.” Michael pushed open the door to rub Jasper’s head. The dome light flashed on, then off as Michael climbed out and let the door shut. With the light gone, the black lab almost disappeared into the night except for the glitter of his eyes.

Usually Jasper pushed closer to make sure Michael didn’t forget he liked his chest scratched, but tonight his hackles were raised. He jerked away as though Michael’s hand on his fur might keep him from hearing what needed to be heard. Michael straightened up, his own hackles rising on the back of his neck as he too listened.

Lake water lapped gently against the shoreline down behind the house. A jet droned across the sky. The ever-present interstate traffic sounded in the distance. Sometimes in the winter when a snowstorm slowed or stopped traffic, Michael would stand out in the middle of the night and soak in the silence the way it was before the road was built. But now, even in the dark hours of the early morning, cars and trucks rolled steadily through the countryside. Michael couldn’t hear anything that might upset Jasper. No dog barking in the distance. Not even the sound of a hoot owl. Beside him, Jasper must have disagreed as a growl rumbled in his chest.

Michael put his hand on the dog’s back and murmured, “Easy, boy.”

The growl died, but the dog stayed tense and ready. Michael heard a whisper of movement somewhere behind him, but when he spun around, he could see nothing except fibers of darkness so thick it looked like a piece of cloth.

As he moved away from his car toward the lake, his eyes slowly adjusted to the night and shapes began to form in front of him. The dogwood tree. The bird feeder swinging from its pole. The wooden picnic table where he cleaned fish. His rowboat turned upside down next to the lake. Nothing out of the ordinary, and in fact whatever had upset Jasper seemed to be gone. The dog pushed against Michael, his tail wagging once more.

Michael took his hand off his gun and scratched Jasper behind the ears. “What was it, boy? A fox sneaking too close to your bone stash?”

Jasper licked his hand, and Michael let out a slow breath while the night settled quietly around him without the strange menacing feel that had been there moments ago. Even so, he kept listening so hard his ears tingled as he climbed the porch steps. The second step squeaked the same as always under his weight. Normally it was a comfortable, homey sound, but now he tensed and froze in place for a second, his heart pounding. No monster charged out of the dark. Michael reined in his imagination and quickly went up the other two steps and across the porch.

As he pushed open the door, the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should consider locking up the house. He never had. It hadn’t seemed necessary in this isolated place where the only people who came out this way were people he knew and trusted. But tonight monsters were lurking.

When Michael let Jasper in ahead of him, the dog made a reassuring beeline to the closet where the dog food was stored. Michael stood a moment in the dark, oddly reluctant to surrender his night vision to the light. In the kitchen the faucet dripped. He made his mind reach back to the morning before the pictures, before Whitt and Chekowski, before Alex, and was sure he’d given the faucet the necessary extra-tight push to stop the leak before he left for work.

Someone had been in the house, but that wasn’t cause for worry or even unusual. Reece Sheridan sometimes fished off his dock. He might have come in for a drink or to wash his hands, or Aunt Lindy might have stocked his refrigerator with carrot sticks, cauliflower, and assorted healthy green things she feared he wouldn’t buy himself. And the kids on the high school baseball team had standing permission to use his rowboat to build up their muscles before next season. It didn’t have to be a monster, but somehow monster scent was in the air.