14

An arc of headlights swept across the front of the house, and Craig tossed the TV remote onto the table beside him. Finally. Waiting forty-five minutes for a pizza was ridiculous.

But he was lucky anyone was willing to deliver to this god-forsaken place.

After extracting three singles from his wallet, he gave the TV an annoyed glance and crossed to the front door as the bell rang. Pizza and the idiot box—talk about a boring Saturday night. Still, he’d had his fun yesterday at that new bar he’d tried. Trixie had given his pleasure her top priority.

The corners of his mouth tipped up as he pictured the curvaceous—and friendly—redhead.

Very friendly.

Smiling, he reached for the knob. He might have to give that place a second go too. He’d visited the first bar twice without any repercussions, and . . .

“Hi, there.”

His lips flatlined. What the . . .

“Aren’t you going to ask me in? I drove a long way to see you.”

He gaped at the familiar blonde on his doorstep. What was her name again? Natasha? Naomi? Natalie. Yeah, that was it. Natalie.

But what was she doing here?

And how had she found him?

The beams from another set of headlights swept through the trees, and a surge of adrenaline goosed his pulse.

He grabbed her arm, yanked her inside, and slammed the door shut.

“Hey! Not so rough, big boy. I’m glad you’re happy to see me, but I have all evening. There’s no rush.”

Her words only half registered as he tried to wrestle his panic into submission. To think. Her car was in the driveway; the pizza kid would see it. Did that matter?

He surveyed his unexpected visitor. It might, if the kid got an eyeful of her micro skirt, low-cut blouse, dramatic makeup, and mane of blonde hair.

“Wait in the kitchen.” He tightened his grip and propelled her toward the back of the house.

She stumbled along beside him in her four-inch heels. “Take it easy. These shoes weren’t designed for running.”

The doorbell chimed.

He pushed her through the door, closed it, and jogged back toward the front of the house. He’d have to wing it if the kid mentioned the car.

Fate was on his side, though. The teen on the porch was a new face, and he was jiving to some tune coming through his earbuds. His conversation was limited to a quick thank-you for the tip.

Perfect.

Craig watched until he returned to his car and drove away, then pivoted back toward the kitchen—and the big problem waiting there. He had a dozen questions . . . and he needed answers before he could decide how to handle this complication.

Better play along with her until he had more information, however. Otherwise, she might clam up.

Pizza in hand, he walked to the back of the house and pushed through the door.

Natalie was sitting on one of the stools at the island, legs crossed, one foot dangling, crimson nails peeking out of the open toe of a dramatic spiked-heel shoe that was more eye candy than practical. Like the dozens of other pairs he’d spied in her closet during his second visit.

“This is a surprise.” He slid the pizza onto the counter, trying for a pleasant tone.

“A happy one, I hope.” She gave him a provocative smile. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I? You said you were unattached.”

“I was just spending a quiet night in front of the TV.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that.” She tapped the pizza box. “Are you going to share?”

“Sure. You want some beer?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you have anything with a little more kick?”

“There’s some Scotch left.”

“Sold.”

He filled a tumbler with ice, poured her a drink, and took a beer for himself. No hard stuff for him. He needed a clear head tonight.

She helped herself to a piece of pizza as he leaned a hip against the island. “This is a deluxe, isn’t it? My favorite kind. It was almost like you knew I was coming.”

“How could I know that? I never gave you my address.” He took a pull from his beer, watching her.

“Oh, I have ways of finding addresses.” She gave a throaty laugh.

“Want to let me in on the secret?”

“Hmm. I suppose it couldn’t hurt . . . Matt.”

He choked on his beer.

She thought he was Matt?

Wait.

How did she even know about Matt?

Craig took a shallow breath, trying to mask his shock.

“My name’s Joe.”

“Funny. That’s not how your car is registered.” She scooped up some wayward cheese and piled it on her pizza.

His stomach clenched. “How do you know that?”

“Now don’t get upset, honey. A girl has to make sure she’s not being taken advantage of, you know? I needed contact information in case you didn’t call or show up at the bar again. I know how guys operate. You tend to forget promises. I couldn’t find your driver’s license or any credit cards in your wallet, so I checked the plates.”

Craig bought himself a minute by taking another slow drink of his beer. Stashing his plastic and ID in the car while he’d retrieved her jacket had paid off. But when had she gone out to get the number on his plates? They were mud-smeared . . . and he was a light sleeper. If she’d left the room, he’d have heard her.

Except . . . he’d been dead to the world for hours that night. And he didn’t remember much of what had happened after that second drink.

It was almost as if he’d been drugged.

The truth body-slammed him.

“You put something in my drink, didn’t you?”

The slice of pizza paused halfway between the counter and her mouth . . . then continued to its destination.

“You had a lot to drink.” She took a big bite.

“Not that much.”

“You might have drunk more than you remember. We had other things on our mind.” She gave him the seductive smile she’d used in the bar.

It had zero effect tonight.

“I know my limits. I didn’t drink too much.”

“Like I said, you were distracted.”

He ran through the events of the night in his mind as she ate his pizza. When had she doctored his drink? It had to have happened at her place or he wouldn’t have been able to drive them back to her apartment. But they’d been together the whole . . .

The light dawned.

“You spiked my drink while I went out to get your jacket, didn’t you?”

After a brief hesitation, she shrugged. “Like I said, a girl has to take care of herself.”

He fought back the anger churning in his gut.

Stay cool, Elliott. You need information, and you won’t get it if you yell at her.

Somehow he managed a pleasant tone. “You’re very clever.”

She chewed for a moment, studying him. “Are you mad?”

“Do I look mad?”

“No—but some guys are put out after I track them down.”

Another shock wave rippled through him.

She’d done this before. He wasn’t her first victim.

The question now was . . . what was her game? What did she want?

“I admire smart people.” He slid onto a stool beside her. “What did you use to knock me out?”

“GHB.”

Gamma-hydroxybutyrate. The date-rape drug—typically a male weapon.

How ironic.

“Like I said . . . clever.” He took a piece of pizza. “So who ran my plates for you?”

“I have connections.”

A cop in her debt, maybe—or a friend who happened to be a PI. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone with her assets to curry favors from a man.

“You know . . .” She tilted her head. “You look a lot different here than you did at the bar. More . . . refined. When you opened the door, I’m not certain I would have recognized you if I didn’t know you lived here.” She leaned closer and squinted at him. “Your eyes are even a different color. Hazel, not green.”

Natalie was too observant—and too clever—for her own good.

“I like to be incognito when I barhop.”

“Yeah.” She gave him a leisurely head-to-toe. “You’re a lot higher class than you let on at the bar. I bet you don’t want anyone to recognize you at a dump like Arnold’s.” She swung her foot back and forth. “Is Craig high-class too?”

His lungs locked, and black spots exploded in front of his eyes.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She touched his arm.

He gripped the edge of the island. “How do you know about Craig?”

“From his credit card.” She waved a hand toward the far counter. “I noticed it while you were talking to the pizza guy. I figured he must be a friend who was visiting—unless you have a roommate.”

He bit back an oath as he scowled at the plastic card. He must have left it there after he’d gone through his IDs earlier, trying to decide what to keep and what to destroy. He should have ditched it months ago when—for all practical purposes—Craig Elliott had ceased to exist.

“No. No roommate. He’s just passing through.”

“Will he be around later?”

“No. He had . . . other plans for tonight.”

“Kind of like us, huh? My timing was spot on.” She winked at him and held out the glass for a refill. “You have a comfortable place. I’m gonna enjoy hanging out here.”

Like that was going to happen.

He topped off her drink and sat back on the stool beside her while she sipped it, his brain reeling. She knew about Matt. She knew about Craig. What else did she know—and what had prompted her to home in on him?

“You went to a lot of effort to find me. Why?”

“I like you.”

Too simple.

“Come on, Natalie. Be honest. What are you after?”

“You. I like you. We were good together. I want more of that.”

No mention of money. No threats. No hint of blackmail. And her eyes were guileless.

Could this be on the level? Did she really just want to hang with him?

“Why me?”

“You’re different than any of the guys I’ve met for a while. I only track down the ones who are special. You stood out.”

If that was supposed to be a compliment, she’d missed the mark.

But he had to play along.

“I appreciate that—as long as our relationship stays between you and me.”

“Of course! I respect your privacy.”

What a joke. She’d already trampled all over it.

But as long as no one else knew about him, it didn’t matter.

“You mean you haven’t told anyone about me?”

“I mentioned to one of my friends at the shop that I’d met someone new, but I didn’t give her any details. I know how to be discreet.”

“What about your family?”

She snorted. “My parents threw me out the day I turned seventeen. Said I was nothing but trouble. So I got on a bus and rode till my money ran out. I never planned to stay in St. Louis, but it worked out fine here. There was no reason to leave.”

“Where do they live?”

“My folks? Phoenix, last I heard. But that was ten years ago. They could be dead for all I know—or care.”

She had no contact with her family and hadn’t told anyone his name.

That was the best news he’d had all night. Taking care of this problem would be a cinch.

The issue was when. Tonight was best, in case her lips got loose and she decided to tell one of her salon friends more than she claimed she already had. But her car was here—and he didn’t want to get within touching distance of it. Too much risk of leaving trace evidence he might not have a chance to get rid of.

Tonight was out.

He’d have to put off dealing with the dicey situation for a day or two and convince her to keep her mouth shut in the meantime.

Pasting on a smile, he picked up a piece of pizza he didn’t want. “I have to admit, this is a lot more fun than eating alone.”

“I’m glad you’re happy to see me. To us.” She lifted her glass toward him in a toast.

He clinked his beer can with it. “You know . . . we ought to celebrate finding each other. Are you free on Tuesday night?”

“No. I work at the salon until nine. Thursdays too. What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner at an upscale restaurant.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes lit up. “I’d like that. I could go Wednesday.”

He played with his beer can. Too far away. Every delay increased the risk she’d spill some dangerous piece of information.

“I don’t want to wait that long to see you again. Why don’t we go on Monday?”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight thirty.”

She frowned. “Isn’t that kind of late for dinner?”

“Not in Europe. In Spain they don’t eat until nine or ten—and I want to take you to a fancy, European-style restaurant.” He also wanted it dark when he picked her up—and dark during his detour back here to retrieve his conveniently forgotten wallet.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I love surprises!”

Good.

Because she was in for a big one.

And she wasn’t going to love it.

“You want some more pizza?” He motioned to the grease-stained cardboard circle.

“I wouldn’t mind having another piece or two . . . unless you’re in a hurry.”

“No rush. We have all night.”

While she demolished two more generous pieces, he leaned back against the island, nursing his beer. As long as she was here and he was bored, no reason not to take advantage of whatever she was willing to offer.

Especially since she wouldn’t be offering it again.

“Sorry I had to bail yesterday. I appreciate you guys being flexible.”

As Kristin slipped into the booth at the popular Sunday brunch spot, Rick handed her a menu. “To tell you the truth, the delay worked out better for me. We’re in high gear at the camp, with the summer session about to start. Ducking out for a couple of hours yesterday would have put a serious crimp in my schedule.”

“Glad to hear it wasn’t an inconvenience. And I’m betting our friend here didn’t mind sleeping in yesterday, after his hot date with Trish Friday night.”

Colin choked on his coffee.

“Take a deep breath.” Kristin patted him on the back.

He bought himself a few seconds to think by taking a slow sip of water. There was no way Kristin could have known about his dinner with Trish unless she’d been at Hacienda.

“I take it you were in the mood for Mexican on Friday too?”

“Uh-huh.” She skimmed the brunch menu and set it aside. “She’s very pretty.”

“For the record, it wasn’t a hot date.”

“No? It seemed awfully cozy to me.” She leaned toward Rick and spoke in a stage whisper. “They were holding hands.”

“We weren’t holding hands. I was trying to . . . reassure her.”

Kristin sniggered. “Talk about a lame spin.”

“Why didn’t you call and give me the scoop?” Rick shot the female member of their gang a disgruntled look.

“Because there wasn’t any scoop to give.” Colin fisted his hands in his lap and turned his attention to Kristin. “And how do you know it was Trish, anyway? Were you eavesdropping?”

“Not necessary. The bandage on the arm was a dead giveaway.”

Oh yeah. There was that.

“We were discussing the mugging . . . among other things.” He pretended to read the menu.

“I’ll bet.” Kristin grinned.

“It was all very professional.”

“Right.” Rick chuckled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it was professional, you wouldn’t be flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“Then why did you just add a bunch of cream to your coffee when you always take it black?”

Colin peered into his mug. Diluted brew stared back at him.

He was hosed.

“Is everyone ready?” A waitress stopped beside their table, pen poised over order pad.

Yes! Perfect timing. After this diversion, he might be able to redirect the conversation.

But Rick didn’t give him a chance. The instant the woman walked away, he pounced again.

“Cream in coffee. Want to talk about it?”

No—but based on their determined expressions, he was going to have to give them a few crumbs.

“Fine. I like her.”

“You’re smitten.” Kristin added a heaping spoon of sugar to her java.

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“We’re not the ones getting carried away.” She leaned toward him. “And it’s okay. She looks like a very nice woman. If you want to date her, you have our approval.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Speak for yourself. I haven’t met her yet.” Rick elbowed Kristin.

“Neither have I. But we will . . . soon. Right, Colin? You could invite her to our next Saturday breakfast.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What? You don’t trust us to be couth?” Rick tucked his napkin in the top of his dress shirt and fluffed it.

“Very funny.” Colin yanked out the square cloth and tossed it at his friend. “I won’t be bringing her because it would be unprofessional.”

“What does that mean?” Rick tucked his napkin back onto his lap, where it belonged.

“It means County is digging into the case again.”

Kristin exchanged a look with Rick. “The case of her mother’s death? I thought that was closed.”

“Not anymore. Some . . . peculiar . . . new developments have raised our suspicions.”

“About Trish?” Rick rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, all levity gone.

“No. But I need to keep a professional distance until we get some answers.”

“Based on what I saw Friday night, that’s not going to be easy.” Kristin played with her fork.

Colin sighed. Why deny what was apparently obvious? To his two childhood buddies, at any rate.

“No, it’s not. But it will be harder on her. She’s alone. Totally. I have you guys.” His voice scratched, and he took a sip of water.

“You want me to call her? Invite her to lunch?” Kristin gentled her voice and touched his hand.

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“If she’s important to you, she’s important to us. Right, Rick?”

“Right.”

Colin toyed with that notion for a few seconds. Trish had told him she’d had little time to nurture friendships over the past two traumatic years. Perhaps she’d welcome an outreach from Kristin. Friends didn’t come any finer than these two—and if everything played out as he hoped, she’d be part of their lives, anyway.

“Let me mention it to her. And thanks for the offer.”

“My pleasure.”

The waitress delivered their food, and though he knew his friends were dying to ask some questions about the new case developments he’d referenced, the conversation moved on to other topics. They’d learned long ago he didn’t discuss active investigations.

But as they said their good-byes and went their separate ways, Colin thought back to Trish’s comment in her kitchen while they’d eaten his omelets. About how good often came out of bad—like meeting him after the death of her mother.

Despite his less-than-idyllic childhood, he had to admit her point was applicable to this situation. God might not have saved Neal . . . and he might not have healed their fractured family . . . but he’d brought Kristin and Rick into the circle of a lonely little boy when he’d most needed friends. Without that lifeline, Colin wasn’t certain he’d have survived those tough years.

Maybe, as Trish had suggested, God had been at work even during the dark days when he’d felt no divine presence.

Maybe God was still at work, bringing a lovely woman into his world just when he’d begun to think love might have passed him by.

And maybe God would give them a future by bringing closure and resolution to a situation that grew more puzzling with every passing day.

In light of all the strange . . . and sinister . . . new developments in this case, that was a prayer worth offering.