Chapter Fourteen
“Thank you so much, Detective Chastain.” Dauscher’s grandmother hovered over him while he tightened the final screw on the deadbolt he’d installed. “Ever since the shooting next door, I just can’t sleep at night.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat back on his heels and smiled at her. His own grandmother had died many years ago. But it was nice to be the good grandson for someone else’s grandmother.
“I’ve lived here over fifteen years.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “My Benny bought this house for me right before he passed on. It was such a quiet neighborhood. A shame when you can’t feel comfortable even in your own home. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dropped the screwdriver into the battered toolbox. Probably belonged to dear Benny. “How long were you and your husband married, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, now.” Her eyes lit up at the question. “We met back when I was just sixteen, and I knew right then he was the one for me. He had thick, gorgeous black hair and large brown eyes. ’Course, like all men, he took a bit of convincing. But you don’t want to hear me prattle on.” She shot him a quick side-glance. “My dearly beloved and I were wedded a tad past fifty-six years.”
“That’s wonderful.” Would he ever meet a woman who would stay with him for fifty years? After his failed marriage with Betsy, it didn’t appear promising.
Vicki’s face floated into his mind. Damn, she’d looked sexy in her short teal dress at dinner. Showed miles of her silky legs. And their kiss. A mix of lips and tongues. Pressing his hardness against all her softness.
But then she’d had a vision, or at least she’d said she had. Told him his fate was tied to the copycat Valentine Killer. Well, that part was true. He would pursue the bastard until he was either captured or dead.
While he picked up various tools scattered on the floor, his arm brushed against the cell phone clipped at his waist. Maybe he should call her, tell her he wanted to see her again. But would she even answer after he’d acted like such an asshole? Maybe he should wait until tomorrow.
“Hmm.” The older woman put her hands on her hips. “You got it bad, son.”
He jerked his head up. “Pardon?”
“You got the look.” She leaned forward, peered at his face, and nodded. “That’s it all right.”
Unnerved, he closed the toolbox. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” He fumbled with the latches on the box, while she towered over him.
“Don’t worry, Detective. Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered in mock-conspirator tones.
Rising, he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“You tend toward being an unbeliever. A good trait for a police officer, I suppose.” She nodded. “But you should know I’m good at reading people. My grandmother had the gift. Helped me see I had it, too.”
River kept his expression neutral. What does Dauscher think about this?
“My grandson doesn’t believe either.” She smirked.
Well, hell. How did she know what I was thinking? Probably just a leap in logic.
“My dear Detective.” The older woman giggled. “I was a well-known palm reader for years. Spent many a weekend at parties or the country houses of the rich and famous. That’s how I met my Benny.”
“At a party?” River smiled, encouraging her to ramble. Anything to shift the focus someplace other than himself.
“A party at a country house.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “Benny was chasing after a rich floozy. Spoiled, empty-headed little flirt. I had to show him who was the better gal. Which I was, of course.”
“Of course.” He glanced toward the kitchen for any sign Dauscher had finished with the back door and might save him. Nothing.
“Sit, Detective.” She gestured to a chair, and he sank into it. “I know just by looking at you there’s a woman got you all up in knots. Even a blind person could see.”
“Okay. But—”
She held up a finger. “Let me see your hand.”
It was ridiculous, he knew, but held it out as she’d asked. Taking his fingers into her cool, smooth grasp, she turned his palm up and traced several lines. Wherever her fingertip trailed, a warm tingle followed. Her gaze traveled from his wrist to his fingertips, intent on each crevice, ridge, and callus.
He shook his head. No wonder she’d been requested at parties and invited to country homes. She was very convincing.
“I see danger. It surrounds you, follows you.” Her voice was calm, almost monotone.
“I’m a cop.” He chuckled but didn’t get a rise out of the woman.
“It hunts you, Detective. Even now it searches.” Her eyes slid shut, and her brow creased. “It knows you. Desires your destruction.”
The hairs on River’s neck prickled. He realized she wasn’t referring to danger in general but a particular person. Probably the copycat Valentine Killer.
“And a woman in teal. At your side. You…fight against her warnings.” She tilted her head. “She is…she…. Oh, goodness.”
“What?” He leaned forward, wanting to know more, and a thought struck him. Why did he give credence to the words of a well-rehearsed palm reader and not to a woman who professed to have life-altering visions about people she didn’t even know?
Her eyes opened, fear shining like a beacon. “The sign. I’ve never—”
“At last, I got the lock installed on the patio entrance.” Dauscher strode into the room. “How are we doing in here?”
Shocked into reality, River leaped to his feet. “Finished. The lock’s finished.”
Dauscher looked from River to his grandmother. “Mam-maw, have you been teasing my new partner with your palm-reading tricks?”
Her lips pursed, and she bowed her head. “Maybe. He was having some problems and—”
“Nonsense.” River waved her comment away. “I asked her to do it.”
“Really?” Doubt covered his partner’s face.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just for fun. Right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Dauscher’s grandmother lifted her chin. “It was all in fun, Theodore.”
“Well, I’ve got to grab the tool box, load it in the car.” He headed toward the back of the house. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
The moment they were alone, the older woman grasped River’s arm. “Thank you. Theodore doesn’t like it when I read others. All just hocus pocus to him. But we know different. Don’t we?”
“Sure.” River patted her hand, but something she’d mentioned niggled him. “What did you mean by ‘the sign’?”
“I can’t say.” She glanced around the room as though someone might be listening. “But you know. Don’t you?”
A sliver of ice formed in his stomach. There was no way she knew about the Valentine Killer’s sign—the same sign the copycat had left behind. She either overheard something Dauscher mentioned or is one hell of a guesser.
Without warning, her grip tightened on his arm, her nails digging into his jacket. She captured his gaze with intense brown eyes. “Promise you’ll listen to the girl who’s got you in knots. Lives depend on it. Promise me.”
What else could he say? “I promise.”
The big guy returned, toolbox in hand. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at the old woman who still clung to his arm. “I hope you sleep better.”
They walked out onto the porch. Dauscher hugged his grandmother, a sight that warmed River’s heart. When his partner stepped aside, she held her arms out to him, and River moved into her warm embrace.
“Remember your promise,” she whispered with fierceness into his ear.
He realized she meant every word she’d said. Could she really read palms, or was she an old woman with an elaborate romantic streak?
When she released him, her face shone. “Next visit, there’ll be an extra bowl of peach cobbler for you.”
“Mam-maw makes the best cobbler known to man.” Dauscher chuckled and ambled down the steps.
“Of course it is.” She waved to them from the porch. “It’s an old secret family recipe. I got it from the Vanderbilt’s cook when I was invited to a party at their summer home, the Biltmore House.”
* * *
Vicki leaned against the railing of the rooftop deck, watching the sun dip down into the ocean. She sipped her wine and sighed. Here was a ritual she could enjoy for years to come.
“So, you haven’t said a word.” Wineglass in hand, Becca propped her elbow on the railing, myriad gold and silver bangles jingling on her arm. “How was your dinner with the handsome detective?”
“You’re going to make me talk about it?” Vicki’s shoulders sagged. She’d spent the entire day alternating between wishing the phone would ring and trying to forget anything ever happened.
“That bad?” Dismay rang in her friend’s words. “And here I thought I’d set you up for a night of romance.”
“Dinner was good.” She flopped onto the overstuffed patio chair. “Afterward, things went downhill.”
Becca slid onto the chair next to hers. She kicked off her sandals, tucked her legs beneath her, and turned her full attention on their conversation. Her eyes reflected a mix of pain and sympathy. “So what happened?”
“Well, it started with him walking out of the restaurant.” The memory of his long strides toward the exit while she’d sat staring after him heated her cheeks.
“He just left you sitting there?” Her brown eyes flew wide, and her tone rang with outrage.
Vicki’s heart swelled. Who said white knights had to be men? She and Becca had come to one another’s defense for as long as they’d known each other. And here her dearest friend was, lance in hand, at full gallop, ready to skewer any potential threats.
“Yes.” She held up her hand. “But I think I might have misunderstood what was going on. When I caught up with him outside, he…kissed me.”
“He kissed you?” Her anger morphed into delight. She leaned over the edge of the chair, her gold hoop earrings flashing in the dwindling daylight. “Sounds pretty great to me.”
“It was wonderful.” She remembered the heat of his mouth, the soft teasing brush of his lips followed by a deeper, all-consuming kiss. A mass of butterflies fluttered in her belly. Why wouldn’t he just call? Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and she shook her head. “But from there, it all sucked. Right in the middle of an amazing kiss, I had a vision.”
“No.”
“And to top it all off? It was about him.”
“Oh my God. How horrible.” She reached over and squeezed Vicki’s arm.
“Yeah. His destiny is tied to the guy who killed the carriage driver behind the movie theater.” Guilt poured over her, heavy and thick. Becca’s fate was tied to the killer as well. Her breath hitched at the knowledge she kept from her friend. Desperation kept the truth forever on the fringes of her tongue. She wanted to warn her, needed to keep her safe. But how could she tell her best friend her destiny was death?
Vicki gulped down her wine. Snatching the chilled bottle from the coffee table, she poured another glass.
“Well, that just stinks.” Becca stared out at the ocean. A breeze toyed with the soft curls framing her troubled face.
“Yeah, well. He’s the cop investigating the murder, so it’s no big surprise.” She meant her words to be light, but they came out flippant. Lifting her wine, she drank, emptying the glass by half.
“Do you think he’ll call?”
God, I wish he would. “Who knows? He didn’t say a word on the ride home. Barely even said good night.”
“But you didn’t see how he was looking at you at the art show.” Becca pointed a finger at her. “His eyes were glued. Hell, half the guys there were ogling you.”
“And the other half?”
“The other half was ogling your detective.” She laughed. “The point is he’s into you. He’ll call.”
“We’ll see.” She drank more wine, musing the possibility. The kiss they’d shared had promised more. Then the vision, and everything fell apart. And I just told him about my curse. God, I probably scared him away. The damn curse had touched every aspect of her life—especially the ones she held dear like her parents and Becca. It’d ruined the few relationships she’d taken a chance on. Why not this one as well?
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I just need some time.”
“Well, I need to get some painting done tonight.” She slid her hand up and down Vicki’s arm in a gesture of love and reassurance. “Gotta be up before dawn to open the shop down on the Riverwalk. The girl who handles the morning stuff called in sick.”
“You want some company?”
“I’d love it. But I need to do inventory before I have to open.” Becca rose and stretched. “When you wake up, head on over.”
“Sounds good.”
Vicki downed the rest of her wine in one swallow and willed the liquid sleep aid to turn off her brain.
“I’ll be up late. So if you need to talk, I’m here for you.” Becca slipped on her sandals then leaned over and kissed the top of Vicki’s head. She sauntered to her studio door and paused. “Oh, yeah. Coffee. Bring lots of coffee.”
Vicki laughed, the sound cutting the cool evening air. “Will do.”