Stealing Shadows (23 page)

Something she doubted he had considered.

No, it just didn't make sense. There were myriad reasons that she would be attracted to him, but not a single one to explain his interest in her.

Except maybe as a novelty.

Cassie considered that with all the detachment she could muster. A novelty? Something entirely different from what he was accustomed to and, therefore, of interest? A woman who found his walls a relief when they might well have presented a problem for him in other relationships? She supposed it was possible, but if his attraction sprang from something so insignificant, he surely would have decided to wait until the threat to his town was past.

He must have known she wasn't going to be running off with somebody else in the interim.

Cassie stood at her kitchen window with her coffee and stared out at the pretty, peaceful scene, all too aware that once again her sense of expectancy had vanished.

To Max, who was sticking close, she said, "I can talk myself out of a good mood faster than anyone else I know."

Max thumped his tail against the floor and gazed up at her intently.

"He just feels sorry for me, that's what it is. Or maybe he's just one of those men who gets a charge out of thin, pale women always falling unconscious practically at their feet. Makes them feel extra macho or something. Although I wouldn't have said he needed that."

Max whined, and Cassie reached down to scratch him between the ears.

"I've got to stop being unconscious around him. That's the second time he's carried me, and I missed it again. A woman dreams all her life of being swept up into a man's arms, and when it happens – twice – she's unconscious."

Max licked her hand.

"Thank you," she said dryly. "I appreciate the sympathy. But the truth is… I don't know what the truth is. All I know is that I'm about a breath away from making a fool of myself over him. And that scares me to death."

Max nudged her hand firmly, obviously asking for more of the pleasant scratching between his ears. Cassie obliged.

"But you want to know what the really sad thing is? The sad thing is that I don't think being scared is going to stop me. I don't think anything is going to stop me. I think I'm going to make a fool of myself over him."

Whatever Max might have responded, the ringing phone startled them both and cut off Cassie's confidences. She picked up the extension in the kitchen, said hello, and heard the unmistakable gruff voice of her aunt's elderly lawyer.

"Miss Neill?"

"Hello, Mr. McDaniel. More papers to sign?"

"Er – no, Miss Neill. No, probate was wound up quite satisfactorily." Phillip McDaniel cleared his throat. "Miss Neill, would it be convenient for me to come and see you after lunch? It won't take long, but if you could spare me a few minutes, I would greatly appreciate it."

Cassie frowned slightly, although she couldn't have said why. "I could come into town to your office, Mr. McDaniel, if it's important. For you to come all the way out here – "

"I assure you, Miss Neill, I would prefer to come to you. If it's convenient, that is."

" Of course. But what is this about?"

He made several vague noises, then said, "Merely a small matter which – well, I would prefer to discuss it in person, Miss Neill. Shall we say around two-thirty?"

"All right, fine. I'll see you then."

Cassie hung up the phone and looked at Max. "Well, what do you think about that?"

Max moved closer and nudged her hand, asking for more scratching.

Deanna Ramsay hated living in a small town. She hated living so near the mountains. She hated living in the South. In fact, she pretty much hated her life. Especially now that some maniac was out there stalking women and scaring everybody so much that they'd gone paranoid. Her parents wouldn't let her leave the house without an escort; the principal wouldn't let any of the girls leave school grounds without an escort; deputies were everywhere in town and pounced the instant a body ventured a step or twoaway from the escort….

"I hate my life," she announced in disgust.

Her best friend, Sue Adams, giggled. "Just because Deputy Sanford scolded you and ordered us to wait in the drugstore for Larry!"

Deanna heaved an impatient sigh. "No, not because of him. He's a dork. I hate my life because my life is entirely hateful. T.ook, if we have to wait in here for my brother to get back, let's at least have a Coke."

They ordered two Cokes from Mike and retired with them to the booth at the back, which was their spot.

"I don't know why you're so upset," Sue said. "At least you have a brother to take you places – and at least hewill. Both my sisters are still children, I won't have my license for more than another year, and Mama gets hysterical if I evenmention thepossibility of going on a date."

"So does my mom. You'd think we were prisoners!"

"Well," Sue said reasonably, "weare

prisoners. More or less. Neither one of us is sixteen yet, we don't have cars, or jobsor boyfriends – "

Deanna glared at her and said in a lofty tone, "Speak for yourself."

"On which point?" Sue demanded.

"Never you mind. Let's just say that if you were half the friend you claim to be, you'd talk my brother into taking us to the mall when he gets here, and then keep him occupied while I… run a little errand."

"But we're supposed to go straight back home!"

"And back into prison for the entire weekend, because Larry has to work and you know nobody else will take us anywhere."

"Well, but – "

"Well, but nothing. I'm sick and tired of the whole thing. This has been the most boring week on record. I want todo something. What's the use of a day off from school if we have to sit at home all morning and then spend half the afternoon waiting for Larry in the drugstore?"

Sue stared at her. "What are you up to, Dee?"

Deanna shook her head but smiled portentously. "Like I said, I just want to stretch my legs at the mall. But Lar-ry'll never take us if I ask, so you do it."

Sue began to feel apprehensive. "Dee, there's a real killer out there. And nobody knows who he'll go after next."

"Oh, for God's sake, Sue, I'm not going to wander down any dark alleys, or even leave the mall. I'll be right there, practically in your sight, safely inside and surrounded by other people. I just don't want my big brother looking over my shoulder, that's all."

"Who're you meeting?" Sue demanded.

Deanna conjured an innocent face. She'd practiced the expression for a good hour that morning while putting on her makeup. "I'm not meeting anybody."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, pardon me if I don't care." Seeing that she was about to seriously offend her henchwoman, Deanna relented. "Spend the night with me tonight and I'll tell you everything, okay? Just ask Larry to take us to the mall before we go home. Please?"

"Why won't you tell me now?"

"Because. Come on, Sue, you owe me a favor. Didn't I do your history homework last week?"

Sue had an uneasy feeling the two "favors" hardly balanced out but found herself giving in the way she always did with Deanna. "You'll tell me the truth tonight? Swear?"

"I swear."

After a moment Sue gave in. "All right. I just know I'm going to be sorry – but all right."

Deanna smiled blindingly. "You won't be sorry!"

"Judge Ryan?"

Ben was accustomed to being stopped from time to time whenever he was out in public, but today it had taken him double the usual time just to walk from his parking place to the courthouse.

He had made it as far as the third step this time.

Wishing he had taken the back way in, he turned to find one of the more vocal citizens of the town approaching determinedly.

"What can I do for you, Mr. King?" He and Aaron had known each other for twenty years, but Aaron liked titles, insisting they denoted respect. He would have continued calling himself Major after his army service but had discovered to his chagrin that others only found it amusing.

"Judge, is what I've been hearing true?"

"That depends on what you've been hearing." Ben made sure his tone was easy rather than sardonic.

Aaron scowled. "What I've been hearing is that Sheriff Dunbar – and you – have been allowing some woman claiming to be a fortune teller to advise you."

Ben was resigned; it was the fourth time he had heard some variation of the truth. "And where did you hear that, Mr. King?"

"From at least three different people since yesterday. Is it true, Judge?"

"Not precisely."

"Then what, precisely, is the truth?"

Ben paused a beat, briefly considered how much damage one angry voter with influence could do when election time rolled around again, then consigned the risk to the limbo of things unimportant and unregretted.

"The truth, Mr. King, is that Sheriff Dunbar and I are investigating three particularly vicious murders. We are using all means at our disposal to gather information that might prove helpful in that investigation, as is our job. We are not gazing into crystal balls or reading tarot cards, nor are we talking to anyone who does."

Aaron ignored the denial. "I heard it was Alexandra Melton's niece."

Ben felt a chill. If this man had heard so specific a piece of gossip, then others had as well. Which meant it was only a matter of time before Cassie's identity was common knowledge throughout the town.

"Is it true?" Aaron demanded.

Ben wasn't a politician for nothing. "Is it true she's a fortune teller? Of course not."

Aaron's scowl deepened. "She doesn't claim to be able to see the future?"

"No, she does not."

"But you and the sheriff have been talking to her about these killings?"

"If-wehave, the interviews are part of an ongoing investigation and hardly subject to public discussion, Mr. King. As you, of course, know."

Aaron also respected – to excess, in Ben's opinion – the red tape of a bureaucracy, and so found himself caught between rampant curiosity and the unhappy knowledge that he was in no way part of the official loop of persons involved in the investigation. He drew himself up to his full height – which was a good five inches shorter than Ben's – and said self-righteousiy, "I have no intention of interfering in the official investigation, Judge."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Aaron wasn't finished. "But if it should come to light that you and the sheriff have allowed yourselves to be deceived by a charlatan into pursuing false leads, placing even more of our women in danger from the resulting delay in apprehending this killer – then, Judge, then I won't hesitate to add my voice to those calling for your resignations."

Ben wasn't tempted to laugh, even though the speech had obviously been rehearsed and was delivered with condescending relish. Aaron King was a pompous windbag, but he had the knack of rallying others around him, and considering the tension of the townspeople, it was likely he could gather quite a mob to demand action if the investigation didn't soon result in an arrest. Especially if there was another murder.

Calmly Ben responded, "And rightly so, Mr. King. If we don't do our jobs, we should step down. But, I assure you, we are doing our jobs. Thank you for your opinion and your interest. I'll pass on both to Sheriff Dunbar."

Faced with courtesy, Aaron could only incline his head in stately acceptance, execute a turn with military precision, and march away – a grand departure somewhat spoiled by the fact that he slipped on a patch of ice in a shady spot on the walkway and nearly fell on his ass.

Ben still wasn't tempted to laugh. In fact, he felt more than a little grim, and not because he feared losing his job.

Cassie was becoming all too visible, and despite the wild mix of rumor and speculation concerning the extent of her abilities, it would not require confirmation for at least one citizen of the town to view her as a dangerous threat.

And he had more than a job to lose.

Abby probably wouldn't have felt brave enough to leave the house on Friday afternoon, not after Gary's sudden and menacing appearance the night before, if it hadn't been for Bryce. But luckily for her, the dog was not only companionable, he was also well trained.

It was also lucky for her that the snow had closed numerous businesses for the day, including the financial services office where she worked, because otherwise she might have upset her boss by bringing her dog along.

"I'll be much less jumpy by Monday," she told Bryce that afternoon as she backed her car out of the driveway. "We'll have a nice, peaceful weekend, and on Monday the security company will install all the new lights. But right now we have to go out to the mall and get that padlock. And some chew toys so you won't eat any more of my slippers."