Deadly Intentions (8 page)

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Authors: Candice Poarch

BOOK: Deadly Intentions
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Brian shushed her, nodded, then left the room.
“Aren't you going overboard?” Lisa asked.
“With you I can never be too cautious.”
“It pisses me off that nobody thinks I can take care of my business. I'm not taking crap anymore. I don't need you or anyone else trying to take over my life, Alyssa. I'm not going to tolerate you butting in.”
“Say that when your ass lands in trouble again and I have to pull it out. Because you know it always does.”
“I never asked you to pull me out of anything. And the last time I was in trouble wasn't because of anything I did. Just because I made a few mistakes in the past—”
“A few?”
“Here it is,” Brian said, returning with his ID. Alyssa glared at Lisa before she took it—and had the nerve to copy down his information before she gave them the pleasure of leaving.
For a moment silence hovered in the air.
“She's protective,” Brian said.
“She gets in everybody's business.”
Brian guessed having a big family could be annoying at times, but he had nothing to hide. “At least they care.”
Lisa shrugged.
Brian understood that the way they talked down to her bothered her. “Why do you let them belittle you? If you don't like it, change it.”
“You know nothing about me so don't try to psychoanalyze me,” she said.
“Lady, you interfere in my business. That gives me every right to butt into yours.”
“You're injured. I'm not.”
“Makes no difference. So why didn't you speak up for yourself at the party?”
“Because they're right, okay? Does that satisfy you? Now, will you go to bed so I can finish my work?”
Stunned, Brian watched as she entered her office and shut the door, closing him out as easily as if she'd locked it—and that bothered him. It shouldn't have.
10
Justin couldn't wait on Tootsie to give him the duplicate bowl. He glanced out his window. The street seemed quiet. Neighbors were no doubt more cautious after the murder. Most were behind double-bolted doors.
Murder
. Such a harsh word.
He would keep to his usual routine. They knew he ran on the beach each evening. It gave him a chance to case the Knight house and the movement of the neighborhood. He donned his jogging suit and running shoes and started out on his nightly run. He knew it was risky returning to the Knight house so soon, but he had no choice. He wanted this job over and done with. First and foremost, too many people were involved.
He should have never gotten Tootsie to make the duplicate bowl. He should have just stolen the real bowl and got the hell out of there.
Any number of things could go wrong with too many people in the mix. Would she confide in someone? He didn't want to get rid of her. He wanted to retire with her. Having someone duplicate the bowl was Greg's bright idea, and against his better judgment, Justin had gone along with it. After all, Greg was footing the bill.
He passed a neighbor walking his Chihuahua. The man lived across the street. “Evening, Mr. Clark. Fine evening for a walk.”
“Speak for yourself,” he grumbled, jerking the dog's leash. “Come on, you mutt, or I'm leaving you out here.” The dog whimpered as Mr. Clark dragged the pooch after him.
Justin chuckled. If Clark left that dog outside his sister would make him search for it all night long.
Tall grass grew along the sand dunes. The dunes were good hiding spots should the need arise. With the absence of lights, he let the moonlight guide him as he passed the houses. Even the blinds were closed tonight. By the time Justin reached the point where he usually turned around, dog and man had disappeared. He had the beach to himself when he approached the Knight house and slipped to the door. He gently removed the crime scene tape. Using his penlight and a set of tools, he quickly entered the house and disabled the sorry excuse for an alarm system.
With penlight in hand, he quickly made his way down the hall to the den. Dust bunnies covered the surfaces. He aimed the light over the room.
The bowl wasn't there. He systematically searched the room, peeking in closets and drawers. He even cracked the combination to the safe. There were important papers—but no bowl. Of course he didn't touch the papers. He searched the rest of the house. Finally he had to leave. He couldn't get caught exiting the place.
As he left the way he came, he turned the penlight off and looked around carefully. No one was about in the quiet neighborhood. Not even a dog barked as he reapplied the crime-scene tape and loped down two houses to his rental.
He had just made it to the sand dunes when he saw Eileen Mable staring at him as if she'd seen a ghost.
“What?” Picking up the dog, she started to run down the beach.
Not again,
Justin thought as he chased behind her. Her old legs wouldn't allow her to run very fast and he caught up with her quickly.
Even in the darkness he could see the fear in her eyes. She trembled in his arms. Tootsie wouldn't like this, he thought, but what could he do? She'd never know.
“I won't tell,” Mrs. Mable assured him in a trembling voice. “I promise. I'll leave, visit my daughter for a month. Please . . . Please don't kill me.”
It was an empty promise. He knew it and so did she.
He dragged her to the water with her pooch. Recently he'd given the dog doggie biscuits and played with her. But it still barked and Justin quickly broke its little neck. The waves swallowed the sound of Mrs. Mable's feeble cries. Dropping the pooch, he forced her head down.
Justin kept telling himself he had no choice as he held Mrs. Mable's fragile head beneath the water.
I have no choice. I have no choice.
He easily subdued her feeble attempts to fight him off. With Mrs. Mable's last breath, he pushed her body farther out into the ocean, then threw the carcass of the dog as far into the ocean as he could.
It was a dark night. He glanced around, making certain no one spotted him. It had begun to rain. First a fine drizzle, then a downpour as he made his way up the beach and back to his house.
He stood there. Tootsie already wouldn't see him. But if she heard about this second killing . . . He didn't even want to contemplate the consequences. Maybe he should have hidden the body.
Tootsie would never know Mrs. Mable was murdered. Everybody knew she'd do anything for the dog. It could look like she had gone into the surf to save her dog, who'd gotten caught in a current.
More importantly, the bowl wasn't there. And he had to find it. He was beginning to wonder if Greg even knew where the bowl was.
Justin changed clothes and tried to call Tootsie again. Where would she be staying? Did she know anyone in the area?
She knew people in the artist colony on Paradise Island. Some of her sculptures were still there. He'd visit and show interest in some of her work. The woman who ran the place would certainly talk about her friends at the colony. If he were interested in commissioning a piece, they'd try to contact her.
11
Brian was feeling well enough to take a shower the next morning. After he dressed, he made coffee and walked outside on the small deck to watch the waves and the play of the morning light on the water.
Gnarled oaks and towering pines offered a little shade on the house. A few hardy seabirds foraged in the low tides.
Not a soul was in sight.
There was something refreshing about the water that appealed to his inner core. It was the reason he chose the Navy and the SEALs in particular.
The cane by his side disturbed his peace. He tested his leg. As he shifted his weight onto it, he gritted his teeth against the screaming pain. His side was aching, too. He should take his meds, but he didn't move. After breakfast was soon enough.
He tried not to think about his future. He couldn't fathom any other career. He'd worked so hard, so damn hard to get where he was. He needed to recover to his preinjury state to stay there.
He heard the birds squawk and it brought him out of his misery. He watched them for several minutes. He also spotted boats in the distance. But none came close to shore. He even spotted the ferry moving stealthily across the water. It was too far away to intrude on his peace.
Lisa would need a boating dock. The water looked deep enough to fish. If she had children, she would need a pool. The ocean was too deep for little ones.
This place must be peaceful for her. Peace. It was against the SEAL philosophy of being perpetually prepared and ready to go in an instant, which made it so difficult to leave off being a SEAL. He couldn't deny the beauty of the scenery. Life was never this peaceful for long, so he snatched what little joy he could of the moment.
Lisa. She was unlike any woman he'd ever met. He'd known her for less than twenty-four hours and somehow she'd woven some kind of . . . He didn't know what it was about her that appealed. She definitely wasn't his type.
What did she mean when she said her family was right about her? She owned a lovely, well-decorated house. Not expensively decorated, but it was tasteful. It was clear she had an eye for decorating and she was definitely a nester.
Soon his thoughts veered to Harriet's murder. His thoughts were clearer now.
Could Lisa know more than she was revealing? He had no doubt her fear had been very real yesterday. But did she know anything about Harriet's murder? Why was she sticking close to him—a veritable stranger? Was she that much of a good Samaritan? Did Harriet hire her or was it a ruse? The magnetic signs advertising her business attached to her car cost less than a hundred bucks. Anybody could have them made at the local print shop.
And how could she afford a waterfront cottage, even on this small island?
Then he thought of Naomi Claxton sitting beside him to make sure he ate when she must have had a million things to do. If a woman could be as gentle and caring as she, certainly her granddaughter could be equally as generous. Or was Naomi just keeping an eye on him to keep him from guessing Lisa's agenda . . . whatever that was.
Not all children patterned after their elders, but it was possible. As soon as he saw Mrs. Claxton and Lisa together he knew they shared a special attachment. Lisa must have inherited kindness from her grandmother. But in other ways they were like night and day. Mrs. Claxton was gentle. Lisa was more abrasive.
Hunger forced him back inside. He looked in her cupboards. There wasn't much to eat except the food Mrs. Claxton had sent home. But then how many single women kept a full fridge? More than single men.
Still, Lisa was lucky to be able to afford a place with a spectacular view like this. The houses weren't close together like on Ocean Front. There were a few farther down the beach.
Lisa's furniture was good quality. Her pillows looked rich and breezy, perfect for the beach setting. All in all it was very comfortable. A place worth coming home to.
He ate a bowl of cereal and his head had cleared enough to think coherently by the time he went to Lisa's room. He fixed her a bowl of cold cereal and a cup of coffee and balanced them on a tray. He made his way down the hallway to her room. He knocked on the door and heard a grumble. Taking it as an invite to enter her room, he opened the door.
She dragged her hands through her tousled hair as she sat up and closed her eyes again. “God, I forgot you were here.”
“Hope this will do for breakfast. You're a late sleeper.” He cautiously made his way to her bed and set the tray on the table.
She opened one eye, peered at the clock. “It's seven-thirty. Ever heard of sleeping in on the weekends?”
With her sleep face and tossed hair, she looked sexy. Even wearing a man's T-shirt and shorts. He frowned. Did she have a boyfriend? If she had, he'd have been at the birthday party. At least someone in her family would have mentioned the guy. He was so out of it last night, he'd actually slept through most of the party. That reminded him. He needed to buy her a birthday gift. Had he even wished her a happy birthday?
She moved to snuggle back under the covers.
“No, you don't. I have to get back to the mainland.” Not that he couldn't manage it on his own, but he'd grown to appreciate Lisa's company—and she was his source of information. With one swift snap of his wrist, he pulled the covers completely off, revealing her long, gorgeous legs.
“I'm going to kill you,” she mumbled into the pillow, her butt wiggling enticingly as she pulled her knees toward her chest—and she wasn't even aware of it.
Brian stifled a moan. “After breakfast.”
“Didn't know you were going to be such a pain in the ass. Anyway, I don't eat cereal on Saturdays. I go to the B and B for brunch.”
“What B and B?”
“The one my cousin owns. Now go back to bed for a couple of hours. You need your rest.” She reached for the covers but Brian held them out of reach.
“Brunch is my treat today.”
“Fine,” Lisa said, sitting up, nearly falling out of bed before she righted herself and stomped toward the bathroom. “You've already ruined my morning nap. After I drop you off at your motel, I'm never going to see you again.”
Brian chuckled, enjoying her retreat. “Promises, promises.” Lisa definitely wasn't a sweet malleable woman, but then, that kind of woman wouldn't suit him. She had a lot of sass and vinegar. The idea of her sweetening up beneath his hands appealed to him and, unfortunately, to other parts of his body as well. He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been too long without a woman.
When the shower started, Brian took the cereal back to the kitchen but left the coffee. Lisa definitely wasn't a morning person. He smiled. That was going to change. There were more pleasing ways of waking her—ones that she would enjoy as much as he would.
“I'm out of my mind,” he groaned, shaking his head. He reminded himself Lisa wasn't his kind of woman. “Get a grip on yourself,” he said, and dropped gingerly to the floor to do his morning push-ups. The pain served to push her out of his head, and he added an extra dozen to his routine.
Brian had met some of the patrons at the B and B at Lisa's party. There was a line of people waiting to be seated. Some sat at tables on the back porch.
As he and Lisa stood in line, several people came over to speak to them and asked him how he was doing. It was a friendly group.
The hostess came to seat the couple in front of them.
“Let Lisa and Brian go first,” the woman said. “We can wait.”
“It's not—” Brian began.
“Anything for a soldier,” the man with her said. “Go on.”
Lisa grabbed his arm. “Let's go.”
Brian had no option but to tag along—assisted by his cane. He was embarrassed to be treated like a weakling.
Not for long, he promised himself. In a couple of days he'd start his full routine again.
Gabrielle handed him a menu. He noticed Lisa didn't take one.
“What's good here?” he asked.
“Everything,” she said, impatiently beating a tune with her fingers on the tabletop.
“I need to hire a larger waitstaff,” Gabrielle said. “Here's your juice and hot chocolate, Lisa.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you ready to order your drink, Brian?” Gabrielle asked. “I hope you're feeling well this morning.”
“I'm good,” he said. “I'd like grape juice to start, and also a cup of coffee.”
She jotted it down and talked at the same time. “Our special today is blueberry pancakes. A delivery of fresh blueberries came this morning,” she said, and left to get his beverages.
“Well, that settles it. Definitely the pancakes,” Lisa said.
Brian shut the menu. He'd order the pancakes, too.
During breakfast Lisa's parents and grandparents arrived and grilled her about the murder. The news had spread all over the island and Lisa was forced to answer the questions she'd been spared on her birthday.
After breakfast, she and Brian returned to her house.
“I'm going to take a walk along the beach,” she said. “I don't get to walk during the week. Why don't you sit on the deck and enjoy the breeze?”
Brian would have liked to take a walk. He sat on the chair and watched Lisa stroll down the beach. A light wind blew off the ocean. He noticed a few boats farther out. He wondered if she liked boating—maybe even fishing or crabbing. He could build a larger deck and a dock for her when he took leave—after he healed.
She walked for a half hour. When she returned, she looked flushed and windblown. At that moment he'd give just about anything to take her to bed.
“I'm going to shower, then take you back to the mainland,” she said in a breathy voice.

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