Different Paths (18 page)
I finished up with the bobcat and went inside to get a drink. Nick was sitting alone at the kitchen table, a glass of lemonade in front of him while he read the newspaper.
“Where’s Tess?”
He looked up. “I don’t know. Off somewhere.”
“You’re done with the hutches?”
“Yeah.” He watched me pour a glass of water and throw down an ibuprofen. “How’re you doing?”
“Pretty good, actually. Hurts a little, but this should take care of it.”
“Good.”
I looked at him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
He smiled. “I have a plan.”
“Uh-oh. What?”
“Don’t say no before you think about it.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I can tell I’m not going to like it.”
He sighed. “Can you at least listen?”
I leaned against the counter and downed my water. “I’m listening.”
“Let’s go to the gym.”
I stared at him. “Are you crazy?”
“Nope. Well, stir-crazy, maybe.”
“So let’s go somewhere else.”
“Like…”
The mall? The grocery store? The zoo? “A movie?”
“I said I’m stir-crazy. I don’t want to sit around any more.” He blinked doe eyes at me. “Pleeeeease?”
“You sound like Tess.” I filled up my glass and drank some more. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
He laughed. “You have a pair of tennis shoes in your closet. I saw them.”
“But—”
“And you’re wearing a pair of shorts right now. And a T-shirt.”
“People don’t wear Harley shirts to gyms.”
“How do you know?”
Well… “Are you sure you even should be working out? Can your body take it?”
His face darkened. “Now you sound like my sisters.”
Oh, crap. “Sorry.”
“Come on.” His voice was pleading. “Let’s go. You don’t even have to do anything. You can just watch me, if you want.”
Now there’s something worth saying yes to.
So I changed my shirt—to a clean Harley one—and Nick drove us to Club Atlas, passes in hand. Wouldn’t Carla be surprised. If she ever talked to me again.
Babs wasn’t there, but the extra-perky-muscular-healthy specimen behind the desk was plenty good at making us fill out all sorts of forms and signing away our rights to sue for injury or dismemberment or who knew what else. After several worried glances at my cast, he took us on a tour of the place, pointing out the various torture instruments, more widely known as cardio and strength-training equipment. We viewed the sterile locker rooms, the aerobics floor with wall-sized mirrors that assured I would never participate, and ended up at the free weights. At his fourth offer to set us up with personal fitness plans I managed a loud enough snarl he left us alone.
“Nice place, huh?” Nick was actually having fun.
“Really great.”
He grinned. “There’s a weight bench. Sit on it while I sweat.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
So I watched and he worked. I could get used to that.
“Hey. Stella?”
I looked up to see David, Katherine’s brother-in-law. Behind him, looking more animated than during the rest of the week I’d known him, was Trevor.
David glanced at my work-out gear. “You a member?”
I laughed. “No. Just trying it out. Well,
he’s
trying it out.” I pointed to Nick, who was grimacing through some terrible set of squats. “My boyfriend, Nick.”
A surprised expression flickered over David’s face, but he hid it quickly. He was probably in league with Bryan in not believing anyone would want to date me. He caught Nick’s eye in the mirror and they did some sort of guy hello.
Trevor was already picking out some hand weights by the wall. I gestured toward him. “You guys regulars?”
David smiled. “For the week. I’ve been coming in daily, and was able to convince Trevor it would be fun.”
He laughed at my face.
“Well, maybe not fun, but at least beneficial. He’s a natural athlete. I just need to convince him of it. Maybe if I can get him fit he’ll go out for soccer this fall.”
“I guess he needs some kind of an outlet.”
“Yeah. This move has been hard on him.”
We watched as Trevor began a series of biceps lifts.
David clenched his fists and bounced on the balls of his feet.
I waved toward the weights. “Don’t let me keep you from your fun.”
“What? Oh. Thanks. I guess I will get started.” He walked over to Trevor and took off his sweatshirt to reveal a muscle tank. He also revealed just how huge his arms and chest actually were.
“Hey, now, you’re not checking out the other guys?”
Nick was beside me, grinning.
“No need to. But good grief.
Look
at him.”
“Yeah. He’s big.” Nick took a breath and bent over to stretch his legs, tilting his head toward me. “But look at his back.”
I looked. “What about it?”
“Look closer. But don’t be obvious.”
What the…? And then I saw it. “Acne? He’s got acne on his back.”
“Shh. You know what that means.”
I did. Steroids.
“So his muscles aren’t real?”
Nick shrugged. “Guess it depends on your definition. Ask Marion Jones or Floyd Landis. Or anyone involved with Major League Baseball.”
I studied Trevor. “You don’t think he’s getting Trevor onto them?”
Nick shifted to his other leg and stretched some more. “No way to know. I don’t see any signs, but then, it takes a while.”
“Well, David should be going home soon.”
“I hope so, seeing that.”
“Hey, David!” I called.
Nick tensed, and stood up.
David looked at me in the mirror as he steadied himself under a heavy bar.
“How long are you and Tricia hanging around?”
He adjusted the bar, wincing. “Actually, we’re leaving tonight. Sarah and I need to get home. Get back to work. And Tricia’s worried about leaving Elena for so long. She’s only in high school, you know.”
So Trevor should be safe. Unless David had already gotten him started.
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
“See you, Trevor.”
But he didn’t hear me. His grunting was too loud as he did some awful-looking ab exercise.
I grimaced at Nick. “You are done, aren’t you?”
“I guess I am now.”
“We can stay.”
He smiled. “I think you’ve been through enough. Let’s go.” Sweat dripped from his hair, and he rubbed one of the gym’s complimentary towels over his head. “How about we go home now, so I can take a shower?”
“A good plan.”
“And next time, we’ll bring a change of clothes.”
I looked at him, and groaned.
Who said anything about a next time?
“You rang?”
I looked up from Esmerelda’s hind end to see Willard in the doorway of the parlor. “I did.”
He came over, greeting Lucy on the way, and offered me a hand up, which was good, since standing was a multi-tasked event when rising from a stiff-legged squat.
Willard wore a suit, the tie loose, his shirt’s top button un-done. Looking at him made me feel wrinkled and tired.
“You just now going home?”
“Yeah. Long day at court. And after checking my messages I had to go back to the station.”
“You could’ve just called me.”
“What? Oh, I’m not talking about your message.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He grinned. “It was the message about Carla’s truck that caught my attention.”
I sucked in a breath. “You found the guy from Green Lane?”
“No. But we got something that might help us track him down.”
I waited.
“Fingerprints.”
“
Fingerprints
? You mean that dolt Meadows actually got something?”
Willard chuckled. “He actually did.”
“Amazing. What did he find?”
“One of those fingerprints from the rear view mirror was a match to one in Dr. Peterson’s office.”
I stared at Willard. “So I was right.”
“You were. And I’m not afraid to say it.”
My knees went suddenly weak, and I put an arm over Esmerelda to keep me upright.
Willard took a step toward me, but I held out my hand. “I’m okay. But,
damn
.”
I really had believed my theory, that all of the attacks were connected, but that was different from receiving hard proof. “So who was it?”
“We still don’t know. The prints aren’t in the system, so whoever it is has never been arrested or worked for the government.”
“What about the Kulpsville church? Any matching prints from Katherine’s office?”
“I have a call in to the cops over there. If they have any prints we’ll compare them.”
I thought about Club Atlas, and realized there wouldn’t be any prints there. It didn’t sound like that guy had touched anything in the parking lot.
“So what was your call about?”
I jerked out of my thoughts and remembered why I’d wanted to talk to him that morning. “I found a connection.”
“Between what?”
“Carla and the church.”
“I’m listening.”
I told him about the Hershbergers’ dog, and how Carla had been called to check on it. “Tons of people were there that day who would’ve seen her.”
“Oh, well that helps.”
“It
does
. It means there’s somebody who’s for sure had contact with both women. Who knows what Carla and Katherine do. Who they are.”
“And who exactly would be that ‘somebody’?”
“Well, someone from the church. The youth group. Katherine’s family.”
He was looking at me with an expression of skepticism. “That it?”
“Not quite.” Lucy chimed in. “Lenny was there. Want to suspect him, too?”
“Don’t be stupid.” But I had to admit—my theory sounded pretty weak once I was saying it out loud.
“It’s okay,” Willard said. “Your ideas don’t have to be stellar all the time.”
“But it
is
a connection.”
He nodded. “Sure. It is.”
“Whatever.” I turned back to the cow.
“Need something to eat, Detective?” Lucy stood next to him, wiping her hands on a towel. “I brought Stella some leftover chili. Plenty for three.”
“Three? You staying?”
“Oh, no, I gotta get home to the family. But Nick’s here. He’d be glad to see you.”
“He is? That’s great. But I’ll have to pass on the supper. I’d like to stay, but I need to check in with my family, too. My wife probably has a plate in the fridge for me, and my kids need their dad for at least an hour during the day, even if they are teen-agers.” He patted Esmerelda on the haunch and stepped back. “Thanks for calling, Stella. I appreciate how you keep me in the loop.”
Even if my theories are stupid.
I eased back down to the floor to switch the milker to Bambi. “Well, why wouldn’t I tell you stuff? I want you to catch this guy.”
“Right. I’ll be in touch.”
“Nick’s in the house if you want to say hi on your way out.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Hey, Willard?”
He stopped.
“It’s illegal to take steroids, right?”
He blinked. “Not if they’re prescribed. Are you—”
“But if they’re not? If you’re just taking them to get big?”
He came back, stood over me. “What’s going on, Stella?”
“I just want to know. It’s not me. You know that.”
He put his hands in his pockets, breathed out loudly. “They’re considered an illegal drug. It would be misuse of a controlled substance. You’d be penalized however the judge saw fit.”
“Kids and adults?”
“Now you really have me worried.”
I waited.
“Sure. Schools often have their own policies, but the law takes care of things, too.”
I rubbed my finger over the shiny silver milker.
“You going to tell me what this is about?”
“Not yet. I’m not sure of anything.”
He stood there a little longer, until he stepped away. “Keep me—”
“In the loop. I know.”
He left, but Lucy stayed, looking down at me. I could feel her eyes burning the top of my head. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
I finished putting on the milker and let Lucy help me up. “Yes, Lucy. I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really.”
“Okay.” She was halfway down the aisle when I called her. She turned around.
“Do you think Bryan could be the one?”
“Taking steroids? He’s skin and bones.”
“No. Not that. The women thing.”
She looked at me. Shook her head. Kept on going down the aisle.
“So I shouldn’t tell Willard about him?”
She kept going, but said, “You want to get a lawsuit slapped on you, go ahead. But you have nothing.”
“He’s—”
“You’ve. Got. Nothing. Except an over-active imagination and a boatload of protectiveness.”
Crap.
We finished up and Lucy took off for home, not saying anything else about my Bryan-as-Bad-Boyfriend-and-Neighborhood-Killer theory. I went inside, took a shower, and Nick and I tried to relax by watching a baseball game, which the Phillies weren’t in. By the fourth inning I still couldn’t get into it (who cares about the Yankees and the Red Sox?), and Nick was fast asleep, his head nodding onto his chest.
I got up and went outside to whistle for Queenie, who came running into the house, showing her enthusiasm for the invitation by running over to Nick and licking his face clean of all germs. Who wants to play? Nick opened his eyes enough to realize he was on the couch and I wasn’t the one doing the licking.
He sat up and yawned, patting Queenie absently. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
“Soon.”
“You need help getting up the stairs?”
“No, you go ahead. Might want to wash your face first.”
He shuffled off, closing the stairway door behind him.
I held out my hand. “Come on, girl.”
Queenie and I found a pot big enough to hold some water for her during the night—I just wouldn’t tell Lucy how I was using the kitchenware—and I opened the living room window a smidge so she could hear anything—or any
one
—lurking outside. I turned off the inside lights and switched on the outside ones, illuminating the yard and barn, and we sat, looking out the window, Queenie’s head in my lap while I stroked it.
“So I don’t know, Queenie. I’m being a jerk about Bryan, I guess. It’s just… Bryan’s mad because I’m not warm and soft, although why he’s so concerned about Nick’s welfare, I’m not so sure, unless it’s just a guys’ team kind of thing. Zach’s friend Randy is pissed because his girlfriend likes some swimming pool stud, but you know, it’s high school. Trevor basically had no say in changing his life completely right before his senior year of high school because of his mom’s new job, and I’m sure that went over real well.
“How do you think Alan, Katherine’s husband, feels about it all? Think he cares that she’s determining where they live? That she’s causing controversy? Her sister seems to think she should quit. But then, maybe Tricia’s ticked because she had to give up her job to stay home with kids and her mother. What was her career before? Photography? And who knows if David would let her get back to it. It sounds like he’s a bit more conservative when it comes to that stuff. Except when it came to illegal prescription drugs and getting buff.
“Patients are mad about having a woman doctor, someone’s slashing the truck company’s tires—which I’m sure is because of Patty—Babs can’t even go to work on her own…”
I bent over and rested my head on Queenie’s. She was warm and soft, and before I knew it my eyelids were beginning to droop.
“You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about it. Men and women stuff. Relationships. You’re a girl, and no one expects you to act any differently as a dog because of it. You can bark and run around and nose people in the crotch, and it’s just because you’re a dog, not because you’re a
female
dog.” I sat up and looked at her. “Although I’m not so sure about the nose in the crotch thing.”
Her eyebrows twitched.
I gave her one last good rub. “You be good. Let me know if anyone comes around.” I really doubted they would, as all of the attacks had been when the women were alone, or not expected to be around. In a quiet parking lot, a deserted church, a truck yard at midnight, a supposedly empty doctor’s office…
Upstairs, Nick was sound asleep, his breath coming in little puffs against his pillow. I slid under the sheet next to him, his face a quiet sculpture of shadows and angles, his arm tucked under his chest.
Perhaps I wasn’t a typical woman. But then, who was?
I watched the face of my sleeping, wonderful man, who didn’t seem to care how I compared to others of my gender. My eyes eventually closed, and I slept.
