The Green-Eyed Doll (5 page)

“No way.” JC waved her off. “Ain’t no big thing.”

“It was huge to me.” Catherine stared at the front entry. Matt hadn’t come through the door with JC, and she understood why. Still, a moment of unreasonable disappointment washed over her, which she tamped down. Keeping her distance from the sheriff was a good thing.

****

Sunday, July 30th, midnight

He hadn’t intended to kill her, but the bitch had kicked him. The hornets exploded and he’d choked her. Choked her hard and it was the biggest rush of his life.

Next time, he’d plan better. Next time, he’d find a doll who wanted him.
Next time?
He rubbed his bulging crotch.
Fuckin’ A
. No way was finding her a coincidence. He was meant to have his own doll.

He blew out a disappointed sigh and carefully applied a fresh layer of Mama’s powder and red lipstick to the doll’s ashen face. After retying the red bow around her neck, he sat back and studied her. A touch of glue on her eyelids and she stared straight ahead. Now she looked more like the green-eyed doll.

She’d have to wait here until he got off work tomorrow. He chuckled when he locked the trailer door. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go, and he’d lowered the temp on the air conditioner for her. He’d figure out a good spot to leave her. Pick a place she’d be easily found. She was too beautiful to let the varmints get at her.

Something hadn’t been quite right about her. She wouldn’t cooperate, and he’d whipped her more than once. He adjusted his cock. Had it turned Mama on when she’d taken that wire hanger to his naked ass? ’Cause it sure jacked him up. In fact, he’d had fun with his play thing after each punishment. He’d considered having her one last time, but she was too cold. The idea intrigued him. Maybe, he’d be inside the next doll when she died.

****

Monday July 31st, 11:00 a.m.

Catherine finished her grocery list then dressed to find a second job. Butte Crest, its quaint architecture and beautiful old homes coupled with the nicest people, made her feel welcome, like perhaps she’d found a place to build a new life. A flash of panic hit her, reminding her of why she never stayed too long. All it would take is one person to dig into her past. What would Matt think of her? Would he understand she’d done everything she could to get away from Andy?

Pushing the past from her thoughts, she counted her cash. She’d earned one-hundred-twenty-five dollars plus the sixty dollars for two shifts from Marty. Not enough to pay the rest of the rent and way short of what she needed to get the emissions on her car fixed. She’d drive to the town square and ask around, maybe someone needed help during the week, other than the funeral parlor.

A potted plant of African Violets sat on her porch. She didn’t find a card. Shivers hit her arms. Surely that ass Vince hadn’t dropped them off. Matt? No, that was wishful thinking. Had Emma left a welcome gift? Catherine stopped at the main house on her way to town.

Emma opened the door wearing a cotton housedress complete with apron. The blue flowered print matched the color of her eyes and complimented her curly silver hair. Catherine instinctively reached one arm out and hugged the older woman. “Thank you.”

Emma’s eyes widened with surprise. “For what?”

“The flowers. Didn’t you leave them for me?”

Emma looked at the pot in Catherine’s hand. “I didn’t.”

“There’s no card. Wonder who brought them.”

Emma stepped outside on the porch. Her brows dipped. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “I should’ve noticed if someone was on the property. My George would’ve been plenty upset with me for talking to your friend, Mr. Bradley.”

“Vince Bradley isn’t my friend. In fact, he scares me.”

“Then I’ll find someone else to do the work.” Her tiny frame straightened.

“Your husband would be proud of you. There’s one other person who might’ve dropped them off. He drove me home and to work when I had car trouble.”

Emma beamed at Catherine. “A secret admirer.”

“Could be.” She marveled at the flutter in her stomach. “I’m going in to town. Can I bring you anything?”

“Nope, can’t think of a thing.”

“Okay, I’m off to hunt for a day job.” She handed the plant to Emma. “Will you take care of my flowers? With my brown thumb, plants don’t survive long.”

Catherine ran back to her car and waved as she pulled out of the driveway. She understood the loneliness Emma must feel, not having anyone to care for. Not having anyone who cared about her.

****

Monday, July 31st, 12:30 p.m.

Catherine had walked the square and checked with every shop owner or boutique clerk. Nobody needed help. She’d found a particularly beautiful green and yellow silk scarf she wanted to buy, but good sense prevailed, and she’d hung onto her money. Her brain was fried, and her feet were killing her by the time she got back to her car. She turned the air conditioner to high before driving away.

The further she drove, the hotter the air coming from the vents on her dash became. Had she run over a black cat? Broken a mirror she didn’t remember? What had she done to bring about this run of bad luck? Could somebody please move this elephant sitting on her chest? A pity-party wouldn’t fix the air conditioner. She drove out to the Final Touch Funeral Home, killed the engine, and prepared to scratch a recently added item off her
Never
list...working around dead people.

Stepping from the blistering heat outside to the ice cold air in the waiting room of the funeral home made her light headed. No, the abrupt change in temperature wasn’t it. She’d stopped breathing. In and out, she commanded her lungs.
You can do this...in and out.

A young girl sat behind the desk with a Teen magazine in front of her. “Can I be of service?”

“I’d like to apply for the job if the position’s still open.” She’d passed the first hurdle and was stronger for it.

“Great. Take a seat. I’ll see if Mom has time to talk.”

The cut-off jeans and Dallas Cowboy jersey the girl wore made Catherine hope the owner might be desperate for a receptionist. The teenager strolled down the hall, opened a door, and yelled for her mother. Catherine listened to the slap-slap of rubber flip-flops as the girl returned.

“I’d hire you myself if I could. School starts mid-August, and I’ve been stuck in here all summer.” She flipped her long blond hair over one shoulder before returning to her magazine,

Catherine cleared her throat. “What happened to the previous employee?”

The young girl looked up and pain radiated from her face. “This was Mom’s job. She’s helped in the back ever since Dad died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Catherine’s insides crunched.

“Say it like that every time, and you’ll do fine.” An older version of the girl working the desk came toward Catherine. Her dark slacks and blouse took on the somber tone of the funeral home. “Susan King,” she said. “And I’m joking. I’d expect you to do more than that. Are you the woman the sheriff mentioned?”

“Catherine McCoy.” She clasped the woman’s extended hand. “If he said nice things, I am.”

“Come on back. Judy, take a message if anyone calls.”

Catherine followed the woman down the hall into a small, neat office where they chatted briefly. The job amounted to simple filing and a three-day workweek. Mrs. King’s staff consisted of her daughter and the mortician, Steve Abbott. Her laid-back personality was endearing, and Catherine surprised herself in trying hard to get the job.

“Then I’ll leave you to fill out the application. Give it to Judy on your way out.” Mrs. King handed Catherine some paperwork. “I’ll let you know something by tomorrow.”

Catherine thanked her and dug out the necessary information. An hour later, she walked out into the heat. The sign on the bank across the street read one-hundred-four degrees.

Waves of heat came up from the pavement and made breathing difficult. When she opened the car door, hot air billowed up, scorching her face as if she’d opened an oven. In her grandmother’s day, they rolled down the windows. Catherine could do the same.

Chapter Four

Monday, July 31st, 6:00 p.m.

Catherine’s door opened, and the smile on her face convinced Matt he’d made the right decision by calling her. He hadn’t planned to ask her for a date. It was just going to be a courtesy call. The minute he’d heard her voice, things took off in a different direction.

“Is that look for me?” he asked.

She laughed. The sound was magical, pulling him into her good mood. Being around her helped him forget how alone he was, except for the dog he couldn’t pet.

“Come in. Susan King called right after you did. I start tomorrow. I’ll work Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.”

Matt entered her house and stepped into her scent. He breathed in the faint whisper of vanilla. “Congratulations.”

“It’s filing and working the front desk, but that’s fine with me. I’m never going in the back.”

A fleeting look of sorrow darkened her face. She’d told him over burgers she was a widow. Did the funeral home bring back painful memories of her dead husband?

“The King family has a reputation for being the best. It takes a special calling to run a funeral home.”

She tucked a red curl behind her ear and frowned for a second. “A special calling. I didn’t think of it that way.”

“You ready?”

“I am. Let me get my purse.”

He followed her outside and opened the door to his pickup. She stepped up and in with ease. His mouth went dry while his eyes feasted on long legs. Good Lord, they ran on and on. His groin tightened, followed by a deep ache. She’d think he was some kind of perv if he didn’t get his libido under control.

“Will you back out slowly? Emma likes to know when people come and go.”

“Sure thing.” After she buckled up, Matt forced his attention away from her extremities, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. “How about I cook a couple of steaks at my place? I haven’t been home more than a few hours in the past couple of days.”

“I’d love it. Someone else waiting on me will be a nice change after the weekend.”

“Sorry I haven’t had time to check on you. Everything going all right at the bar?”

“The job’s okay. I had a few dust-ups with a couple of drunks. Thankfully, JC keeps a close eye on the waitresses and Marty.”

Matt wasn’t about to analyze why the idea of some guy hassling her, or JC looking out for her, sizzled a nerve. “Good. Make sure he walks you to your car or at least watches until you drive away.” He frowned at her raised eyebrows. “Don’t go all I-can-take-care-of-myself on me.”

“The news reported you haven’t found the missing woman. Not a good sign, huh?”

“No, it’s not.” Matt parked in his driveway and turned toward her. “Look. I’m not trying to scare you or boss you around. Just want you to be aware.”

He opened her door and wrapped his hands around her waist when she started out of the pickup. He lifted her and helped her to the ground. “Pay attention to your surroundings, okay?”

“Okay.”

She’d never know how close he came to kissing her. Damn, he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Her full lips drew him to her. Pulled with the strength of a magnet. Her hands pushed against his chest.

“Turn me loose.” Her tone dropped an octave with each word, sending him back a step.

“Of course. I don’t know where my mind went.” Crap, he hadn’t acted this foolish since junior high. Vulnerability hid under that layer of tough-girl independence, and he found her captivating.

Red flags of color hit her cheeks. “I do.”

“Come in.” He got the message to back off. The dog approaching from the barn provided him an excuse to change the subject.

“I better feed him first. He’s always hungry.” Matt grabbed a sack of groceries from the bed of his pickup and carried it inside. “I wouldn’t try to pet him,” he cautioned as he put the bag on the counter.

“What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one, he…” Matt’s jaw dropped, and he stared in amazement. Catherine had squatted down, and the big lummox of a dog had his head buried in her hands. “I don’t believe it. Ungrateful mutt eats my food but won’t let me near him.”

“He’s a sweetheart. You can’t own a pet and not name him.”

“He doesn’t belong to me.”

“Obviously he does. He lives here with you.”

“We sort of share space. We do talk. For some reason, he hasn’t told me his name.”

“Tell me what I can do to help with supper.” She walked to the sink to wash her hands.

“You can scrub those two potatoes, wrap them in plastic wrap, and stick them in the microwave. Push the button marked ‘Potato.’ That thing thinks for itself. I’m going out back to start the fire.”

Catherine was standing in his living room when he stepped back inside. She smiled and her beauty hit him in the gut. She’d called him John Wayne the other night. Shit, his attraction to her was far from heroic. It was old-fashioned lust. He’d also been unable to keep her out of his thoughts. She was not only beautiful...she had a secret. And secrets made him curious.

“Want the grand tour?”

“Please.”

“Not much to see.”

The living room furniture consisted of one leather recliner and a big screen TV. He had no pictures of family to show her, but then there were no tables to set them on. They passed by a couple of rooms with unpacked boxes setting around. He paused in the hallway before allowing her to venture into the his bedroom.

“I’m not much of a housekeeper,” he admitted when she got a look at his unmade king-size bed. Until now he hadn’t noticed that it looked like a small army had marched over it. The closer she got to the bed, the closer he got to her.

She turned and bounced off his chest. Instantly her cheeks turned pink.

“I’ve seen enough. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome to look around anytime.”

He inched closer, raised his hand to her cheek, and drew a line down her jaw with the tips of his fingers. He tipped her chin up and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. Somebody moaned. Thank God, it was her. In a quick move, Catherine stiffened and pushed him away.