Deathtrap (7 page)

“Wonderful things are on their way.”

“That and death and taxes. Sadly, only the last two are certain.”

They talked some more before they parted, Sophie’s spirits lifted by the meeting. They didn’t see each other nearly as much as they would have liked these days. The baby kept Wendy pretty busy, and work ate up most of Sophie’s time. She’d taken on a lot. She was determined to pay off her medical bills.

The Rottweiler waited for her outside the back door when she walked in, his eyes never leaving her for a second as she moved around in the kitchen, as if she were a great mystery to him. She felt the same. He pulled back when she moved to the door—a good thing, otherwise she wasn’t sure if she’d be brave enough to open the sliders to feed him.

Once he ate and drank, she tossed him the rubber chicken she’d picked up at the store. “It’s just a small gift. Don’t read anything into it.”

Since the day was the warmest they’d had so far this spring, she left the sliding door open to let some fresh air in and pulled the screen door into place instead.

The dog grabbed his new toy and ran into the shed. He seemed to like it in there. But by the time her decaf coffee finished brewing, he was back on the deck, stretched out and sunning himself. He looked as pleased as peaches, watching her as she moved around inside.

“One more day,” she told him. “But that’s it. Sorry…Peaches.”

Even if he stayed only another day, she couldn’t keep calling him “dog.” Everyone deserved a name, and he didn’t seem to mind the one she came up with.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up, recognizing the name of one of her clients on the display. “Hi, Meredith.”

“Hello, Sophie, savior of my business, queen of the virtual universe.”

The fulsome enthusiasm behind the words made Sophie laugh. “You need a new web tool.”

“Yes,” Meredith said, this time miserably. “I’m going to have to start collecting sales taxes on online sales.”

“I’m guessing you need it yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday would be better.”

“Let me see what I can do. How about if I have something back to you for testing by the end of the week?”

“You’re the best. I live in constant fear that some successful business will snap you up and take you on full-time, and then the rest of us will have to jump from rooftops. You don’t even know how messy that’s going to be.”

Sophie laughed again. Meredith had a sense of drama. Then again, she did sell theater props, her business expanding by leaps and bounds as a lot of high school productions were going super professional these days. What she did, she did really well, with word of mouth doubling her customer base year after year.

“How are you? Oh God, I’m so sorry. I should have asked that first. I was just in such a panic mode when I got the e-mail. Are you okay?”

Some of her customers knew about her medical condition, since from time to time she’d had to rearrange projects in the past due to health issues. Nobody had ever blinked an eye or withdrawn a project from her. They’d all told her she was worth the wait, wished her the best, and sent her enormous fruit baskets to wish her speedy recovery. She loved her clients, and she liked to think that her clients liked her.

She chatted a few more minutes with Meredith before hanging up.

Since her appointments at the hospital ate up her entire morning, she had plenty of work to catch up with—and now the new project—but she dropped into the chair by the back door to drink her coffee. She drank decaf, so any boost was strictly imaginary, but even imaginary caffeine was better than nothing.

Peaches rolled on his back out on the deck, showing his belly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a freak. Honestly, I don’t even think anymore that you’re going to hurt me.” She watched him. “But I had a run-in with a bad dog before.” She pulled up her pant leg to show him the scars. “Childhood trauma sticks with you like you wouldn’t believe.”

He moved his ears as if signaling that he was listening.

“Actually, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.” She’d been alone for over a year. “I’m not used to living alone. I used to have a fiancé.” She took a long sip of her coffee.

She ran her thumb over the raised edges of the logo, the crimson staircase with the golden door on top, the mug pretty much the only thing she’d kept from her ex. She liked the picture. It reminded her of doors opening and new beginnings.

“I feel guilty about Jeremy,” she blurted, admitting the truth for the first time.

The dog watched her, listening.

“He was great when I was sick. He handled the treatment, the decisions, handled the insurance, whatever. But when I got better…” She shrugged. “He only liked it when I needed him. I couldn’t pretend to be weak just to keep him happy, right?”

Peaches lay down and watched her with sympathy.

“He was a take-charge type of guy. You had to give him full control. He meant well.” She sipped her decaf. “But now that I got a second lease on life, I want to live it fully. I want to make my own decisions, even if they’re mistakes. You know what I mean?”

The dog’s body language reflected complete understanding. Then he picked his head up and barked, scaring the bejesus out of her. He raced off the deck and disappeared around the house.

She turned just in time to see a shadow pass her window on that side. Had to be some stupid teenagers.

She jumped up, ignoring the lukewarm coffee that spilled on her shirt, and ran over to the window. The dog was standing by the fence, staring up the empty street. Whoever had been at her window was long gone, she figured, then frowned as she took in her lucky shirt. She wore it to every doctor’s appointment. She should have taken it off after she’d gotten home, dang darn it.

She went back to the kitchen, put the mug in the dishwasher, then dabbed the stain with a wet paper towel. She needed to change, and she seriously needed to get to work. Peaches barked again outside.

She wished her fence extended around her whole property. Nobody would be bothering her, then, not while the Rottweiler was still here. She moved back toward the window, then the doorbell rang and she changed course.

She hurried up front, peered through the small square of glass set in the door, and stared into a pair of mocha eyes. Just what she didn’t need. But now that he’d seen her, she had to let him in.

She opened the door. “Captain Bing.”

Chapter Five

She was even prettier than he remembered, even with the slightly annoyed look on her face and the wad of paper towels she held to her chest. “I’m not here to arrest you. I don’t think we need to be that formal.”

“Ethan?”

“Everybody calls me Bing. Are you okay?”

She let her hand drop. “Just spilled some coffee.”

He blinked at the wet cotton shirt. The lace of her bra showed through the coffee stain. The stab of lust was instant and unexpected. And unwelcome. He just didn’t want to deal with it.

He forced himself to look back up into her eyes. “I thought I’d stop by to see how you made out with that dog.” An impulse move he was rapidly regretting.

He glanced into the house behind her and caught sight of the Rottweiler that stood outside on the deck, looking in. “I take it nobody called. Did you try the shelter?”

“They’re up to their eyeballs in fur.”

He smiled. “I could ask around. See if anyone could take him in temporarily.” He knew half the people in town. “I got some land a friend is renting to raise horses. I could check with him.”

She surprised him by saying, “I think we’re okay for now.”

She didn’t like getting help. He’d gotten that the last time around. “I thought you weren’t a dog person.”

She folded her arms. “My earliest memory is riding my tricycle down the driveway and a big, black dog charging at me, grabbing me by the leg, and dragging me over the gravel.” She shrugged. “I don’t have a phobia, exactly. I’m just uncomfortable around them.” The tight set of her mouth said she resented having to explain herself to him.

She resembled a grumpy fairy with all that wild curly hair, yet there was something insanely heroic about her, doing the one thing that scared her the most. People no longer surprised Bing, in general, but Sophie Curtis managed it.

He had no idea what to do with her. Of course, he didn’t have to do anything with her, really. She wasn’t his responsibility.

He’d checked on the dog. She didn’t need his help. Say good-bye. Walk away. “I see you haven’t planted your forest yet,” he said instead, held in place by something he didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about.

Her forehead furrowed as her gaze skipped past him to the miniature forest on her front lawn. “I’m looking for a landscaper I can afford. Just muscle, mostly. I can do the design. IT major, graphic design minor.”

“Is that what you do for a living?”

“Web site design and management, hosting, SEO, cloud computing, the works.”

Huh. Anything that required design or any creative pursuit mystified him, frankly. He wanted to stay and ask more, ask what SEO was, ask if in the night she’d dreamt about him as he’d dreamt about her. He turned to leave. “If you need help with the dog, you have my number.”

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Actually—”

He waited as she bit her full lip, and tried to ignore the weird ping at the bottom of his stomach that reminded him of desire. Wrong woman. Wrong time. He had no intention of moving on until he’d brought Stacy’s killer to justice. “What is it?”

“I got him a collar.” She stepped back and grabbed a blue collar off the hall table, complete with tag. “I had them put my cell number on it. In case he got out.”

She was probably too scared to put the collar on. “I can help with that,” he said as he followed her in. “You got any treats?”

She walked to the kitchen and pulled a bag from the cabinet.

He followed, stopping by a photo in a bamboo frame on her counter, a rainbow-colored hot air balloon with a redhead waving from it. He leaned closer. “Is that you?”

“I wanted to do something daring.” She made a face. “I know, it sounds stupid… Sometimes I just feel like I don’t want to miss anything life has to offer. Ever been up?”

“Wouldn’t if they paid me. I’m more of a feet-on-the-ground kind of guy.” He grabbed a handful of treats from the bag she held, then took the collar and strode out to the deck, where the dog was waiting.

The Rottweiler backed a few feet away, tail between his legs.

Bing held up a treat. “Here you go, boy. Sit.”

The dog did.

“He’s been trained at one point.” He tossed the treat, and the Rottweiler snapped it out of the air. The next one Bing kept in his hand. “Come on. You can take it.”

He kept his voice calm and low as he asked Sophie, “What have you been calling him?”

She stepped out onto the deck behind him. “Peaches.”

He bit back a grin. The name had probably been picked to make the Rottweiler seem less scary to her. It was an indignity, but he wasn’t about to criticize her for it.

“All right…Peaches,” he said as the dog came up to him and took the treat.

He squatted slowly and handed out more goodies, letting the dog sniff him. “There you go. That’s a good boy, Peaches.” He patted him.

“How do you know he isn’t going to bite you?” she whispered.

“For one, his mouth is full. Two, he’s wagging his tail. It’s all in the body language.”

He gave the dog another treat, then patted him again before slipping on the collar.

Peaches immediately sat down and began clawing at it.

“Eh.” Bing made a sharp, disapproving sound. Then when the dog put the paw down, he said, “Good boy. Do you want another treat?” And tossed one high.

“You disrupt bad behavior and reward good behavior,” he told Sophie as Peaches snapped the treat out of the air. “Dogs are way better than cats in this regard. They actually want to please.”

She flashed him a skeptical look. “You make it sound easy.”

“It is.” He scratched Peaches behind the ear when the dog came up to him. “He’s got pretty good manners. He’s probably house trained, if you want to let him in.”

She gave the dog an uncertain look. “I’m not supposed to have pets.”

“Allergies?”

She hesitated. “Heart transplant.”

He stared. He understood science as far as forensics went, but taking a heart out of one person, putting it into another, and making her live… “You’re—”

“A freak,” she finished for him.

“I was thinking more like a living miracle.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes.

He kept playing with the dog. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?”

She hesitated a moment before she answered. “He shouldn’t be shuffled around. Someone will see one of the posters and call. He can stay until then. I don’t mind a few more days.”

She had a good heart, wherever it’d come from. He couldn’t help his gaze sliding to her chest. He wished her T-shirt would dry already.

Peaches sat and leaned against him. The Rottweiler was looking at her as if she puzzled him. That made two of them.

A warm breeze blew across the backyard, the sun bright above them, not a cloud in the sky. Being out here in the sunshine with Sophie and Peaches, talking like this was nice, some part of his brain registered.

Maybe he’d come back and check on them again tonight.

His evenings were usually all the same, either on duty or at home, going through case files, looking for anything he might have missed at the office, trying to solve cases. Then looking at Stacy’s file before he went to bed, hoping he’d see something he kept missing.

A squirrel darted along the split-rail fence. Peaches took off, barking. But when he caught up with the squirrel, he slowed and let it go. He’d only wanted to play.

“A born hunter he’s not,” Bing joked.

But Sophie wasn’t smiling. “Can I ask you something?” She pressed her lips together for a second. “Before you came up to the door earlier, did you go around the side of the house first?”

“No.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”