Talk Me Down (15 page)

Yes, she’d been quiet. Confused and freaked out and quiet. “No, I thought the movie was great. Better than the reviews said.”

“Are you upset about the paper today?”

“I should ask you that.”

“My thoughts on that are a given. You’re supposed to make a joke so it all seems inconsequential.”

She flashed him a smile. “It is inconsequential. Everyone knows you’re not really the personal bodyguard to a spy queen.”

“But?”

She didn’t know what to tell him and what not to share anymore. Heck, she didn’t even know where to start. Her writing was going well at least, mostly because she couldn’t sleep and she felt tense and anxious enough to pass that tension on to her story in a good way.

She’d sent her editor the first three chapters and she was over the moon, pushing for Molly to get it in as quickly as possible. She had a spot to fill in only three weeks—some other writer had a child in the hospital and couldn’t make her deadline. Molly had promised to finish it in five days’ time, and her editor had sworn she’d have it read and edited in a record forty-eight hours. They were already working on a cover. All in all, it was going to be a roller-coaster ride in hurricane-force winds, but she was thankful for the distraction.

“What’s wrong, Molly?”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin our first non-date.”

“Has something else gone on at your house?”

“No,” she said truthfully. Nothing had gone on at the house, per se. But everywhere else…“My mom’s been reading the
Tribune
online and she’s totally freaked out thanks to Miles listening in on the police radio frequency and reporting every detail. Even Quinn is worried.”

“Yeah, he’s been in touch.”

“I knew when I saw the paper this morning that you’d be pissed, but you don’t seem upset. Half the paper was about me,
us.
Why aren’t you upset?”

“I have issues, Molly, but I’m working through them. Being associated with you isn’t the problem.”

“What is?”

“I’d rather jump off a cliff than be dragged into another scandal in my life. So far, our relationship is nothing more than amusement for the neighbors. As far as your secrets go…I’m not happy about that, but if I can’t ferret them out, then Miles probably can’t, either. You say you’re not doing anything illegal or immoral, and I have to believe it’s nothing that would ruin my career or my reputation.”

She hoped he meant
professional
reputation. “I’m no danger to your career, I promise.”

The faint light from the dashboard let her see the serious look he gave her. “Plus,” he went on after a moment, “Miles let everyone know there’d been a possible break-in at your house and maybe a Peeping Tom. With the whole town on alert, you’ll be safer.”

That made sense. Except she hadn’t told him everything and didn’t know how much to reveal. If it did have something to do with Cameron, she’d tell him Saturday. Or after Saturday. Next week for sure.

“I’m sorry your family’s so worried,” he sighed. “I let your brother know it was almost certainly a crime of opportunity, and an unsuccessful one at that.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at her again, and Molly turned back to the window.

“Why do I feel like you’re keeping something important from me?”

Despite evidence to the contrary, she’d never been any good at lying, so Molly gave in to the inevitable and faced him. “I walked over to The Bar yesterday to get my car and it wouldn’t start.”

“Yeah, I saw it at the garage. I figured the engine threw a rubber band or something.”

“Funny.” Molly swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Lori called this morning. It wasn’t the battery or the ignition. Someone cut the electrical line. And the brake line.”

“What?”

“She wasn’t sure if someone meant to cut both or just didn’t know their way around the car.”

“You mean someone might have meant to cut
just
the brake line? So you could start the car and drive it far enough for the brakes to fail?”

“I don’t know.”

His voice lowered to a dangerously quiet rasp. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“At first…it just seemed like it must have been a prank. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Someone wants to scare you or hurt you, Moll. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must have an idea.”

Yes, she did have an idea, but she’d checked it out. She wasn’t an idiot. She’d spent the morning calling all of Cameron’s Merry Men, browbeating them. No one had sounded the least bit guilty.

She’d even broken down and phoned Cameron’s lieutenant. The man had barely tolerated her call, but after receiving Cameron’s amused consent, the lieutenant had given her the details of Cameron’s schedule for the past week. There simply hadn’t been time for him to drive the four hours to Tumble Creek, cut her brake line, spy on her, break into her house and get back to Denver. Heck, he’d been at work an hour after she’d found her back door open.

“Shit,” Ben growled, and grabbed his cell phone from the console. He dialed and waited, cursing again when no one answered. Molly heard the faint sound of Lori’s answering machine message. “Lori,” he barked. “I’ll be there in the morning to look at Molly’s car. Leave it the hell alone in the meantime.” His hand moved to push the call button, then hesitated and put the phone back to his ear. “And I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

He tossed the phone back onto the crowded console. “And
you.
”

Molly cringed at his fury.

“You are going to tell me why someone would want to hurt you,
right now.
”

“I don’t know! I swear! Nothing like this ever happened when I lived in Denver. It’s someone here or something to do with this town.”

“Like who?”

She threw her hands up in frustrated bafflement.

“I don’t remember you having any enemies or rivals in high school.”

“I was fairly unnoticeable.”

Ben shook his head, his knuckles blue-white against the steering wheel in the dashboard lights. “I can’t think of any obvious suspects for violent crimes. We’ve got one reformed car thief in town, but he’s seventy-five now. And one registered sex offender, but he preferred teenage boys.”

“Oh, good. Well, not good, but…”

“It occurred to me this morning that Miles could have been the one sneaking around your place, looking for a big story, but I definitely can’t see him doing something like this. Have you noticed him more often than you’d expect?”

“No,” she answered on a whisper. Her anxiety had been building up and up all day, doubt and fear and anger reacting together inside her chest until she thought she would explode. She’d turned down Ben’s offer to come over last night, wanting to be independent, prove something to herself. She’d been independent to a fault her whole life.

But now she could see the occasional tiny light winking in the distance as they drew closer to Tumble Creek. They were almost home. Almost to her big, creaky, lonely house. And she had no idea who could be trying to hurt her.

The tension wound tighter until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Can I stay at your place tonight?”
she screeched.

Ben jumped, the car skittered a foot over the yellow line before he composed himself. Then he reached over and took her fisted hand in his. She appreciated his failed attempt at a smile, but was much more comforted by the largeness of his warm fingers surrounding hers.

“Of course you can come to my place.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “It’s either that or I get my sleeping bag and camp out on your porch.”

“Either way. Whatever you want.”

He kissed her hand again, brushing his mouth over her knuckles in an absentminded gesture that made the hair stand up on her arm. “We found a couple sets of prints at your place that weren’t yours or mine. Probably your aunt’s or one of the movers, but I’m going to send them into state forensics. Were either of the movers paying too much attention to you?”

“Not that I noticed. Nothing creepy.”

“All right. I’ll go check out your car in the morning.” He took a deep, long breath and let it out slowly. “Jeez, Molly.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He held her hand the whole way to her house, stood sentry while she gathered up a few of her things and locked her brand-new hardened-steel locks, and before she knew it, they were pulling into his garage.

Excited that she was going to be protected by a big, sexy policeman all night, Molly forgot her tension and hopped out of the truck. She’d been to this house when it had been his mother’s, but now it was
his.

She expected typical male decor, meaning not much at all, and that was true for the most part. When his mother had lived here, the walls had been faded colors. Mauve, pink and gray with an occasional splash of mossy green. The carpets had been dusky pink and textured. Classic early eighties stuff. Molly had been damned impressed as an eleven-year-old girl.

The pink was gone now. She wondered how many minutes had passed between his mom selling him the house and Ben tearing up the carpet. It was all wood floors now, not even a throw rug in sight, and the walls were white.

A giant couch of distressed brown leather took up most of a living room wall, facing a big ol’ television. She’d bet her life savings that the couch had at least one reclining seat, if not two. Typical single-male furniture except for two noticeable things.

There were humongous bookshelves on either side of the couch, and two more flanking the TV. She’d forgotten that about Ben, his love of reading. The shelves were packed with books, overflowing with them. Hardcovers filled the first bookshelf, and the remaining three held stacks and stacks of paperbacks. A quick glance showed her a few of her favorites and some she’d never heard of.

A memory blanketed her, of Ben reclining on her brother’s bed, waiting for Quinn to finish his chores. He’d been absorbed in some science fiction book, hadn’t even noticed Molly standing in the doorway, and she’d had the luxury of just watching him. A little frown had slowly formed between his brows, and she’d tried to imagine what he was reading, what could make him look so concerned. Then he’d scratched idly at his stomach, and she’d started watching his long fingers instead, as they curled slightly into his body. When she’d sighed, he’d looked up, and the spell had been broken.

The sight of all these books in his house made her glad…and hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, he would actually be impressed with her job. Maybe he wouldn’t be horrified or disgusted. Maybe he’d be
happy.

She’d have to think it over.

The second thing she noticed about his living room, the more startling sight by far, were the pictures. Framed black-and-white photos covered the walls. Dozens of them. Most of them were nature photos. A dark crocus caught in snow. Round rocks curtained by rushing water. The reflection of a sunlit cloud in a pool of clear ice.

And more: A deer raced across a field of pure white. A lone aspen leaf clung to a slumbering tree.

“Ben, these are gorgeous!”

He grunted a response as he brought her bag in from the truck and walked past her to tote it down the hallway. Molly didn’t bother following. She was too busy moving from picture to picture, taking them in.

When she heard him re-enter the room, she gawked at him. “Did you take these?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my God, Ben! When did you start doing photography? These are amazing.”

“I started snapping pictures a few years ago. It’s not hard to get into it these days with digital cameras and photo printers.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing special. Makes my hikes more interesting.”

“Nothing special? You’re kidding me. Do you sell these?”

“No, though I put some up on stock photography sites. It helps offset the cost of cameras and paper and ink.”

She noticed the faint pink flush to his face and just wanted to squeeze him. “You should show at the Aspen Art Fair.”

“Ha!” He shook his head again, the blush deepening. “Did you want a drink? I’ve only got bottled wine, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Wow. Fancy art and bottled wine. You’re like a metrosexual or something.”

“Yeah, my cuticles have gotten a little rough since the pass closed, but I try to make do.”

Unable to resist his adorableness for another moment, Molly bounced over to him and threw herself into his arms. He caught her with an unnecessarily loud “Oof!” but she forgave him that.

“Do you know how sexy you are?” she murmured.

“Huh, I haven’t had my eyebrows waxed in ages.”

She kissed him to shut him up, and it worked. His tongue got busy fast. His hands curved under her ass and pulled her against him, and they kissed until Molly leaned back and grinned at him. “I missed you last night.”

“Me, too.”

“Will you take naked pictures of me?”

He let her go so fast she almost fell down. “Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on.”

“You’re out of your mind.”