Half Past Dead (21 page)

“Good boy, good boy,” she crooned, running her hand over his head. She looked up at Justin. “His hair is beginning to grow back.”

“Yes. He'll be downright handsome when his coat comes in.”

Petting the dog gave her a way to avoid more physical contact with Justin. Kat longed to touch him, to be secure in his arms. Oh, Lordy, was she a mess. She knew she had to depend on herself. “Which bedroom should I use?”

“The second one down the hall.” He gestured toward the short corridor off the living room. “Sorry about the atrocious green spread in there.”

“It doesn't matter,” she assured him.

He moved closer, his expression concerned. “I've got to run into the station. There's food in the fridge. Yogurt, eggs, soup. Stuff Mavis said you can eat.”

He'd gotten special food for her. He'd arranged his schedule so that he could bring her home. He cared. Tears filled her eyes as she realized this, but she managed to blink them away. Prison had taught her the futility of tears. “How can I thank you?”

He bent over and kissed her forehead. “No thanks are necessary. Just stay alive.”

Kat listened while he gave her instructions on locking the door, and he told her there was a gun in the nightstand in her room. He assumed she knew how to use a gun. Most people in the area had several guns, but Kat's father had never owned a gun. Unlike most men in Twin Oaks, her father hadn't believed in hunting. Kat decided to tell Justin when he returned.

“You won't be alone long. David's on his way with your things. Don't open the door for anyone but him.”

The minute Justin left, Kat rummaged through her purse and found the cell phone. It had been too long without a charge and was dead. She decided to use Justin's phone. He might check the numbers called, but she supposed he would understand she had to contact her handler.

Special Agent Wilson answered on the first ring. Kat had him call her back to avoid running up Justin's bill.

“Where are you?” he asked when he called several seconds later.

Kat hesitated. She didn't want to admit she was with Justin, but she didn't have a choice. He was bound to find out.

“I'm staying with Justin Radner.”

He was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you think that's a good idea?”

“Yes. Someone tried to poison me.”

“I know all about it. Remember, I have an undercover agent working there. The last time you called you told me Elmer Bitner had asked you to meet him out by the casino.”

“I did?”

How could she have forgotten something so important? Bitner had been her nemesis. His testimony had sent her to jail. Justin had told her Elmer had been murdered and how her car had been sighted by the Highway Patrol. The accident had saved her from being framed for murder.

Her mind had tried to process the situation. She wasn't glad Elmer was dead—exactly—but she couldn't help feeling he might have gotten what he deserved. He liked everyone to think he was a Christian of the first order, but he hadn't hesitated to frame her. Who knew what else he might have done?

“You told me you were meeting Bitner, and I said I would have my undercover operative in the area in case you needed help.”

“I did? I don't…recall—”

“Small wonder. I contacted our experts at FBI headquarters. Belladonna triggers amnesia and hallucinations. From what I understand, it isn't like other drugs when you realize you're hallucinating. Belladonna has people believing they actually experienced the event. They don't realize it's an illusion.”

She remembered cars—lots of them—chasing her, but Mavis insisted it was just two cars. They hadn't been after her. They'd merely been going home. Her mind kept telling her otherwise.

“Even more interesting,” he said, “the drug can erase memories from several hours before it was ingested.”

“You mean, it might have been slipped to me at lunch, and I wouldn't recall incidents from that morning?”

“Exactly.”

How strange, she thought. Had someone been trying to erase her memory or had it been a murder attempt? It was hard to believe an ugly duckling with no friends could attract such determined enemies. Something else had to be going on.

“Did someone try to kill me because of your investigation?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“No. Your problem doesn't appear to be related to our investigation.”

“But you're not positive.”

“Ninety-nine percent sure.”

Kat released an exasperated sigh. “Any ideas who might want me dead?”

“No. With luck Radner will be able to track it down.”

Kat wasn't trusting luck. She needed to save herself.

K
AT GAZED
at David Noyes across Justin's kitchen table and tried without much luck to swallow a little of the soup he'd brought her from the No Latte Café. Max and Redd were tussling over a doggie toy nearby.

“Delicious,” she told him, although her taste buds seemed to be dead. All she could feel was the soup's heat.

“What's the last thing you remember before the accident?” he asked.

She'd already told him about feeling funny, then imagining a pack of cars following her. How many times could she go over this?

“I was at my desk doing rewrites.”

His brows drew into a deeply concerned frown. “That was the day before your accident.”

“I know.” She put down her spoon. “I went over this with Justin and Mavis. Except for the accident, I can't recall anything else about that day—no matter how hard I try.”

He offered her a sympathetic smile. “I've been able to trace some of your activities before the accident. Elmer Bitner called the
Trib,
and Connie said he asked to speak to you.”

Again a rising tide of disbelief flooded her. She would have sworn that she couldn't possibly have forgotten a call from Elmer Bitner, but obviously she had. She knew the poison caused the memory lapse, but it still seemed inconceivable. While she'd been in prison, she'd mentally told off Elmer thousands of times for being a lying skank. On his knees he'd begged her forgiveness. Of course, it had only been a daydream, but still, the man was so firmly embedded in her mind that she couldn't imagine forgetting his call.

“Any idea why Bitner would want to meet with you?”

Kat shook her head. She had the lurking suspicion it might have something to do with the undercover operation, but she couldn't tell David about it. He studied her intently for a moment, and she wondered if he suspected she was withholding information.

“You stopped in to see Lola Rae around dinner time. You told Maria that you were going to visit your mother.”

Her throat seemed to close up. It was a moment before she could reply, “I did?”

David hesitated before adding, “Well, that's what Maria claims, but Lola Rae didn't hear that part of the conversation. Apparently she was on the telephone at the time.”

“It's difficult to believe I could have seen my mother and not remember. But Maria wouldn't lie. Why would she?”

“Maria knew Pequita. It's possible she's mixed up in the meth deal.”

“Maria?” Kat responded, her voice charged with anguish. She sighed wearily. “I don't believe it. She's too innocent to be involved in illegal activity.”

“Can you be sure? You don't speak enough Spanish to really know the woman, do you?”

She slowly admitted, “I guess not.”

He regarded her with a searching look. “I spoke with your mother. Her mind is fuzzy from the morphine. She didn't seem to remember a recent visit, yet she wasn't positive.”

Kat thought about her mother and tried to recall her face, but nothing came up on the screen in her mind. Instead, a dark, ominous impression of a stern woman who disliked Kat took over her brain. Why couldn't she see her mother's face?

Your mother is close to death.

How did she know? Of course, Tori had said their mother was terminal, but an inner voice was saying death was closer than Tori had indicated. She examined her feelings, wondering if she
had
seen her mother. The memory might have been erased by the drug, but in some remote part of her brain
something
had registered.

“I have a feeling—not a memory—just a feeling I was with my mother,” Kat confessed to David.

“What makes you think so?”

She explained that she knew more about her mother's condition than Tori had told her. She thought he might find her strange for relying on a vague feeling but if he did, David's face didn't reveal it.

“If you visited your mother, would you have eaten anything?”

“I doubt it. My mother rarely baked. Now that she's so ill, I guess her nurses are preparing meals.” She considered his question before adding, “She used to make very sweet lemonade.”

“Did she garden?”

Several beats of silence passed before his words sank in; Kat could see where David was going with this. “Yes, she grew roses. She made extra money by selling them to the local florist. I'm sure she hasn't been out in the small garden behind her condo in a year—or longer.” An ache lodged deep inside her chest, making it painful to draw a breath. In a low voice, taut with emotion, she told him, “I didn't get along that well with my mother, but she would never try to kill me.”

David nodded, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He gestured for her to eat more soup. She forced down a little more, her mind on the imminent death of her mother.

David surprised her by asking, “Have you met Gary Don Willingham?”

She still couldn't bring up her mother's image, but she instantly recalled the redneck bartender Lola Rae was crazy about. “Just once. Why?”

“What was your impression?”

“He's not good enough for Lola Rae. I have no idea what she sees in him. Why?”

He told her about his suspicions. He relied on his instincts, too. No wonder he didn't find her intuitive feelings outrageous. She gazed at him for a moment, realizing he reminded her of her father. David didn't look like her father, but he had a way of listening, a way of concentrating on a person that had characterized her father.

“You think Gary Don might be dealing meth?” she asked.

“It's possible. Moonin' N Coonin' is notorious for being a place to buy drugs. As a bartender, he has to know what's going on out there. I'm betting he's involved.”

She couldn't help recalling how eagerly Lola Rae had welcomed Kat. She'd been expecting a much cooler response. Now she wondered about the hair stylist's motives. Had it been an act?

It crushed something inside her to be suspicious of so many people. But what choice did she have? Someone had slipped her poison. She didn't suspect her mother, but there were many people who'd had the opportunity. Lola Rae was one of them. Come to think of it, so was Maria. She was always appearing uninvited with tamales or enchiladas. They could have been laced with belladonna. It was even possible she'd eaten something poisonous at the
Trib.
The break room was loaded with homemade goodies, and David brought in food when they worked late.

 

D
ARKNESS HAD FALLEN
and Kat was sitting in one of the easy chairs in Justin's living room, Redd at her feet. David had insisted she take a nap after lunch. He'd stayed until Justin returned. She'd awakened to find Justin banging around the kitchen. He'd given her raspberry Jell-O and a tiny piece of chicken. Her stomach warned her not to eat but after all he'd done, she forced herself. She was weak and the best way to regain her strength was food.

Justin had refused to let her help him clean up, and she'd gone into the living room to read. Her mind kept drifting to her predicament. Who would want to frame her? Who wanted her dead? Maybe she was supposed to meet Elmer, then keel over. That scenario didn't really play. Timing her reaction with belladonna would have been impossible.

After Justin had finished in the kitchen, he'd announced he needed a shower. He'd disappeared into the bathroom just visible down the short hallway. She tried to concentrate on her book, but hearing the running water brought up images of Justin naked, the shower spray sluicing down his powerful body. You have more pressing things on your mind, she told herself. Her brain refused to listen. Lordy, wasn't he a hunk? She could only imagine what he looked like nude.

Get over it!

Her sole experience with a naked man had been years ago when she'd first gone to work at the bank. Every week a man from Jackson delivered boxes of deposit slips and other paper supplies to the bank. They'd gone out for several months when she'd agreed to go back to Corbin Gutcheon's motel. They'd had sex that still made her cheeks hot when she recalled the awkward situation. Immediately, she'd known she'd made a mistake. Corbin had asked her out many times after that, but she never went.

Kat heard the water shut off. She tugged down the hem of the board shorts she was wearing and adjusted the wrinkled blouse she'd pulled out of her things, when David had brought them over. She was a little self-conscious about not wearing a bra, but she'd been too exhausted to rummage though her clothes to find one.

With a sidelong look, she caught a glimpse of Justin as he emerged from the bathroom. His wet hair stood up in glossy black spikes. She quickly averted her eyes, but she couldn't help noticing his great shoulders, broad and muscular. Tufts of dark hair arrowed downward and disappeared under the towel knotted around his waist. That didn't stop her from appreciating his powerful thighs and long, lean legs.

Don't go there,
she warned herself, realizing her body was flushed with warmth. She had no business being around Justin. She should have asked David to take her home with him. Surely, she would have been just as safe there.

A few minutes later, Justin emerged barefoot from the bedroom, wearing cargo shorts and a black Miami Heat T-shirt that couldn't possibly survive one more washing. She'd only gotten a quick peek at his chest before, but the well-worn cotton emphasized every masculine line and contour. Her gaze traveled up the lean, solid length of him until his eyes met hers and held. She struggled to bend half a smile while the pleasing scent of soap floated through the room.

Why did Justin have to be so heart-stoppingly gorgeous?

He went over to the window air conditioner in two long-legged strides that reminded her of what an exceptional athlete he'd been. “This swamp cooler isn't worth a damn.”

She mustered a reply in what she hoped was a level voice. “The air is sort of cool.”

He didn't respond while he tinkered with the dials. The swamp cooler wheezed and belched out a gust of colder air. He looked over his shoulder, and she admitted to herself that he had the most amazing blue eyes she'd ever seen.

He rose to his full height, saying, “Want some ice cream?”

“No, thanks. Today I've had more than I've eaten since…before.”

“It's strawberry.” A playful smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward, giving him a boyish, yet sexy expression. Obviously, David had told him that strawberry was her favorite.

“Okay, just a little.” She used her thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny bit.

“Feel up to helping me?”

“Sure.” She put down the book and pushed to her bare feet, wobbling slightly on the cool wood floor.

He reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. “Maybe you shouldn't—”

“I'm fine.”

He slipped his strong arm around her waist, and pleasure radiated outward from every place his body touched hers. “It's a good idea for you to move around a little. In a hospital they always make you get up and walk as soon as possible.”

She managed a nod, totally aware of his rock-hard body pressed against hers. The warmth of his powerful torso was reassuring. She told herself she could walk on her own, but she couldn't quite manage to pull away. They crossed the small distance to the kitchen, Redd at their heels. Justin let go of her to open the freezer.

Gingerly, she took a step backward so she was no longer so close to his appealing body. Rummaging through the frozen food, he seemed oblivious to the devastating effect he had on her. He said, “The bowls are over the sink beside the plates. I'll get the spoons.”

Still a little woozy, she retrieved the bowls and set them on the counter. He dished out a generous dollop of strawberry ice cream. She shook her head. “Half that.”

He cut down the portion with the spoon and dropped it into his dish. He added a huge scoop with a cocky grin. “My stomach's fine.”

It was more than “fine,” she thought. His stomach was so flat and taut that you could bounce a penny off it. She doubted he ate ice cream often. As they took seats at the kitchen table, she thought about the chubby girl she'd been, then told herself this small amount of ice cream couldn't hurt after days without food. They ate in silence, but she couldn't help noticing how relaxed he seemed, while she couldn't help being on edge.

Justin rinsed off their dishes and left them on the drain rack. “Come on.” He held out his hand to her. “Let's get you walking. It's the only way to get strength back in your legs.”

His arm encircled her waist in a no-nonsense manner. He exuded sexual magnetism, but he was all business now, and she forced herself to concentrate. With baby steps she walked barefoot across the living room toward the bedrooms. Redd followed beside them, peering up at Kat and seeming to be concerned.

“I guess you found the bathroom,” he told her. “Just open the cabinet on the wall for fresh towels.”

They approached the bedroom she was using, and Kat realized she was walking a little faster now. Inside the room her things were piled in one corner. She didn't know where to put them. Maybe she wouldn't need to move them; she could be leaving anytime. He reached for her hand and turned her around.

“Let's go another lap.”

“Lap? How far did we go? Forty feet?”

“Less than that.”

He didn't drop her hand. His fingers twined between hers, warm, reassuring. She wasn't in this alone, she told herself. It was profoundly disturbing not to know who her enemies were, to suspect most people around her, but at least she knew she could rely on Justin and David for help.

Pulse racing, she did her best not to lean against him as she walked. Having his arm around her was more comforting and, admit it, more pleasurable than holding hands, but Justin was all business. He might have been a little attracted to her at one point, but now he had two murders to solve—and she was the key to one of them. Who knew? Maybe she was linked to both.