Dead Wrong (15 page)

“I would have gotten it.”

“I wasn’t sure you were up.”

“I’m always up at this hour.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“You’ve been here for almost a week. You know I get up early.”

“If you’d told me you were expecting someone at this hour, I wouldn’t have answered the door.”

“I forgot what day of the week it was.”

“That’s really not my fault.”

“You could at least have put a shirt on.”

“Your friends didn’t seem to mind.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest.

“They think you are . . . That we are . . .” Mara gestured helplessly with her hands.

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth? That we think you might be the target of a serial killer.”

“God.” She had shook her head and headed up the steps. “I don’t know which is worse. . . .”

Of course, her office phone was ringing before she even got to her desk, as she’d known it would be.

“Who was the Greek god who answered your door this morning,” Cass demanded without identifying herself, “and where can I get one just like him?”

“The FBI.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s with the FBI.” Mara explained the situation.

“Some girls have all the luck,” Cass sighed.

“Cass, having a stranger—one who is moody and somewhat terse—move into my house for a week because a serial killer may be stalking me is not lucky.”

“Well, I’m sure the week has had its moments.”

“Oh, it’s had its moments, all right,” Mara conceded. “Most of them prickly.”

“Well, don’t expect any sympathy from me.” Cass laughed. “There are very few things I wouldn’t do to have someone like that parking his shoes by my front door.”

“It’s because of Annie. He’s only here because of Annie.”

“Well, I hope you’re making the most of it. God knows I would.”

“Some things come more easily to some of us than to others.”

“Mara, how long has it been since you’ve even gone on a date?”

“You can probably figure that out.” Mara glanced at the clock. She had fifteen minutes before she had to leave for court.

“Well, aren’t you even a teeny bit interested in . . . what’s his name?”

“Aidan Shields.”

“Nice. Well, aren’t you at least interested?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Cass’s voice lowered, and Mara suspected that Cass’s officemate had arrived.

“Like I said, he’s only here as a favor to my sister. That’s all. He has no interest in me, other than keeping me alive.”

“That’s a start.”

Mara laughed. “Look, we’ll have to continue this later. I have to get my notes together and get downstairs. I have a hearing this morning.”

“Keep in touch,” Cass told her before she hung up. “And if you need any pointers, you know who to call. . . .”

“I need more than a few pointers,” Mara murmured to herself as she scanned the top of her desk in search of the folder in which she kept her notes. She found it under the phone, tucked it into her briefcase, and closed the lid with a soft snap, pushing all thoughts of Aidan aside.

Later,
she told herself.
I’ll think this whole thing through later. . . .

But before she knew it, the day had flown past, it was after four, and she was debating which file to take home with her that night. The Fowler case had several interviews left to be conducted before next week’s hearing. She lifted the heavy folder from the shelf behind her desk and slid it onto her lap just as the phone rang.

“Mara?” Annie sounded far away.

“Annie. Where are you?” She propped up the file and leaned it against the side of the desk while she opened it.

“I’m in the middle of a field outside of Lincoln, Nebraska, waiting for my turn to look at a corpse they found about two hours ago. Second one in three days.”

“You’re fading out.”

“Then I’ll talk quickly. I just got a call from Miranda Cahill. Apparently they believe they have the Mary Douglas killer in custody.”

“You’re kidding. I haven’t heard anything. . . .” Mara’s fingers stopped their searching and rested on the top of the file. “Who?”

“This is the craziest thing. Remember when we were discussing the case, and we talked about the possibility that someone was killing women named Mary Douglas to cover up the killing of a specific Mary Douglas? A possibility I thought remote at the time.”

“Yes.”

“Well, it looks like that might have been it after all. The guy they arrested this morning is the son of the second victim.”

“He confessed?”

“No, of course not. No one confesses anymore. But the police found a bloody shirt in a bag in his closet and—”

“Why were the police looking in his closet?”

“Well, you know they’re talking to everyone who knew all three of these women. The police were especially interested in this guy, Teddy Douglas, because the next-door neighbor said she’d overheard him arguing with his mother several times during the week preceding the first murder.” Annie’s voice faded briefly, then resumed. “They got a warrant to search the premises, found the bloody shirt. The blood type matches Mary number one. DNA results aren’t back yet, but things don’t look good for Teddy.”

“So that’s it?” Mara sat back in her chair. “It’s over?”

“The police think he’s the man. Seems . . . oh, I don’t know, maybe a bit pat to me, but then again, I’m not privy to all the evidence that the locals have gathered. And who knows, maybe the simplest explanation is the right one.” Annie paused for a moment, then said, “Anyway, I thought I’d call you before I called Aidan and let him know he is off the hook. How’d that work out this week, by the way?”

“Aidan? Oh, fine. He’s been fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Really. He’s been . . . fine.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll both be happy to have your lives back.”

“You’ve faded again. . . . Anne Marie? Annie?”

The line dead, Mara hung up.

She knew she should be thrilled, not only that the killer had been found and arrested, but that she’d soon have her house to herself again. She could return to her own routine. Eat when she wanted, fall asleep on the sofa reading a book if she wanted . . .

So why, she asked herself, did she feel just a little let down?

Aidan was waiting for Mara outside the garage at five, just as he had been all week, and followed her home, just as he had every day since he’d arrived. She knew that when she arrived home, she’d find that her mail had been taken in, the dog had been walked, and on a pad next to the phone, in Aidan’s small but neat print, her phone messages would be efficiently recorded.

“You heard the news?” he said as he got out of the Corvette in her driveway.

“Yes. It’s terrific, isn’t it?” She slammed the driver’s side door of the Jetta and locked it with the remote. “So it looks like you’re a free man. Your indenture is over.”

Aidan smiled.
Rehoboth Beach, here I come.

“I know you have better things to do with your time,” she said, to make it easier for him. “You’ve been a good sport to stay here with a stranger and just hang out with the dog all day.”

“I like your dog.” Aidan followed her up the walk. “And all things considered, I guess it could have been worse.”

“That’s easy to say now, when you’re leaving.” She turned before putting the key in the front door lock. “But you’re right. It hasn’t been so bad. Not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Please.” He held up one hand. “All these compliments are going to go right to my head.”

Mara laughed, and it occurred to him that she hadn’t laughed very much that week. Nor had he. They’d been pretty much all business.

A pity, it seemed now, in retrospect.

She opened the door and found his bag sitting in the middle of the living room floor, waiting to be tossed into the trunk of the Corvette. Spike danced around joyfully from Aidan to Mara.

“Oh. I see you’re ready to leave.”

“I figured you’d want your house to yourself again.”

“Hey, at least I got a little lesson on stargazing.”

“No extra charge for the instruction.” He smiled.

He just doesn’t do that often enough,
she caught herself thinking.
He has a great smile. It goes all the way to his eyes, when he lets it.

“Listen, if you want to stay and have dinner, I can—” She gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

“Whip up a little takeout?” Another smile.

Two smiles in less than a minute.
He must be really happy to be leaving.

“There are several more numbers on that take-out list, you know.”

“Another time, maybe.” He bent over and picked up Spike. The dog’s tongue aimed for Aidan’s chin and struck its target. “Spike, hey, you keep guarding that front door, you hear? You never know who’s going to be on the other side. The mailman, a meter reader, Mrs. West from next door . . .”

“You met Mrs. West?”

“We bonded over a couple of flats of impatiens that she brought back from the nursery this morning. She left yours on the back steps. I was thinking about helping her plant them, just for something to do, but then Annie called.”

“Didn’t Mrs. West wonder who you are?”

“I told her I was an old friend of Annie’s in town for a few days and that you kindly offered me lodging before Annie got called away.” He put Spike on the floor, then kicked his voice up an octave or two to mimic Mara’s neighbor. “That Annie is always on the run. And if there’s a more unseemly job for such a lovely young woman, well, I just can’t imagine one.”

“Not bad. Another few days and you’d have it nailed.”

“I’ve been working on it all afternoon.” He stood with his hands in his pockets.

“Aidan, I don’t know how to thank you. I know that coming here, staying . . . well, I know you didn’t want to be here.”

“I promised Annie. I couldn’t turn her down.”

“I don’t know too many people who can.”

He lifted his bag as a means of averting his eyes. “You know, the last word that my brother spoke before he died was her name. I’ll always be there for her.” He hesitated. Mara’d been a good sport all week, in spite of the strain.

“I appreciate your being here for me this week.”

He acknowledged this with a nod, then started toward the door. He stopped suddenly and turned around, and without thinking about what he was doing, leaned over and kissed her low on her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. “Come see me in Rehoboth sometime. Bring Spike. He’d like the beach. You have my number.”

“I just might do that.” She wondered if she ever would.

She walked with him to the car, Spike racing ahead, then stood back while he dropped his bag into the trunk.

“Thanks again for keeping the demons at bay.”

“My specialty.” He unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel.

“Spike, come here. . . .” Mara picked up the dog, then stepped back onto the grass. She smiled and waved as he backed the Vette out of the driveway, waved again when he beeped the horn as he pulled away. She stood until the car disappeared around the first corner.

She cradled the little dog in her arms and walked slowly back into the house, where the silence seemed almost overwhelming. Funny, she hadn’t noticed it last week or the week before.

Or the month before, or the year before . . .

She poked through the mail and considered returning a phone call before deciding she didn’t really feel like talking to anyone right then. She poured a glass of iced tea and took it and Spike out onto the deck.

She looked over the flat of red and white flowers that he’d left near the bottom step and wondered if he’d really been thinking about planting them. He hadn’t struck her as the gardening type.

She sat in the same chair she’d sat in the night before. She put her feet up on the deck railing and watched Spike pounce upon a stick that was twice as long as he was.