Comes The Dark Part 20

"Are you still at Felicia's?"

"She offered to take me back to your place, but we're watching a movie right now. Well, I'm listening with my eyes closed. Are you finished working?"

He glanced at the laptop. "Not yet. Can you stay there a bit longer?" After the other night, he didn't want her at his place alone. She conferred briefly with Felicia before a.s.suring him there would be no problem. "Okay. I'll let you know when I'm heading over. We won't bother Felicia with a ride."

She agreed and hung up. He was about to open his computer again when a knock sounded on the door. "Sally, I told you-"

The door opened. Jamie stuck his head in. "Sally's gone home. In a bit of a hurry."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Thank G.o.d."

"Problem?"

"Yeah, she wanted me to go with her for a drink."

"And the problem is?"

"I don't want to."

Jamie pushed the door wide. The k.n.o.b struck the wall with a small crack. "c.r.a.p. Sorry."

Dan shrugged.

Jamie threw himself down into the chair recently vacated by Sally. "You really are into this Maris chick all the way."

"And if I am?"

"It could end badly."

Dan stretched his arms above his head. The chair rocked backward. He shifted his weight to bring it forward again. "Any relationship can end badly. Look at my marriage."

Jamie grunted in agreement. "What are you still doing here?"

"Catching up on some things."

"Like what?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," said Jamie, "it does."

Dan ignored him. "How'd your interview with Maris go today? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"I shouldn't."

"Suit yourself."

"d.a.m.n it, Dan!" Jamie's face had gone an apoplectic red. "You're a stupid f.u.c.king a.s.shole."

"Thanks. Appreciate the vote of confidence."

Jamie threw up his hands. "We could find both our heads on the block, and though you might not care, I fancy mine right where it is."

"I know you do. I really don't want to endanger your job. But if I'm sacked without any dirt flying your way, my job is yours. That's what you want, isn't it?"

After a moment, Jamie shook his head.

Dan narrowed his eyes. "Look, if there's anything you can tell me..."

Jamie maintained a stubborn silence until he finally released his breath on a long sigh. "I worked with her to narrow down the area where she got gas. I'm compiling a list of stations in the hope she'll remember which one. If not, I'll try to get someone local to check out all the surveillance cameras. For or against her, the timeframe of her travel is the number one priority."

"Understood." Dan picked the pen up from his desk and clicked it twice with the ball of his thumb.

"The hour she bought gas could eliminate Maris being here when Mabry died. It won't, however, fully eliminate her as a person of interest until we find out who did it for certain."

Dan swallowed and nodded. "What about the poison? Any idea how it was administered?"

"I can't answer that. You talk to Maris. I know you do. h.e.l.l, I would, too, in your position, but I can't risk that sort of contamination of the case. It could make the difference between a successful prosecution and having the case thrown out of court. If it comes to that," he added as concession.

"Yeah. If it comes to that." Dan had been locked out of the case file in the computer, but that hadn't stopped him from researching the various types of quick-acting poisons and how they could be administered. Without knowledge of the precise toxin, though, all the research in the world was a futile exercise.

"You should go home, Stauffer. Isn't Maris waiting for you?"

"She's visiting a friend. I'll pick her up in a bit."

"A friend? Good G.o.d, that woman works quickly all the way around-" Jamie dropped his head on a release of breath. "Sorry." He looked up. "I'm not trying to be insensitive. Is this someone she knew before?"

"No."

"Huh." Jamie pushed against the chair arms and stood. "Seriously. Go home. Or wherever. Just get out of here."

Dan waited until Jamie had departed before he logged out and shut down. He gathered up his paperwork into a folder, then reached into his drawer to grab a few things he wanted to take home. Forks and a crusty b.u.t.ter knife that needed to be run through the dishwasher, a credit card bill, some notes he'd been making on post-its about a trip he'd considered. In his haste, he scooped up more than he wanted, but he didn't have the time to sort it all out now. He shoved everything into the empty plastic bag from his lunch and then slipped on his coat. Before locking the door, he stood a moment gazing into the darkened office, thinking of how hard he had worked to get to this place in his career. Would it really come down to his job or Maris? He hoped not because he feared he already knew which he would choose.

Twenty minutes later, Dan pulled into Felicia Woodward's driveway. He spotted the flicker of the television through the living room window. A ma.s.sive shadow shifted across the wall, and his heart leapt into his chest. Quickly, he realized the shadow had been created by Felicia walking in front of a lamp. He got out of the car and strode up to the door where he rang the bell.

The door opened. Felicia greeted him with a grin. "Detective Stauffer."

"Felicia Woodward," he teased. They'd met the year before when she'd befriended another woman he'd known, one every bit as stubborn as Maris who'd been involved with a guy he'd had some professional involvement with out on the coastal highway. Last he'd heard, they were married. He'd doubted the longevity of that relationship, too, given the short time they'd known one another, but it appeared he was wrong. And now here he was, in the same position, falling hard for someone he barely knew.

"Come in. Your lady has fallen asleep on the couch."

Dan walked into the living room to find Maris curled in a nearly fetal position on the sofa cushions, one of Felicia's many crocheted throws draped over her body. He crouched on the floor and whispered her name. She opened her eyes.

"Dan! I thought you were going to call."

"I forgot."

He studied her sleepy face, feeling his mouth turn up into a stupid, half-grin, not caring that Felicia stood nearby, watching. After a few seconds, the woman walked away, claiming something needed her attention in the kitchen.

Maris sat up, the afghan falling with a thump to the floor at his knees. "What's wrong?"

He stood, restoring the blanket to the couch. "Nothing. Are you ready to go?"

"I-yeah, I think so. Sure." She looked around as if she'd forgotten something. "I have boots here somewhere."

Dan retrieved them for her and helped her put them on. He put his hand against the side of her face, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Leaning toward her, he pressed his lips to her forehead as an overwhelming tenderness rushed through him. "Come on. Let's get you home." He didn't bother with a qualifier. Right now, his home felt like hers, too.

"You're quiet," he said as they drove back toward town.

"Tired. I'm fine. How was your day?"

"Productive." He glanced in the rearview mirror. A pair of headlights shone through the darkness behind him at a distance that had been maintained with precision since he'd pulled back out onto the highway. He recognized the one light blinking with an odd, strobe-like effect whenever the car hit a b.u.mp in the road. The same car had been behind him on his way out. "Is your seat belt on?"

"Wha-yes."

"Hold on. I'm taking this next left."

He turned without benefit of signal or application of the brakes. Maris let out a squeak from her side of the car. Yanking beneath the shadow of trees encroaching on the lane, he braked quickly and shoved the car into park, shutting off the lights. Out on the highway, the car slowed down as it neared the side road before speeding up again. The model and make of the car were indistinguishable, the color a darker paint.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h. Somebody's been following me."

Wheeling the car around, he turned the lights on when he hit the main road, but by that time the other car had gone and several more were approaching behind him. Dan drove home and hustled Maris inside. He secured the front door and made a call to the station asking for frequent checks through the night. More and more, he suspected Jamie was right. These were not separate incidents, but connected somehow. Sure, he p.i.s.sed off many a criminal with arrest and prosecution, but he had a gut feeling Maris was the catalyst and not him. He refused to believe she was involved in any wrongdoing, so that could only mean one thing. She was a target. That might even explain the hit and run.

The gaping hole in the puzzle seemed to have grown larger, threatening to suck him down.

Chapter 20.

The threat to Dan, through her, was closing in. Sometimes she imagined she could push it away, like a blanket from her face. She woke up dreaming about danger and flailing out. Dan would always awaken beside her and whisper soothing words. He thought she was having nightmares about the car hitting her. She couldn't tell him the truth. He had enough to worry about. She needed to keep her senses open to all nuances in the world and beyond if she was going to protect him. And even then, she possessed no guarantee she could. Some things were meant to happen. As viciously cruel as that might appear to people who lived normal lives, it was true.

It had been three days since the car had followed Dan to and from Felicia's home. After permission from the police department to dispose of Alva's body, Maris had her great-aunt cremated. As soon as Maris felt up to the task, she would arrange a service. In the meantime, the mystery of her aunt's demise remained.

Jamie had approached Maris with the names of gas stations. She had picked two that sounded familiar. The detective had contacted a local police department to have someone there check out her story, to review video surveillance, or so Dan told her. She wasn't sure how he knew. He wasn't supposed to be privy to any information. She supposed Jamie allowed him a few select tidbits, enough to keep him satisfied.

Regarding Alva's Will, except for what Dan had let slip, Maris had heard nothing. The attorney had probably been told to hold off on contacting her as long as she remained a suspect. Because that was the gist of the department's motive, wasn't it? Guilt by greed.

Who would kill for a house? Alva Mabry couldn't have owned anything other than the old Victorian. Although if Jamie Rogers suspected Maris had killed Alva for her estate, her aunt must have possessed substantially more.

"G.o.d, I'm sick of this!"

Dan looked up from the newspaper. "Sick of what?"

Maris sighed. "A lack of resolution, I guess. Of suspicion and doubt. At some point, do you people-"

"Us people?"

"Police. Law enforcement. At some point, do you accept the fact you must be wrong even if you don't have somebody else to blame?"

He turned the page. "More often than we'd like."

Maris flopped back down on the couch. "I'm sorry I'm grouchy this morning."

"You had a restless night. I'm not surprised you're grouchy. Should we go get some breakfast?"

"Don't you ever cook at home?"

He smiled. "Not if I can help it."

"Doesn't it feel weird to you?"

"What's that?" He flipped another page.

"The two of us and the routine we've fallen into. Like this is our life. I've slipped into yours, yes, but I still have mine, and it's hung up in limbo."

Dan folded the newspaper onto his lap. "Once your doctor clears you medically, you can drive home, return to work. I don't think Jamie has enough to keep you here. At least, he's made no mention of bringing anything before the District Attorney. And he wouldn't. There's absolutely no evidence."

The flat delivery of his words indicated the depth of his hurt. She hadn't meant to offend. If she hadn't been able to read the emotion behind his statements, she would have been wounded herself by what appeared on the surface a brusque dismissal. Yes, Maris, go home, go back to work as soon as you get the doctor's say-so. I won't miss you, not one little bit.

She touched his hand. "I don't mean that. I feel like I'm teetering on a fence, and there's something frightening on both sides of it, but I can't see what awaits me in either direction."

"You can't see? The woman with the-what do you call it? The Sight. Why can't you see?"

Maris clasped her hands in her lap, rocking forward once and then back, as if she could rid herself of a tingling premonition with the movement. "I don't know, Dan. I don't know, and I'm frightened."

His expression altered, eyes focusing, jaw set. "What are you frightened of? Tell me."

"Oh, Dan, you care so much."

"Yes." Cautious, his agreement, both wary and defiant.

"People like us, we shouldn't fall in love."

"Why not?"

"Because you have such a concrete sense of duty and I...I have a sense of things I never should. I had half-hoped the injury to my head might rid me of it, but it hasn't."

"Maris."

She shook her head. "No, you're right. Let's go to breakfast. Where shall we go? The Timeless?"

Maris left him on the sofa and went back upstairs to dress. She combed her hair in the bathroom mirror, then fingered the short length of hair growing out where the bandage had been. If not for the scar showing beneath, angry still, raw and shining pink, it might have looked like she had shaved it for fashion.