Dead Wrong (14 page)

“Last I knew, they were still trying to put his leg back together. And I thought he was still out on medical leave.”

“He is. He’s doing this strictly as a favor.”

“Annie couldn’t have come up with anyone better than Shields.”

“I agree.”

He blew out a long breath. “He was right up there with the best. He and his brothers, the three of them. Damned shame about Dylan. Damned shame.”

“Think Aidan will ever come back, even if he can pass the physical?”

“It would be the Bureau’s loss if he doesn’t. Whether he passes the physical or not,” he murmured thoughtfully. Then, all business again, “Anything else I can do you for today?”

“I think we’ve covered everything we need to,” she said, knowing that was a lie, that they had covered everything except what most needed to be said.

“Keep in touch, then.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and don’t forget to call me if you get a hit on the—” But he’d already disconnected.

She hung up slowly, feeling just a little bruised, as she always did after she’d had a brush with him, and feeling that the air still hadn’t been cleared. That maybe they’d never get around to saying the things that needed to be said. That maybe the loose thread that had been hanging between them for the past seven or eight months was still hanging there, waiting to be pulled . . .

That maybe it didn’t matter to anyone but her.

She called room service and ordered breakfast, then turned back to her computer and waited for the promised file to arrive.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

U
NDER HER DESK,
M
ARA’S LEFT FOOT TAPPED IMPA
tiently as she listened to the judge’s law clerk recite the latest rescheduling of that afternoon’s custody hearing involving five children whose mother and father were both once again incarcerated for possession with intent to deliver a hefty stash of cocaine. The judge had already granted the postponement, meaning that the children would remain in foster care for yet another three weeks at best. Three weeks they could be spending with their maternal aunt, who lived out of state but who desperately wanted to bring the children to live with her.

“Don’t growl at me, Ms. Douglas,” the clerk snapped. “I’m just the messenger. Take it up with Judge Fisk if you have a problem with his decision.”

Mara dropped the receiver quietly into its cradle. How fortunate for the parents that they’d drawn that particular judge, one who was notoriously lenient when it came to protecting the rights of the mother and father. Other judges were not always as accommodating.

Of course, she thought as she gazed out the window on a perfectly brilliant April morning, she’d heard the judge liked a good golf game, and this was, by all accounts, the first really good golf day in weeks.

Cynic,
she scolded herself and returned that afternoon’s scheduled file and its reports and interviews to the folder. She wouldn’t be needing it for a while. She glanced at her agenda for the following week, debating which case could most benefit from the extra time she had on her hands.

Jenner
v.
Jenner
was coming up on Friday, and there were still several interviews she wanted to look over one last time. She searched through the piles on her floor until she found the file, then hoisted it onto her desk. She tugged at the inner manila folder to dislodge it from the overstuffed master, then searched for the interviews she’d conducted when she’d first been assigned to the case and settled in to refresh her memory.

When she finally glanced up to check the time, she was surprised to find it well past noon. She stood and stretched, suddenly mindful of the low rumblings from her stomach. She poked her head from her office, hoping to find someone who might be interested in running out to pick up a sandwich, but it appeared that she was alone in her section of the hall. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her purse and set out for the stairwell.

Of course, it occurred to her to call Aidan to join her, but it seemed, well, silly for him to drive from her house merely to accompany her to the hot dog stand out front. Besides, she was hardly alone in the courthouse, the front lawn of which was filled with employees and jurors and townspeople out to enjoy the sunshine. There was no reason for her not to join them.

Standing in line at Maury’s, Mara waited for her turn to order. She paid for her hot dog and soda and strolled back toward the benches that lined the wall near the front of the building. An elderly woman rose from her seat, pushing the stroller that held a sleeping infant, and started off down the sidewalk just as Mara approached. Without a second thought, she took the seat almost as soon as it was vacated, then sought to balance the soda can on the bench while she attempted to pop open the lid.

“Need a hand?” A shadow fell across her.

Mara looked up to find Aidan looking down at her. He wore a pale yellow shirt and his hands were stuck in the pockets of his worn jeans. Dark glasses shielded his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.” He took the can from her hands and popped off the tab.

“Have you been doing this every day?”

“Nope.” He passed the can back to her.

“Why today?”

“I called your cell and there was no answer. I figured you’d slipped out to grab a bite.” Aidan sat down next to her and leaned against the back of the bench.

Mara unwrapped her hot dog. “I wasn’t going any farther than Maury’s. I really didn’t think I needed to check in with you to take a fifty-yard walk from the courthouse steps to the hot dog stand.” She took a bite. “You really take this watchdog thing seriously, don’t you?”

“Serious as life and death.”

She glanced around, her eyes darting from the small groups that gathered on the lawn to the solitary figures scattered here and there.

“You think he’s here? Someone out there?” She gestured in a sweeping motion with the hand that held the soda can. “Just waiting for me to come out?”

“I would be, if I were him.” His eyes scanned the crowd. “I’d want to know your every move, where you go and at what time and with whom. Then I’d know when you’d be most vulnerable.”

She took another bite and chewed slowly.

“That’s what he’s done in the past,” Aidan continued. “Watched his victims, made himself familiar with their routines.”

“And you think that’s what he’s doing now? Watching me?”

“He’s watching his next victim, sure. Studying her movements, getting to know her. We’re just assuming that the next victim is going to be you.”

“What about all the other M. Douglases? Is someone watching them, too?”

“That’s up to the locals, but frankly, none of them are my concern.”

“And I suppose that if he’s watching me and he sees you around all the time, he’ll cross me off his list and just go on to M. N. or M. P. or whoever is the next M. Douglas in the phone book.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to cross you off his list. I would expect him to come up with something a little more creative.”

“Doesn’t that just make things increasingly difficult for you?” One last bite finished off the hot dog. “I mean, he gets more creative, don’t you have to get more creative, too?”

“You’re catching on.”

“Then where does it end?”

“When he finally thinks he’s smarter than me.”

“What if he is?”

“Then we’re both fucked.”

“Funny.” She balled up the paper from her hot dog and tossed it into the trash can that sat five feet away. “Very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“I don’t see anyone who looks the least bit suspicious.”

“You know everyone out here?”

“Well, no. Not everyone . . .”

“You know the guy three benches away, the one in the blue jacket who’s been reading the same page of the newspaper since I sat down?”

She glanced over slowly and pretended to be looking past the bench in question. “No. I hadn’t noticed him.”

“How ’bout the guy standing about twenty feet away from us to the left, who’s been sipping that same container of coffee for the past twenty minutes? You think those little cups hold that much?”

“No. I don’t know him, either.” Her voice softened.

“That’s my point. If he’s watching you, chances are you’ll never notice him.” From behind his dark glasses, Aidan’s eyes continued to scan the crowd. “This guy is clever. He hasn’t been as successful as he has by being stupid.”

“Then how do you expect to catch him?”

“Sooner or later, he’ll mess up.”

“What if it’s later than sooner?”

“Then I guess I’ll be sleeping in your guest room for longer than either of us planned.”

“Swell,” she mumbled.

“On the other hand, maybe he’ll surprise me and do something really stupid really soon,” he told her. “Then I’ll be on my way and out of your hair.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Go back to Rehoboth.”

“And . . . ?”

“And what?”

“Just that. Go back to your apartment? No other plans?”

“No.” The question irritated him. What difference did it make to her what he did when he left Lyndon, as long as the killer was behind bars and she was still alive and had her home to herself again once he left?

The alarm on her watch went off. She glanced at the time before turning it off.

“I have a meeting at two. I need to go.” She slid her purse strap over her shoulder and stood. “Well, then. Thanks for stopping by.”

“All in a day’s work.” He remained seated. “See you at five.”

“Right.” She turned toward the building. “See you at five . . .”

And he’d been there, of course, waiting across the street from the exit of the parking garage. He’d taken care of dinner, and taken in her mail, and walked her dog, all without complaint, all without fanfare. That night, again, he’d set up his telescope on the back deck and given her a lesson in stargazing. She was surprised to find she was actually starting to like it.

Walking into the courthouse the following morning, she was pondering the possibility that maybe she’d gotten used to having Aidan’s company—however reluctant—and that maybe it wasn’t so bad having him for a house guest. He’d certainly provided a light moment earlier that morning.

Mara grinned as she got on the elevator, remembering the looks on the faces of her morning jogging partners, Allison and Cass, when they rang the doorbell a little before seven a.m.

“Morning, ladies,” Aidan had greeted them.

“Ahhhh . . .” Cass had been rendered speechless.

“We . . . ahhhh . . . we . . . w-we . . .” Allison had stuttered.

“Were you looking for Mara?” he had asked, clearly amused for the first time since he’d arrived earlier in the week.

“Oh, God, I forgot to call you.” Red-faced, Mara had appeared behind Aidan.

“I meant to . . . call, that is . . . but I, um, forgot, and then when I remembered, it was . . . ah . . . too late to call and cancel. Last night, I mean . . .”

Mara had stumbled over her words almost as badly as Allison and Cass had.

“We can wait for you, if you want to get changed.” Cass stared openly at Mara’s nightshirt.

“Oh.” Mara’s face burned. She’d heard the doorbell and tried to rush down the steps before Aidan. It had never occurred to her to grab her robe. “Well . . .”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mara,” Aidan said pointedly.

“Ah, right. Not a good idea.” Mara had nodded. “Sorry. I’ll have to pass this week. You guys go on without me.”

“Are you sure? Your . . . friend . . . is welcome to join us.” Allison smiled. Mara could tell that the effort to stifle the questions she wanted to ask was just killing her.

“No, I . . . I’ll catch up with you later,” Mara had told them, then closed the door. She stared up at Aidan. “Why did you answer the door?”

“Because the doorbell was ringing.”