Part 18 (1/2)

”She might have killed her aunt, Dan. Three million's a lot of reason. And she might have had someone help her. And that someone might have been here in your house this evening.”

Dan sat on the end of the sofa cus.h.i.+on. He dropped his head onto his palms, pushed his fingers through his hair. Jamie was a methodical man. His arguments usually made sense. They made sense now, but Dan couldn't believe the scenario he was suggesting. The flipside, however, was equally as bad because it meant that Maris had been unprotected while some a.s.shole, with only G.o.d knew what on his mind, took his time in Dan's house. Whether he could remember locking the door or not when he left, Dan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he'd locked it when he came home. He'd locked the guy in with them.

”When do you think Maris might be feeling up to questioning?”

Glancing up, Dan shook his head. ”Not right now. You'd have to clear it with her doctor. You could bring the alb.u.ms by tomorrow, after you and I are done with work.”

Jamie studied him for a long moment. ”You still want to believe it's somebody else, don't you? Doesn't it usually boil down to family? And she's it, I'll bet on it. She said there's no one else and, about that at least, I'd say she's not lying.”

Dan ground his molars together. The remnants of dinner churned in his stomach. Jamie was determined to prove him wrong. Did Jamie think to get his job if Dan failed to find the truth? Of course, Dan had been successfully blocked from the investigation, so finding out anything wasn't likely. Probably much of the Chief's decision to ban him had been based on Jamie's voiced opinions.

Dan shook his head. He and Jamie had been friends, still were. Maris was right. He was too suspicious. ”As soon as Maris is up to it,” Dan said, ”I'll bring her in. I'll question her myself, if necessary-”

”No. You won't. It's not your case, and with good reason.”

Did he need that reminder? Dan dropped his hands between his knees, staring toward the kitchen where he'd been fumbling around in the dark with a prowler inches away from him. Where the h.e.l.l had the guy been hiding when Dan came in? The powder room? The coat closet? Where?

Jamie dropped a hand on his shoulder and shook it. ”I think we're through here. Try to get some rest. Where...where is she sleeping?”

”The guestroom.”

”Good. Lock your door.”

”Oh, f.u.c.k you, Rogers.”

Jamie straightened. ”I'd be pleased as punch to be proven wrong, Dan. You know that. I just don't think it's gonna happen.”

Dan didn't get up to see him to the door. He kept his gaze glued on the carpet between his feet as Jamie herded the last two officers outside. They had collected mud from fibers in the rug, although that likely had come from right outside Dan's house. He'd watched one of them measure and photograph the impression of a boot print on the kitchen floor. Other than that, nothing.

For ten minutes, Dan sat on the couch, unmoving. The small mantel clock began to strike the hour with a whirring of gears and the tiny ring of a bra.s.s bell. At the eleventh chime, he stood. By the twelfth, he was heading up the stairs, leaving the lights on below. By the time he'd reached his bedroom door, he had made up his mind.

But when he opened it and saw Maris asleep on his bed, all sound reason fled.

Chapter 18.

Maris studied the pearly sheen on Dan's skin, the mingling of perspiration and incandescent light from outside the window that had formed a glaze over the musculature of his chest and arms. She wanted to reach out and run a finger along any one of the shadows between his ribs, but she had learned a handful of minutes ago how ticklish he was.

”You're beautiful,” she whispered.

”Hush. Don't ruin it with talking.” In the silver light, his lips curved, deepening the creases on either side of his mouth. The converse shape of his closed lids hid his eyes, lashes lying in narrow spikes against his skin. ”You know your doctor wouldn't approve of what we just did.”

”Unless you've got him hidden under the bed, I don't think he's going to find out.” At the reminder of the recent intruder, Maris sucked a breath in through her teeth.

Dan moved his hand in blind search across the sheets until he found hers. He squeezed her fingers. ”I checked. Jamie stationed one of the officers in a blatant position outside the house. That guy's not coming back tonight.”

Maris turned her study to the shape of their fingers together, knots of flesh and bone like lovers in miniature. ”What do you think he wanted?”

”I don't know.”

”Do you have any idea who he might be?”

Dan released her hand and rolled to a sitting position, feet on the floor. He planted his elbows on his thighs, dropping his head into the grip of his outstretched fingers. He pushed both hands through his hair and rose, his naked body barred by light. ”Jamie thinks you might know who it is.”

”What?” Maris pulled herself up against the headboard, yanking the sheet to cover herself. ”Why on earth would he think that?”

”It can't all be chance, Maris. There's a puzzle here in pieces I can't get to fit together. Jamie thinks he has it, though, the picture in its entirety. He thinks you let the guy in, that he's your accomplice in the murder of your aunt. And yes,” he added before she could say a word, ”I could get fired for what I've told you. What Jamie says makes sense. It fits, makes the puzzle pieces fall into logical position. Something is missing, though. There's a black, gaping hole he's ignoring and I can't define. Someday soon you're going to be called in for questioning by someone who's not me. Prior to that, Jamie is going to ask you to look through photo alb.u.ms he took from Alva's attic to try to identify other family members that he might be able to track down. He's giving you a very small benefit of the doubt. If there's another relative who benefited from Alva's Will-”

Maris stretched an arm to the bedside lamp and turned it on. Dan blinked in the flare of light.

”Alva's Will? What are you talking about?”

Dan sat back down on the edge of the mattress. He pulled an edge of the sheet to cover his thigh and groin. ”I can't say anything else. If there is a case to be made here, I would be compromising it.”

Maris's gaze followed the sweep of Dan's tousled hair, the cowlick stiff with the earlier application of his plowing fingers. ”Did they determine what type of poison?”

He shook his head. ”I haven't been told.”

”What about how-”

”I don't know that either. And even if I did, I...I can't now. I shouldn't. Maris, I know I asked this before, but I'm going to ask again. Did you kill Alva Mabry?”

Maris folded her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tucking the sheet tightly into the hollow of her armpits. ”You would have s.e.x with someone you believed capable of murder?”

”Don't answer a question with a question. G.o.d, Maris, please give me a straight answer, in full, with words that speak of innocence, not evasion.”

”Or guilt?” she said with undeniable sarcasm.

”Maris!”

She flinched. ”I didn't kill Aunt Alva, Dan. I want to know who did. Whatever you need from me, I'll do.”

He was still, all of him, as if he'd been converted to stone. He gazed at a place between them without blinking, a trick of the room's illumination giving his eyes the hue and transparency of bottle gla.s.s. Abruptly, he stood. ”Good.” He grabbed his shorts, slipped them on. ”Good. We'll figure this out, I promise you.” He headed for the door.

”Where are you going?”

”I need a drink. You?”

Maris drew her knees up to her chest. ”What are we talking? Vodka? Gin?”

He c.o.c.ked his head at her. ”Are you serious? You're not supposed-”

”No.” She lifted the corners of her mouth in a slow smile. ”Water would be nice, though, thank you.”

He stepped out, leaving the door ajar. She heard the sound of his bare feet whispering on the carpeted steps and then a soft curse as he b.u.mped into an impediment in the dark, a mild expletive only, nothing alarming in content or volume. Maris relaxed against the headboard.