Wedding Bell Blues (4 page)

Besides, it would give Maryanne a story to tell her kids later
on when showing them the wedding pictures.

Remembering my manners, I turned and lifted the bottle in
question,
a little surprised when Colton declined. Maybe he really was there just
to ask me some questions. So, with my bowl of ice cream in hand, I
settled across the table from him and did my best not to remember the
last time he'd been in this kitchen.

"All right, Colton, what did you want to ask?"

"First, before we get started, let me apologize. I know you
want to
rest and forget what happened, at least for a little while. But I've
learned over the years the more time that passes, the more hazy the
memories become." He paused, waiting until I nodded before continuing.
"Tell me what you saw when you first got there."

I closed my eyes and forced down the resentment that flared at
his
question. He was right about one thing. The last thing I wanted was to
think about what happened. However, I knew he was also right about
needing to try to remember everything now, while it was all still fresh
in my mind.

"It's like I said. I was surprised there were no more cars
there and
that the closed sign was still in place. Other than that, all I was
thinking about was getting home, putting my feet up and relaxing for
awhile."

"Have you remembered anything, no matter how trivial it might
seem, that you haven't already told me?"

"No. I'm sorry. I've been wracking my brain trying to remember
something, anything that might help, but I can't."

"That's all right, Jess. I knew it was a long shot, but I had
to give it a try."

"Colton." I reached out and touched his hand. Something about
his
tone of voice and the discouraged look in his eyes worried me. "What's
wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

His mouth firmed and I thought he'd deny it. Then he sighed
and
slumped down in his chair. For a moment, all the bad blood between us
was gone and he was simply someone I'd once cared for deeply, someone
who was obviously very worried.

"Jessie, this isn't the first time these guys have struck.
It's just the first time they've hurt, much less killed someone."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. Not when my brain was
trying as
hard as it could to remember reading or hearing anything about
robberies like this. But there was nothing to remember, and that
worried me. I'm a news junkie. It's hard to teach government and not be.

Then
I remembered the news story earlier. It wasn't the first time I'd seen
video of Colton at a crime scene. But it was one of the few times I'd
seen him so grim. Was it possible that burglary had been related to
what happened at Manny's?

Something must have shown in my expression because Colton
pushed
away from the table and climbed to his feet. I didn't watch as he moved
around the table to the sink... Instead, I listened as he opened
several cabinets looking for a glass, muttering to himself because I'd
moved things around. Well too bad. He'd given up the right to say
anything about how I organized my kitchen long ago.

I waited as he twisted off the cap of the single malt and
splashed
what sounded like a healthy jolt into his glass. Then he all but
slammed the glass down on the counter and I knew he'd tossed back the
whiskey. That worried me, especially when he returned to his chair, his
expression dank. Colton never used to drink on duty. What had changed?

"Jess, you have to promise this goes no further." His
expression
brooked no argument so I simply nodded in response. "I suspect that the
guys who hit you and killed Manny may be responsible for at least half
a dozen other robberies the area. Unfortunately, the other robberies
happened outside our jurisdiction. And that's where the problem lies.
No one's being real forthcoming with information right now."

His frustration showed, not that I blamed him. If the ones who
hit
Manny's were responsible for some of the other burglaries and the other
agencies weren't sharing information, there'd be hell to pay if the
press ever got hold of it. Not that it would help Colton solve Manny's
murder.

"I don't understand. Why won't they share information?"

"Damned if I know." He frowned, his brow wrinkling in
frustration.
"Hell, Jess. I could be wrong about all this, but I don't think so. I
know there have been several other liquor store robberies in the area
that the sheriff's department investigated. There's been at least one
in Collin County and then there's the robbery I caught yesterday. The
grapevine - and yes, cops gossip just like everyone else - has it that
the perps all wear masks like the one we found behind Manny's. Whether
the sheriff has been sitting on this because he's afraid the
God-fearing folks of the county will think we've got us a bunch of
devil worshippers running around or what, I don't know."

"But that's stupid!"

"You know better than that." He didn't snap, but he might as
well
have. Especially since he was right. I did know better. Living in the
buckle of the Bible belt meant learning at an early age that anything
outside the norm might be attributed to devil-worship, or worse.

Needless to say, a bunch of guys running around in devil masks
and
killing folks would fill that particular brand of paranoia quite well.
No wonder he was frustrated.

"I don't envy you then, Colton."

"Tell me about it." He gave a short, bitter laugh and my heart
thawed just a bit. He loved his job and, from all I'd seen and heard
over the years, he was good at it. But this might be too much even for
him. Now he'd be fighting religious paranoia and inter-departmental
politics. No one should have to do both at the same time.

"Will you answer a question for me?" I asked.

"If I can."

"How did you know to come to Manny's?"

Until that moment, I hadn't realized just how badly I wanted
to know what had brought the police to Manny's in the first place.

"Look," I continued when he didn't answer right away. "I
didn't call
the cops. By the time I realized there was trouble, I was too busy
trying to be one with the floor to call 911." I could almost see his
mental wheels turn as he tried to decide how much to tell me.

"No one called us, Jess, at least not like you mean. One of
the
patrol officers drove by and noticed the closed sign up and, unlike
you, figured there might be trouble. He called Dispatch and asked them
to call Manny on the landline. When there was no answer, he turned
around to swing back by the store. By then, someone called, reporting
gunshots. Tuell blocked off the parking lot, but the perps had fled.
Once backup arrived, they swept the building, finding you. They got you
outside before going back in and finding Manny."

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I had a vague memory of
someone
roughly grabbing me under the arms and pulling me outside. There had
been a voice telling me everything would be all right. But none of it
had really registered then. Since I hadn't been fully conscious at that
point, I guessed not much time had passed since I'd been hit.

"Colton." I opened my eyes and reached for his hand. There was
a
fragment of something dancing at the edge of memory. Chewing my lower
lip, I focused, willing myself to bring it forward. What was it?

"Just kill the bitch."

"What? We can't. What if we need her?"

"Don't be an idiot. Things are already fucked up. You know
what will
happen if we leave her alive. So kill her. No loose ends, remember?"

There'd been a click, as if the hammer of a gun had been
pulled
back. Then nothing except a hissed breath followed by someone -
something? - scrambling away on hands and knees.

"Cops!" came an urgent whisper from somewhere in the darkness.
"There's a cop car outside."

"Did you get rid of her?"

"With a cop trolling around? Are you crazy?" There was a
pause.
"Damn it. Let's get out of here before the cop decides to come back…."
Then nothing more.

"Jessie?"

Colton sounded worried. His hands had closed over my forearms
as he
shook me gently. A sob was torn from my throat as I opened my eyes. Oh
my God, if Tuell hadn't been suspicious, I'd have been killed along
with Manny.

My chair clattered to the floor as I sprang to my feet. Colton
called after me even as I raced out of the kitchen toward the bathroom.
He found me there, my arms wrapped around the commode as I once more
emptied my stomach. Talk about embarrassing.

"Jessie, what is it?"

Even as he spoke, he found a washcloth and dampened it in the
sink.
When I sat back on my heels a moment later, he was there, gently
bathing my face. Absently, I wondered where this gentler Colton had
come from. In all our time together, I'd never seen it. Maybe if I had,
I'd have fought for him instead of kicking his sorry ass out that night
I found out about his
extra-curricular
activities
.

"Jessie?"

So I told him, sitting there on the cold tile of the bathroom
floor,
his arms protectively around me. He listened, not interrupting once.
Finally, when I'd talked it out, he gently helped me to my feet. Too
numb to argue, I let him escort me to my bedroom. Sitting on the edge
of the mattress, I watched as he turned back the covers. Then he simply
pulled me to my feet and, telling me to keep my mouth shut, undressed
me. When he tucked me into bed like a child, I knew it had to be a
dream.

Come morning I'd wake up and none of this would have happened.

Hopefully.

Morning came much too early, just as it usually does. In that
state
between wakefulness and sleep, several things registered. The first was
that someone during the night had let a drum and bugle corps take up
residence inside my head and they were now practicing, badly and for
all they were worth. If something didn't stop the pounding soon, my
brains would turn to mush and come pouring out my ears.

The second thing to register was the tantalizing aromas of
coffee
brewing and bacon frying. Obviously, I wasn't doing the cooking. How
could I be when was still in bed and not ready to crawl out from
between the sheets? Maybe I'd stayed at my parents' last night and Mom
was downstairs fixing breakfast just like she used to when Maryanne and
I were kids.

Still, that didn't explain the headache.

A yawn caught me before I could stop it. With it came a wave
of
pain, red hot, that seemed to slice from the top of my skull to the
tips of my toes. But it was my face that really hurt. My right hand
flew to that cheek, my fingers encountering the bandage the plastic
surgeon had affixed in place over the cut just the day before. Memory
of the emergency room visit brought back other memories, memories I'd
give anything to forget.

With those memories came fear, cold and pervasive. My head
hurt
because someone in a devil mask had tried to detach it from my neck.
That same person had killed Manny. Devil guy and his partner had argued
about killing me and probably would have if Officer Tuell hadn't gotten
suspicious.

Shaking with reaction, I clutched the sheet under my chin.
Just like
a kid waking from a nightmare, I refused to open my eyes. If I did, the
monsters might return. Then what would I do?

Once more the aromas of coffee and bacon frying penetrated the
fear.
I opened my left eye a crack, convinced everything would be fine. But
it wasn't. It might never be again.

Suspicion flared, replacing the fear. I wasn't at my parents'
house.
Mom wasn't downstairs cooking breakfast. This was my room in my own
house. That meant someone was there with me. But who?

Damn, maybe Dad had been right last year when he said I needed
a dog.

The low rumble of a man's voice propelled me from bed. No way
was I
going to huddle under the covers, praying the intruder simply got bored
and left. I might be scared, but I wasn't a coward - at least not too
big of a coward. Surely there was some way I could get out of the house
without him seeing me.

As I crept toward the window overlooking my front lawn, common
sense
returned. First of all, what sort of murderer took the time to cook
breakfast in his victim's house while his victim slept upstairs? It
didn't make sense. But then, I reminded myself, murder didn't make
sense. If I was smart, I'd get out of the house and call for help
before finding out the hard way that some crazed epicurean had decided
to put me on the menu.

But I'd better get some clothes on first. I wanted to get
help, not be arrested for indecent exposure.

A
glance in the mirror over my dresser presented me with yet another
shock of this still too young morning. Not only was the right side of
my face a swollen mass of purples and blacks, that eye swollen almost
shut, but I was wearing nothing but my underwear. That most definitely
wasn't right. I slept either nude or in an oversized football jersey.
The longer I was awake, the stranger the day became.

Get hold of yourself and think, Jessie.

Standing in the center of the bedroom, I closed my eyes. I
thought.
I thought long and I thought hard and my eyes flew open as memory of
the previous night returned. Surely he hadn't!

Even as the thought formed, I spun toward the bed, searching
for any
indication Colton had slept there. If that arrogant, cock-sure son of a
bitch had decided to take advantage last night, he was so dead. Cop or
not, I'd kill him. Then I'd cut off his balls and hang them from my
rearview mirror, just like a pair of fuzzy dice.

So why did that little hint of disappointment flair at the
realization he hadn't, actually, slept with me? Not that I wanted to
know. Nope. I didn't want to know any more than I'd wanted him there.
No and no and no and no. It was just reaction left over from everything
that happened yesterday making me feel this way. That's all. Really.