Part 10 (2/2)
His chest rose and fell heavily. His jaw tautened. He looked at her mouth and felt an insane fever to take it under his and devour it.
Grace didn't understand much about men, but even in her innocence she felt the heat and sensuality of that look, and her body responded to it helplessly.
”Playing with fire, little girl,” he whispered gruffly.
The tension in his deep, velvety voice rippled through her like liquid fire. Her hands tightened behind his neck. She actually lifted toward him in the few explosive seconds before the sound of the front door opening split them quickly apart.
”What in the world...!” Miss Turner exclaimed when she saw Grace being carried.
”She tripped while she was chasing a coyote with a stick,” Garon muttered, brus.h.i.+ng past her with Grace. ”I need an Ace bandage.”
”I'll go get one. I keep them for the men,” she murmured, retreating as he headed for the living room. ”Somebody's always spraining something. Chasing a coyote?!”
”He was trying to eat my cat,” Grace called.
”He'd throw him right back up,” Garon returned as he put her quickly down on the sofa. ”Your cat looks like five miles of rough road, and he stinks.”
”He does not!” she exclaimed.
”Well, you can take my word for it that nothing sane would try to eat him,” he retorted.
He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at her with confusion. She was wearing baggy jeans and that same pink sweats.h.i.+rt. He wondered what she'd look like in black lace and silk. He blinked, hard. Where had that odd curiosity come from?
Miss Turner was back in a flash with the bandage. She handed it to Garon. ”Are you planning to repair her and take her home, or is she staying?”
Garon knelt at her feet, opening the elastic bandage. He looked up at Grace with a fever of hunger. He didn't understand it, but he couldn't fight it, either. ”She's staying,” he murmured, lifting her foot onto his thigh. ”For a few days, at least.”
”But, my job...”
”I'll phone Judy at the florist for you, Grace,” Miss Turner said, delighted.
”You can't work if you can't walk,” Garon agreed. ”Just a couple of days off your feet should do the trick. Rest, ice packs, compression and elevation. RICE,” he added, smiling. ”We'll take good care of you.”
She didn't even have the will to resist. She wanted to be with him. It was going to end in tragedy, she knew it. But she couldn't help herself. ”Okay,” she said.
He smiled to himself. Fevers were best allowed to burn themselves out, he thought, and refused to think any deeper than that.
HE WENT TO WORK the next day, leaving Grace propped up in bed with plenty of reading material and Miss Turner for company. The ice packs had reduced the swelling, and the rest was helping as well.
”I feel much better,” Grace told the older woman.
”A couple more days and you'll be walking,” was her reply. She smiled. ”I think you're getting to the boss,” she added on a chuckle. ”Only a week ago, he'd have had Coltrain admit you to the hospital.”
”He just feels sorry for me,” Grace said, not getting her hopes up. ”That niece of Mrs. Tabor's brought food to the house,” she said. ”She told me that she'd worried I was some sort of compet.i.tion until she saw me. She was very insulting.”
”You should tell the boss.”
”No,” Grace returned. ”I couldn't. She must have something going with him.”
”An invitation to a party,” Miss Turner replied. ”He may find her interesting, but she isn't the proper sort of companion for a man in his position. Law enforcement types tend to be extra conservative. She's being gossiped about all over town, and not in a good way. The woman's a nymphomaniac. She doesn't even stop at married men.”
”What do you mean?”
”They say she made a play for Leo Hart, and Tess walked right up to her in Andy Webb's office and told her she'd tar and feather her if she ever made a move on her husband again. Andy's still laughing about it.”
”What did she say?”
”There was nothing she could say. Tess was furious, and she didn't lower her voice any, either. I wouldn't say the woman was embarra.s.sed, exactly, but Calhoun Ballenger was walking past the office when Tess said it, and he gave the woman a look that meant trouble. She got out of Tess's way real fast.”
Tess couldn't resist a smile. Redheaded Tess was a tiger when she lost her temper.
GARON AND MARQUEZ had gone together to the outskirts of the city to interview, among many others, a witness who said he saw a shadowy figure take the child out of her house late one night. Garon had a BlackBerry, like Marquez's. It came in handy here.
”Couldn't swear to it,” the witness, Sheldon, told them. He lived next door to the child who had been abducted. ”But he looked sort of like a drifter I saw near the computer shop in town. I write software,” he added in a lazy tone. ”The man was tall, thin, completely bald on top. Middle-aged. He looked dirty. And he limped.”
”Could you see the child?” Garon asked.
He shrugged. ”He was carrying something. It could have been a bundle of clothes for all I know. I was up late. I went to the kitchen for water, and there he was. It wasn't until the next morning that I heard the child was missing. I did tell the police.”
”Yes, we had the patrolman's report,” Marquez replied. He gave the man a long, steady scrutiny, noting his gloves. ”Why do you wear gloves in the house?” he asked.
”I had an accident when I was a child,” the man replied, his eyes growing cold. ”I have scars on them. People stare.”
”Sorry,” Marquez said.
”Can you type like that?” Garon queried, noting how very white the wrists were above the gloves.
”Yes, they're kid leather, very thin.”
”Well, thanks,” Garon said, putting away his BlackBerry.
”Anytime,” he replied, rising from his chair. He was a tall, timid sort of man who seemed to like the best computers money could buy. He had two, a base computer and an expensive laptop. He said he had a girlfriend, but he lived alone in the small apartment complex just inside the San Antonio city limits.
”How long have you lived here?” Marquez asked.
”About a year,” he said. He smiled pleasantly. ”I don't stay one place much. I get restless. And my job is portable. All I really need is a post office.”
”Well, thanks again. If you think of anything else, give us a call,” Marquez added, handing him a business card.
The man looked at it curiously. ”Sure. Sure I will.” He smiled oddly. ”How's the case coming? Any leads?”
”We're hoping you might have given us one,” Marquez said.
”I can see how you'd need help finding this guy,” he remarked. ”You cops aren't required to have much education, are you? I was invited to join MENSA.”
MENSA, the organization for geniuses. Garon gave the man an odd look. ”Were you?”
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