Slow Burn (25 page)

He just wished…

He wished it had been his shirt.

He needed to get up, to at least stretch out on the sofa. But he couldn't seem to move; he was too damned tired. He leaned his head against the wall at the foot of the stairs.

And that was where Spencer found him when she finally awoke, sometime the following afternoon.

 

Spencer knew she was overly tired, and that her nerves were just about raw. Maybe that was what caused the trouble that day. Or maybe it wasn't her fault at all—David woke up growling like a bear.

When she came down the stairs behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, she thought she had seldom—under any circumstances—come closer to death. He spun on her like a commando, ready to kill.

“Spencer!” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, why did you sneak up on me like that?”

“I didn't sneak up on you. I just walked down the stairs.”

He backed away from her, teeth clamped together, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I did tell you to go home,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, and I told Sly that I'd keep you alive.”

“I would have remembered the alarm.”

His look assured her that he doubted her capabilities. She decided to put a little more distance between them and edged against the railing to make it down the last few stairs.

“I'll make coffee,” she murmured. “You're welcome to take a shower,” she said uncomfortably. “I'm sure I've got something up there that would fit you if you want a clean shirt. I—”

“You still have all Danny's clothes?” he asked her.

“I just haven't had a chance to get rid of his things,” she said defensively.

“It's been more than a year,” David said. “There are lots of organizations that would make good use of his things. Let them, Spencer. It would have mattered to him.”

She stared at him stonily. “Thank you. I'll keep your advice in mind. And if it makes you uncomfortable to wear something that was Danny's, I think there's a Dolphins shirt up in the closet that's actually yours. He must have borrowed it from you at some point.” She turned and walked into the kitchen.

She spilled the coffee as she tried to make it, but finally she got the pot brewing. She wandered out to the back, looking into the yard. It was absolutely beautiful, peaceful and serene. Lush foliage and crystalline water that danced in the light of the sun. It was going to be another really hot day. Ninety in the shade, as the old-timers like to say. She could already see the heat dancing in the air above the brick patio. She would miss this house if she did sell it. The back was completely enclosed by a wooden fence. Of course, Harris and someone else had jumped it last night, but most of the time it seemed like a very private Eden. She and Danny had spent lots of time together there.

Was she trying to leave the ghosts behind, as Jared had suggested?

Maybe. But she had a feeling that Danny was a ghost who would follow her all her life. She needed to learn to live with him. He was a good ghost. And that was why it hurt so badly sometimes to have him with her. Maybe if she could come to terms with that…

She spun around suddenly. David was standing behind her, drinking coffee from a mug. He was wearing the Dolphins T-shirt. He was freshly bathed and shaved, his dark, wet hair slicked back.

“Jimmy's on his way,” he told her. “I've got to go out for a while. What are your plans for the day?”

He asked the question like a dictator snapping out demands. She folded her arms over her chest. “You know, this is getting just a little bit ridiculous.”

“Spencer, don't argue with me. I'm not in the mood for it.”

“And I'm not in the mood to have a dictator run my life! This is crazy—”

She broke off. It
was
crazy. She didn't know what was happening anymore. But one thing was true. She had been afraid of Jared.

But he wasn't the one who'd jumped her fence last night. He had been in a car at the time, with his wife and children.

“What?” he demanded, cocking his head as he watched her.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Spencer…”

“Jimmy's going to be here, right? If I make any sudden, wild plans, I'm sure he'll let you know.”

“Don't try getting on an airplane again or anything, Spencer. I'll drag you right off it.”

“David…”

“Damn it, Spencer, I can't have you working against me all the damned time!” With that he spun around and walked to the front door.

A moment later he was gone.

 

Oppenheim was off, sitting in his backyard in South Miami, watching one of his grandkids play in the wading pool.

He groaned when David approached him.

“I know, I know. I've read Harris's full report,” he said.

“So you know someone was trying to break in.”

“David, I love Coconut Grove. It's one of my favorite areas of the city. I even love it on Friday and Saturday nights, when it's wall-to-wall people, outside cafés filled, rickshaws going, music seeping out from the clubs, traffic jammed. But, David, it's a high-crime area, too. You know damned well just how many robberies there are in the Grove.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

“David, face the truth! A concerned grandparent hires you because a beam fell in a dilapidated old house! Spencer Huntington sticks her nose in where she shouldn't and ends up in danger in a graveyard. There's a problem with a rental car—in Rhode Island, no less!—and then a robbery attempt. And you're on my back again!”

“I'm not on your back. You did have Harris there.”

“Then what more do you want from me? I'm doing my best.”

“I just came to make sure you knew that I was right, that Spencer is in danger.”

Oppenheim sighed. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

“Are you keeping someone on it?”

“As much as I can.”

“Thanks,” David said. He started to walk away, waving to the three-year-old splashing in the pool.

“David!”

“What?”

“You'd better keep your people close to her for the rest of the weekend. Saturday nights are hardest for me. You know this city—weekends can be murder.”

No pun intended, David thought.

“Yeah, thanks, we'll stick to her through the weekend. I want to get down to the lab, though.”

“It was a heel print from a Frye boot,” Oppenheim said. “No fingerprints. None that helped. We lifted yours, but don't worry, you're not a suspect.”

“Thanks,” David said dryly. He decided to stop by the lab anyway.

Downtown, he found Hank Jenkins on night duty. David had gotten lucky since Hank had been the one to receive the samples the night before.

“Frye boot, a size nine, for whatever good that will do you,” Hank told him. He shrugged. “Good boot, not cheap, but there are probably hundreds of thousands in existence. Nine is a bit small, though. And the depth of the print would indicate that your perp is small, one hundred and twenty to one hundred and fifty pounds, maybe. Might even have been a woman.”

“A woman?” David asked, surprised.

“There
are
female thieves.”

“This isn't an ordinary thief,” David said. Then he thanked Hank and left, glancing at his watch. The day was gone. Entirely. And half the night, too. It was already after nine. He was still tired. He was too old to sleep on steps.

He drove to Spencer's house, the restless feeling that he couldn't leave her alone stronger than ever.

When he rounded the corner, he saw a beige Plymouth sedan parked just across the street.

Harris was sitting in it. He lifted a coffee cup to David, who waved in return.

Jimmy's car was in Spencer's driveway, but Jimmy wasn't in it. He was probably inside, David thought sourly.

He was.

When David rang the bell, Jimmy answered. He was in cutoffs and a T-shirt—Danny's old clothing. At least he had the grace to look a little abashed as David stared at him.

“Mrs. Huntington sent out for pizza. Harris was outside, so I figured it was all right to come in. I've been alert, though. You know I'm good.”

David nodded. Jimmy was going to start stuttering any minute.

“It's been so damned hot…she spent the day out by the pool, reading. I did some swimming, too. She said to dive in for a while, so I did.”

David was still staring at him.

“I swear to you, I didn't let my guard down for a single second, David.”

“It's okay, Jimmy,” David said at last, though it wasn't exactly the right way to guard a client. He sighed. “It's okay because Harris is out here. But if he'd left—”

 

“I would have known. He said he'd call in if he had to go out on a call.”

“Oh.”

“Well,” Jimmy said awkwardly, “if you're here, I guess I'll take off.” He looked at his feet. He was barefoot. “I'll just get my shoes and take off.”

David nodded again. He waited while Jimmy went out back, said good-night to Spencer and came out—shoes in hand.

“Good night. Do I take the morning again?”

“Yeah.”

“See you around eight?”

“That will be fine.”

Jimmy left. David set the alarm and walked through the house. Lots of good the alarm was going to do for the moment, with Spencer outside, caught in the soft glare of the pool lights and stretched out on one of the lounges.

He didn't think her bikini had been designed with the absolute intent to seduce. It wasn't a thong bikini; in fact, it wasn't especially bare at all, not compared to a lot of what you saw on the Florida beaches.

It was just the way Spencer wore the damned thing. It was downright erotic.

Her knees were up, a copy of
Architectural Digest
leaning on them as she studied it. A slim, frosty glass of something sat by her side on a little wrought-iron patio table. Her hair was wet and slicked back, her face makeup free. She looked somehow very young, very innocent.

Yeah, right.

Was this a setup? Apparently not. She looked up and groaned at the sight of him.

“What if I were to buy a very large Doberman?” she asked him. “Would you just go home then? We can shop the kennels tomorrow.”

He walked over to her, picked up her glass and swallowed some of its contents. Ice tea. He'd hoped for something stronger.

He sat in the lounge opposite her, folded his hands and watched her. “Nice outfit. Seducing poor Jimmy, eh?”

She kept her eyes on his. “You'll notice that there is something called a pool behind me. And I'm wearing a bathing suit. Something people wear in pools.”

“Quite a suit.” He nodded.

“Perfectly decent.”

“Well, I suppose it's better than a towel—or nothing,” he said agreeably.

“So let me get this straight. You really are accusing me of trying to seduce your employee?” she inquired. Her tone was light. Amused.

Furious.

He shrugged. “You are good at seduction. I know that firsthand.”

“Now just why would I want to seduce Jimmy?” she asked him. “After all, you were the first one to notice that I wasn't incredibly happy after stumbling into bed with you.”

“After stumbling into bed with me…hmm. Interesting.” He leaned forward. “Maybe that's the problem, Spencer. It's me. Maybe you wouldn't be half so miserable if you ‘stumbled into bed' with half a football team.”

She sat up, setting her magazine aside. “You're an idiot, David. A complete idiot!”

She stood up and walked away, executing a perfect dive into the deep end of the pool, then swimming to the opposite end, as far from him as she could get.

He watched her for a minute. God, he
was
an idiot.

He stood up. Ripped the Dolphins shirt over his head. Kicked off his shoes, jerked off his socks. Hobbled his way out of his jeans and briefs.

Spencer was at the far end, staring, ocean blue eyes narrowed sharply on him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Swimming,” he told her briefly.

He cut into the water after her. He thought she would dive away beneath the surface, try to elude him.

She didn't. She remained leaning against the edge, watching him tensely as he broke the surface.

He meant to say something. Anything. He didn't. Instead he reached out for her, pulling her to him, then backing her against the cool cobalt tiles that rimmed the edge of the pool. His mouth crushed down on hers while he slipped his hand beneath the bikini bottom, sliding it down over her hips and buttocks, then discarding it completely.