Part 13 (1/2)

Anthony had noticed her, too, in her little black c.o.c.ktail dress. She, too young to order a c.o.c.ktail, tottering in her three-inch heels, had looked up into the most gorgeous pair of hazel eyes she'd ever seen.

”We've been conned,” said Anthony, nodding toward two sets of Italian grandparents, their heads together like conspirators.

Rae didn't care. She was lost but not dumb-struck. ”Did anybody ever tell you that you've got the most arresting eyes?” she'd blurted.

Anthony had cracked up, which put her off until he'd explained to her that he'd just graduated from Denver's police academy.

The sound of a rooster's crow through the open kitchen window stirred Rae. Through the large east-facing window, a red sun peeked over the horizon, jerking her back to the now. She'd just spent the night at her kitchen table.

Not that she'd slept. But she hadn't been awake either. Rae stirred, upsetting half a mug of cold coffee onto herself and the floor.

”s.h.i.+t!”

A cat's paw on her knee said ”feed me.” Soon all three of them were yowling and rubbing around her.

”Get your own d.a.m.n breakfast,” she growled even as she was taking cans of cat food out of the pantry.

Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. One of Grandma's many bits of wisdom.

”Good. We need the rain.” Rae answered Grandma's memory aloud. The goose on the bird clock honked. Five o'clock. Time to feed the animals.

She stumbled out the back door like a sleepwalker, then realized she still wore her new silk blouse and dressy pants that had to be dry-cleaned. Wrinkled beyond belief. Not just the clothes. Wrinkled clear to her soul. Everything all wadded up inside her. Can't you just throw out old dreams and start over?

The morning air was pregnant with moisture. Spider webs speckled with dew dotted the lawn. Rae slipped bare feet into her muck shoes and opened the gate to the barnyard.

The lilac hedge that separated the formal garden from the barnyard triggered something in her heart. She paused, sniffed the air, but found no scent left in the spent blooms now turning brown.

The heady scent of the lilac hedge on that first anniversary of Anthony's death came back at her with a force that flattened her.

”Oh, G.o.d, don't go there,” she said aloud. But it wasn't that first anniversary. It was the eighth she didn't want to relive.

She'd run out on a meeting with Sandy and a client. Bad timing. She'd always managed to have that day free. Eight years. Never mind that your son had just left for college and the nest was really empty. Seemed like that should be enough time to pamper yourself, Rae.

Sandy's client had illegal income, but was trying to square up with Uncle and stay out of jail. It wasn't a new situation for Sandy to hire her so that her work product could come under the attorney-client privilege. When the conversation drifted toward drug money, she'd bolted. Only that time, thank G.o.d, she hadn't slugged the client in the chops. But she hadn't thanked G.o.d. Not then nor at any time after. And she still wasn't speaking to Him.

She'd driven home from Sandy's office, gotten as far as the lilac hedge, parked and bawled her eyes out.

When she got out of her car, there he was, come to see if she was okay. Sandy.

She'd stumbled. Not on a rock, but on the scent of lilacs. Stumbled into Sandy's arms where he'd held her until they both realized where that embrace was going. And she hadn't pulled away. Married Sandy had.

He'd kissed her cheek and murmured, ”I'm sorry.”

”No. My fault.”

They'd put distance between them. Quickly.

”If there's anything I can do...”

Her eyes had told him what he could do. She'd never meant for the raw hunger of eight years to spill out.

Anything but that, his eyes answered. Aloud he said, ”I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I would have driven you.”

”I didn't ask.”

”Next time, ask me. I'm here for you.”

Sandy had left after a brotherly pat on her arm.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, she'd cried aloud. Pangs of guilt and embarra.s.sment hit her with hard, surface blows. How could she face Sandy again? How would she be able to work with him?

They hadn't had much contact since then. Not until Danny's dilemma had brought them back face-to-face. And it had been a good thing. She and Sandy-friends and colleagues again. The baggage of a weak moment pitched into the manure pile.

When Rae got back from feeding the livestock, the message light was blinking on her answering machine. She pressed the caller ID and saw Veronica's name.

Her hand hovered over the erase b.u.t.ton. Then she pressed play.

”Rae, please don't hang up. I couldn't sleep last night and I'll bet you couldn't either.”

And whose fault is that you... The memory of Sandy's arms around her smacked Rae soundly.

Again, she drew her hand back from the erase b.u.t.ton and listened.

”You really need to hear me out because it's not what you think.”

What else could it be? Anthony was drugged? No way. Somebody held a gun to his head and said Screw your partner or die? Please!

End of message. Click.

How could it not be what she thought?

The house wren on the clock chirped six o'clock.

Rae put a cup of last night's coffee in the microwave and hit the return call b.u.t.ton on the phone.

”I'm waiting for your explanation,” Rae said when Veronica answered on the third ring.

”Over the phone?” Veronica sounded fl.u.s.tered.

”I'm not coming to your house again.”

Rae sipped warmed-over coffee and waited. Veronica was quiet at the other end of the line. Then Rae could hear m.u.f.fled voices. Probably Justin getting ready for school.

”We really need to get this behind us. Can I come to your place?”

”You take your life in your hands if you do.” Rae nibbled again on the stale coffee that was cooling quickly, unlike her anger.