The Green-Eyed Doll (4 page)

“You saw worry on people’s faces at the café. What do you see now?”

She spoke softly, “John Wayne.”

Catherine’s insides trembled. The sheriff’s laser blue eyes had delivered his message loud and clear. It was a message she didn’t know how to handle. She’d had no interest in sex for a long time. Besides, Andy had assured her many times, she was a lousy lay.

After Matt escorted her to her car and started toward his cruiser, she put the keys in the ignition and prayed. Nothing happened. The door to the bar opened, JC stepped outside, and lit a cigarette. Like it or not, she had to ask if he or Matt would give her a hand. Damn, she hated to ask for help.

She got out and spoke loudly. “Can I get a jump? My battery seems to be down.”

Matt made an about face and both men headed her direction immediately.

“I’ve got cables,” JC said. “Let me pull around beside you. Won’t take a second.”

Catherine stood out of the way while Matt hooked up the two batteries. After a couple of tries, they quit. JC, with his shaggy brown hair and kind hazel eyes, turned his truck’s engine off. He got out and shook his head.

“I can pick you up a new battery tomorrow. Cheap one is around fifty bucks.”

Catherine dug out her tips, handed over the money, and thanked him profusely. Her heart grew heavier. Getting ahead would take time.

Matt lowered the hood. “I can give you a ride home and bring you back tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thanks, both of you.” Being obligated to anyone didn’t appeal to her, but she was in a bind.

Matt held the door to his cruiser for her, walked around, and climbed in.

“Why didn’t you tell me your car wouldn’t start?”

“I don’t like asking for help. I prefer to take care of myself.” Leaning on other people would make her vulnerable, something she never wanted to be again.

“What if Marty and JC had been gone?” He drove out of the parking lot, then quickly pulled to the shoulder, and stopped.

“I would’ve figured something out. Why did we stop?”

“Because I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Catherine hid her embarrassment.
Would this night never end?
“I can’t remember the name of the road, county something. I’ll show you.”

She directed him to the highway and off at the County Road 617 sign. Darkness swallowed them the minute they left the main drag. No streetlights, no housing additions. Dead quiet except for the gravel roadbed crunching under the tires.

She broke the silence. “Take a left at the next turn.”

“Looks like we’re neighbors. My house is not far from here.”

“Turn right at the next place then follow the driveway around back.” The cruiser’s headlights swept across the lawn and came to rest on the small white frame cottage.

“Hang on.” Matt killed the engine, reached across her, and pulled a flashlight from the dash compartment. “I can at least get you inside safely. Might be a good idea to leave the porch light on tomorrow when you leave.”

She stiffened. “Are you always this bossy?”

Matt got out and waited for her. “It’s hard to turn off being a cop.” He shined the beam in front of her feet and took the key from her to unlock the door.

Catherine found the switch, and the toy-sized living room was flooded with light. “I can imagine.” She stood back and let him enter.

The white lace curtains and hand crocheted doilies on the furniture made Catherine feel like she was playing dress up. A love seat and small rocking chair filled the room to capacity. Hardwood floors covered with tattered throw rugs added to the ambience.

“I think this is what you call shabby chic. Mrs. Williamson and her late husband built the little house for their handicapped daughter who lived in it all her adult life. They cared for her until she died at the early age of forty. Mrs. Williamson seemed happy to have someone rent the place. “

“I live right behind you. Hadn’t paid any attention to this house. My office is about twenty miles away in Curry. Guess I need to do a better job of getting to know my neighbors.”

“Can I see your place from here?” She followed Matt into the kitchen.

“There.” He pointed out the backdoor window.

He stepped back, allowing her to stand between him and the door. Matt didn’t touch her. He moved up and stood directly behind her.

“See the light in the distance? In the dark, I can’t tell exactly how far, but I’m fairly close.”

His warm breath brushed across the top of her head. His rapid heartbeat reverberated in her ears. Or did the pounding come from her chest? She couldn’t tell. Fear snaked through her veins, slithering under her skin. He’d trapped her between his body and the door.

She bit back a cry of relief when his boot heels hit the hardwood floor as he walked away. Damning herself for lack of control, she braced her hands on the doorframe, rested her cheek on the glass, and collected herself. She prayed her reaction to being cornered had gone unnoticed.

“Thank you for supper and the ride home.” Catherine hoped she appeared poised and self-assured.

“You’re welcome. What time tomorrow?”

“Marty wants me at the bar by one.”

“I can manage that.” He moved toward the door. “See you then.”

Catherine leaned against the wall and listened to the gravel crunch under the cruiser’s tires when Matt backed out of the drive.

Marty had said women drooled when they talked about him. Catherine could see why. His blue eyes set her stomach churning. At first, she thought him to be distant. Expected him to be bad-tempered. Wanted him to stay away. Now, she hoped he’d settle for being a friend.

She’d flipped the living room light off and moved to pull the curtain closed when her skin came alive as every hair stood on end, electrified. A familiar sensation crawled up from her stomach, sending goose bumps racing up her arms. Familiar, because she’d been watched from the shadows in the past. She shook her head, tamped down foolish memories. No one was out there. She was safe.

Chapter Three

Sunday, July 30th, 11:30 a.m.

Catherine’s sheets lay on the floor and sweat soaked through her sleep-shirt. She smoothed her hands over her neck. Swallowed. Breathed. Touched her ribs. Her back and kidneys. Felt no bruising. Another nightmare.

The feather bed, hand embroidered pillowcases, and butter yellow bedroom reminded her she was safe. Dropping her head in her hands, she used her breathing technique to slow her racing heart.

A male laughed, and Catherine bolted up in bed. Was Matt already here? She dressed, made a mad dash through the bathroom, and then went in search of the voice. A brown pickup sat beside the main house. With no sheriff’s cruiser in sight, she sighed in relief, her heart rate slowing.

“Good morning, Mrs. Williamson,” Catherine called out.

“We’re in the garden.”

When Catherine reached the tool shed, she stopped. A sizzle of fear stood the hair up on her arms. The man who caused the ruckus at the bar last night by flirting with her stood next to her landlady. Even though he wore a ball cap today, Catherine recognized Vince immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to leave.

“Don’t go on my account,” he said.

“Please stay, and call me Emma.” Mrs. Williamson beamed at her. “We’re talking about some handyman work.” Emma introduced Catherine to Vince Bradley and told him Catherine had rented the cottage.

“Mr. Bradley and I met last night at the bar.” Catherine shook his extended hand. His palm was sweaty, and he held on to her a second too long. Vince had been all over her last night at the bar. His smile made her fear antennae rise and vibrate.

“Yes, we did.” He paused. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He was tall like Matt but proportioned differently. Proof of Vince’s appetite for beer hung over the top of his jeans and pushed outward on the snaps of his western shirt. His gaze trailed over her body, setting her temper right on the edge.

The sun beat down on her head and within minutes sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. After a minimum of small talk, Catherine used the heat to excuse herself and retreated to the air conditioning of the cottage.

She made her bed and laid out the night’s work clothes. Matt would arrive soon, and the building excitement spooked her a little, confused her. A light tap on the door put an end to her mind wandering. She swung the door wide to find Vince on her porch. The smile disappeared from her face.

She braced her feet apart. He wouldn’t get inside. “What do you want? There’s nothing we need to say to each other.”

The heat had taken its toll on Vince. Last night’s alcohol mingled with perspiration and drained profusely from his pores. Catherine instinctively recoiled. He smoothed a hand over his receding hairline and then wiped across his belly.

“Sorry about last night. Jessie acts pretty stupid when she’s drunk.”

Catherine’s anger edged toward relief. “Fine. No real harm was done. We can forget it as long as it doesn’t happen again.” If Vince wanted to put things right, she’d accept his apology. She stepped out on the porch when he offered his hand, because no way was he coming inside. He clasped his fingers around hers tightly and squeezed. Then he leaned closer.

“I’m leaving her at home from now on. You and me, we can be good friends without her getting all bent out of shape.”

Catherine jerked free, disappointed in herself for trusting. She glared at Vince, hoping to drive her message through his thick skull. “Get this straight. We’ll never be ‘friends,’ whether Jessie’s with you or not.”

She stepped backwards. When she felt the knob under her hand, she stepped inside, slammed the door in his face, and then locked it, trembling at the fury churning through her body. Her knees went weak and brutal memories came crashing in, but she pulled herself together. Fear would not control her. She’d taken self-defense courses and learned how to fight if she had to. Nobody would mistreat her again. No more being bullied and no more accepting the blame for someone else’s behavior.

Getting showered and dressed for work took precedence over fretting about a foolish drunk. She fixed her face and hair, then slipped on the yellow western-cut blouse to go with her jeans. Catherine studied herself in the mirror. Nope. No outward signs she was a killer. The Tulsa newspapers and reporters told a different story. As had Andy’s family. In her mind, she knew the truth. Her heart never let her forget she’d taken another human being’s life.

Considering the treatment she’d received from the cops in Tulsa, being drawn to the sheriff seemed odd to Catherine. Matt made her warm inside, and the feeling scared her. She’d shared her bed with only one man...her husband. He’d repeatedly pointed out her sexual performance was stiff and inept. Something was missing in her. The subject was moot. No way would the sexy sheriff want her.

The knock on her door startled her. She hurried to the front window and peeked out, careful not to open the door without checking. A shiny black pickup was parked in the driveway. Matt stood on her porch, and the sudden lift to her mood made her smile.

“Hey,” she said while her brain searched for something clever to say. “Nice truck.” She hurt inside that she didn’t know how to make casual conversation. The sheriff had a quiet, self-assured manner, and Catherine thought it might be nice to have a friend. At least until the time came for her to move on.

“Hey, yourself.” He handed her a cup of coffee. “It’s black and from the Stop’ N Go. You won’t find a Starbucks for miles. I don’t know your cell number or I would’ve called.”

“It’s perfect. And appreciated.” She backed out of the way, commanding herself to relax. He’d only asked for her number, yet her heart sputtered as if he’d asked for a date. “Come in. I’ll write it down for you.”

He stood quietly looking at her.

She felt her cheeks color under his scrutiny while she jotted down the information. She slid the cheap throwaway phone into her purse and handed the scrap of paper to him. His hand closed over hers when he traded her slip of paper for his business card. An open flame wouldn’t have sizzled more than his touch. A shock of heat ran through her, straight to unfamiliar places.

“Mine’s on the back.”

“Are you stopping by the bar?”

He cleared his throat. “I can’t. I’m interviewing friends of Julia Drummond today. My free time will be limited until I get her home, safe and sound.”

“I understand and appreciate you driving me to work.”

“I wanted to see you again.” He waited while she locked her front door and followed her to the passenger side of his pickup where he opened the door for her.

Catherine didn’t know how to respond. She remained quiet until he backed out of the driveway. “Why?”

“Why...what?”

“Why would you want to see me again?”

He chuckled at her with an I-can’t-believe-you-said-that expression. “That’s an odd question coming from a beautiful woman.”

“Thanks. Now you’re just being kind.”

“Not hardly.” He slowed his pickup then turned to look at her. “Whoever screwed up your self-confidence was either stupid or blind.”

“Suffice it to say, I haven’t been told I was beautiful a lot in my lifetime.”

“Then he was a damn fool.”

Catherine didn’t want to continue along that line of conversation. She needed to change the subject. “Any news on the missing woman...Julia?”

“Nothing, yet.”

JC pulled in the bar’s parking lot right behind them, making their timing perfect. He took her keys and shooed her inside, telling her how he and Matt would handle the men’s work. An hour later JC came through the door. He'd paid a heavy price for installing the battery in the sweltering heat. His brown hair was damp, and his shirt clung to his body. Guilt hit Catherine hard when sweat dripped from his chin.

Marty handed him a bar towel. “God, you look like you’re gonna stroke out on me.”

“I brought a clean shirt.” He tossed Catherine her keys. “Here you go. She started right up.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She moved her tip jar to the front of the bar. “By the end of the shift, I’ll have enough money to pay you.”