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“Huh?”
The waitress interrupted to take their orders, and as she scribbled her shorthand on her pad, she glanced up at Michelle. “I’m really sorry about Amanda. I know you two were friends and you were right there when it happened.”
“Thanks.”
“You take care of yourself.”
“See?” Colin touched the rim of his water glass to hers. “Nobody is blaming you or thinking you’re weird because you’re eating lunch.”
She blew out a breath and took a sip of water. “Who’s Chris?”
“Chief Evans didn’t tell you?” The cops who’d questioned him hadn’t exactly told him to keep mum about anything. He didn’t owe them, anyway. He owed Michelle. “Chris Jeffers is the name of the transient. He had a smear of blood on his sleeve.”
“Amanda’s?” Her eyes widened.
“They don’t know yet. They sent it out for testing and depending on how backed up the lab is, it could take a while for them to get the results.”
“But it’s something. Maybe you’re wrong, Colin.” She shot him an apologetic look from beneath her lashes. “Maybe Amanda’s murder was just a random act. I’m not saying the other two murders, Tiffany’s and Belinda’s, are random, but maybe Amanda’s death has nothing to do with those other women.”
His gut rebelled against her reasoning. Three women from the same high school class? Two with slit throats and all with rose petals? But his heart softened when he saw the hope shining in Michelle’s eyes.
She wanted to believe Amanda’s murder was a random act of violence. She wanted to believe she had nothing to fear from the same killer. And he didn’t want to dash that belief. Not now.
“Maybe.” He shoved their water glasses aside as the waitress brought their plates. “Now let me see if they snuck any alfalfa sprouts on my burger.”
Pointing to her salad, she said, “You can toss them on here if you find any.”
They ate in silence for several minutes, and then Michelle started shoving lettuce leaves around her plate.
“What’s wrong? Tired of rabbit food?”
“How’s the burger? Not too healthy for you?”
Chewing, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Just the right amount of grease. And these sweet potato fries are great. Have one.”
She picked a fry from his plate and twirled it around. “Colin. What happened to your brother in Afghanistan?”
He nearly choked on his water. Damn. He thought he’d escaped the inquisition. He blotted his mouth with a napkin, stalling for time. Of course he could take his usual route—stare down the questioner and grunt. But Michelle wasn’t some random nosy person on the street. She’d opened up to him about her past hurts and now she’d volleyed the ball into his court.
Isn’t that how relationships worked? Give and take. Not that he and Michelle had a relationship. They had more like a partnership. He’d keep her safe and she’d feed him information about her graduating class at CCHS.
Did he have to open up to a partner?
“Of course, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She dropped the sweet potato fry onto her half-eaten salad and brushed her fingers together.
His eyes met hers. Tiny creases marred the smooth skin between her dark, sculpted eyebrows. She looked worried…worried about him.
He scooped in a breath and twisted the napkin in his lap. “My brother and I were both on the same intelligence-gathering team. We’d been watching a particular bunch outside of Kandahar. We made our move, but someone had betrayed us. They were ready for us.”
“What happened?”
“The Taliban killed a few of the team members and captured the rest of us, including me and Kieran.”
“I—I had heard something about that, later when you escaped.”
Colin’s heart hammered in his chest. He could never get past this part of the story with anyone, not even in his own mind. “I escaped. But Kieran didn’t. We’d planned our escape, but our captors chose that night to take Kieran away for questioning. I wanted to stay, but they had talked about moving us to a different location. The others convinced me, but I should’ve held out. I should’ve stayed with my brother.”
“Of course you couldn’t have stayed.” Her hand inched closer to his and then froze as his fingers curled into a fist.
“Is he dead?”
“No.” Colin smacked his clenched hand on to the table. “After we escaped, we went back for him, but, of course, the Taliban had pulled up stakes and moved on.”
“And you never…” Her fingers nervously pleated the tablecloth.
“We never found Kieran’s body. That’s why I still hold out hope that he’s alive somewhere.”
“You blame yourself.”
That about summed it up. His lips twisted into a grimace. “Kieran never would’ve left me behind, Michelle.”
“You don’t know that.” She skimmed her fingers along the scars on his wrists. “He would’ve done what was best for the whole team, right? Just as you did.”
Her light touch calmed the blood thrumming through his veins. He felt…unburdened. And that wasn’t fair. Michelle had her own turmoil to deal with right now.
“I’m sorry.” Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t be. I asked. I wanted to know. If we’re going to work together on this thing, I want you to trust me.”
He opened one eye. “We’re working together in the loosest sense of that term. I ask you questions about your classmates and you provide the answers. No more traipsing around haunted houses.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a sassy move that made his stomach flip with it. “That haunted house may have given up Amanda’s killer. I’m not giving up hope that Chris is our guy. I guess we’ll know when the blood test comes back.”
“Maybe our partnership will come to an end sooner rather than later, which would be a good thing.” Good for Michelle’s safety, anyway.
She nodded. “Absolutely. Of course, if this guy Chris is arrested for Amanda’s murder, it doesn’t solve the other two murders.”
“We’ll let the FBI agents assigned to those cases worry about that.” He signaled to the waitress. “You probably have to get home and grade those quizzes.”
“Yeah, just another exciting Saturday night.”
She made a grab for the check, but he beat her to it. “Are you looking for excitement? I would’ve thought you’d had your fill.”
Her cheeks burned red. “I didn’t mean that. Amanda’s been dead for less than twenty-four hours. The last thing I need is excitement.”
Colin grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t feel guilty for surviving.”
“Like you do?”
“That’s…different.”
“If you say so.” She tilted her chin at the check on the table. “How much do I owe?”
“It’s on me. You can get the next one.” Because he really wanted there to be a next one.
The sun had made its brief appearance. Now the marine layer was staging a comeback. Michelle peered at the sky through the windshield of her car.
“It’s going to be another one of those nights.” Her fingers white-knuckled the steering wheel.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure. The chief said he’d send a patrol car by the house a few times tonight.”
“And I’m right down the street.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but unless you remember quadratic equations, I think I can handle things.”
If she asked him to stay he’d accept in a heartbeat, but Michelle had an independent streak and he had to respect that. Who knows? Maybe after he’d told her how he’d left Kieran to fend for himself, she didn’t trust him to protect her. Hell, he wouldn’t.
She slowed the car as she approached her house. “Do you want a lift to your place?”
“I can walk.”
She swung into her driveway, avoiding the bedraggled yellow tape from the crime scene, and Colin reached into his pocket for a card.
“Do you still have my card from last night?”
“I think it’s in my purse.”
He pressed another one into her palm. “Here it is again, just in case. My cell phone number is on there. Call me if…if you need anything.”
Her doe eyes searched his face, and he relaxed the muscles and even managed a smile. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Thanks, Colin. I think I’ll be okay. After grading, I’m going to bed early. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” He walked her to the front door, and she gave him a tremulous smile and slipped inside.
He strolled to the end of her walkway and shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared at the spot where Amanda had been killed. He knew that homeless guy wasn’t responsible for the murder. When would the police realize it? When the killer cut down another member of Michelle’s graduating class?
He turned and surveyed Michelle’s tidy beach house through half-closed lids. Michelle was not going to be the next victim. And he’d make damned sure of it.
He had no intention of running away…this time.
Several hours later, Michelle stretched and dropped her red pen on the coffee table where she’d been grading the algebra quizzes. She’d planned on getting them done early, having a light dinner and then turning in, but the hands on her watch were creeping toward midnight.
She hadn’t been able to focus all night. Or rather she hadn’t been able to focus on algebra all night. Her thoughts had drifted down the street toward Colin Roarke. No wonder he’d seemed sad that first night she’d seen him. He’d left his brother behind. Had escaped while his brother faced an uncertain future—maybe death.
She’d wanted to assuage his guilt, but she hadn’t been very successful. It was easy to tell other people to shrug off their guilt. Outsiders had a more logical, more clinical approach to someone else’s situation. After what had happened to Amanda, Michelle found it easy to understand Colin’s feelings.
Would she always feel this way? Would she always wonder if there was something more she could’ve done for Amanda? Maybe she should’ve insisted that Amanda spend the night.
Michelle crossed the room to the window and lifted the side of the curtains. The weather outside mimicked the conditions of last night and she gave an involuntary shiver. The fog had rolled in thick and heavy, blanketing the street in its moist embrace.
Clutching her upper arms, Michelle balanced a shoulder against the wall. She’d already spotted one cop car on a drive-by. She’d be fine. Except now she couldn’t discern a cop car on the street even if it drove by with flashing lights. And the cop couldn’t see her.
Michelle let the curtain fall, tousled her hair and yawned. She stuffed the last of the quizzes into the folder for that class and glanced at her laptop. Should she enter the grades online tonight or wait until tomorrow?
She plopped the folders on top of the closed laptop and spun around. She’d wait until tomorrow when her eyelids didn’t have to be propped open with toothpicks.
She turned off the light in the living room and clicked on the lamp by her bed. She peeled off her clothes, tossed them in the basket in her closet and padded to the attached bathroom in her bra and undies.
Still unable to get Colin off her mind, she brushed her teeth and scrubbed her skin as if that could expunge the image of his face imprinted on her brain. She didn’t need to renew her schoolgirl crush on Colin Roarke. He’d be moving on soon enough.
She wandered back into the bedroom, massaging night cream into her face. She slipped out of her bra and tugged a long T-shirt over her head that had Math Teachers Do It With Pi emblazoned across the front—a silly gift from Amanda. Kicking off her flip-flops, she reached for the lamp.
She froze.
She’d heard a scratching sound on the window like a twig scraping the glass. Only she didn’t have any trees outside her bedroom window.
She held her breath. She squinted at the filmy white curtains. It could just be grains of sand whipped up from the sand dunes.
With her heart pounding, she sidled along the wall toward the window. Crouching down, she inched the curtain to the side. A wave of fear rushed through every cell of her body as she watched a hand scrabble at her window.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MICHELLE SCREAMED AND tumbled to the floor. Her fingers had curled around the curtains, and they ripped as she brought them down with her.
Still clutching a piece of white linen in her fist, she scrambled toward the bedroom door on her hands and knees. She glanced over her shoulder at the gaping rip in the curtains framing a smooth expanse of glass. No face. No hand.
Had she imagined it, that hand clawing at the windowpane?
Someone yelled and pounded on her front door. Michelle let out another yelp. She leaped to her feet and dashed for her cell phone, charging on the kitchen counter.
“Michelle!” Another bang on the door. “Michelle! It’s Colin.”
The phone slipped through her grasp as relief surged through her body. She peeked through the peephole and sagged against the door. With shaky fingers she turned the dead bolt and swung open the door.
Colin charged over the threshold and Michelle didn’t know if he’d swept her into his arms or if she’d fallen there, but here she was tucked against his solid chest.
“I heard you scream, what happened? Are you okay?”
He’d heard her scream from down the block?
She took a ragged breath that scorched her lungs. Maybe her scream had carried all the way to his house. “I—I saw something at the window.”
“What window? Not the front?”
“My bedroom window.”
