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“What was that for?” she demanded in a harsh whisper as soon as the officer was out of earshot.
“I was ad-libbing,” he answered as he allowed his hand to fall away from her shoulder.
Ellie told herself that the sudden chill was the result of the dropping temperature. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that he was no longer touching her. After all, she didn’t want him to touch her, not with the same hands that in all likelihood had killed poor Josh.
Jake led her to a sleek Mercedes and held open the door. The interior smelled of leather and it had the feel of newness. It also had the feel of money. As her eyes scanned the elaborate collection of controls on the dashboard, she decided the car must have cost as much as her annual salary.
“Lead on.” He mimicked her earlier words as he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Ellie’s brain worked at warp speed. “Uh...you need to head back in the direction of The Rose Tattoo.”
Misty rain accompanied the dusk as he drove back toward town. Ellie cautiously watched him out of the corner of her eye. How could someone so gorgeous be a killer? she wondered. Just her luck. The first really attractive man she meets turns out to be a thief at the very best, a killer at the very worst.
“Still trying to figure out how I did it?”
Ellie’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
He smiled then, an action that she felt all the way down to her toes. The effect was from more than just the attractive combination of dimples and even, white teeth. There was something almost hypnotic in the simple action, something that seemed to draw her to this man like the proverbial moth. Only with this man, Ellie knew with relative certainty that she’d be consumed by the flames.
“I was thinking about the murder,” she hedged.
He nodded, apparently unfazed by the whole situation. “Whoever it was obviously wanted to make sure you were caught at the scene.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t have any enemies.”
“Really?” One pale brow arched high on his forehead. “What about that guy at the bar? The one with no neck.”
“Mike has a neck,” she insisted.
“The size of a tree trunk.”
“He works out.”
“With a bottle of steroids?”
“No,” she told him on an exasperated breath. “He has a very stressful job. He works out to release some of the stress.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a detective.”
Jake let out a low whistle. “So that’s how you know so much about police work.”
“Pretty much,” she said, lowering her eyes to study her hands. “Mike investigates murders, he doesn’t commit them.”
“Unless maybe he bought that little scene you staged with the bartender?”
Ellie shifted in the bucket seat, angling herself so that she could glare at his profile. “That’s crazy. Mike is not the violent type.”
“Really?” Jake asked, almost taunting her as he abruptly swerved over to the curb and threw the car in park. “Then what are these?”
Taking one of her arms, Jake pulled it free of her coat and rolled up her sleeve. Even in the dim light of early evening, she could easily make out the small, roundish bruises where Mike had gripped her arm.
“He doesn’t always realize his own strength,” she said.
Tossing her arm down in obvious disgust, Jake said, “Right. Have you always made excuses for him? Is that why your relationship with that Neanderthal ended?”
Ellie didn’t bother to fix her sleeve, but simply stuffed her balled fist through the armhole of her coat and stiffened in the seat. “My relationship with Mike is hardly any of your business.”
“Excuse me,” Jake grumbled as he pulled back onto the road.
For several minutes the only conversation consisted of Ellie’s minimal directions to take a left or a right. The tension inside the passenger compartment was as thick as the fog slowly settling over the city.
“Turn here,” Ellie instructed. “Stop at the third house.”
“Nice neighborhood.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my brother and his wife that you approve.”
Jake eased the car to a halt in front of the empty driveway. Ellie swallowed her trepidation as she reached for the door handle.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in for a cup of coffee?”
She met his slightly amused eyes. “No. If you can afford to buy a Mercedes, I’d say you can afford to buy your own coffee.”
“Tea?”
“No.”
“Brandy?”
“No.”
“Maybe I could use—”
“No.” Ellie got out of the car and slammed the door before he could think of any other idiotic pretexts under which she would let him inside. It wasn’t that she was inhospitable, she was simply protecting her family.
Calmly she strolled up the flagstone walkway, silently praying the whole way.
She reached the front door and pressed the bell. Her heart was racing as she waited, knowing full well that Jake was still parked at the curb.
The porch light came on and the door opened a small crack. Ellie tilted her head and spoke to the portion of the face visible through the small opening.
“Mrs. Baxter, it’s me, Ellie Tanner, from over on Chestnut Street. Dylan’s sister.”
Chapter Four
The white-haired woman’s face registered surprised recognition as the door was unlatched and pulled completely open.
“What are you doing out in this weather?” she chided. “And you’re soaked through to the bone.”
“I had some trouble with my car,” Ellie explained as she slipped inside the house. It smelled of buttery baked goods and freshly ground cinnamon. “Rentals,” she added with a shrug.
“Do you need to call for a tow?”
Ellie glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake still parked at the curb. She could hear the hum of the idling engine. Knowing she couldn’t very well let him discover where she really lived, Ellie smiled as she reached for the door. “I’m letting in a terrible draft.”
Mrs. Baxter looked at her with kind, gentle eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she began. “How rude of me. Come into the kitchen. I’ve had the oven going since early morning. We’ll have you toasty in no time.”
With one last, satisfied glance back, Ellie closed the door and followed the gracious older woman down a hallway filled with mementos of a full and happy life. There were photos of her children from birth through college, and of the newest generation of Baxters. It reminded Ellie of her own mother’s house.
“I don’t want to impose,” she told the other woman. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I cut through your house, just to get out of the cold for a while.”
Mrs. Baxter ushered her into a large kitchen. The round table was covered with a variety of tins, partially filled with delicious-smelling goodies.
“Gifts,” she explained as she wiped her hands on the front of her well-worn apron. “With Mr. Baxter’s surgery this year, I’m a little behind on my baking.”
“I’m sure your family will understand.”
“These aren’t for family,” she said. “I send a little something to the ladies I used to work with.”
Ellie took in a deep breath. Listening to Mrs. Baxter, being in this kitchen, was almost enough to make her forget the horrible image of Josh on the sofa.
“Have you been retired long?”
Mrs. Baxter placed her hands on her ample hips and nodded. “It was way back during the war. We all worked at the base, assembling military equipment for the boys in Europe.”
“You were like Rosie the Riveter?” Ellie asked.
“You bet,” Mrs. Baxter answered. There was a definite pride in her wistful expression. “Worked eight-, sometimes ten-hour shifts. By the time Mr. Baxter came home, I had enough saved to buy this house.”
“What a great story,” Ellie said.
In response to a chime from the stove, Mrs. Baxter donned padded mitts and turned her attention to the oven. “It was different back then,” she said. “We women didn’t have as many choices as you gals do today, but at least we had security. We knew that when we got married, it would be till the death. My one son is on his third wife. Doesn’t have a clue what the word commitment means.”
“I know the type,” Ellie lamented as she carefully sat on the edge of one of the chairs, trying not to get the cushion wet.
“I take it you aren’t married?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be?”
Ellie smiled at the woman’s candor. “Yes. I’m just afraid I’ll choose the wrong guy. So far, I have a track record of nothing but losers. Sometimes I think I’m wearing some sort of invisible sign that only jerks can see—Date Her, She’s Desperate.”
Mrs. Baxter’s laugh was soft and very reassuring. It reminded Ellie so much of her own mother’s laugh that she felt a small pang of homesickness.
“The right man will come along eventually. Patience, my dear.”
“Will he be wearing a sign?” Ellie asked.
“Most definitely.” Mrs. Baxter waved her spatula dramatically as she spoke. “I believe in fate,” she said, her expression distant and contented. “I knew the first time I laid eyes on Mr. Baxter that he was the man for me.”
“Love at first sight?”
“Hardly,” Mrs. Baxter snorted. “He was coming out of a club—one of those dance clubs we had in the old days—falling down drunk.”
“And you fell in love?”
“Actually, he fell on me.”
Ellie smiled.
“Even though he reeked of whiskey, one feel of those strong shoulders and I was gone.”
The memory of Jake’s strong, muscled body flashed in her mind. Ellie shook her head, hoping to rid herself of such outrageous thoughts.
“Well,” Ellie began as she rose slowly. “I had better be on my way. Shelby is probably frantic by now.”
Mrs. Baxter went to the window, shoving back the dainty lace curtains before she said, “I think you’re a little late, my dear.”
Ellie hurried to the window. Even in the shadows of early evening she had no trouble making out the insignia on the car parked in front of her brother and sister-in-law’s home.
“Looks like she’s already called the police.”
Closing her eyes for a brief second, Ellie sucked in a breath. Now what? she wondered. How am I going to talk my way out of this?
“You’d best hurry along,” Mrs. Baxter was saying. “Shelby must be worried sick if she’s already alerted the authorities. I suppose it has something to do with what happened to poor little Chad a while back. Kidnapping is the sort of thing that stays with a mother always, you know. I guess it’s only natural for Shelby to react quickly when a family member is missing.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ellie admitted. Great, she silently castigated as she let herself out the back door. “I’ve left the scene of a murder,” she grumbled as she worked her way toward the house. “I’ve probably assisted a murderer in making his escape. And now I’ve probably scared Shelby half out of her mind. If the cops don’t kill me, Dylan absolutely will.”
Every light in the house was on, which pretty much eliminated the possibility of sneaking in the back way. No, Ellie acknowledged as she shifted her handbag to the opposite shoulder, there was nothing to do but walk in the front door and hope she could explain her behavior in a calm, rational way.
Sucking in a deep breath, she lifted the drenched hem of her skirt and gingerly maneuvered up the icy steps. She was frantically running various excuses through her mind when the door suddenly flew open.
She was greeted by a pair of glaring green eyes. “Well it’s about damn time,” Rose yelled. “Shelby’s been frantic, especially since the cops arrived.”
Ellie lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry she called the police,” she tried again.
“Get in out of the cold,” Rose grumbled, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Ellie’s damp sweater. “And she didn’t call the cops. They showed up because of the murder.”
Ellie, paralyzed by fear, looked into the hallway, fully expecting a whole battalion of officers to be waiting there, handcuffs dangling from their eager fingers.
“Why are they here?” she asked.
“Josh,” Rose answered, her voice softer and with just a trace of sadness.
Ellie’s eyes darted into the living room. Spotting the two uniformed men with Shelby, she felt her heart pound urgently.
