Dead Wrong (11 page)

They walked the same four-block square that Mara had followed the night before. Aidan was mildly winded by the time they returned to the house, but encouraged all the same. By slowing his pace, he had made it all the way without feeling like he needed to stop to nurse along his leg, a small victory of sorts.

He sat out on the deck steps and tried to make an honest assessment of his situation. All the exercise in the world wouldn’t bring back the Aidan Shields he’d been just a short year ago. Nothing would.

But getting out of breath just walking around the block . . . well, he could do something about that.

Pathetic.
He shook his head.
Just plain pathetic . . .

The admission did little to lighten his mood. Not that he’d started out the day on a particularly chipper note. He’d slept poorly and woke in a piss-poor frame of mind. It had been all he could do not to snap at Mara. The instant coffee—instant swill had been more like it—hadn’t done much for his mood. Who made instant coffee these days? He wondered if it might not be worth it to buy a coffeemaker. Would he offend Mara? Nah. Anyone who drank coffee that bad on a regular basis had to have a tougher skin than that.

He watched a wren stuff a long piece of grass through the opening of a birdhouse that hung from a low tree branch and contemplated his situation.

He couldn’t even glorify what he was doing by calling it bodyguarding.

My—
he shook his head—
how the mighty have fallen.

He called Spike and coaxed him back inside, locking the back door before moving on to the living room.

There’s a book in there someplace,
he told himself ruefully.
“How I Went from Feared FBI Agent to Babysitter in One Short Year.” Subtitle: “Bad Coffee and Bad Gigs.”

Still, a promise was a promise. And she was Annie’s sister. He’d had to keep reminding himself of the fact. Like when she’d gotten out of her car and stalked back down the driveway to the Vette to let him know in no uncertain terms that he was not coming to her office to pick her up for lunch. She’d had fire in her eyes and a purpose to her stride.

Actually, she’d looked pretty damned good.

“Forget it,” he muttered aloud. “Don’t even think about going there . . .”

Spike picked his head up at the sound of Aidan’s voice.

“You don’t want to know,” Aidan told him. “And no, we’re not going out again now. We just came in.”

Spike sank back down with a disappointed sigh.

Mara had made it clear that she didn’t want him there, didn’t want to share her space with him. She’d only agreed to his staying when Annie told her about the serial killer.

Which gave Aidan an idea of just how desirable he was these days. Given the choice between his company and possibly facing a serial killer alone, Mara had reluctantly agreed to let him stay.

That pretty much said it all, didn’t it? And just how much protection he’d be against a serial killer was up in the air right about then.

He wished he could go back to his little apartment where he could feel sorry for himself in peace.

Wished he could go to sleep and wake up the man he used to be.

He stretched out on the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. He usually napped around now anyway. It was something to do.

He closed his eyes, wondering just how long it would be before they got a bead on the killer. Tonight couldn’t be soon enough. With luck, they’d find him before he found another victim. And then Aidan could go back to his apartment, where he could be miserable all by himself and not think about the fact that he couldn’t walk around the block without wanting to pass out, where he could start off the day with good coffee, if nothing else. Eventually, he was certain, that day would come.

It was all he had to look forward to.

CHAPTER
SIX

A
S PROMISED,
M
ARA CALLED
A
IDAN TWENTY MINUTES
before she was ready to leave the office at the end of the day. The Corvette was there, waiting to follow her home, when she emerged from the parking garage.

“I took your mail in,” Aidan told her after they’d arrived at the house and she reached to open the mailbox. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks.” She nodded and unlocked the door. “I’ll just take a quick look at it before I take Spike for his walk.”

“He’s been in and out all day.”

“Oh. Well, then.” She went to the phone and pressed the button for messages, but there were none.

“You had two calls.” He handed her a slip of paper upon which he’d listed the names and numbers of the callers.

“You answered my phone?” She raised an eyebrow, mildly annoyed at this invasion of privacy.

“If someone is watching you, he might call to see if anyone picks up the phone. To see if you live alone.”

“I do live alone,” she reminded him somewhat tersely.

“Not this week.”

“Right.” She gritted her teeth. “So. What else did you do today?”

“I sweated,” he said, recalling that last walk around the block.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

She began to pick through her mail.

“So.” She opened a bill and scanned it. “About dinner. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. But we have some great take-out places in town. If that’s okay with you?”

He opened the refrigerator and took out a shallow pan. “Chicken cacciatore.” He peeled back the foil.

“You made that?” She peered closer, then closer still, before the corners of her mouth began to turn up. “Nah, that’s from Giorgio’s. Nice try, though. Almost had me.”

He almost smiled.

She turned the oven on and set the timer, thinking how odd it was to be sharing her home with a strange man.

“Look, you don’t have to do all this. You don’t have to walk my dog or answer my phone or bring in my mail or buy my food. All you’re supposed to be doing is watching me so that some psycho doesn’t get me. In the event that said psycho, in fact, has an interest in me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything else, except what Annie asked you to do.”

“Well, let’s put this into perspective, shall we?” Aidan placed the pan on top of the stove with the same cool, precise control as his words. “I spent the day here because I had nowhere else to go. While I was here, I got bored, took a walk or two. I took Spike along. The mail was sticking out of the box when we came back from our last walk so I brought it in. I answered your phone because it was ringing, and because if the caller was the person I’m supposed to be protecting you from, I wanted him to know that I am here. I stopped and picked up something for dinner because I get hungry around six every day and had no reason to think I wouldn’t be hungry tonight. End of story.”

“And I appreciate it. I really do. I just don’t want to impose on you any more than my sister already has.”

“Fine. Maybe what we need here are a few ground rules. If you don’t want me to answer the phone, or bring in the mail, or walk the dog, or—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I didn’t mean . . . that is, I’m grateful. Really. I am. And I do appreciate that you might get bored here during the day.” She pushed a chin-length strand of dark hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear, trying to mirror his control. “It’s just that I’m used to being alone, except for those times when Annie is here. I’m not used to having . . . someone”—She’d almost said
a stranger
—“in my house. It’s just going to take a little getting used to, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Aidan told her, because he did. “Look, if you want to watch television alone tonight, or read a book, or whatever, it’s okay. I can go upstairs and read, or go sit outside . . .”

“I wouldn’t expect you to go sit outside while I sat in here and watched TV.” The idea struck her as absurd, and she laughed out loud.

“I wouldn’t mind. You have a clear overhead view from your deck. Do you ever sit out there at night and look at the stars?”

“No. Are you into stargazing?”

“It passes the time. Tonight might be a good night, if the sky stays clear. I brought my telescope with me. I think I’ll set it up on the deck.”

“Isn’t it going to be cold?”

“That’s why the jacket was invented.”

“Maybe I will join you.” She backed out of the kitchen, suddenly needing to escape from his presence. “But right now, I think I’d like to change. I’ll just be a minute. . . .”

Mara took the steps two at a time, seeking the sanctuary of her room. Once inside, she closed the door and collapsed onto the bed, her head spinning. She hadn’t expected it to be easy, having someone here with her, but she hadn’t expected it to cause this level of tension, either. She was trying her best to act normal—whatever that was—but it was hard. She was used to living with ghosts, and Aidan was very much alive.

Mara closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, and tried to will away the sense of unrest that filled her. If she stayed there, in her room, she wouldn’t have to talk to him, wouldn’t feel compelled to make conversation that he was only pretending to be interested in.

She wanted nothing more than to stay right where she was, facedown on the bed, until the morning came and she could leave again for work.

Which, of course, she could never do. That would be inexcusably rude.

Not that he was a model of civility. The man had apparently left a good deal of his charm in Rehoboth.

Snap out of it. He’s doing you a favor.

No, he’s doing Annie a favor.

Did it really matter? Wasn’t it was enough that he was here, that she was safer for his presence? And wasn’t that the point?

She would get herself under control enough to have dinner with Aidan, do her best to be polite and genial. And if it didn’t go well, then maybe she’d feign a headache so that she could retreat back up to Julianne’s room, where she could pretend they were saying bedtime prayers together, just like they had every night before Julianne disappeared. Mara was aware that over the years the prayers had taken on the air of a ritual, but she couldn’t help herself. In the still and darkened room, she could almost imagine Julianne’s pale blond hair fanned out on the pillow, could almost hear her child’s voice whispering her child’s prayer, and wondered if, wherever she was, Julianne was saying her prayers and pretending that her mother was there.

Last night, Mara had waited until she felt certain that Aidan was sound asleep before she tiptoed to Julianne’s room and closed the door softly behind her. She just didn’t want to have to explain to a near stranger that she couldn’t fall asleep until she’d tried to reach out to her daughter in the only way she could.

Mara rested for a few more minutes, then sat up, her legs dangling over the side of the bed, her toes just grazing the carpet, and marveled at the power of anxiety. Over the course of the past few years, she had faced off with some of the worst that mankind had to offer. She had seen mothers who had sent their preteen daughters out onto the streets to turn tricks or had loaned out their sons to pedophiles, fathers who had repeatedly raped their daughters and others who had sold them. She’d stood in court and recited these abominations to judges, reading aloud carefully and without emotion, wanting the facts alone to call for justice and for compassion for the children for whom she stood. And she had never blinked, never faltered. Yet here, now, in her own home, she felt unsure of herself, vulnerable.

It was just the damnedest thing.

Mara cleared her throat, forced herself off the edge of the bed, and began to change from her office attire. Resenting Aidan’s presence really wasn’t fair to him at all, she reminded herself as she slipped off her skirt and panty hose. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be here any more than she wanted him around. No wonder he was a little grumpy at times. Given the choice, certainly he’d rather be back at his own apartment, doing his own thing. But he hadn’t been able to say no to Annie.

No one could say no to Annie.

She pulled on her jeans and searched her bottom drawer for a sweatshirt.

The thought occurred to her that it was probably as hard for Aidan to be out of his element as it was for her to have him in hers.

She tied on an old pair of running shoes and took one more deep breath, turned off the light, then opened her bedroom door and headed downstairs. They’d have dinner and try to be polite to each other, and maybe later they’d sit out back and look at the stars through his telescope. She wasn’t certain it would be necessary to pretend that they were enjoying each other’s company.