Power of the Raven (8 page)

“That’s not early. Ranchers are at work by dawn.”

“Okay, then.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet. How’s a pizza sound? I can have one delivered.”

“Perfect, and it’s on me.”

An hour later they sat on the stools at the breakfast bar finishing the last few slices of a thick-crust combo. She’d eaten too much, but she hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.

“Under different circumstances I would have called this a perfect date,” she said.

“Me, too,” he said, then wiped a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin.

She stayed still, then finally drew a breath as he moved back.

“All done,” he said.

“Thanks—for everything.”

He held her gaze. “I know Harrington’s always there at the back of your mind, but you need to remember one thing. You’ve come out ahead every time he’s made a move.”

“That’s ’cause of the company I keep.”

“We’re more than even. After all, I got an exceptionally good pizza tonight,” he said.

She laughed. “You know what would make this the best dinner ever? I know a place near here that has fantastic ice cream.”

“You’re talking about Ice Cold Heaven?”

“Yeah, you’ve been there?” she asked, and saw him nod. “It’s my once-a-month special treat. I have to jog the next day to work the calories off, but it’s sure worth it,” Lori added.

“Then let’s go. Maybe the sugar rush will help us figure out how we can set up the guy hounding you.”

They left Preston’s place, and as Gene locked the door, Lori headed to the pickup. She was looking around, enjoying the brightness of the moon and the pleasant breeze, when Gene suddenly yelled.

“Lori, look out!”

A man jumped out from the deep shadows beside the pickup, shoved her down to the pavement and grabbed her purse.

As he raced off, Gene instantly ran after him. The purse snatcher fled down the sidewalk, parallel to a pyracantha hedge on the roadside of the walk. He was fast, but Gene gained ground quickly. Halfway down the block, the man suddenly stopped, forcing his way through a gap in the hedge.

Gene heard a yelp, then a curse, and saw the man tugging at something. Gene focused, peering into the semidarkness, and saw that Lori’s purse had caught in the shrubbery.

As the purse snatcher saw Gene almost upon him, he gave up trying to free Lori’s bag and ran across the street. Soon he was heading down the narrow right-of-way behind the community center.

Gene knew he’d never make it through that gap in the hedge. He was too tall and too broad at the shoulders. Unable to jump over, he raced to the next opening, which turned out to be an adjacent driveway.

By the time Gene crossed the street and entered the narrow alley, the man was gone.

Gene looked around and spotted a big gathering of people enjoying a barbecue dinner at the rear patio of the complex’s community center. “Where did he go?” Gene called out.

Several people looked over, but except for a few shrugs, he got no reaction whatsoever. After about ten seconds, a boy about seven pointed toward the corner of the building. “The man ran that way.”

Gene walked a bit farther, visually sweeping the area in search of the purse snatcher, but all he could see was a parking lot full of cars and pickups. Muttering curses under his breath, he jogged back.

Lori was on the far side of the tall hedge and he could see only the top of her head. As he ran around to join her, he saw that she was on her knees, looking inside the foliage, her purse next to her on the sidewalk.

“He got the straps hooked on the brush and it snapped open,” she said as he came up. “There’s stuff all over the ground and among the leaves and thorns. Help me look around and make sure I’m not leaving anything behind.”

One of the items still in her purse was a small penlight. She used it now to search, but her hand was shaking so badly it was hard to follow the beam.

“Here, let me hold it,” Gene said. Taking it from her hands and working together, they retrieved her lipstick, wallet, keys, sunglasses and a handful of small items.

Once finished, Gene handed the penlight back to her, but her hand was trembling so hard she nearly dropped it.

“Lori, this isn’t connected,” Gene said softly. “A purse snatcher is probably working the area. We weren’t followed here. I’d be willing to bet my last dollar on that,” he said, placing his arm around her shoulders.

“You’re wrong, Gene. It was him.”

“Did you get a look at his face?” he pressed in a firm voice.

“No, it was too dark and he had on that stocking cap.”

“You’re upset, but you can’t afford to make assumptions like that if for no other reason than you’ll drive yourself crazy. Why don’t you call the police and report the incident while I drive us over to get some ice cream? The change in scenery and a little comfort food can do wonders. Besides, standing around wringing our hands isn’t going to do either of us any good.”

As she dialed, Gene could see that she still wasn’t convinced. “Lori, the man who has been coming after you isn’t interested in just your purse.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. I guess you’re right. This must have been a separate incident,” she said, though her tone suggested she thought otherwise.

They arrived about ten minutes later at Ice Cold Heaven. The ice-cream parlor, with the cloud-motif ceiling and ice-cream-cone-wielding cherubs painted on the walls, was a town favorite because of its home-style ice-cream cones and their unique flavors.

They picked up their order at the front, then sat at one of the two chair tables in a corner of the room. Lori ate her serving of “intense chocolate blast” slowly, savoring each mouthful. “For the sake of argument, let’s say I’m right and that
was
Bud tonight. The purse thing could have been just another way of unnerving me. He could have found out who your brothers are, taken his chances and driven over to Preston’s.”

“Preston’s address isn’t listed anywhere public. Police officers are very careful about things like that.”

“Maybe Bud has connections. Police officers can run a plate. P.I.’s also find ways to do the same thing. I can get that type of information at the DMV, too. Of course it’s unethical to look into noncustomer records, and if I got caught I’d be out of a job.”

“That brings up a whole new set of possibilities. I want you to think hard. Is there anyone working at the DMV who might dislike you enough to come after you like this?”

“No way. We’re too busy to pay much attention to each other.”

“There are always personality conflicts,” he insisted.

“Sure, but you’re talking
hate,
not just a personality issue. We don’t spend enough time with each other, at least at work, for something like that to develop. We’re always busy dealing with the public. Sure, I’ve had disagreements with the others there on occasion, but it’s almost always work related and never lasts more than a day.”

He looked around, then lowered his voice so only she could hear. “You’re still afraid that Bud was the one who tried to grab your purse, so let’s reason this out. When I first met you, a man was following you from a restaurant. He took off when I came on the scene, risking life and limb to get away. Then he tried to get into your house when he thought I was leaving. He should have waited but jumped the gun. That indicates just how eager he was to get inside while you were distracted, then catch you alone. That’s not at all the way a purse snatcher works.”

“You’re right. The guy after me is a lot scarier, isn’t he? I remember when I spotted him outside the restaurant, before you and I were supposed to meet for lunch,” she said in a whisper-thin voice. “Maybe he wanted me to see him. So far, at least, part of his strategy has been to keep me on edge, running from shadows.”

“A purse snatcher, on the other hand, wants something specific, strikes fast and then is gone. His work is dependent on opportunity and speed, nothing more.”

“There’s another way of looking at this,” she said slowly. “Taking my purse could be just one more way of getting in my head. I have all my credit and debit cards there, my keys, my wallet, all the things that are part of my identity.”

She took a breath and continued. “If Bud’s goal had been to hurt me physically, he would have come at me differently from day one,” she said. “All things considered, I think Harrington’s playing with me, trying to make me sorry I ever turned him down. Or maybe he’s just hoping to goad me into doing something stupid, so he can get me thrown in jail,” she said, running an exasperated hand through her hair. “The problem is that I don’t know how far he’s going to take this sick game.”

“Whatever the case, this guy’s taking a lot of stupid chances, which tells me he’s
not
a professional criminal.”

“Maybe not, but he’s making me crazy.”

“Let’s set all this aside for now. Maybe the answers will come to us tomorrow morning after we’ve had some sleep,” he said, wishing he could say something that would make Lori smile again.

As they walked back to his pickup she looked over at him. “Let me be the one who sleeps on the love seat tonight. I’m smaller. I’ll be more comfortable even if it does fold out into a bed.”

“I’ll be fine—but I’ll be even better if you invite me to share the bed with you.”

She gave him a slow, sexy smile that made his blood turn into a river of fire.

“Neither of us would get any sleep, then,” she said, standing beside his truck.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close, letting her feel the heat from his body. He’d had many one-nighters, but the unrelenting need pounding through him now took him by surprise. He would have gladly traded ten years of his life for a night of slow, mind-blowing sex with her. “Losing a little sleep—would that be so bad?”

“Bad? No, I wouldn’t say that. I’d probably love it,” she said. “Then, afterward, I’d be filled with regret because I’m not ready for that. To me, lovemaking should be just that—two people who care so deeply for each other that everything in them demands they become one. It’s about having two hearts with one steady beat.”

“It doesn’t always have to be that way. I can make you feel things that will rock you to the core again and again,” he said, his voice low, his body hard with desire.

She took a shaky breath and he felt her wavering. Her gaze drifted down to the center of his jeans and she licked her lips nervously. Just watching her made his body tighten to such an impossible level he thought he’d explode. “I’ll make it good,” he murmured.

She swallowed several times. “You want me, and maybe I want you, too, but in here,” she said, pointing to her heart, “I need more than heat. I want to feel a yearning so intense that a union is the only way for me to find peace.”

It took everything he had not to try and get her to change her mind. He knew he could pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He knew how to make a woman melt in his arms. Yet what she really wanted wasn’t something he could give her.

“Your choice, darling.” He brushed his knuckles on her cheek and heard her fractured sigh. “I’ll sleep in the living room and dream of you.”

Chapter Eight

As they reached Preston’s place, Lori saw a woman in her mid-fifties come out from one of the adjoining town houses. She hurried toward them, waving her arms.

The slender woman, with flaming red hair, greeted them as they got out of the car. Her large Labrador-mix dog remained standing by her town house’s open doorway, snarling and barking with excitement.

“Someone tried to break into Preston’s place just a few minutes ago,” she told Gene. “I ran him off by threatening to let Bitsy have a go at him,” she added, pointing to the large mass of black fur. The dog’s white teeth flashed in the light and drool dripped from its jowls.

“No wonder he ran,” Lori said.

The woman smiled. “Most of the time she’s the sweetest dog in the world, but when Bitsy senses a threat and gets riled up she’s a holy terror,” she said. “The two of us were coming back from our evening walk when Bitsy saw the guy lurking around the back window. He was wearing a dark shirt, a sweatshirt, I think, and a baseball cap pulled down low on his forehead. He had something sharp, maybe a knife or chisel, for prying open a window,” she said. “Bitsy went nuts and wanted to take a chunk out of him. The guy heard her growling and took off quick as lightning between the buildings.” She pointed. “That’s the last I saw of him, but the police are on their way.”

Just as she finished speaking, two patrol cars with flashing red lights turned into the complex and drove up.

Two officers stepped out of the units and walked toward them. “Who’s Patty McDermott?” the taller of the two asked.

“I am, and the guy ran that way,” Patty said, pointing. “I figured you’d want to know since one of your officers, Detective Bowman, lives at the apartment he was planning to break into.”

“Dispatch said you thought the man had a weapon, maybe a knife? Did he threaten you?” the second officer asked.

Patty shook her head. “No. Bitsy and I startled him and he ran. I guess he didn’t want the kind of trouble my dog could give him. As for the weapon…I’m thinking now it may have been a chisel. Whatever it was, I know it had a yellow handle.”

The officer turned to look at the dog, who was still growling. “Ma’am, maybe you should close that door,” he said.

“She won’t move without a specific command—or if she thinks I’m being threatened—but if it’ll make you feel better…”

“It would,” the officer said instantly.

As Patty moved away, the other cop, whose name tag identified him as Officer Murray, turned to Gene. “You’re one of Preston’s brothers, right? The rancher?”

“Yeah,” Gene said with a half smile, then filled him in.

The officer took some notes, then glanced at Lori. “You should have done as Sergeant Chavez recommended, ma’am. Leaving town, at least until we can identify a suspect, is still your best course of action.”

“Like you, Officer, I have a job and responsibilities here,” she said in a harsher voice than she’d intended. Having to defend her reasons for staying annoyed her. She wasn’t the criminal; she was the victim.