Alone in the Dark (10 page)

making the observation. "Like we already thought, there are several sets of prints on the

box—and two on the card. Yours and an unknown party." As dry as he could make himself,

he draped the towel over the back of the sofa. "This Walter Payne, he's not a civil servant

or anything, is he?"

She shook her head. "No, he runs his own business. Works out of his house."

He sighed. That meant, unless the man had been arrested for something, his prints were

not in the system. "Didn't think it would be easy."

Finished toweling off King, she rose to her feet. King nosed her pocket. Patience took out

a treat and tossed it to the dog. But her eyes were on Brady. "I really appreciate this."

"There is no 'this' yet," he pointed out. "But there will be."

She smiled, taking their damp towels and tossing them in the hamper. "I had no idea you

were an optimist."

He didn't like having labels applied to him. "It's not optimism, it's fact. Most stalkers tip their hand early. They want to be near the object of their obsession." He saw her running

her hands over her arms. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

She was going to have to get a better grip, Patience upbraided herself. It was just that

the word "obsession" conjured up a host of awful feelings.

"You didn't," she told him cheerfully. "I know all that." She paused and he didn't say anything. "So, is that what you came by to tell me? That the lab evidence is inconclusive?"

He shrugged, not entirely comfortable with his decision, but less comfortable with leaving

her by herself for the entire evening. He couldn't bring himself to dismiss the unguarded

look of fear he'd seen on her face this afternoon. "That and I thought I'd hang around for

a while. In case."

The phrase covered a vast myriad of scenarios. "In case…" she echoed. Now that he was

here, she realized just how skittish she felt alone. Even withTacoma. Having him here

made her feel infinitely better. "Why don't I send out for some dinner? If you're putting

yourself out like this, the least I can do is feed you."

Brady was about to argue, to say that he wasn't putting himself out, that this was all part

of being a policeman, but he was already getting the feeling that arguing with Patience

usually resulted in defeat. So he shrugged. "Fine."

"C'mon up into the house." Switching off the light, she led the way to the back stairs that took her from the clinic into the main house. Once he and the dogs had crossed the

threshold, she locked the connecting door and tried it once to make sure the lock had

taken. "Any preferences?"

He looked at her. For a moment, a different answer threatened to materialize. He'd

discovered a new preference last night. A preference for soft lips that tasted faintly of

berries.

Brady roused himself before answering. "King likes egg rolls. Chicken," he added.

She laughed. "King and I have something in common, then." She ruffled the dog's fur, her eyes dancing. "Chinese it is."

How did she do that? he wondered, watching her as she walked to the telephone in the

kitchen to place the order. How did she make her eyes dance like that? How did she

manage to light up a room just by entering it?

He told himself that answers to those questions didn't concern him. Only the identity of

her stalker did.

Dinner arrived in three large bags that managed to remain together only long enough for

the wet delivery boy to transfer them into her hands. Since it was all casual, they ate in

the living room, spreading out the seven containers on the coffee table.

Once they were seated on the floor and eating, Patience tried to draw him out a little,

determined to get to know this man who seemed so bent on remaining a closed book.

"Where are you from?" Emptying out the fried rice container, she divided what was left

between their two plates.

The question, coming out of the blue and not following any given logical order, caught him

off guard. "Here and there."

She proceeded to make short work of what was left on her plate. "Did either 'here' or

'there' involve the deep South?"

Suspicion entered his eyes as he raised them to hers. "Why?"

"Because you've got a slight accent. Not usually, but when you say some of your words, I

can hear a drawl." He volunteered nothing and she shook her head. "You know, if we're

supposed to be friends like you said, then friends know things about each other."

He considered her words for a minute, then resumed eating. "Maybe we should downgrade

that to acquaintances."

Having traveled out on the limb, she wasn't ready to scoot back yet. "Hiding some deep,

dark secret?" The look he gave her took her breath away. And fueled thoughts in her

head. She had no idea why, but instantly thoughts of her own past—and Patrick's—rose in

her mind.

"Sorry," she murmured, turning her attention back to her plate. She cut her egg roll in

two, saving part of it for the dog that was eyeing her fork's every movement intently. "I

didn't mean to pry."

"Yeah, you did."

She thought of the way Patrick had reacted, how hard it had been for him to finally come

around, even years after their father's death. "You know, whatever happened, you're not

defined by it."

Brady watched her for a long moment. Did she know? The incident and the trial had been

written up in the local paper as well as several of the bigger ones, but he'd always assumed

that the story hadn't gone outside the state. And what was in his file when he signed up

with the police force was supposed to be strictly confidential. Had Patience found her way

into his file because of her connections?

"What would you know about that?" he asked.

"A lot." Her voice became serious. "My dad was the Cavanaugh who didn't quite measure up." Brady looked at her sharply. "Uncle Andrew and Uncle Brian were damn near perfect.

Great cops, wonderful fathers, even if the job kept them away from their families at

times. My dad always felt inferior to them, like everything he did was always second or

third best." If he'd only been satisfied with the love of his wife and children, rather than

trying to outdo his brothers, things might have been different. For all of them. But there

was no changing the past. "That didn't sit well with him."

Thinking of his own life, Brady read between the lines. "And he took it out on you?"

She had been the least singled out. For a second family loyalty warred with the feeling

that she needed to reach Brady, to keep him from retreating further into himself, to the

exclusion of the rest of the world. "On everyone at home. He cheated on my mother,

drank, lashed out a lot at Patrick."

"And you?"

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Sometimes. Mostly he ignored me because he was

too busy venting against Patrick or my mother." If there'd been any love between her

parents, it had been long gone by the time she'd been old enough to become aware of

things. In its place there'd been fear and anger. "He thought of her as second best, too."

Brady didn't quite follow. "Second best?"

She nodded, deliberately trying to keep the words at bay. She still ached for what her

mother had gone through. "I found out after he died that he had a thing for Aunt Rose—

Uncle Andrew's wife."

"Must have been hard on your mother."

The simple comment, indicating that he was sensitive to what her mother had gone

through, surprised Patience. "Yes, it was."

Brady thought of his sister, of how Laura had reacted to their father's mistreatment of

their mother. She'd felt humiliated. "And you."

It hadn't been hard to see herself in her mother's place, to envision herself loving a man

too much, letting him reign over her soul. That as much as anything had kept her from

becoming serious about anything but her work. She shrugged.

"But it's over now."

He glanced at her knowingly. "Is it?"

She looked at him for a long moment. They were talking about him, not her, or at least

they were supposed to be, she thought. "You tell me."

The silence slipped back around them, augmented by the sound of the dogs eating. And

then he finally said, "Georgia."

"What?"

"I'm fromGeorgia," he said. There was almost a defiance in his voice. "Or was. I left ten years ago."

His words struck a familiar chord. Kindred spirits had a way of finding one another. She

knew the signs. Had seen them in Patrick's eyes more than once. "Couldn't take it

anymore," she said. It wasn't really a question. There was a time when she'd been afraid

that Patrick would leave, but then their father had been shot and everything had changed.

Brady cracked open a fortune cookie. The fortune told him to lower his guard and let love

in. Who the hell wrote these things? he wondered. He rolled the fortune up between his

thumb and forefinger before discarding it on his plate. "Nothing left to take. My father

was dead, so was my mother. Some marine married my sister. She left town when he got

shipped out."

Brady probably thought he masked it well, but she detected just a hint of loneliness in his

voice. She stifled the urge to reach out and touch his hand in mute comfort. He'd probably

just jerk it away.

"No other family?" He shook his head. "So you came out here?"

The path had been far from straight. "Eventually."

"Right, first came 'here and there.'" She kept her curiosity about the locations to

herself. "What made you want to become a cop?"

"To keep men from beating up on women."

That was the most telling remark of all, she thought. Except for once, her father hadn't

hit her mother. The marks he'd left had been on her soul. "That's not narcotics," she

pointed out.

"In some cases, that's the start."

"Your father's?" The question was out before she could stop it.

He'd already told her way more than he'd intended. He didn't like sharing himself, didn't

like feeling exposed. "Maybe you should transfer from being the police vet to the police

shrink."

"Sorry, I thought we were on a roll here."

It was more of a case of her operating a steamroller, he thought.

"You were, I wasn't." He looked at King, who was still patiently watching them eat.

"Speaking of rolls, any more egg rolls left?"

"Got some here I've been saving." She passed him the half she'd cut earlier. Brady in turn offered it to King. The piece was gone in less time than it took to pass the plate.

Patience knew she shouldn't question him further, no matter how much more she wanted

to learn about him.

Brady stayed another hour,then prepared to leave. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks." She brushed her lips against his.

He caught himself before he could take her into his arms. He'd already gone too far this

evening by letting her know bits and pieces about himself. Kissing her in this state was not

a good idea.

"Lock your doors," he instructed, then left with King bringing up the rear.

She could lock her doors. The trouble was, she couldn't lock down her brain. Her thoughts

about the evening, about Brady, replayed themselves through her mind. Brady, more than

any threat of a stalker, kept her from getting a good night's sleep.

Curiosity nibbled away at her. Yes, he'd allowed her a glimpse into his life, but Brady'd

left a great deal unsaid, things she wanted to know about the man who was her brooding

protector.

By midmorning the next day Patience decided to do something about all the unanswered

questions ricocheting in her brain. She took her questions to the one person who wouldn't

be tempted to talk to anyone else in the family about her query.

She called Rayne, Uncle Andrew's youngest daughter.

The one-time hellion now had the distinction of being the youngest detective on

theAurorapolice force. Closing the door to her tiny office, Patience punched in her

cousin's cell phone number.

Six rings went by before she heard anyone answer.

"Cavanaugh."

"Rayne, it's Patience."

"Talk fast, cousin." Rayne sounded breathless, as if she was hurrying somewhere. "I'm late."

So what else was new? Patience thought. Rayne's oldest brother, Shaw, liked to say that

Rayne had been born several days past her due date and had been late ever since. It

wasn't far from the truth, although lately, Rayne had been improving. A little.

"What do you know about Braden Coltrane?" Even as she asked, a sliver of guilt pricked at her conscience. "He's with the K-9 squad."

"I know who Coltrane is," Rayne told her. "And as for your question, not much." Interest peaked in her voice. "Why?"

"I just get vibes off him." She didn't know how else to put it.

"Vibes? What kind of vibes? This sounds interesting, Paysh."

Ever since her cousin had hooked up with Cole Garrison when the latter had returned to

town to prove his younger brother innocent of a murder charge, Rayne had become a

completely different woman. Her focus had changed, too. Where before she'd just storm-

troop through life, she now took a vital interest in everything around her. Such as her

cousin's romantic life.

Patience wanted to set Rayne straight. "He sounds like he might have had the kind of

upbringing that Patrick and I had."

"Sorry, I don't know," Rayne confessed. Patience heard the sound of a car being started