I'm Watching You (13 page)

Zoe blindly set the wineglass on the lamp table and reached over his shoulder to flip the deadbolt on her front door. „Excellent“

Chapter Eight

Thursday, February 19,

9:00 p.m.

Adjusting her rearview mirror, Kristen cautiously looked both ways before exiting the parking garage, feeling alone and very vulnerable. Looking over her shoulder, wondering if he was following. And if he wasn’t, where was he, what he was doing? Who was next for his vigilante justice? Her hands gripped the steering wheel and she squinted at the onslaught of headlights coming in her direction. So many people, most engaged in perfectly legal pursuits. But for every twenty who were honest citizens, there was one who was not.

The sum total of that one in twenty was enough to keep her gainfully employed for the rest of her life. She blew out a breath, watched it turn to vapor, then disappear. He was out there, somewhere, hunting for the one in twenty.

And for some reason, he brought the fruit of his labors to her.

Fruit of his labors. „I’m starting to sound like him,“ she murmured. „All pomp and circumstance.“ She bit her lip, glanced up to her rearview mirror once again. With teeth. Their humble servant was pomp and circumstance with very sharp teeth.

Which made her think of Jack’s funny face as he’d urged her to get a dog with sharp teeth, and it made her smile. They’d tried so hard to lighten her mood, to lessen her fear. They’d walked her to her rental car, all of them. Mia and Jack and Marc. And Reagan. She couldn’t forget about Reagan. With his intense blue eyes and dry wit.
Cerberus
. She chuckled out loud. The three-headed guardian of the gates of Hell. How apropos. Maybe she would get a dog at that. This weekend, perhaps. A dog that barked, wasn’t cute, and had big sharp teeth. That didn’t eat cats.

She entertained herself with the notion all the way home, but when she pulled into her driveway, the lighthearted thoughts fled, leaving her staring at her own house with dread.

He could be anywhere. Anger mixed with the dread, fury that her fear had her still sitting in her driveway. She was afraid in her own home. Dammit.

A knock on her car window nearly sent her though the roof. With her hand on her racing heart she turned to find Reagan’s frowning face. He twirled his fingers and she rolled down the window, shuddering from the cold blast of frigid air.

„It’s ten below out here,“ he hissed, mindful of the darkened windows up and down the street „If
he
doesn’t get you, you’ll die of exposure.“

She narrowed her eyes at him. „It
was
warm in the car.“

„Well, I’m freezing my keister off out here. Give me your keys.“

„Excuse me?“

He shoved his gloved hand through the open window, palm up. „Give me your keys and I’ll check your closets. Dammit, Kristen, hurry up.“

She yanked her keys from the ignition and slapped them in his palm. „I didn’t ask you to come.“ But she was suddenly, fiercely glad he had. Cursing her unsteady legs, she followed him up the sidewalk.

„You’re welcome,“ he muttered. „You should have a spotlight by your door.“

„I did,“ she muttered back, wincing as he missed the keyhole and the key skittered across the door she’d so painstakingly painted last fall. „The neighbors complained it was keeping them awake and signed a petition to make me get rid of it.“

He pulled a flashlight from the pocket of his overcoat, shone it on the lock, and unlocked the door to the kitchen. „Your neighbors need to get a life.“ He waited for her to follow him inside before closing the door. „Disarm the alarm, then stay here.“

„Yes, sir.“

He threw a lopsided grin over his shoulder at her caustic reply and her heart took off at a canter once again. Not with fear this time. Not the same kind of fear anyway. But just as fast and just as hard. She watched as he drew his weapon and his grin faded. „Stay here,“ he repeated, softly this time. „I mean it.“

„I’m not stupid,“ she muttered to the empty kitchen. To keep herself occupied she fed the cats, then busied herself with the teapot, willing her hands not to rattle the china.

Her tea was steeped and poured and he still hadn’t returned. She tiptoed to the archway to the dining room and peered out. Just as he had the night before, he’d left every light blazing in his wake. She’d grumbled about her electric bill the night before, but made no move to turn off a single light. She suspected tonight would be much the same.

Behind her the door opened and slammed shut and Kristen swallowed a shriek just as his deep voice rumbled through her kitchen. „Damn, it’s cold.“

She turned to find Reagan stamping his snow-covered feet. „Don’t scare me like that.“

Abe looked up, his expression grim. She stood still as stone, holding a fragile china teacup so tightly it seemed fused to her hands. She still wore her winter coat, buttoned up to her neck even though her kitchen was warm. „Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.“ He tossed her keys to the countertop and more carefully put her laptop bag beside them. „I closed your car window and locked it up.“

She drew a deep breath. „Thank you. What took you so long?“

He slipped his flashlight in his overcoat pocket. „I used the basement door to get to the backyard and did a lap around the house.“

„And?“

His lips thinned. „Somebody was here. There’s a set of fresh footprints in the snow up by your basement windows. What’s in the little shed out back?“

„It’s the detached garage, but I use it for storage. Why?“

He shrugged. „Just curious. That’s one hell of a padlock for a storage shed. Somebody might think you’ve got valuables in there.“

Her smile was shaky, and totally false. Now that he’d seen the real thing, heard her truly laugh, he recognized all the other smiles for the frauds they’d been. „One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,“ she said lightly. Which of course meant she had no intention of telling him what she’d stored in the shed. The realization stung a little. She lifted her cup. „Can I pour you some tea?“

Abe looked down at her for a moment. She was trying. She was uncomfortable having him here in her kitchen, of that he was certain, but she was making an honest attempt at hospitality. He should leave her in peace, allow her to get what would obviously be much needed rest, but somehow he couldn’t make himself leave.

He wanted to hear her laugh again, so much it was almost a palpable ache.

„Sure. Maybe it’ll warm me up.“ He sat down at her table and pulled at his gloves and scarf. „Aren’t you going to take off your coat?“

She looked down, as if surprised she was still wearing it. Awkwardly she shrugged out of it, laying it across one of the chairs, but made no move to take off the jacket of her dark charcoal suit. „Thank you for following me home.“ She concentrated on pouring tea into a big mug, totally at odds with her fragile little cup. „I was scared to come inside by myself and that made me mad, so I took it out on you.“ She looked up, met his eyes. „I’m sorry.“

He tilted his head, studying her as she placed his mug on the table in front of him. She didn’t look away while apologizing and he respected that. „It’s okay. I’m used to women getting mad and taking it out on me. I have two sisters. Sit, please.“

She sat self-consciously and he wondered if she was always so ill at ease in her own home, or if being stalked by a homicidal vigilante was a special cause.

„Annie and Rachel, right?“

He nodded, pleased that she’d remembered. „And two brothers. Aidan and Sean.“ He blew on his tea, enjoying the feel of the warm mug between his cold hands. „Aidan’s also a cop. So was my dad before he retired. And all of his friends.“

Her eyes sharpened. „I understand now. I’m sorry if you thought I was singling out police as potential suspects. I would have added John’s staff from the beginning, if I’d thought of it, but I’m so accustomed to doing things by myself.“ She pressed her fingertips against her nape, massaging her neck. „I meant no disrespect.“

„I was too sensitive.“ His lips quirked up. „In some households IA is the postal code for Iowa. In my house ‘Internal Affairs’ was worse than the worst four-letter word.“

She smiled, small, but real. „Well, I’m glad that misunderstanding’s out of the way.“ Her eyes sobered. „But you do realize the chances of him being a cop are higher now that we know he’s a marksman.“

Abe nodded. „
I
know. I think I knew it this morning, but that a cop could go bad isn’t an easy thing for me to admit.“ She massaged her nape again and he tightened his fingers around the warm mug to keep from taking over the task. „Just let it down.“

Her eyes widened. „Excuse me?“

He sipped at his tea. „Let your hair down. Those pins are giving you a headache. Besides, it isn’t like I haven’t seen it down before, and you are in your own house now.“

After a moment’s hesitation she did, pulling out a handful of pins, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. Well,
fall
was the wrong word, he thought. It
boinged
, like so many springs, sending fiery curls in every which direction. He chuckled into his tea, imagining she’d be none too pleased with his thoughts.

„What?“

Her face relaxed as her fingers threaded through her curls and Abe tightened his fingers around his mug, wondering if her curls were soft or coarse, knowing that the scent of her hair would linger on his hands if he was ever brave enough to find out. Instead he shook his head. „You’ll be mad.“

She tucked her tongue in her cheek. „What, little Orphan Annie? Looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket? I’ve heard them all before.“

„I like it.“

Her eyes narrowed as if she suspected him of lying but was too polite to voice it aloud. „Thank you.“

They were quiet for a few minutes, then, sipping their tea in the absolute quiet of her kitchen and Abe wondered if there was ever noise in Kristen Mayhew’s house. His own parents’ house had been so noisy that he’d often yearned for quiet, but the silence in Kristen’s house was oppressive. Despite her efforts to renovate room by room, the house had an empty feeling. „How long have you lived here?“ he asked.

„About two years.“ She looked around fondly. „It’s been fun making this place over.“

„You do good work,“ he said and she smiled in genuine pleasure. „My sister Annie has her own interior design business. She’d love the challenge of an old place like this.“

„It was built in 1903. I uncover hand-carved wood in every room I redo, but I haven’t even contemplated the kitchen yet. I’ve kind of been waiting for one of the appliances to die so I have a good excuse to buy new ones. But I don’t cook often, so the oven’s safe, and the refrigerator seems to be immortal.“

„Annie would show these old appliances the door with no remorse. My mother fought her for years over redoing our kitchen at home, but Annie finally won. Mom complained every day the kitchen was out of her hands, but in the end she loved it.“

Kristen’s mouth curved, a little wistfully, he thought.

„Your mom seems like a nice woman. Takes good care of her baby.“

„I’m not the baby,“ he corrected. „That would be Rachel.“

She lifted a brow. „Ah, yes. Rachel that wants to be me. She’s thirteen?“

Abe shuddered dramatically. „Apparently so.“

„A bit of a late-life surprise, huh?“

„More like the shock of the century.“ He grinned at her. „I remember us all being appalled to find our parents still did it at all.“ She chuckled in answer, but said nothing and within a minute the quiet became suffocating once again. „How about you?“ he found himself asking. „Family in the area?“

She shook her head. „No.“

He leaned forward slightly, waiting. „And?“

She leaned back, so slightly he was sure she didn’t realize she’d pulled away. She’d maintained her distance, consciously or not. „No, I don’t have any family here in Chicago.“

Abe frowned. Her tone had become flat, her eyes blank. „Where then? Kansas?“

Her eyes flashed at the mention of her home state and her teacup slowly lowered to the table. „No. Thank you for escorting me home, Detective Reagan. It’s been a long day for both of us.“ She stood up, and irked, he would have done the same if he hadn’t seen her hands tremble just before she locked them behind her back. Still dressed in her dark suit and heels, he imagined this was how she stood in court, seemingly impervious.

With her hands trembling behind her back. So he kept his seat.

Yesterday she said she had no friends. Today, it was no family. It struck him that in both times he’d made a sweep through her house he’d seen no pictures, not a single personal memento, with the exception of the law school diplomas that hung over her desk. „Sit down, Kristen.“ He pulled her chair closer to where she rigidly stood. „Please.“

Her jaw clenched and she looked away. „Why?“

„Because you’ve got to be exhausted.“

She shook her head and her curls bounced. „No, why is it so important to know about my family?“

„Because… it’s family.“

She turned to look at him and her eyes were no longer angry, but weary. „You’re close to your family, Detective?“

Detective
. She seemed determined to keep him at arm’s length. He was equally determined to see the wall she’d erected torn down. „I haven’t seen much of them over the past few years because of the job. But yes, we’re close. They’re my family.“

„Then I’m happy for you. Truly. But you should know that the majority of families aren’t close, tight-knit little units. The majority of families have problems.“

„You’re awfully young to be so jaded.“

Her shoulders sagged. „I’m a hell of a lot older than you think.“

He stood up then. „What I think is that you’re tired. Try to get some sleep.“

Her mouth twisted. „Sleep well, Kristen?“ she mocked bitterly. „Somehow I don’t think so.“ She lifted a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. „Don’t say it.“

„Say what?“

„Don’t tell me to go to a hotel. This is my home. I will not let him make me leave.“