Dying for a Dance (19 page)

“Let's go,” I yelled to the driver.

His grizzled face looked puzzled but he merely shifted gears and headed the massive yellow truck in the direction of my car. The driver was probably used to dealing with frantic females, although I doubted any of his previous passengers had recently discovered a gun in a cookie jar.

My ragged breathing subsided as we neared my car. There was no reason to panic because the teddy bear cookie jar housed a weapon. Since they lived so far out in the woods, Dimitri probably felt they needed protection. Owning a gun in the countryside was as natural as owning a dog. Or a pickup truck.

The AAA driver parked his vehicle in front of my Prius. The driver, who introduced himself as Harley, grabbed an oversized flashlight that would have received my mother's gold seal of approval. His jaw worked from side to side as he directed the beam across my windshield. Harley leaned forward and scrutinized the round hole in the middle of the glass. A million tiny cracks spiraled out from the tiny hole.

“Can you unlock the car?” he asked. “I'd like to check somethin’ out.”

I delved deep into my purse, located my keys and beeped the car open. Harley slid into the passenger seat and rummaged around the carpet. Five seconds later he exited the car. “Open your hands,” he said.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Harley was going to lecture me about the multitude of empty Kit Kat candy wrappers that had burrowed under my seats. I waited for the sticky pieces of paper to fall into my palms. Instead I felt something hard and metal.

No bigger than a...bullet.

I screamed and the small metal object flew into the air. It landed on the asphalt, bounced on the pavement once, then twice, before it careened into the canyon on the other side of the road. Harley looked at me like I was crazy. I was beginning to think someone certainly was.

“That wasn't a bullet, was it?” I asked.

“Sure was. Although now I won't be able to tell what kind of gun it come from. Did you hear a shot when you was driving?”

I shook my head. “Not that I noticed. The windows were closed, the radio was on, and I was concentrating on watching the road. The windshield shattered,” I snapped my fingers, “just like that.”

Harley pushed his navy baseball cap back on his thick gray-streaked hair and shoved his gnarled hands into his jean pockets. He rocked back and forth mulling over the ramifications of a stray gunshot hitting my windshield.

“Well, it coulda been a hunter, I s'pose.”

“This late at night?” Unless they needed some venison or a rabbit for dinner, that seemed like a long shot to me.

He shrugged. “There's all kinds a fools out there toting guns when they hadn't ought to. Would've been interesting to see if that bullet come from a rifle.”

I couldn't imagine someone hiding behind a tree and deliberately shooting at me. Of course there was that mysterious gun in Irina's cookie jar. My evening was starting to feel like a B grade movie.

“I gotta report this to the sheriff's department,” Harley said. “Since someone shot at you.” He walked to his truck and called back over his shoulder. “I'll call the office and they'll arrange for a patrol car to meet us.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone as I trotted along behind him. This time all five bars were lined up. That great big satellite in the sky was finally smiling down at me.

“Don't worry,” I said to Harley, as I speed dialed my own personal contact in the sheriff's department. “I have it covered.”

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THIRTY-THREE

* * * *

Tom did not disappoint. He arrived with red lights flashing, sirens blaring and tires squealing. The official display was probably unnecessary, but he was at my side in less than ten minutes and I was grateful to have him there.

Harley and Tom consulted while I remained in the tow truck attempting to stay warm despite the truck's sputtering heater. Another patrol car arrived with two officers, one female deputy and a guy who looked vaguely familiar. When he tromped past the bright headlights of the truck, I recognized Deputy Katzenbach, AKA, Buzz Cut, last seen at the Golden Hills Dance Studio the night Dimitri was murdered.

After much discussion, the tow truck driver handed his flashlight to Buzz Cut. He glanced at me as he walked past the truck and I mustered a weak smile, which was met with a distinct frown. With a frustrated look on his face, the deputy shone the light down into the canyon.

Were they looking for the missing bullet? The next time someone dropped a small metal object in my hand, I would look before I threw. Deep in thought, I started when someone rapped on the window. The heavy door opened with a groan and Tom's worried eyes met mine. “How are you holding up?”

I tried to reply, but the magnitude of the incident, and the realization that I could have been killed, finally hit home. My shoulders heaved as I gulped back sobs.

Grown women don't cry just because someone tries to shoot them.

Tom gently lifted me from my high perch in the cab of the truck until we were standing inches apart. His comforting arms encircled me, as he stroked my back, letting the warmth of his body conduct its way into mine. I could have stayed locked in that position forever, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

I raised my head from his broad chest and a tremor quickened my heartbeat as our glances met. It was almost worth getting shot at to realize Tom had feelings for me.

Almost.

A shrill whistle pierced the silence and we jumped apart. Deputy Buzz Cut motioned for us to join him. Tom's long legs made it to the side of the canyon in three strides. I trotted after him.

“Did you find it?” Tom asked.

The beam of the flashlight was centered on a spot about fifteen feet down the ravine. I inched forward to get a better look and inadvertently jostled the deputy's arm. The flashlight fell out of his hand and landed with a thud on the wet soil. All three officers frowned at the clumsy culprit.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

Fortunately, the flashlight still worked and after a few minutes they were able to locate the spot the deputy had previously identified. Trying to decide who would climb down the slippery slope to retrieve the bullet was another matter.

Buzz Cut vehemently shook his head back and forth. “Look, I've got two bad knees. I'm not screwing them up just to get a bullet your girlfriend stupidly threw away.”

I was about to chastise Buzz Cut for calling me stupid when I realized he had referred to me as Tom's girlfriend.

I could live with that.

“I'll go,” offered the female deputy. Before Tom could protest, she slithered down the muddy slope. She prodded and poked at some of the overgrown bushes on the hill. After a few minutes she shouted in triumph, the expression on her face exultant, at least via the limited light from the flashlight. The deputy stuffed something in her forest green jacket pocket then zipped back up the hill. She was as nimble as a mountain climber. And as pretty as a movie star.

The young deputy's cheeks and clothing were streaked with mud, but I could tell she was elated by her success. Tom flashed a huge grin at her as she handed over her prize. She returned the smile and winked.

What did that mean? And when did the sheriff's department start hiring cover girls as deputies?

Tom deposited the bullet into a plastic baggie, which made me wonder if he restocked his supply of evidence bags whenever he knew he'd be meeting with me.

Tom conversed briefly with Harley. The tow truck driver approached me, his shoulders hunched, hands deep in his pockets. “They said I can haul your car to the shop. Now that they got that bullet it will be okay to fix the windshield and tire.”

We both turned and stared at my sad little car. Harley must have noticed my forlorn expression. “It'll look like new by tomorrow afternoon,” he reassured me. Great. But in the meantime what's a working mother to do?

The crunch of tires and the beam of headlights brought my answer. The Toyota Land Cruiser didn't even come to a full stop before the female passenger burst out of the car.

I guess a daughter is never too old to worry her mother.

“Honey, are you okay?” My mother's short platinum hair stood up in silvery spikes. Although her navy wool coat was buttoned, the brass buttons weren't lined up. Bradford stood in the background shuffling his feet, looking a little disheveled himself.

“What are the two of you doing here?” I asked them.

“Tom called Robert and we immediately jumped out of...” She hesitated and amended her statement. “Did someone really shoot at you?”

I nodded and she threw her arms around me. She finally released her hold and stepped back, scrutinizing me. “You're sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine. It was probably a hunter,” I said. “Why would anyone want to shoot at me?”

Four questioning faces turned in my direction.

“Yes, Laurel, why
would
anyone want to shoot at you?” asked Tom.

No reason I could think of other than I was butting my head and my butt into the wrong person's business. Both my body and brain felt drained so I followed my mother and Bradford in the direction of his muddy SUV. Tom placed his hand on my arm and stopped me.

“We're almost done here. I'll drive you home.”

“It's okay, I can ride with them.”

His brow furrowed in response. “No, we need to talk. Give me a minute.”

I exhaled and waved good-bye to my mother and Bradford. She took a few steps, paused then rushed back to my side.

“Please stay out of trouble.” She gave me one more squeeze. I hugged her back hoping trouble would stop finding me.

Tom gave the deputies some final instructions then gently guided me toward his official vehicle. I slid into the passenger side front seat, my nostrils quivering as the smell of his musky men's cologne mixed with the scent of male sweat from the car's previous occupants.

Tom maneuvered the vehicle past the tow truck and patrol car then turned left and proceeded in the direction of Green Valley Road. The clock on the dashboard said it was almost nine.

I called Jenna and told her I'd been delayed. She responded that she hoped the reason for the delay was because I'd been out Christmas shopping for my devoted children who had dusted and vacuumed the entire house while I was gone.

I thanked my darling daughter and calculated there were two and half more days of housekeeping help from my industrious elves before packages were opened and they morphed back into normal chore-averse children.

I glanced at Tom but his eyes were on the road, his knuckles tight as he squeezed the steering wheel. Since he was the one who suggested driving me home I would leave it to him to initiate our conversation. Otherwise, the odds were high I would stick both muddy heels into my mouth.

After a brief drive spent in silence, we arrived at my house. Tom parked in the driveway and turned the ignition off, but kept the heater running. He reached for my left hand and turned to face me. Despite the dark, I could read the concern on his face. When he finally spoke his voice cracked with emotion. “Laurel, if that bullet had been a few inches closer we wouldn't be sitting here right now.”

My stomach tightened as I squeezed his hand, fully aware of the deadly truth of his words.

“Did something happen while you were at Irina's that could have precipitated an attack on you?”

I chewed on my lip, gnawing off my remaining lip-gloss, as I tried to recall anything that might be pertinent. “An SUV passed me as I was driving up the road to Irina's place but that could have been a neighbor. Irina introduced me to some big guy named Vladimir who looked like Howie Mandel on steroids. She didn't mention whether he was a friend or a relative. He drove off right after I arrived at her house.

“Oh, and I meant to tell you. I found a gun in Irina's cookie jar.”

His hand tightened on mine. “You neglected to mention a gun stored in a cookie jar?”

I glared at him. “Sorry, it's been a busy evening what with the shooting and everything.”

He rubbed his left hand over the stubble on his chin. “Okay, I'm going back out there tomorrow morning to see if we can retrieve additional evidence in the daylight. I'll talk to Irina then.”

“It could have been a kid fooling around,” I offered since that was the option I personally preferred.

“It's a possibility. But kind of a slim one since it was dark.” Tom still looked worried. “We do have to consider you've been sticking your nose...”

I slid across the seat and stuck my celebrated nose right next to his. “All I'm trying to do is help an innocent man.”

A frustrated look crossed Tom's face as he struggled to bite back a retort. “Laurel, listen to me. We have more than enough evidence to arrest your boss on homicide charges. You've been running all over the county asking questions and stirring things up that may have nothing to do with the murders.”

“Fine.” I yanked my hand from his.

We sat in silence until Tom reached out for me again. “Laurel, when I saw how close that bullet came...”

His voice broke and I slid closer. My arms wrapped around his neck as he drew me towards him. Although the center console kept our hips from touching, it did not stop our lips from meeting. A lightning bolt shot through my body as his lips pressed against mine. A slight noise distracted me and I pulled back momentarily. As a face pressed itself against the window I did what any mother would do.

I screamed.

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THIRTY-FOUR

* * * *

The white face bobbing outside the driver's side window definitely cooled the heat wave that had threatened to steam up the car. Tom hit the power button and his window rolled down. I leaned across him so I could converse with the little intruder.

“Ben, what are you doing out here? And why aren't you wearing your parka?”

Ben jumped up and down, either from excitement or the cold. “Mommy, Santa was here early! I heard his sleigh and reindeer dashing across the roof.”

“Honey, you know Christmas isn't for another three days. Maybe you heard some squirrels chasing after acorns.” The clatter on our roof tiles was occasionally so loud I swore the fluffy-tailed tree rats had built a bowling alley in our attic.