Grace Among Thieves Part 24

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, excited by the thought that had occurred to me. "I've got a great idea."

He mimicked my movement, smiling. "And what is that?"

"I don't remember if I told you, but I have a friend who works at the Kane Estate in California."

He leaned back. "A male friend?"

I laughed. "She is a former teacher of mine, working out there in much the same position I have here. I guess the estate suffered a significant theft recently."

"You think that's tied to what's going on at Marshfield?"

"It may be; worth asking, at least. She doesn't have a cell phone, otherwise I'd text the photo to her now. I'll wait until Monday when I can call her at the office and then send an e-mail. Nothing may come of it, but I'd really like her to have a look at this guy. With all the people working on her case, it may trigger a memory." I silently berated myself for not thinking of doing so sooner, but, like me, Nadia didn't work weekends, so it probably didn't matter.

Mark smiled at me from across the table as I slipped my phone back into my purse. I'd been about to mention that Tooney would be taking the photo around as he checked with the secondhand stores, but all thoughts of continuing that thread of conversation ceased when I caught the look on Mark's face.

"What?" I asked.

"You're different than any woman I've ever met. Amazing. Fearless."

I laughed out loud at that. "Are you kidding? I was shaking in my shoes when I took this."

"I can't wait until the police catch this killer and close the case. Only then will I feel you're completely safe." He reached across the table and held my hand. "Because I want you around for a long, long time."

THE RIDE BACK TO MY HOUSE WAS CHARGED with delicious tension. I wasn't sure what kept Mark from conversing but I knew I was imagining how the evening might unfold. We drove through the busy part of Emberstowne, past a bustling Amethyst Cellars. "They look busy tonight," Mark said.

I glanced at the dashboard clock. "They'll be there another hour at least."

Mark glanced over at me. "That's not very long."

My stomach gave an excited flip-flop. I didn't really have an answer for that so I kept silent, and willed myself not to blush.

We took the turns that led us to my house. As though he'd read my mind, he said, "I hate that I have to leave Wednesday."

"I've been trying not to think about that," I said. "It isn't working."

He shot me a wide smile. Deep dimples, dazzling teeth. I sighed with blissful pleasure as he pulled onto the driveway. "Is it okay if I park here?" he asked. "Or would it be better on the street?"

"The driveway, definitely." I wanted Bruce and Scott to know I had a visitor tonight. That could prevent any accidental embarra.s.sing moments. "Why don't you pull up next to my car? My roommates will know to pull in behind me."

"You got it."

We took the few steps to the back door, my heart fluttering, pulse pounding. I knew my cheeks were bright pink, but I loved it all. This evening was developing into a dream and I didn't want it to end. "The locksmith said the new parts should be in any day," I said in an inane attempt to keep up conversation.

But tension was thick in this humid night. Before I could unlock the back door, Mark took my shoulders and turned me around. "Are you sure you want this, Grace?" he said, his eyes searching mine.

Something deep within me responded, and I melted against him, our lips meeting in a slow, gentle caress. His hands came up around my back, drawing me closer, tighter. We kissed slowly, longingly, until neither could take the breathtaking pressure another moment. "Let's go inside," I said hoa.r.s.ely.

As was my habit, I snapped on the kitchen light as we entered, mostly to ensure that Bootsie didn't run out. But she wasn't in the kitchen.

"I don't think so," Mark said. He shut the door behind us and turned the lights off again. "I like it much better like this, don't you?"

He took me into his arms again, and for the first time in a very long time I felt what it was to be needed, desired, cared for. Mark took his time kissing, trailing warm lips along my neck, running his hands down along the inside of my upturned arms to settle on my waist. He pulled away and we were both out of breath.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?" he asked.

I rested my head against his chest as I curled a finger around his neck. "Me too."

"Is there . . ." He broke away slightly. "Somewhere more comfortable?"

"My room is upstairs."

I took his hand and led him through the dining room into the parlor, planning to make a quick right toward the steps. The two tall windows flanking the fireplace sent eerie tree-branch shadows across the floor. Even though I could make out the furniture with all the lights off, I walked gingerly. "I don't want to trip over Bootsie," I said in a whisper.

He whispered back, "I'm hoping to meet your little rascal, you know." He waited a beat. "But not right this minute."

"No, not right this minute."

I turned around to smile . . . and screamed.

Chapter 21.

"WHAT? WHAT?" MARK ASKED.

I grabbed his arm, pointing. "There, in the window. He's here."

Mark ran over to the window to the left of the fireplace. He cupped his hands around his eyes and stared out into the night. "I don't see anything."

"It was him," I said, words spilling out so fast my breath caught. "The guy from the hotel. From Amethyst Cellars. The one I took a picture of. He was staring in."

Mark turned, looking worried. "There are a lot of tree branches overhead. Do you think you may have seen a shadow?"

"I saw his face."

"Okay," he said, starting for the door. "Let me take a look."

"Don't go outside," I shouted. "I'm calling the police."

Mark took both my hands. "What kind of a man would I be if I didn't at least go out and check?"

I pulled my hands away, knowing seconds counted. I ran for the house phone-the one I knew would give the 911 operators my address the moment the phone made contact-and begged him not to go outside. "He's the killer, Mark. Don't. Please don't." I pulled up the cordless handset and hoped to heaven the line hadn't been cut. A dial tone. Thank goodness.

I flicked on the lights and shouted for Bootsie.

The dispatcher's unemotional greeting helped calm me. "The Marshfield killer is outside my house," I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. I gripped the phone with both hands and spoke as slowly as I could manage. "The killer is here. He's trying to get in."

Bootsie meandered upstairs from the bas.e.m.e.nt and wound between my legs, arching as though to scratch an itch. I picked her up and held her tight.

Mark had opened the front door and stepped outside. Watching him disappear through the gaping maw into the night terrified me more than I could say. I wanted to run out there after him, yet at the same time I wanted to stay on the phone with the dispatcher until help arrived. "Tell Detective Rodriguez," I said, "and Detective Flynn."

Her monotone voice and unruffled demeanor continued to soothe me more than anything could, but all I could do was stare at the open front door and listen to my heart speed beat.

"We have a car in the area," she said. "They should be there very soon."

"Please hurry." I hung up.

I ran for the front door as Mark came back in. His mouth was set in a grim line. "Are you okay?" He looked as though he wanted to take me into his arms, but I held Bootsie for dear life and he gave a sad smile. "I'm glad she's safe."

"What did you see? The police are on their way."

He nodded. "I didn't see anything, or anyone. Whoever might have been out there is long gone."

Even though that meant the killer had eluded our grasp, I was glad. "Thank G.o.d you weren't hurt," I said. "He knows you can recognize him."

Mark wrapped an arm around me, careful to not squeeze Bootsie. "Are you sure you're all right?"

I broke away and tried to smile up at him. "I'm fine." I took a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow, my heart to stop racing. I scratched Bootsie's neck and behind her ears but I could tell she was getting antsy.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and moments later heavy treads landed on my front porch. "Police," they called.

Two uniformed officers introduced themselves, listened to what I had to say, and then questioned Mark about what he might have seen outside. "You should not have gone after the intruder," they told him.

He shrugged it off. "I had to."

The two officers made a circuit of the house, searching outside first and then returning indoors, as Rodriguez and Flynn pulled up. They were surprised to see Mark with me. I excused myself to put Bootsie in the bas.e.m.e.nt again. "I'm sorry, honey," I said as I shut the door, "but I can't risk you running out." She gave me a disdainful look, a silent rebuke for taking her away from the excitement, but it couldn't be helped. Her safety was the most important consideration right now. Rodriguez came up beside me as I made sure the door closed all the way.

He lifted deep-set eyes to indicate Mark, who was talking with Flynn, across the room. "Are the two of you seeing each other socially?"

I admitted we were. "It's still pretty new."

"I imagine," he said dryly.

"He and I had just gotten back from dinner, but Mark didn't see the guy's face. I did," I said. "It was the same man from the hotel and from the wine shop. I recognized him right away."

"By your own account, you said your glance was fleeting."

Was he doubting me? "So?"

"Do you think it's possible that your fears are making you skittish? That you may have only thought you saw the man in the window?"

"Why don't you believe me?"

Rodriguez rubbed his chin. "Ms. Wheaton, with your history, we can't help but believe you. The thing is, Flynn and I were out front here minutes before you allegedly saw the man. We were watching your house."

"You were?"

He nodded. "Nothing amiss. n.o.body walking by. Complete quiet. We must have taken off a minute before you got home. We'd decided to take a break and get some food when the call came in."

"How can that be?"

"He's either very good at avoiding detection or you didn't see anything after all." Before I could protest, he added, "No one is blaming you. If I were in your shoes I'd be scared out of my mind, too."

Bruce and Scott arrived home to chaos. "What's going on?" Scott asked. "Where's Bootsie?"

"She's fine," I said, tapping the bas.e.m.e.nt door, "but I know she'd love it if you picked her up and gave her some attention. I'm sure she's confused right now. All these people."

Before they could rescue the kitten, Mark approached. Flynn had turned his attention to another matter, thereby freeing Mark to return to my side. He extended a hand to Bruce first, then Scott, introducing himself. "What a shame to meet under these circ.u.mstances," Bruce said.

As we explained everything that had happened, Scott grabbed Bootsie from the bas.e.m.e.nt. "She's a little rambunctious tonight," I said. "She doesn't want to be carried around."

"No problem," he said and pulled out her harness and leash. We'd tried taking her outside on the leash, once. Ears flattened, she'd belly crawled along the driveway, as though looking for a place to hide. She wasn't terribly fond of being tethered, or of being controlled via the harness, so we'd never tried it again. But tonight I was glad we had the option.

Flynn pulled me into the adjacent dining room, where he and Rodriguez asked me a few more questions. "One thing doesn't ring true with your story," Flynn said, adopting that condescending tone he was so fond of. "There's no illumination in that part of your property." He gestured toward the windows in the next room, where Mark was retelling the sequence of events to Bruce and Scott. "I put one of our guys out there and I stood right where you said you were standing."

He walked into the parlor and turned sideways. "When I look out I see nothing. I even told my guy to cup his hands around his eyes and press up against the gla.s.s. At that point I could make out that he was there, but there was no way to recognize his face."

I waited for him to finish. "Were the lights on in this room?"

"Of course."

"They weren't when we were in here," I said, "maybe you should try your experiment again."

"Why were the lights off?" Flynn asked angrily. He must have answered his own question because he flushed bright red and stormed away, calling for a.s.sistance.

While Flynn re-created his little experiment, Mark, the boys, and I took up a position in the kitchen to wait. "Can I get anyone anything?"

Bruce made me sit. "We're the ones who should be waiting on you," he said.

Mark didn't want to sit. He paced. "I don't like this," he said. "I want to get out there and find this guy. Rip his head off."

Scott and Bruce exchanged a look that Mark didn't see, but which I read as approval.

"Listen, Mark, I think the police are finished talking with you. Why don't you head back? There's not much else either of us can do," I said.

He stopped pacing long enough to look at me. Rubbing both hands up his face and into his hair, he said, "You're probably right. Walk me to the car?"

The place was teeming with police inside and out so I didn't worry about the killer jumping into the fray to have another go at me. "Sure."

We made it to the driver's side of Mark's rental car. "I'm really sorry about all this."