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Brady tried to read between the lines to pick up on what the veterinarian wasn’t saying. “You told him to stop?”
“In a way,” she allowed. “I said that it wasn’t really proper, that I couldn’t accept gifts for doing my job.”
Why did he have to drag the words out of her? he wondered impatiently. “And?”
Patience shrugged, blocking the edgy frustration that pushed its way forward. “He kept leaving them anyway.”
He knew that these things almost always escalated unless there was forceful police intervention. “What made him finally stop?”
“I put out a formal photograph of my family in dress blues. Made sure he saw it.” Patience nodded at the far wall.
There, hung in prominent display was a group photograph he’d seen more than once on his visits to her office. He looked at it with fresh eyes. The last time he’d seen that much blue was at a patrolman’s funeral. He had to say it was impressive.
Patience allowed a small smile to surface. “I guess that put the fear of God into him. Or at least the fear of the Cavanaughs.” Her smile widened a little. “Walter hasn’t sent a poem or a single flower in the last six months. And he hasn’t been by.”
Brady looked down at the rose. King eyed it, as well. “Until now.”
She nodded, suppressing a sigh. “Until now,” she echoed.
If this was the resurgence of the stalker, she was being entirely too blasé about it. “You should report this, you know.”
Calmer now, she thought of the mousy little man, of the stunned expression on his face when she’d made reference to her family and had shown him the photograph. She’d overreacted, she told herself, because of Katie. But this was different and she didn’t want to stir things up. “He’s harmless.”
In Brady’s book, no one was harmless in the absolute sense. Everyone had a button that could be pressed, setting them off. “Every killer was once thought of as harmless.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“Damn straight I am. I’ve seen enough things in my life to know when a woman should be scared, Doc.”
She’d been around members of the police department all of her life. Beyond her father, she couldn’t recall any of them being as world-weary as Coltrane appeared to be. Not even Patrick. “God, you sound as if you’re a hundred years old.”
“Some nights, I am,” he told her matter-of-factly. “So, you want me to take a statement?”
“No, that’s all right. If I get really worried about Walter, like you said, I’ve got my own boatload of police personnel to turn to.”
It wasn’t difficult to read between the lines. “But you won’t.”
Patience didn’t feel comfortable, being read so effortlessly by a man she couldn’t begin to read herself. Rather than get into it, she gave him her reasons—or, at least, the primary one. “I don’t want to upset them unnecessarily.”
“How about necessarily?”
“Walter’s harmless,” she insisted. It felt odd, championing a man she wished, deep down, had never crossed her path. “He thinks he’s just pursuing me, like in the old-fashioned sense. Courting,” she added, fishing for the right word. Walter Payne always made her think of someone straight out of the fifties, when things had been simpler and persistence paid off. “He stopped once. If I ignore him, he’ll stop again.”
“And if he won’t?” Brady challenged. King barked, as if to back him up.
Tacoma moved closer to her mistress, offering her protection. She absently ran her hand over the dog’s head, scratching Tacoma behind the ears as she spoke, trying to keep the mental image of Katie’s photograph at bay. “Then I’ll deal with it. I have a number of people to turn to.”
Damn but she was one stubborn woman. One could see it in the set of her mouth, in her eyes.
But before he could say anything further to her, the bell above the door jangled and a woman came in, struggling with a battered cat carrier. The occupant of the carrier paced within the small space.
“I know I don’t have an appointment, Dr. Cavanaugh, but Gracie’s been hacking all night and I’m worried sick.” The statement came out like an extraordinarily long single word, each letter breathlessly woven to the one before and the one after.
Feeling the dog stiffen beside him, Brady looked down at his companion. The fur on King’s back was standing up as he stared intently at the carrier. Had he not been as well trained as he was, Brady was sure the animal would have gone after the cat, carrier or no carrier. The cat obviously sensed it, too. Hissing noises began to emerge from the carrier.
In contrast to King, Patience’s dog seemed bored and trotted over to the far corner to catch a nap beneath the rays of the early morning sun.
Taking a firm hold of King’s leash, Brady spared Patience one last look.
“Report it,” he told her much in the same voice that he used on King when he verbalized his commands.
“I’ll handle it,” Patience repeated firmly. She turned her attention to the frantic older woman. Work was the best thing for her right now. “Right this way, Mrs. Mahoney. As it happens, my first patient of the day isn’t here yet.”
And neither was her receptionist, she added silently. But then, Shirley had a very loose concept of time. Too bad. The young woman had a crush on Brady that was evident to everyone but the man himself. Shirley was going to regret not being here a tad early this morning.
Patience turned to look back at Brady and mouthed, “Thank you” before she disappeared.
She could thank him all she wanted, Brady thought as he exited the clinic. In reality, he hadn’t done anything. Doing something was up to her. He unlocked his car. The hell with it, this was her business, not his.
Holding the door open, he gave King a nod. The dog jumped into the back seat.
“Not our concern, boy,” Brady said as he got behind the steering wheel.
He placed his key in the ignition. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he could see King staring at him. Brady tried not to read anything into the intent brown eyes, but the dog seemed to be saying that he was wrong, that she was their concern. Because they knew her.
Brady sighed. King always had a way of setting him straight. But this time, the dog was wrong. Couldn’t help someone who wouldn’t help themselves. He’d learned that a long time ago.
It had been one hell of a long day from start to finish. A bad night’s sleep didn’t help matters. Not that he ever really got a good night’s sleep. His sleep pattern would have sent any self-respecting hospital-affiliated sleep clinic into a tailspin. He amassed his sleep in snatches, never getting more than a couple hours at a clip, usually less. Each night turned into a patchwork quilt of sleep and wakefulness.
The trouble was that he couldn’t shut off his mind, couldn’t find peace even in repose. Half the time he dreamed of what he had experienced during the course of the day or, more than likely, during his earlier years.
He supposed, in comparison to that time period, anything he experienced now was a cakewalk, even if he did deal with the scum of the earth at times. At least he had the consolation of knowing that he was ridding the world of vermin, making it safer for people in Aurora, people like Patience Cavanaugh, to sleep at night.
Contributing to the restlessness he now felt was the fact that Dr. Patience Cavanaugh hadn’t been off his mind for more than thirty minutes at a stretch. Usually less. He just wasn’t comfortable about her lack of action with this stalker thing.
The first free minute he’d had, he’d deliberately investigated if any new stalker complaints had been filed today. They hadn’t. Big surprise. Maybe she’d turned to someone in her family with the problem. No, he had a bead on her. For all her friendliness, all her vibrancy, Patience Cavanaugh was stubborn and independent like the rest of the Cavanaughs. That meant that she didn’t relish appearing as if she were vulnerable, as if she couldn’t take care of whatever was going on in her life all by herself.
“Still not our problem,” he told the dog that went home with him every night.
King gave him the same penetrating look he’d given him that morning.
Brady sighed. Who the hell did he think he was fooling? “Yeah, right, we’re police officers. That makes everything our problem.”
Muttering something ripe and piercing under his breath, he started up the lovingly restored Mustang that served as his single private mode of transportation from the time he had left Georgia behind in his rearview mirror. The only original thing left of the cherry-red car was its outer shell. Everything beneath the hood was new, or at least had been replaced once if not twice. The vehicle was in prime running condition. He made sure to keep it that way. Working on cars helped soothe him whenever he felt particularly agitated.
Brady paused before pulling out of the lot. He knew he should go home, maybe tune up his engine to work the frustration out of his system.
Instead he turned his car in the opposite direction and headed back to the animal clinic.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, we’re not going home. At least not yet.” He glanced at the dog in the mirror. “Don’t give me that look. She’s a tax-paying citizen. Those are the ones we’re supposed to protect, remember?” King’s face remained impassive. “I just want to check up on her, make sure everything’s all right. Something happens to her, the department’s gotta find a new vet. Which means that you’ve got to get used to someone else poking at you. You want that?”
King continued to stare at him.
“I didn’t think so.” Brady took a sharp right. The open stretch of road in front of him invited him to go faster. He did.
Fifteen minutes later he eased his car to a stop, parking across the street from the animal clinic, which was attached to Patience’s home. After tossing the dog a large treat, Brady looked out at the two-story building. Except for the one just above the front entrance, the lights within the clinic had long since been extinguished.
The lights inside her home, however, had not. She was home. Most likely alone.
Brady settled in.
Chapter 3
Patience pushed back the curtain.
There it was again.
The car parked directly across the street from her home had been sitting there for a while now. Ordinarily she might not have even noticed it, except that for once, there were no other cars parked along the street. The neighbor who had a hundred and one excuses to throw a party was off traveling in Europe somewhere. According to the neighborhood gossip, he wasn’t due back for another three weeks.
Everyone else around her parked their cars either in the garage or in their driveway. Which made this particular vehicle stick out. Even if it hadn’t been red, which it was.
Walter owned a beige sedan. Beige, like his personality. Had the man bought a new car?
Her palms felt damp. Why did anxiety always crowd in the moment sunlight left?
Her mind was working overtime. She had to stop doing this to herself. So there was a strange car parked across the street from her house, so what? There were a hundred reasons for it being there.
She could think of only one.
She’d noticed the parked vehicle as she’d walked by her family room window. Ten minutes later, she was drawn back to the window. And again. Each time she looked, she could feel something in her chest tighten just a little more.
Get a grip.
She worked the curtain fabric through her fingers, staring at the vehicle. Telling herself that memories of her father’s case were making her overreact. Walter hadn’t hurt her last time. Why would he this time? Patience didn’t know for sure that the flower had come from Walter. But it had begun the last time with a single rose. Just because Walter had sent it, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t send her a flower for a completely innocent reason.
There could be all sorts of explanations for that flower. It could have even come from a new real estate agent trying to make an impression. Realtors were always doing strange things like that, giving you pads, newsletters, flags. Why not roses?
Okay, so where was his flyer? Flying off somewhere? She watched a bunch of leaves chase each other at the curb where she’d swept them. Gusts of wind had been blowing all afternoon. Fall was settling in.
Stop it, Patience, you’re making yourself crazy. Just wait and see what happens next.
That was what she’d told herself earlier this evening—just before she’d spotted the car. Patience chewed on her bottom lip. Did the car belong to Walter? She didn’t know. No, she wasn’t going to break down, wasn’t going to be the spooked female, was not going to let her imagination run away with her. She could handle this. At the very least, she had to be sure if it was Walter or just a car someone had innocently parked near her house.
Summoning her courage, Patience looked out a third time. And saw the vague outline of a dog in the back seat. The relief she felt was massive. It wasn’t Walter’s car. Walter was terrified of dogs. Each time he had come into the clinic, he made sure to steer clear of any canine patients in the waiting area. He’d told her that he’d had a bad experience as a young boy that had scarred him for life.
Okay, not Walter. But, if not Walter, then who? A patient with an “emergency”? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen a patient after her doors were closed.
She’d even gotten a couple of calls from frantic pet owners in the middle of the night. The last one had been less than a month ago, involving an encounter between a Great Dane and a pit bull that had accidentally gotten loose in the residential area. Jogging with her master, the Great Dane had been no match for the smaller, more powerful animal. If it hadn’t been for a cruising patrol car, Patience had no doubt that the Great Dane would have been killed. As it was, she’d spent the better part of three hours stitching up the poor victim.
Determined to get to the bottom of this, Patience slipped on a sweater and went downstairs to the front entrance of her house. The wind was picking up again. Two weeks into fall and the weather had decided to surrender to the season. Patience wrapped her arms around herself as she crossed the street. She missed summer already.
As she approached the vehicle, she saw the man in the driver’s seat look her way. Because of the location of the streetlamp, his face was bathed in shadow. She recognized the dog first. King. Which meant that the man in the car had to be Coltrane.
But why?
She leaned down until she was level with the window and his face. He looked none too happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged carelessly. “I was just making the rounds.”
The hell he was. She glanced at his vehicle, one that, even in this light, she could tell had been lovingly handled and restored. She’d had no idea that he was handy around cars. Only someone who was handy could drive an automobile like this. It required a great deal of attention. “In a ’78 Mustang?”
He looked mildly surprised that she could identify not just the make and model, but the year, as well. “You know cars?”
She laughed shortly. In this light, the car looked a deep blood-red. Not exactly the most inconspicuous color for a vehicle. “Most of my relatives are male. I’d have to be deaf not to have picked up something about cars over the years. And don’t change the subject. You’re off duty.” She ran her hand lightly over the dog’s head. “You both are, unless the police chief has suddenly decided to relax the uniform code. Besides, you’re part of the narcotics division.”
He’d never seen her outside of the clinic and without her lab coat. She wore a pair of faded jeans that adhered to her like a second skin, a white T-shirt that just barely covered her midriff and a cardigan that did nothing to hide her curves. For once her red hair was loose, falling in waves around her shoulders. She looked a great deal more feminine and fragile this way. Something protective stirred within him, growing larger.
“Haven’t you heard about crime in the suburbs?”
She fixed him with a look that said she saw right through him. “Is that anything like lying in the suburbs?” Before he could say anything, she began, “Look, if you’re here because of this morning—”
He looked at her with an attempt at innocence she found endearing. “This morning? What happened this morning?”
She made no effort to suppress her grin. Amusement shone in her eyes. “If being a policeman doesn’t work out for you, Coltrane, promise me you don’t try being an actor. There’s no future in it for you. Trust me, you’re awful at it.” And then her grin softened into a smile. “I’m touched.” She nodded toward the house. “Why don’t you come inside for a cup of coffee?”
He reached for the key in his ignition. “I was just on my way home.”
“Sure you were.” Before he could start the car, Patience opened the rear door. Instantly, King came bounding out. His tail wagged so hard, had he been a smaller dog he might have succeeded in levitating himself off the ground. Laughing, she ran her hand along the animal’s head. “Well, I’m happy to see you, too. Why don’t you come on in and say hi to Tacoma? I’ve got this great extra soup bone I don’t know what to do with.” She began to lead the way, but King turned to look at his master. His expression seemed to implore Brady to come along. “Don’t worry about him, King. I already asked him, but he doesn’t want to come in. He likes sitting in cars in the dark. Let’s go.”
Turning on her heel, she started to walk back to her house. After a moment’s hesitation King followed her willingly.
She probably had treats in her pocket, Brady thought darkly. Patience was forever doling them out to the dogs she treated. Disgusted at being abandoned, he leaned out the window and called, “That’s bribery.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. Even at this distance, her expression looked purely impish to him. “Yes, it is.”
With a sigh, Brady got out of his car and shut the door. He made no effort to catch up to the duo. Instead he followed behind the clearly smitten animal and the woman who had made him give up his evening routine.
Not that it was any great sacrifice on his part. Evenings for Brady meant heating up whatever he found in the refrigerator, then stretching out in front of the television set, tuned to some news channel so that he could stay informed.
Law enforcement had advanced a long way from making sure the town drunk was locked up for the night. It had even progressed beyond the thieves, the drug pushers, the murderers, kidnappers and rapists that were all a part of the modern world. Now there was an international threat to be on the alert for, as well.
It never seemed to stop.
However, tonight the world had gotten a great deal smaller again and his focus was concentrated on the woman walking into the house, adoringly followed by his four-footed partner.
Entering the house, he followed woman and beast into a kitchen that was both warm and cozy. Something out of a sitcom, he thought, because it certainly wasn’t out of anything he’d ever experienced firsthand. He remembered hearing somewhere that the kitchen was the heart of the house. In his house, the kitchen had been where his father liked to do his drinking when he wasn’t throwing back shots at the local bar.
Brady watched as King followed every move Patience made. He liked her hair down, he noted, instead of up and out of the way. He hadn’t realized it was so long. The tresses moved with her like a strawberry-blond cloud.
