Queen (31 page)

"Naw. I think whoever it was that was snooping is long gone. No one has reported seeing him in a couple of days. I don't know what the bugger is up to, but he's cagey, I can tell you that. I've yet to set eyes on him myself, and the descriptions I keep getting vary enough to make me think that people might be seeing shadows that aren't there anymore."

"No one hopes that more than me," Cody said. "My family has gone through enough. We're due some comp time."

Abel nodded. "So, have you popped the question vet?" he asked, and then relished the glare Cody gave him. "Hmmm, from the look on your face I suppose not. Or… you asked her and she told you no. Which is it?"

"I think I made a mistake in telling you before I asked her," Cody said. "You're worse than a mother hen."

"So. You haven't asked her yet. What's holding up the process, cold feet?"

"No. Just waiting for the right time," Cody muttered, and stared down at the coffee grounds settling in the bottom of his cup.

"How about her birthday?" Abel asked. "It's coming up soon. That would be a good time."

Cody looked up in shock. He'd just realized he didn't know when her birthday was. "Why the hell do you know when her birthday is and I don't?" he grumbled.

"I've seen her driver's license, remember? Oh, that's right," Abel said, and tried not to grin. "I guess that was when you were in jail."

"Dammit, Abel, for a sheriff, you're a real mean-tempered man. Do you know that?" He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "So… how come you remember it… and when is it?"

"I remember it because it's the same as my wife's, October the twenty-eighth. I always tell my wife she just missed being a little witch. She don't quite see the humor in it, but I tell her so, just the same."

Cody grinned. It was hard to stay irked with a man like Abel Miller. The twenty-eighth? That was only a few days off. And it would be the perfect time.

"Thanks, man," he said. "I think I'll just do that—that is, if you don't spill the beans and tell her for me."

Abel held up his hands. "Oh, no. I make it a practice never to meddle in other people's business."

"Yeah, right," Cody said. This time he was the one who laughed. Long and loud.

The waitress came to fill his cup and take Abel's order, and they sat, waiting for Queen to return.

Within minutes of the arrival of Abel's order, Cody saw her turn the corner and start down the street opposite the diner. "Finally," he said, and pointed.

Abel turned to look.

It was hard to say which man reacted first. But within a heartbeat they were both on their feet and out the door, bolting across the street, dodging traffic, on their way to rescue Queen from a murder—Wally Morrow's, to be precise.

He'd been nothing more than a shadow in the corner of her eye. A figment, she kept thinking, of her own imagination. When she would turn to look there would be no one staring, no one noticeable, no one even coming her way.

But the feeling persisted, and the instinct that had kept her whole and sane while growing up in Cradle Creek prevailed.

Queen knew, as well as she knew her own name, that she was being followed. Now it was simply a matter of letting the man think he was successful in his pursuit and then catching him at his own game.

Lingering longer than necessary inside the shoe store, she realized that the clerk's patience as well as the assortment of shoes in her sizes had come to an end.

"I'll take those," she announced, pointing to the second pair she'd tried on and ignoring the clerk's pained repression.

Exiting the store minutes later, she adjusted her coat against the sharp wind and swung her head in a small, sharp jerk, supposedly to toss her hair from her eyes. That was when she first saw him, darting between buildings, startled by the sudden, unexpected movement of her gaze. Using the reflection of the shop window as a mirror, she stared at him.

To a casual observer, it would seem she was intent in her perusal of the store display. In the vernacular of his own business, Wally Morrow never even knew he'd been made. But when she saw him, the sharp jolt of reality that surfaced made her furious. How dare some total stranger play peek-a-boo with her life? How dare he snoop, and creep, and in the process frighten children who had unknowingly been thrust into the fray?

Queen turned away from the window and began walking down the street, her eyes ever forward, her walk slow and casual. Her brain was in high gear as she sorted through the options open to her, and she wished she hadn't encouraged Cody to wait behind. If he was here now, there'd be no discussion as to how this man would be dealt with. The only question would have been whether to hit him first or call Abel Miller and let him handle it. Knowing Cody, Queen was sure he would have opted for the former.

Her stride increased slightly, anxiety overwhelming her as she realized that the man might not be as harmless as she'd first supposed. What if he was a stalker of the Virgil Stratton variety? She didn't think she could endure another episode like that.

"Oh, Cody, where are you when I need you?" she muttered, telling herself not to run.

The light turned red, and she had the most overwhelming urge to turn and look, just to assure herself that he wasn't right behind her with a knife or a threat she couldn't ignore. But she didn't turn, and when the light finally changed she nearly bolted across the street, using the onset of traffic in the opposite direction as an excuse for running.

Wally Morrow cursed. It was impossible to keep up with a woman who had legs that long. Either he kept her in sight or he stayed secluded, proceeding at a more careful rate, and lost her in the rush. Remembering Lenore Whittier's angry order, he made a decision that he would later regret. He stepped out into the main flow of traffic and started following along behind, at what he thought was a safe and undetectable distance.

Thank God—the diner! Queen turned the corner, saw the Blazer still parked where they'd left it, and prayed that Cody would be inside, nursing a cup of coffee.

In her haste she stumbled and, as she did, grabbed on to the side of the nearest storefront for stability. In that moment, in the window's reflection, she saw him only mere steps behind her.

Something snapped. A rage swept over her that she hadn't felt since the night she'd walked into the alley with Johnny's old shotgun and witnessed Morton Whitelaw in the act of self-gratification. She dropped the bag with her new shoes and spun around.

"Why don't you take a good look?" she yelled.

And before Wally Morrow saw it coming, she'd grabbed him by the collar and slammed him bodily against the window, rattling it to the point that it was near to shattering down upon them.

"Let me go!" he screeched, aware that the knee in his groin had upped the level of his speech several decibels. "You have no right!"

"No," Queen whispered, her breath hot and angry as it swept across his face. "You're the one who has no right!"

Cody was in a panic. He couldn't believe that she'd actually taken the initiative and tried to subdue the man. That it was the man they'd been looking for was obvious, right down to the beaky nose and the long trench coat. He ran like a man possessed, certain that Queen would be mortally hurt before he could reach them and pull her away.

"My God, Queen, get away from him!"

The shout startled her, and then she recognized the voice and felt Cody's hands on her shoulders as he pulled, sending her staggering backward into Abel Miller's arms.

Just when Wally Morrow thought he'd been saved, he looked up into a pair of eyes—wild, blue, and blazing mad—and knew that whatever Lenore Whittier was paying him was not going to cover the hospital bill that was bound to ensue.

"Turn him loose, Cody."

The calm, even tone of Sheriff Miller's voice penetrated Cody's rage. He shuddered, loosening his grip around the man's neck, and then airmailed him to Abel Miller's feet.

"Oooh, I'm hurt," Wally groaned as he landed, and then rolled onto his side, certain that his tailbone would never be the same.

"Not as much as you could have been," Abel said. He yanked the man to his feet, dusted off the front of his coat, and then pinned him with a hard stare. "Now, do you want to start talking here, or wait until you're booked?"

"Oh, God," Wally groaned. "You don't understand. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Since when is it against the law to walk down the street?"

"When you interfere with someone's privacy to the point of scaring the hell out of them, then it becomes my business," Abel said. He pulled back his coat and let the sun glint on his badge.

Wally groaned again. This was only getting worse. "I didn't do anything wrong, I can prove it."

"What about scaring my son? What about frightening a woman who'd just survived a kidnapping only weeks ago?"

Cody's anger was barely contained, and Wally knew he was in deep trouble. Suddenly he decided he didn't want the sheriff to turn him loose after all. "Take me to jail," he said. "I'll call my lawyer."

"That's fine with me," Abel said. "And while you're at it, tell him you're
being charged with stalking, loitering with intent to molest a minor—"

"I was just doing my job," Wally protested. "I'm a private eye. I was just doing my job."

"Who hired you?" Cody asked, and grabbed the man by the coat collar, readying for a fight if he didn't get an answer.

"That's my business and also privileged information between me and my—"

Cody lifted him off his feet. "What I'm about to do to you will be my privilege," he warned. "I want an answer, dammit!"

"Don't, Cody," Queen begged, aware that they were creating quite a scene and that Abel was close to arresting them all just to get them off the street. "He's not worth it. Let Abel take care of him. Besides, think of the boys."

The urgent manner in which she tugged at his arm, as well as the plea in her voice, got through the red rage that he was struggling to overcome. Once again, Cody let the man drop. This time Wally caught himself with both hands and then fell backward, gritting his teeth in pain as his elbows took the brunt of his fall. He couldn't have borne it if his rear had taken any more punishment.

"Come on, Cody, you owe me lunch, remember?" Queen bent down and picked up the bag containing her new shoes.

Abel grinned as he handcuffed Wally and helped him across the street to the police unit.

Cody stared down in amazement at the glow in Queen's eyes. "You can eat? At a time like this?"

She grinned. "I haven't felt this good since I pulled a shotgun on Morton Whitelaw."

Cody gawked. "Pulled a… Who the hell is Morton Whitelaw?" He went all still, just thinking about the hell in her life before she'd had him to protect her.

"Feed me and I'll talk all you want," she promised.

He sighed, wrapped his arms around her in a grateful hug, and let her lead him where she might.

Exactly who and what have I fallen in love with? he asked himself. He had sudden visions of a female Rambo and started to smile. By the time they'd made it across the street and sat down at the booth that he'd vacated only minutes earlier, he was laughing aloud.

Queen smiled, took a menu, and began to choose, suddenly hungry, suddenly happier than she'd been in months. Finally everything was going to be all right.

But there are none so blind as those who will not see. And Queen and Cody would have realized that, had they taken the time to think about the reaction of whoever had hired Wally Morrow when it was discovered that he was no longer on the job.