Mind Tricks (20 page)

Now
that she considered it, thought-free was probably the state he’d been in while
they were curled up naked on her couch. And happy. She hadn’t wanted to admit
it to herself, but Jake had been happy.

And
so had she.

“Tell
me again why you think someone took Brutus, and he didn’t simply pull a
Houdini,” Jake said, biting into his BLT. He’d pulled out all the L first—must
not be a salad guy.

“Brutus
is a smart dog, but not smart enough to shut the door after him.”

“Or
unlock it in the first place, too.”

“I
hadn’t locked the doors,” she admitted.

He
stopped in mid-chew. “Even after you’d pegged me as Ginny’s killer?” When she
nodded, he smiled. “I’m going to take that as a subconscious belief on your
part in my innocence.”

Someone
stopped in front of their table, casting a shadow over their lunch.

“Jake,
Emma. How are you doing? Great day, isn’t it?” Bill Monroe beamed down at them.

It
was probably just as well that he’d interrupted. She and Jake could talk until
all the oxygen in the world ran out about whether he could be guilty or
innocent, but what was really needed was proof. Solid evidence that would
convince the police one way or the other, not an earnest but unverifiable
recitation from her of what she’d “seen” in Jake’s head.

Bill
nodded inquiringly at the empty chair nudged up against their table, and Jake
pulled it out for him. “I’m on my way to the marina, so I just have a few
seconds,” Bill said as he sat. “Did you hear about that article the
Clarion
is running about the local
boatbuilding businesses, like yours, mine, and Fills’s?”

Jake
nodded and sipped his soda.

“Were
you interviewed?” Bill asked Jake. “By the paper?”

“Sure.
On Thursday, I think. After unsuccessfully trying to get me to admit that I
killed Ginny, the reporter decided to inquire about how healthy Woodhaven was
financially. I assume you have your ear to the ground and heard the rumors of
cash-flow problems. Totally off-base rumors, by the way. Last season was the
best quarter we’ve had.”

“Wasn’t
sure they were rumors. Glad for your sake that they are.” He gave Jake a sharp
look. “But that’s not the only rumor running around town. There’s also the one
that Fills is going to buy you.”

“Well,
he made an offer. I’ll leave it at that.” Jake settled back in his chair and
smiled at Bill. “But you know rumors. Last rumor I heard was that you’re going
to buy Fills.”

Blinking,
Bill repeated, “Me buy Fills? I haven’t heard that yet.”

“It’s
the latest one.” Jake sounded a bit like a man showing off to his neighbor the
newest Porsche model.

“I
probably could do it,” Bill said, “but our customer base is a little too
different for my comfort. Your business and mine have more in common.” He
cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you about a project. Could we take a
walk down the block?”

“Sure.”
Jake stood. “I’ll be back,” he told Emma, touching her briefly on the shoulder,
and then he ambled with Bill down the sidewalk, his head bent as he listened to
the older man.

Jake
returned in less than two minutes, without Bill, and seated himself by Emma
again. “That was interesting.” He picked up his sandwich and bit into it. “He
just made an offer on Woodhaven,” he said around a mouthful of tomato, bacon,
and bread. “And that’s the second offer for the company that I’ve received in
twenty-four hours.”

“Wow.
That’s exciting.”

“It’s
exciting, but I’m not sure it’s good.”

“You
don’t want to sell?”

“Mmm,
it’s more complicated than that.” He took another bite. While he chewed, he
stared at her. “This is all confidential, you know,” he finally said. “I’d
really rather you not discuss it with anyone. Ian, for example.”

“Ian
might already know about Bill’s offer. He’s dating Bill’s daughter,” Emma
pointed out.

“Right.
I’d forgotten that. Still…”

“I
won’t talk about it,” she agreed. “And while we’re on the subject of
confidentiality, I’d rather you not talk to anyone about me, uh, reading
minds.” It sounded so dramatic when she said it aloud, she almost expected him
to laugh.

He
frowned. “Yeah, that makes sense. It might freak people out.” He paused. “Even
put you in danger.”

Well,
since Jake, the police’s number-one suspect as well as the possessor of a very
bloody memory, knew of her talents, she was probably already in the most danger
she could be in. But she didn’t say that. “We need proof. Real proof,” she said
instead.

“I
didn’t do it.” Conviction underlined each syllable. “But you’re right—we need
to
prove
that I didn’t do it.”
Stacking their plates, he said, “I’ll run you back to your car, and then think
about it this afternoon—figure out what our next move is. Plus, I need to talk
to my parents about Bill’s offer. That’s going to eat up a good chunk of time.”

Twenty
minutes later, he pulled up next to her car, still parked in a spot in front of
Teague’s. “Back where we started,” she said. “At breakfast.”

“We
had two meals together today.” A wistful smile touched his mouth. “If things
were different, I’d think we were well on our way to dating, and I’d be pretty
excited about it.”

Such
honesty took her aback. “Two days ago, we
were
well on our way to dating.” They’d slept together, after all. In her book, that
meant they had automatically achieved dating status, though she hadn’t stopped long
enough while tearing off his clothes to find out exactly how he defined their
relationship. And then, when she’d seen that horrifying memory, she’d rushed
him out. So they’d “dated” for all of twenty minutes. A new romantic low.

He
must have been thinking along the same lines, because he said, “You must’ve
been scared when you saw…what you saw.” Before she could answer, he changed the
subject. “I’ll call you later to talk about our plan of attack. And if you find
Brutus, call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He
started to lean toward her. Her heart thumped like a rabbit’s at a wolf’s
approach, but she didn’t move.

Would
he kiss her or kill her? she thought half ironically. Her preference was
clear…to the point where she almost moved to meet him halfway. Then he abruptly
straightened and grasped the steering wheel with both hands. “See you l
ater.”

“Bye.” As she got out and shut the
car door behind her, she maintained her best poker face. Only after he’d
disappeared around the corner did she sink against the side of her car and groan.
What a crazy morning. She’d started it by being in fear for her life, and ended
it by nearly kissing the same guy she’d been afraid of.

Okay, so maybe three hours’ sleep
and fourteen cups of coffee wasn’t the best fuel for making judgment calls, but
working again with Jake instead of against him felt good. Felt right.

• •

Halfway home, Emma felt a flutter
at the edge of her thoughts, like eyelashes brushing against skin.

Brutus?

She’d had her mind open, searching
for Brutus, but with the heavy summer traffic clogging the narrow coastal
highway, she’d been concentrating more on the road than on finding Brutus.

She slowed, ignoring the irritated
beep of an out-of-stater behind her, and then swung over onto the road’s
shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of traffic
flashing by, she reached out.

Fifteen seconds passed. Thirty
seconds.

Nothing.

Darn it. Emma inhaled deeply, held
the air, and then exhaled with a whoosh, pushing out her thoughts at the same
time, searching, probing.

The flutter came again, and she
nearly wept with relief.

A dog was nearby. And that dog felt
a lot like Brutus.

Climbing over the gear shift, she
shoved open the passenger’s side door and scrambled out onto the sparse grass
lawn sprawled before a pair of houses. An air of disrepair marked them as cheap
rentals. Only one driveway held a car, so she headed for the unoccupied-looking
house first.

If anyone popped up and demanded to
know what she was doing sneaking around, she’d claim she lost her dog. It was
true, after all.

In the first house’s backyard, a
faded plastic jungle gym sat alone like an island, weeds crowding up against
its base. No dog pen or dog run. In fact, it was hard to tell if anyone even
lived here.

She closed her eyes again. Brutus…

The flutter again. But it was
strangely distorted and tough to pinpoint. She couldn’t even swear the dog, if
it was Brutus, was in one of these two houses.

Blinking against the hard sunlight,
she headed for a window that appeared to be a kitchen window. She wasn’t going
to break in, just look in. See if the place was as deserted as it seemed.

Movement to her right caught her
attention. At a side window in the other house, a big German shepherd gazed at
her, his paws on the sill. He lifted his chin, and his sharp jaw opened and
closed soundlessly, the glass and distance muting his barks.

She’d found her dog. It just wasn’t
Brutus.

Her shoulders suddenly felt like
sandbags had been hung on them, and razor hot tears cut through her view of the
barking shepherd.

Where was Brutus? And why couldn’t
she find him? Had he been taken out of the area? Out of the state?

God, all she wanted to do was crawl
into the jungle gym, bawl her eyes out like she was five years old, and wait
for someone to come along and deal with all her problems for her.

Scrubbing away the tears, she
trudged back to her car. If she printed off more posters, she could spend the
next six hours of daylight sprinkling the nearby towns with them. Or maybe she
would send Ian out to do that, and stay home and nap, preparing for another
long night of patrolling her kennels.

Brutus,
where are you?

• •

Jake straddled a stool at the bar
and slung his jacket over the empty stool beside him.

“Expecting company?” asked Grif,
the bartender-owner of the Wild Rover. He nodded at the stool.

Grif had been closer to Daniel than
to Jake, but Jake had spent enough evenings bullshitting with Grif that some
nights the Wild Rover felt more familiar than his own condo.

“Yep.” He was still surprised that
when he’d called Emma an hour ago, she’d agreed to meet him here for a beer
after dinner. Would she show up, though?

Grif started pouring a Guinness for
Jake without having to be asked. “Business? Or dare I hope it’s finally a
date?”

Jake himself couldn’t categorize
what he and Emma had going between them. He shrugged. “Scouting expedition,
maybe.” It was a term Daniel had used when he thought he liked a girl but
wasn’t quite sure. Daniel had done most of his scouting expeditions in the Wild
Rover.

A little belatedly, Jake remembered
that if Daniel had decided at the end of the night that he and a girl weren’t
going to hit it off, Grif would usually swoop in, plying the girl with his
charm. A woman seldom left the Wild Rover alone after a scouting expedition.

He should have suggested that they
meet at the coffee shop instead.

Then Emma came through the front
door, squinting in the bar’s dimness. The red neon lights streaming from the
juke box in the corner got tangled in her blond hair and whispered over her
smooth cheekbones. His sternum tightened. Damn, he was such a goner for this
woman, even if she did think he might be a killer.

When she saw him, she lifted her
hand in a wave and started to make her way through the gathering Saturday night
crowd.

“The dog mind-reader, huh?” Grif
pushed the Guinness in front of Jake. “She’s pretty cute. Maybe if you’re
lucky, tonight will turn into a date.”

“Maybe.” Given Emma’s wariness of
him, he’d have to be very lucky indeed. But she was here, wasn’t she? He had to
hold on to that and hope.

“Hi,” Emma said as she slid onto
the stool. She smoothed her hair down with one hand and tugged at her shirt
hem. “I’ll take one of those, too,” she told Grif, nodding to Jake’s beer. Grif
gave her a salute—the cocky salute he used with women he found attractive.

“Any news on Brutus?” Jake asked
hastily, pulling Emma’s attention back to him.

A half sigh, half groan. “No,
nothing. Ian’s practically wallpapered Baymill to Camden with posters—except
where you got there first. He called me from Rock Harbor to complain that you
were leaving him with nothing to do.”

“We should have coordinated
better.” Or at all. But Ian’s connection to sly little Cynthia Monroe and his
obvious infatuation with Emma didn’t make him someone Jake wanted to chat with.

“No, it’s fine. Better to put up
lots of posters than no posters at all. We did get a couple of calls, actually,
but when Ian ran out to check them, none of the dogs sighted were Brutus.”