The Damsel in This Dress (24 page)

“Betsy? H-Hurry and open the door before they s-see me!”

Soldier looked down at the woman beside him. Her eyes were huge with dismay . . . and joy?

Reaching for the lock, she turned it and yanked open the front door.

The man was Soldier’s height, had graying hair and worried gray eyes. Though the night was cold, he wore no hat, but had on a rumpled wool coat. His arms dangled at his sides as he smiled and looked down at Betsy with weary and loving eyes.

“H-Hi, honey, I . . . I’m home.”

“Daddy? Oh, Daddy, where have you been?”

“D
addy,” Betsy breathed, her throat tight with emotion. “You’re here, and you’re safe. Oh, thank God!”

Douglas Tremaine’s trembling arms came around her and he rested his cheek on top of her head. They stood that way for a long while, not speaking, just being together. With her arms around her father, she could feel his bones beneath his coat and clothing. How had such a robust man gotten so thin?

Soldier gently tugged them both inside the threshold and closed the front door.

In the shadows of the foyer, the man she loved stood by watching as she comforted the other man she loved.

Betsy pushed her father to arm’s length and examined him closely. Douglas Tremaine’s brown wool overcoat was ragged and torn. His graying hair needed cutting and his unshaven beard was nearly an inch long.

“Daddy,” she choked. “Where on earth have you been? You look half starved.”

He made no response, but lifted his hands to his face to wipe away the tears that ran down his lean cheeks.

Betsy took his hands in hers and led him to the big chair in front of the fire while Soldier added more wood to the ruby embers. With a little encouragement from the brass poker, the small fire snapped to life.

Douglas had aged. Seeing him again in what had once been his own home, Betsy realized what the last decade had done to him.

He was still tall and good-looking, but the light that once shone so brightly in his eyes had dimmed. Ten years older and ten years more weary than when he had been her full-time father, he was greatly altered from the man who used to give her piggyback rides and read her stories of adventure and assure her she was his beautiful princess.

Soldier had slipped into his shirt, but left it unbuttoned. In one hand, he carried a small glass of brandy. In the other, a gun. Handing the brandy to her father, he said, “Take this, Mr. Tremaine. It should warm you up a bit.”

Douglas nodded and accepted the snifter into his palms. Taking a close look at the sparkling goblet, he smiled.

“I remember this crystal.” His tone was one of awe and enthusiasm. “Your mother and I . . . it was a wedding present.” He admired the golden liquid in the glass but he didn’t take a drink.

“Daddy. Where have you been? I only found out yesterday that you’d been released from the hospital, and that was months ago. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to get you. Are you hungry? Can I fix you something to eat?”

She crouched at his feet, looking up at him. He set the brandy on the small table adjacent to his chair. Reaching toward her, he cupped her cheek in his large hand.

“I’m all right, punkin. I . . . I have some medicine.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small brown bottle and the tattered prescription he’d obviously been carrying around since his release. “I h-have two pills left. Better get some soon, or I’ll go crazy again.” He giggled softly as he looked into Betsy’s eyes.

“Daddy—”

“Shh, sweet punkin. I don’t need to s-stay in the hospital anymore. Good as I’m gonna get, they said. I c-can work a little, as long as I have the pills.”

Soldier had gone into the kitchen and returned with a small bowl filled with cheese, crackers, and slices of fruit. Handing it to her father, he said, “Looks like you’ve missed a few meals. Eat this. You’ll feel better.”

Douglas gave Soldier a smile, then turned to Betsy. “Your husband is v-very thoughtful.”

Betsy felt her heart leap about twenty feet then come crashing down again.

“Oh, no, Daddy, this is Soldier McKennitt. He’s a Seattle policeman, a detective.”
And my lover, and possibly the father of your grandchildren, but we’re not going there just now.

Douglas nodded as he took the bowl Soldier offered, then picked up a piece of cheese. For a few minutes he did nothing but nibble at the food. Then, “Bad things are happening to you, aren’t they, punkin?”

Betsy nodded. Sliding a glance to Soldier, who had moved to stand a few feet away at the window, she said, “Tell me about the bad things, Daddy. What do you know about them?”

Her father’s eyes closed and he shook his head, as though denying what he was seeing. “I thought it was you. Sh-She looked so much like you.”

“Who did, Daddy? Who looked like me?”

“The woman. She watches you sometimes, and I w-watch her.” He leaned forward as though to impart confidential information. “They told me at the hospital that I might still see the people,” he whispered. “You know, the people who aren’t there. But she
was
there. I’m . . . pretty sure of it.”

Her father’s head injury had been so severe, much of his normal brain function had been affected. As a result, he saw people who weren’t there. At first he believed he was being conspired against by both friends and strangers alike. He lived in terror of being overpowered by some imaginary enemy, except Betsy knew that her father didn’t have an enemy in the world. They were all in his head. Paranoid schizophrenia, they called it. Comparatively mild, they said, but debilitating just the same.

Moving up behind her, Soldier crouched and addressed her father. “Did you recognize the woman? Could you identify her from a photograph?”

With a bewildered look on his face, Douglas said, “You’re a detective. That’s good. You can p-protect her better than I can.” He smiled and sat back in the chair, blowing out a breath as he did so. “
That’s
a relief. B-Been watching the house, you know. My punkin needs protection. But I don’t have a gun.”

“Why do you need a gun, Mr. Tremaine?”

“She saw me once, t-talked to me once, said she knew who I w-was, said she knew all about Betsy and that Betsy was bad. I hid after that.”

“Daddy.” She placed her palm over his large hand. “Exactly what did she look like? What color was her hair? Were her eyes green or hazel like mine? Were they brown or blue? Can you remember?”

“It was night, but her eyes were d-darker, I think. And sort of . . . mean. And she’s not beautiful, not like you.”

Soldier said, “When was the last time you saw her? Did she tell you her name?”

Douglas shook his head in obvious bewilderment. “All the nights are the s-same to me. They sort of get mixed up in my head. But I do remember her name because I thought of fireworks a-and the Fourth of July.” He grinned at Betsy and Soldier, his milky gray eyes fierce with pride that he had remembered. “Spangles.”

“Span . . . Spangler?” Soldier said. “Kristee Spangler?”

“Yes, that’s it. Just like the Fourth of July!”

“My father isn’t stalking me and he didn’t murder anyone. He’s sweet and harmless, and he—”

“Absolutely adores you.” Soldier slipped his arm around Betsy’s waist and pulled her against his chest. “That man couldn’t kill a gnat. There, feel better?”

Lowering his head, he kissed her. He’d meant it to be a friendly sort of thing, but as soon as his mouth met hers, all that changed.

Heat swirled through him, speeding up his heart, making him dizzy. Their lovemaking had been good. Christ, it had been the
best
. He wanted to do it again, very, very soon.

Softly breaking the kiss, he said, “Things got off to an odd start this morning, what with your father showing up out of the blue. I never got a chance to thank you.” He returned to kissing her, deeply. “So, thank you,” he murmured against her parted lips.

They stood in front of the sink in the kitchen and watched the sky outside the window turn from a heavy, soggy indigo to a heavy, soggy lavender.

Betsy had called the office first thing, but there was a voice-mail announcement stating that the
Ledger
offices would be closed while the staff dealt with bereavement and the owners decided what to do next.

It had been a little after seven-thirty in the morning when they’d finished talking with Betsy’s father and she helped him upstairs and put him to bed in the room across the hall from Soldier’s. Now, the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. The bright little rooster clock on the kitchen wall said it was nearly eight, and Soldier felt that if he didn’t get some coffee soon, he’d collapse at 8:01.

Yesterday had been hell, and last night, heaven. But now it was back to hell. He had a murderer to catch.

Smiling down into Betsy’s eyes, he said, “I doubt the woman your father talked to was Kristee Spangler. She didn’t look a thing like you, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t dumb enough to have given your father her real name.”

“So what happens now?”

“I’m going to arrange for him to take a look at a couple of your coworkers.”

Betsy took a deep breath and seemed to consider her next words. “Which ones?”

“I think you know.”

Betsy swallowed. “Carla. I think Carla.”

He studied her for a moment. “I don’t want to make this any tougher on you than it already has been. But I think we have to consider Carla and maybe even Holly persons of interest, and Linda Mattson, too. If your father can ID the woman who spoke to him, that would give us the break we’ve been looking for.”

She nodded.

“I’ve got to pick up Taylor at the hospital. I’m going to bring him here, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Sure,” she said. “The more the merrier.”

“Stay in the house. Don’t go anywhere and don’t let anybody in, especially anybody from work.”

“Here,” she said, handing him her father’s prescription. “Since I can’t leave, would you please have the hospital fill this while you’re at it? I’ll pay you back.”

Shoving the limp scrap of paper into his pocket, he said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. But we don’t accept cash, traveler’s checks, or any major credit cards.”

She blinked up at him and put her fingertips over her mouth. “Oh, my! Whatever shall I do? Why, I have nothing to offer you, kind sir, except my naked body. Will that suffice?”

Soldier growled as he took her mouth in a ravaging kiss. They were both breathless when he finally lifted his head. “All I’m going to think about all day today is your naked body, you conniving little wench.”

“Oh,” she gasped theatrically, “but it’ll be worth it, sir. All my gentlemen callers say so.” She giggled.

With his arms still around her, Soldier said, “Despite all that’s been going on, are you happy?”

The smile emanating from her glittering eyes told the whole story, but she confirmed it when she said, “My father is home, safe and sound, Taylor is well enough to be released from the hospital, my physical needs have been attended to beyond my wildest expectations, and I’m in l—uh, lust. I’m in lust with the most beautiful detective on the force.” She gave him a toothy grin and her cheeks pinked brightly, but Soldier chose not to pursue what he was certain she had almost said, because the thought of Betsy being in love with him frightened—and also pleased—the hell out of him.

That being the case, he had a decision to make. And he needed to make it soon.

“Yoo-hoo!
Elizabeth,
open this door. I
know
you’re in there!”

The last thing Soldier had said before he left to pick up Taylor was,
Don’t let anybody in, and if you see or hear from Carla, let me know immediately!

But he didn’t understand her mother. If Betsy didn’t let Loretta in, her mother would probably drive her car through the front door.

Slipping the lock, Betsy squeaked the door open.

“Get in here fast!” She reached out and grabbed her mother’s arms, dragging the woman across the threshold. Richard and Piddle fell in right behind her. Slamming the door closed, Betsy slid the lock in place.

“Okay, you wanted in, now you’re in. And you can’t leave again until Soldier gets back.”

Loretta tossed her hair like it was a feathered headdress. “Always so dramatic, Elizabeth.” Giving Betsy the once-over, she said, “I’ve come to comfort and support you in your hour of need. I heard on the news about poor Ryan Finland . . .”

“Finlay.”

“. . . and knew you’d be upset, poor darling.”

Taking a breath, Loretta looked around for the first time since she’d entered the house. “You say that magnificent creature isn’t here?”

“Soldier? No. He went to pick up his brother from the hospital.”

“Ah yes, the equally beautiful Tyler. My future son-in-law.”

Betsy rolled her eyes. “It’s
Taylor
, Loretta.
Taylor
. And he’s not your future anything.”

“Well, you needn’t snap at me as though I were an insensitive cretin.”

“Loretta, you
are
an insensitive cretin, and furthermore you—”

“Insensitive cretin!” The words came from behind the two women.

Both Betsy and Loretta turned to see Richard holding Piddle in one arm while shaking his index finger at the little dog, who seemed to be staring up at him in pained astonishment.