The Frailty of Flesh (15 page)

Alison asked who was there before opening the door to check. She had the chain lock engaged.

“Any more problems?” he asked once she let him inside.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Not unless you count the phone call I just had from my mother-in-law.”

“What did she have to say?” Craig could see the answer in his stepmother’s eyes and groaned.

“The break-in here, does this have something to do with why you’re looking for Steve?”

“Do you know where he is?”

Alison stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I thought he was still in Regina.”

She turned and walked upstairs, and he followed her.

“You don’t seem very upset.”

Alison led him into the kitchen. She was peeling potatoes in the sink and adding them to a pot on the stove. “From time to time, Steve gets called away for work.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t say.”

“Most women wouldn’t be so trusting.”

She gave him a stern look. “I’m not most women.”

He sighed and scratched his head. “I know. Just… how come you’ve never mentioned this to me before?”

“I don’t answer to you. And neither does your father.”

“But you’re here alone. Someone’s broken in twice—”

“Once.”

“They tried a second time. What if they come back again? What if they don’t stay downstairs next time?”

“I’m not going to let fear drive me out of my home.”

“Funny, you seemed pretty shook up yesterday. Or have you forgotten locking yourself in your bedroom and all the harassing phone calls?”

She continued peeling potatoes and didn’t even glance at him. Her expression had hardened, and he knew she wasn’t going to tell him anything useful now. Whether she was angrier at Steve or himself, he couldn’t be sure, but he was the one standing there. If she lashed out, he’d take the brunt of it.

Craig reached out and touched her arm, which prompted her to turn and meet his gaze. “I really do need to talk to Dad. It’s important.”

“If I hear from him, I’ll call you.”

“Thanks. Now come dead bolt the door behind me.”

Ashlyn glanced at her watch. She’d dialed Craig’s cell phone three times. Each time it automatically had gone to voice mail, and finally she broke down and left a message. It had taken a bit of effort to keep the edge out of her voice, but she’d tried. She’d said something thoughtless and annoyed him earlier. Maybe he was trying to get back at her by being late.

What was he working on? He hadn’t told her. Whatever it was, he’d been so absorbed the night before that he’d brought work home. And then he got a phone call before dawn and had to go out and was gone all day. It didn’t make any sense.

She left the food court and wandered past the window displays, the sparkling lights, boxes wrapped with shiny paper and big bows, overflowing stockings, stuffed toys and train sets and all the things you expected to see during the holidays, Elvis Presley’s version of “White Christmas” battling with Bing Crosby’s. So much for peace on earth. They couldn’t even agree on music without turning it into a competition. She wondered if Britney or one of the other soulless pop stars had done a Christmas album yet and shuddered. She hoped not. It would just be more noise pollution to tune out at the mall.

Which reminded her of the one album she really wanted to buy. Boney M’s Christmas collection. She went to HMV and found a copy, but failed to produce Michael W Smith’s
Christmas.
When they’d made the list of things they needed for the holidays Craig had mentioned losing his CD and wanting to replace it.

Ashlyn continued wandering through the mall until a display of tree ornaments finally lured her inside one store. There was a nativity set, and she wondered if that was something Craig would be interested in. She tried to be supportive of his church background, but he didn’t seem to know how important that was to him anymore. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about.

She moved on to the tree ornaments. One caught her attention. It was perfect. As she touched it with her fingers she had a feeling, like a cold hand had just run a finger down her spine, and she shivered.

The clock on the wall said it was 7:45. Craig was more than an hour late and not answering his cell phone. What if something had happened to him? Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. What if he was in the hospital, and she was here in the mall, annoyed because he’d missed their date while he was in surgery…or worse?

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just your hormones and all the stuff about Christmas and family that’s getting to you.

If Craig had been in an accident someone would call her, wouldn’t they?

She took the ornament she’d chosen, got in line, tried not to think about Craig at all and failed.

Maybe she should call again. Or try the house. Once she’d paid the cashier and left the store she keyed in the number, half of her hoping he’d answer and the other half ready to throttle him if he did.

Damn. Craig had watched his stepmother peeling potatoes and convinced himself it wasn’t as late as he thought. He should have known better. Alison always started preparing Sunday dinner Saturday night. Old habits died hard.

Despite the fact that it was almost 8
P.M.
the parking lot was packed. He finally settled on a spot and tried out a dozen excuses in his mind on his way to the food court. None would do.

She wasn’t there.

Why wouldn’t she call?

He reached for his cell phone, but his coat pocket was empty. Where had he…? Then he remembered it had been dying. He’d turned it off and tossed it on the front passenger seat.

Ashlyn must have gone home. He couldn’t blame her. Even after he’d left Alison’s, he’d had Billy Klippert on the stereo, turned up so loud he could have missed a call. Definitely too loud to hear any beeps alerting him to a missed call or a waiting message.

He turned to leave. Just when he thought things couldn’t get much worse…

“Long day?”

“I’d rather not discuss it with you, Ms. Fenton.”

“Emma.” She smiled. “And if you insist on using my surname, it’s Miss Fenton. Look, I know I was over the line earlier, and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Something to eat, five minutes of your time. You don’t have to say anything, just listen. And the sooner you agree, the sooner you get rid of me.” She was silent for a moment. “Come on, my treat.”

He sighed, and looked at his watch. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Ashlyn felt her face flush as she watched Craig take a tray from Edo and follow the woman to a table. Why had she waited all this time? To watch him meet up with someone else?

As much as she hated feeling jealous, their relationship was past the initial euphoric stage, where everything was new. She’d never been the type to be lovesick over a guy or sit and moan over a broken heart for days on end. But things were different with Craig. Especially now.

Half of her wanted to walk over and join them, and the other half wanted to turn on her heel and run. She wondered which side was the more rational one. Her legs wobbled, and she suddenly realized how tired she was. If going over to that table meant getting in a fight, she didn’t have the energy for it. She turned to leave.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Byron Smythe smiled.

“Don’t you have clients to shield?”

“Don’t you have a case to solve?”

“For some reason all my suspects are hiding behind their lawyer. Can’t imagine why.”

“All your suspects? What about Shannon?”

“For all I know you have her stashed with her folks.”

The grin slipped from his face. “You really do have a low opinion of me.”

She felt a stab of guilt when she saw how his expression changed. “I always thought the first thing law firms did when they hired someone was remove their heart.”

“And when you’re out there at a crime scene, standing over the body of a dead child, are you any use to the victim if you let your feelings get in the way of processing the evidence?”

“It’s different. I follow the evidence, wherever it leads. You use loopholes to keep criminals on the streets.”

“Funny, I would think with what’s going on with your boyfriend these days you’d have more appreciation for the fact that it’s lawyers who keep cops honest.” Before she had a chance to say anything, he continued, “Or hasn’t he told you his dad framed an innocent man and sent him to prison?”

Her cheeks burned. “It’s pretty pathetic when you need to slander good people to feel better about yourself.” She started to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm.

“You look at the evidence.”

“I don’t need to. I’ve worked with Steve Daly.”

“Oh, that’s right. Keeping it all in the family. I understand you knew him before you got to know his love child.”

It felt so good to smack Smythe, although the skin on her hand stung from the impact. The lawyer’s eyes widened with shock and then narrowed as he grabbed her free hand. He still had a firm grip on her other arm.

“I could have you arrested.”

She tried to wrench her arm free. “And I can sue you for the insinuations you’re making about my personal life. So much for keeping people honest. You’ve got no leverage on someone so you have to make it up.”

“I don’t have to make up the fact that your boyfriend is having dinner with another woman though, do I?”

That was when she realized a bit of a crowd had gathered around them. “You have two seconds to let go of me.”

“Or what? I’ll regret it?” He moved his face closer to hers. “I like it when you’re angry. Brings out your passion. I bet it’s a real turn-on.”

Ashlyn kicked him in the knee with all the energy she could muster, and heard a sickening pop. Smythe’s face went a chalky white, and he let go of her. “You bitch!”

“If you ever touch me again I’ll aim higher and kick harder.”

She left before he had a chance to say anything else.

Ashlyn put the box in the drawer of her nightstand and sank down on the bed. She thought about phoning Tain. After talking to Sims, she’d returned to her desk just in time to see Tain heading out the other door, coat on. She hadn’t said anything, and now she regretted it. The last time things had been so tense between them was when they’d first worked together, when she still thought he was a complete asshole.

The sound of the front door closing was distant but distinct and it carried through the silence. Craig was home. The rhythm of his movements, his pattern of stopping to check the mail or the messages on the table in the hallway before going to the closet to hang up his coat, was unmistakable.

A lump rose in her throat.

She caught herself, almost holding her breath, waiting for Craig to come upstairs. Instead, she heard the muffled footsteps heading for the living room.

Straight to the case materials he’d brought home. Her curiosity and irritation battled with her anger, until she finally took a deep breath and forced herself down the stairs. When she entered the room he was studying a report. She hadn’t tried to walk softly, and she found it hard to believe he hadn’t heard her.

“Where were you?” Ashlyn tried to keep her voice calm, but she felt the wobble of emotion in her words.

He didn’t look up. “My cell phone died. I’m sorry.”

It was on the far end of the coffee table, plugged in to the wall, the same outlet as the Christmas tree.

“And it didn’t occur to you to borrow your friend’s?”

Craig looked at her then. “You were there?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak. The part of her mind that preferred to deal with practicalities, with reason, told her to go to the kitchen. She forced herself to turn away from him and walk to the other room. Once there she started scanning the cupboards, looking for something simple to make.

Craig had followed her. “What are you doing?”

“I haven’t eaten.”

“Ash.” He moved closer to her and reached for her arm. “What the hell happened?”

Her arm was already starting to show the bruises. “I didn’t realize he grabbed me so hard.”

“Who?”

“I handled it.” She grabbed a granola bar and started to walk past Craig.

“You call that dinner?” He followed her down the hall and up the stairs. “And I asked you a question.”

“So did I.”

“What?”

“It never even occurred to you to borrow a phone to let me know you couldn’t make it. Only, apparently you could make it. Not enough that I have to watch you have dinner with her, but that damn lawyer has to rub my face in it.”

“Is that who did that to your arms? That son of a bitch Smythe?”

“This isn’t about him.”

“He hurts you and I’m just supposed to shrug that off? What else did he say?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Craig stared at her. “He said something to you about Dad, didn’t he?”

She looked away.