Deathtrap (21 page)

“Don’t shoot. I live here.”

“I know for a fact you don’t.”

“I live across the road.”

“What were you doing in the bushes?” Bing demanded just as the front door opened.

Sophie stuck her head out. “What is it? Lester, are you okay?” She stretched her neck to peer at the man. “Why do you have a saw?” Then her eyes went wide. “Lester?”

Bing felt a headache coming on. “Do you know this man?”

“He’s my neighbor.” Peaches barked wildly from behind her, nearly drowning out her words.

He put the safety back and holstered his weapon. “Inside. Everybody.” He walked up to Lester and took his elbow to help him in. “I’d appreciate it if you could put Peaches out back,” he told Sophie, who shot a betrayed look at Lester, but then turned to do as Bing had asked her.

“You can’t arrest me without my lawyer present,” the geezer protested, yanking his arm away.

That wasn’t at all true, but it didn’t matter. “I’m not arresting you. Yet. But you’re going to answer some questions.”

They went in, and he let Sophie lead Lester to the couch.

“What were you doing in Miss Curtis’s yard?” Bing asked once the man was sitting, still gripping the saw.

Peaches was barking by the back door. He looked like he would dearly like to chew the pants off Lester. Sophie stayed standing, her arms folded, her mouth pressed into a narrow line.

“I was out for a walk,” the old man said with a good dose of indignation.

“With a saw?” Bing shook his head. “What were you doing in Miss Curtis’s bushes?”

“Took a wrong turn. I’m old. I get confused sometimes. Sue me for it.”

“I didn’t have the easiest day,” Bing said evenly. “Fact is, I ran out of patience about three hours back. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I’ll take you in and book you for destruction of private property.”

Lester went a little white around the gills.

Bing shot him his I-mean-business look. “I’m guessing you’ve been sabotaging Miss Curtis’s landscaping. You’ve been sneaking around her windows. You broke into her house and caused damage.”

“What damage?” Lester protested. “She can do laundry, can’t she?” He stuck his saggy chin out. “And I didn’t break in. I had a key,” he added smugly.

Bing rubbed his temple. “Why do you have a key?”

“Ellie May was my sweetheart. She gave me the key herself. And then her greedy stupid kids stuck her in a home so they could sell her house. I want to bring her out for a weekend to visit, but I don’t want her to have to see her house like this, changed inside and out. It’d break her heart. I’ve just waiting for the dizziness in my head to clear a little. Going for groceries is okay. But I didn’t want to drive all the way to Philly like this.”

He had to be kidding, Bing thought. But no, the words were said earnestly and with feeling. What in hell was he supposed to do with the guy? He glanced at Sophie. “Do you want to press charges?”

She looked as flabbergasted as he felt. “No. As long as he promises to quit abusing my plants.” She came over and sat next to Lester. “I’m sorry about Ellie May. If you want me to, I’ll drive you into the city to see her.”

The old man harrumphed. “I don’t need your charity.”

“I need to see your driver’s license,” Bing put in.

Lester shot him the next glare, but then pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed it over. “You want it, you can find it. I haven’t been able to tell all them cards apart in years.”

Bing opened the wallet, pulled the license, and handed the rest back. “Your license is revoked. If you pass a vision test and a physical, you can get another."

Lester pressed his lips together so hard, they disappeared. His eyes threw cold sparks. “Pennsylvania has no law to make me do that just because I’m an old geezer.”

“But I can make you do it, since you just confessed diminished capacity. Here’s a hint. If you don’t see well enough to tell your driver’s license apart from your credit card, you shouldn’t be driving.” He shook his head. “Tomorrow I’m going to drop off some information for you about a local group that drives seniors to their appointments free of charge.”

But instead of thanking him, Lester jumped to his feet and shuffled by him on his way out in a huff and a half, yelling, “I don’t need your damn charity either!” as he slammed the door behind him. He had the presence of mind to take his saw with him.

Then Bing was alone with Sophie. He needed to go. Trouble was, he didn’t want to. The things he wanted were…impossible. He watched as she went to the back door to let Peaches in.

“Want me to check out the latest damage outside?” he asked as the dog ran up to him to lick his hand. At least someone was happy to see him.

Sophie stayed aloof and far away. “I can do it in the morning.”

“Good night, then.” He turned to leave.

But she called after him. “Were you coming to see me?”

He waited a beat before answering. “Just driving home from work. Happened to catch a shadow in the bushes.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded. “I better get going.”

Now that her elderly neighbor had turned out to be her intruder, she’d no longer need a bodyguard out by the curb. She clearly wasn’t in any kind of mortal danger. He could go home and sleep in his own bed. The thought should have cheered him up, but it didn’t. Lately, his bed seemed too cold and empty.

He rubbed a hand over his neck. Things were as they were. There was nothing he could do about it. “Good night.” He stepped back. “I’m glad we got Lester squared away.”

He walked out and drove home, even if part of him had wanted to stay.

* * *

Sophie locked the door behind him but went back to the couch. She had to sit a little longer to regain her equilibrium.

“So the deal is, Bing can’t love me because of my new heart.” She wished that didn’t hurt so much.

Peaches came over, his big brown eyes full of sympathy.

“You’re right. We still have each other,” she told the Rottweiler. “I love you no matter what. And you can stay here if that’s what you want. We had rough beginnings, and we overcame it all. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing is going to change that.”

The dog laid his big black head on her lap. He radiated love and acceptance like he radiated heat.

She didn’t have it in her to turn on the TV and watch the litany of misery and violence they called the news these days, so they went upstairs to get ready for bed. As too often lately, falling asleep took ages.

She woke in the middle of the night to Peaches growling.

“Shh.” She glanced at the clock. Two thirty.

Then something crashed downstairs, and Peaches took off like a bullet.

She grabbed the phone on her nightstand and dialed Bing. 911 was great, but Bing was closer. As the phone rang on the other end, she stole to the top of the stairs. It’d better not be Lester.

Then she saw a shadow in her living room, holding off a barking Peaches with a chair, and she jumped back.

Whoever he was, he wasn’t Lester. He was much bigger.

Chapter Fourteen

Bing groaned as his phone kept ringing, his mind sleep-heavy. Did he miss his shift? He opened a blurry eye and glanced at the clock on the nightstand as the gears in his brain finally began turning. A few moments passed before he could recall the schedule. He was off work tonight. Mike and Harper were on duty all night. They were both pretty capable. Anything they couldn’t handle had to be big.

He lifted the phone to his ear, rolling out of bed. If whatever happened was serious enough for them to call him in the middle of the night, chances were he’d have to go in. But before he could ask what was going on, Sophie yelled on the other end.

“There’s someone in my house!”

He was running down the stairs the next second, gun in hand. “I’m coming.”

“He’s downstairs with Peaches. I’m locked in the bedroom. I called Peaches, but he wouldn’t come up. I don’t want anything to happen to him.” Her voice was shaking.

His heart raced as he grabbed his jeans from the back of the sofa, jumped into them, then into his sneakers without socks and without bothering to tie the laces. He ran to his cruiser and turned on the siren as he tore down the street.

He gripped the phone to his ear, his stomach clenched into a hard ball. Faster. He floored the gas. “Stay on the line. Talk to me. Who is it?”

“A man. Not Lester. I didn’t see his face. Oh God. Please, hurry!”

The two-minute drive seemed to take two hours. Then, finally, he was turning down her street. No other cars in her driveway but hers. “I’m here. I’m going to hang up now. You call 911. Stay in your room. Do not come downstairs, whatever happens.”

He pulled up to the curb and jumped out of his car, ran up to the house, gun in hand. “Police! I’m coming in. Put your weapon down!”

He grabbed the doorknob. Locked.

Peaches was barking like mad somewhere inside, pure violent fury. Bing stepped back and kicked hard at the door. He had to kick three times before he kicked the damn thing in. Pain shot up his foot at the last kick, but he ignored it and pushed inside the foyer.

The house was dark, but some moonlight came through the windows, enough to see that the sliding doors in the back were closed, Peaches throwing himself against the glass, ready to tear it down. “Peaches. Stay.” Bing darted through the living room and the kitchen.

But the dog was too far gone to obey. As soon as Bing opened the door, Peaches shot through it like a bullet.

Bing was right behind him. He saw a shadow jumping the fence, Peaches catching up within seconds and nearly catching the man, but the fence was too high for the dog to clear. He went at it, doing his best to tear it apart.

“Stay!” Bing ordered again when he reached the back.

He hauled himself over the fence, just as he caught sight of a man running between two houses, the night too dark to make out his face. Was that a mask? Tall, moving too fast to be too old. Dark pants, dark jacket. Bing ran after him, lost his right shoe since it hadn’t been tied, but he kept going without missing a beat.

He darted between the back neighbors’ houses, following the intruder, swore as sharp gravel tore at his sole. Then he heard a car start.

By the time he cleared the houses, all he could see were taillights disappearing down the street. A dark, midsize sedan. Judging from the shape, it might have been a Mercedes, but he couldn’t be sure.

He’d never gotten close enough to catch even a hint of the license plate.

He bent over, breathing hard, giving himself a moment to catch his breath as he swore. His chest hurt for air. And it hurt with panic, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Sophie.

He hobbled back over the grass, ignoring the pain in his foot, picked up his shoe, and climbed over the fence to an enthusiastic Peaches, who jumped all over him. And then he finally saw her at the back door. She was waiting for them, holding a rolling pin. She set it down on the kitchen table once they got closer. He scanned her for injuries as he hurried up to her. No blood. Her clothes weren’t torn.

“Are you all right?” he asked anyway and didn’t breathe until she nodded.

“What happened?” Her voice was still as shaky as it’d been on the phone.

He had no idea. But what could have happened was enough to make his chest hurt. “I told you to stay upstairs,” he snapped, the fear he’d held for her transforming into anger. Which didn’t need to be directed at her. He filled his lungs. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he apologized. “I’m glad you called me.”

And for the first time, he noticed what she was wearing. Pajama shorts and a tank top that barely covered her midriff. A wave of lust washed over him.

He looked away. Better think about the man he’d just chased.

She shivered. “You’re covered in mud.” She moved inside with him and closed the door behind them. The dog buzzed around their feet, running back and forth.

He glanced at his pants. “Just a little dirt from Peaches jumping on me. I’m fine.”

But her eyes widened as she looked him over more carefully under the kitchen lights. “Your foot is bleeding.”

That wasn’t the worst of it. He was pretty sure he broke it when he’d kicked her door in. The side of his foot was throbbing now that the adrenaline was wearing off his right foot.

“Let me get you a towel.” She hurried into the laundry room, full of nervous energy. “I called 911. They should be here soon.”

“You better put Peaches outside before they come,” he called after her as he sank onto a chair, needing to take the weight off. “He’s all worked up.”

By the time she did that and came back, police cruisers were pulling up outside. Mike came in first, followed by Harper, both with hands on their weapons.

Mike pulled up short once he saw Bing. “You okay, Captain?”

“Fine. We’re looking for a single intruder. About five eleven. Heavier set. Dark clothing. Driving a dark sedan, possibly Mercedes. You go and start the search.” Even if he knew the description was next to nothing.

Mike and Harper took off, and he pulled the wet towel from Sophie, then rubbed most of the dirt and blood off his feet while she let Peaches back in. The dog stuck to her like glue. He was clearly in protective mode.

She brought over a box of bandages. “Leftover medical supplies from after the surgery.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that.” What he needed was an X-ray. And probably a cast, but medical leave was out of the question. He had to figure out what was going on here. He wanted to make sure Sophie was safe.

“At least let me pour some disinfectant over the wound.”

He folded the towel and put his foot on it, then let her do that, ignoring the way her gentle fingers felt on his skin, and the scent of her shampoo that enveloped him as she leaned closer. Of course, she didn’t stop with disinfecting. He did have a bandage on by the time she was finished.

Peaches was sniffing around, sticking his nose into everything.

She hugged the dog as she rose with her supplies. “He saved my life.”

“He probably did.” Bing wanted to pull her into his arms. He didn’t. He watched her go out into the kitchen, then come back.