Talk Me Down (7 page)

He’s just a man. You’re not missing out on that much.
But her brain was trying to con her and she knew it. He was a damned work of art.

His voice broke into her thoughts. “Speaking of meds…”

She made herself raise her eyes to his. “Mmm?”

Ben gestured with her new phone. “Are you giving this a bath? I don’t think it likes water. Lucky I didn’t turn on the faucet.”

“Oh, I, uh…I dropped it.”

“I like being the one making you blush for a change. Was it the phone in the sink or staring at my ass that did it?”

Molly edged her jaw forward and glared. “I’m not flirting with you anymore. I won’t participate. You don’t deserve it. I’m not even interested.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She waved him to the table. “You want a beer? A glass of wine?”

Ben glanced at his watch as he sat and started dishing out the steaming chili. “Better not. If anything goes wrong tonight, I’ll be called.”

Savory spice flash-filled the room with scent. “Oh, man, that smells good.”

“Brenda made it.”

“Well, please tell Brenda she’s a goddess.” Molly put on a CD and got herself a Coke.

They ate in silence but exchanged looks that quickly evolved from cautious to challenging.

“Aren’t you going to open your package?” Ben finally asked, setting his spoon down with a clank.

She glanced toward the front room. “Nope.”

“So you know what it is?”

Actually, she didn’t. But it was from Cameron which meant that it was perfect and meaningful and bound to make her throw up just a little. Either that or he’d gone over the edge and it was the head of a small animal.

“I’m not going to open it in front of you just because you’re nosy.”

“Cameron Kasten,” Ben said thoughtfully, which was when a serious new problem occurred to Molly for the first time.

She managed to grind out, “Don’t,” past clenched teeth.

“Don’t what?”

“I won’t think it’s cute if you go digging around for dirt on me.”

He met her gaze and showed her absolutely nothing.

“You ran a check on me didn’t you?”

His jaw ticked. “This isn’t about me.”

“Of course it is. You’re the one with the problem. You don’t see anyone else looking into my life around here.”

“No? Because Miles called your brother to check into you and then ran the rather intriguing answer in the paper.”

Well, he’d given her just what she needed to end this argument. Molly raised an eyebrow. “You comparing yourself to Miles, Ben?”

“Fuck no!”

A distant giggle drifted to Molly’s ears, followed by a tentative knock. “Excuse me. Duty calls.”

She got rid of the trick-or-treater fairly quickly; a surprise considering it was Miles’s granddaughter…escorted by a smirking Miles who shot a meaningful look at Ben’s truck at the curb.

Molly closed the door with a snap and didn’t say a word to Ben. She just served him pie and coffee and sent him on his way.

If she ignored her bladder, she might be able to get back to sleep. But if she went to the bathroom now, she’d be able to sleep late in the morning.

With a loud groan, she pulled the comforter tighter under her chin and tried to work up the courage to break out of her warm cocoon. She shifted one foot toward the edge and grimaced as cold snaked under the covers and wrapped around her ankle.

Her robe was lying on the floor within arm’s reach, but there was really no point. The robe was as cold as everything else, and she hoped to be back in bed before it had time to heat up.

Molly clenched her eyes shut, tossed back the covers and jumped out. Awake enough to be sensible, she shifted the comforter back into place to hold as much warmth in the bed as she could, then ran for the hallway and the bathroom beyond. The white tile burned like ice on her bare feet until she reached the fuzzy rug she’d bought at Target before she moved.

“Thank God,” she sighed as her feet sank into softness, then she sat down and her thankfulness disappeared on a little scream. She’d been wrong about the tile; it hadn’t been ice, but the toilet seat was one solid cube of it.

Tomorrow, first thing, she was going to get online and see if the Japanese had invented a heated toilet seat yet. Maybe even buy some pajamas to replace the tank top and underwear she normally wore.

Less than sixty seconds later she was back in bed, shivering under the lukewarm sheets. Amazing how easy it was to go weeks, even months, without realizing that the greatest pleasure in life was being in a warm bed on a cold night.

Now that her eyes had adjusted, she saw that it wasn’t really so dark. Beyond the row of bedroom windows the moon shone off heavy white clouds, setting the sky aglow. The hill behind her house was true black against the pale night, its crags and crevices silhouetted in a stark, jagged line.

Her body began to relax, warm now, as she stared out at the beautiful scene. She traced the silhouette of the ridge at the edge of her property, following it from one window to the next. A towering pine interrupted the line, a black rocket aiming for the stars. And just past that, a smaller shape…almost like a man.

Molly frowned and tried to remember what was up there. A twisted piñon tree maybe? But the harder she stared the more it looked exactly like a man, the black shadow of a head and shoulders, arms jutting out like Vs, fists against hips.

What the hell?

Her muscles froze, a slow explosion of icy fear that snuck from her belly to her limbs. But the tingling started at her toes and fingers and moved in the opposite direction, gaining strength until it reached her stomach as a white-hot ache.

The figure stood immobile. She felt connected to it, as if she could see the eyes locked onto hers. If she didn’t move, he wouldn’t move. If she held her breath, he wouldn’t dare inhale, either.

Whatever warmth she’d managed to capture beneath the covers leached away. She began to shiver, trying to hold it back, but the harder she fought it the more startling the tremors became.

Who was it? Who would stand in the winter night and
watch her sleeping?

“Oh, God,” she whispered, finally taking a breath. That was too creepy. It’d be less scary if someone was scratching around the door.
Why was he just standing there?
Did he know she’d seen him?

Her fingernails bit into her palms. Her teeth chattered together. But she tried not to move in any perceptible way. If she didn’t move he might just fade into the night. Disappear.

The figure cocked his head. Then he slowly raised a shadow hand in silent, menacing acknowledgment.

Terror snapped her free from her bounds. She dove for the ancient phone, and nearly knocked herself out with the ear piece as she slammed it to her ear. She thought for a brief moment that she’d really caused some damage, because she couldn’t hear a damn thing. Then she remembered what she’d done in her fit of temper the other day.

The phone was unplugged.

“Oh, God. Oh,
God.
” She glanced out the window and saw no one. The pine tree stood alone. Where had he gone?

Molly dropped off the bed and landed on her hands and knees to feel around for the disconnected line. It couldn’t have gone far, for God’s sake. It couldn’t
move.

Her fingers dragged over the carpet, finding an earring, then a Kleenex. She fought back tears.

Finally—
finally—
the little clip at the end of the phone line was in her hand. She pulled the phone down to the floor and plugged it in and dialed Ben’s number before she even brought the receiver to her ear. Her fingers didn’t need instructions from her brain. All the numbers in town started with the same three digits, and Ben lived in the home he’d grown up in.

“Lawson,” he said, his voice so clear, like he was with her already.

“Ben, there’s somebody behind my house.”

“Molly?”

“There’s somebody outside on the hill.”

“Where are you?” He sounded sharp, as if she hadn’t just woken him up.

“In my bedroom.”

“He’s on the hill? There’s a trail there, you know. He could be—”

“No one hikes in the middle of the night! And he wasn’t…he was just standing there, watching me
sleep.
”

“Okay, but it’s probably nothing. Are your curtains open? You shouldn’t leave your curtains open at night, Moll.”

She’d begun to calm down, but now she felt panicky again, expecting to hear a downstairs window break at any moment. “That’s
it?
You’re just going to lecture me? Tell me to close my windows? He could be…Aren’t you even going to come check it out?”

“Jesus, Molly, I’m already in my truck. I’ll be there in two minutes. The phone’s about to—”

And he was gone. Lost. She was alone, but only for two minutes. She could do that.

Despite having just used the bathroom, Molly felt an urgent need to pee. She’d written suspense stories before, but she realized now she hadn’t really captured fear. Her heroines had never been close to pissing themselves, but here she was, curled on the floor, edging more and more fully under the bed, wondering if she might wet her pants.

There’d been something so innately threatening about that figure, despite that he’d only stood there. It was just so…
freaky.

But he hadn’t
done
anything. And Ben would be here in just a minute. She was fine. Everything would be fine.

Molly set the phone on the floor and slowly eased her head above the mattress. No one there. Unless he was crouched down in the shadow of the hill. Unless he was climbing down, heading for her back door.

It was locked. She was almost sure of it.

The fear was still strong, but it was subsiding into something manageable. She needed to open the front door for Ben, and he’d be there any moment.

Refusing to crawl like some scurrying animal, Molly got her feet under her and pushed up to a crouch. Once she reached the hall, she turned on the light. No way was she creeping around in the dark; that was practically a guarantee that she’d run smack into the bad guy when she turned a corner. She hadn’t watched all those scary movies for nothing.

Rule number one: turn on the lights.

Rule number two: don’t check the cellar.

Rule number three: call the hunky policeman for help
immediately.

“Right,” she whispered, then peeked around the wall to check the stairs. All clear, but it was a little dim for her nerves down there at the bottom.

A shadow glided in front of living room window, just a flit of motion, dark and sinuous.

“A tree branch. Please let it be a tree branch.
Please.
”

Then a flash of light. Red. Then blue, then red again.

“Ben,” she gasped and raced for the stairs. “Ben, Ben, Ben.” His name burst from her lips with every stair she touched.

A booming knock exploded through the house the moment her foot slapped the bare wood floor of the entry.

“Molly!” he shouted, and she was clawing at the lock, and then finally the door was open and his arm reached out and wrapped around her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded into his chest as he guided her backward and eased the door shut behind them. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t…” The deep breath he drew whooshed against her ear. “I tried to call you…on my cell…You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m fine.” He smelled warm and safe. Her fear seemed foolish now and far away.

“Frank’s on his way. I need to make sure everything’s secure in here, and then he and I will take a look around outside, just in case.”

She tightened her hold on him. “It might not be safe.”

“Molly…”

“Right. I know. You’re a cop. I just…” She wanted him to stay, just stay. Maybe tuck her into bed, soothe her back to sleep.

“Let me check the doors and windows, then I want you to show me where you saw him.”

Trying not to follow too closely, Molly trailed Ben to each room as he tested every single lock and latch. He even descended into the cellar, but she remembered rule number two and waited at the top of the steps, muscles vibrating with nervousness. She held her breath until he was halfway up and clearly whole.

A sharp voice snapped to life as he stepped past her. “I’m here, Chief.”

“Wait for me,” Ben replied into a little contraption, while Molly tried to force her heart back down to its appropriate place.

“Let’s go upstairs.” His hand rested briefly on her hip, and she felt a brief flare of grief as she led the way. What a different moment this would be if he weren’t here on official business.

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Molly grabbed her robe from its crumpled puddle on the floor and slipped it on. Ben reached past her to lift the phone from the floor and set it back on the cradle with a weary sigh.

“Okay, show me what you saw.”

She explained everything as well as she could, feeling increasingly ridiculous as she spoke. But Ben was serious and attentive. And then he was gone. Back out into the night after a brief check of the upstairs rooms.

Molly watched flashlight beams dance and weave as he and his backup made their way around the yard and then farther away to find access to the trail.

Having Ben here had helped calm her, but her certainty didn’t waiver. She’d seen someone. A man. And only one name sprang to mind.

She’d have to tell Ben about Cameron. Who he was and why she suspected him. But would Cameron really do that? It seemed a bit…
hidden
for him. No one was here to watch and pat him on the back. No one to give witness that his intentions had been totally innocent.

But who the hell else could it be?

Molly grabbed the phone and dialed his home number.

“Sergeant Kasten,” he rasped, careful to include his title even in the middle of the night.

“Cameron, where are you?”

“What?”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“Molly? It’s 3:30 a.m. I’m asleep. In bed.”

“Turn on your TV.”

“Why?”

She wasn’t going to be fooled by a technological trick. It was a simple thing to forward calls to a different phone. “Turn on that giant TV hanging two feet from your bed.
Now.
”

“Okay! Jeez, did something happen?”

Something clattered against the phone on the other end, and then the unmistakable sounds of ESPN screamed to life in Molly’s ear. He was home.

“All right,” she whispered, her blood churning with several different emotions, none of them identifiable.

“What the hell’s going on? You okay?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Bye, Cameron.” She hung up and then thought better of it and picked up the receiver again to lay it on the table. When the beeping started, she shoved it under her pillow. Cameron would be calling all night if she didn’t take precautions, and then she’d have some ’splaining to do to Ben.

Her feet were starting to get numb, so Molly dug her bunny slippers out from under the bed and flip-flopped down the stairs to turn up the heat. Then she got herself a fortifying cup of wine and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for Ben. There was really nothing else to do.

If it wasn’t Cameron, she was at a loss. While he had started acting very creepy on occasion, he’d never dragged any of the other guys into physically stalking her. He wouldn’t risk letting them see his true intentions.

And it definitely couldn’t have been letter-writing Mrs. Gibson. Even if she had the means to ferret out Molly’s true identity and fly halfway across the U.S. to stalk her, an eighty-year-old wouldn’t have made it up that hill. So who the hell could it have been?

It felt as if the sun must have started rising by the time Ben knocked, but when she glanced at the clock it claimed that only fifteen minutes had passed. She raced to open the door, and he brought the scent of snow with him when he entered. Tiny crystals glittered on his shoulders and hair.

“Did you find him?” she demanded as he reached past her to re-lock the door.