He turned back to her, hitching his jacket closer against that taunting wind, and went on in a conversational, almost friendly tone, In her case its maybe because shes a redhead. I seem to remember hearing somewhere that redheads dont like pink. Why is that? Think maybe because it clashes with their hair?
Or their skin tones, she said dully. And it was her turn, now, to watch him, and to wonder what might be behind the sudden transformation from steely-eyed lawman to easygoing companion. Be careful, Marybe careful. Hes trying to lull you into saying too much.
They started down the alley together, and after a moment, because the silence felt awkward to her, she said neutrally, So, your daughter has red hair?
Got it from her mother. Glancing at him she saw something flicker in his eyes, a brief darkness, like a birds shadow. It was quickly gone, though, and he added with an air of surprise, Come to think of it, she wasnt partial to pink, either.
Mary felt the keen blue eyes studying her, inviting her comment, but this time she had herself together enough to know better than to reply. They dont miss much, those eyes
They went the back way through the alley to the parking lot behind the courthouse that was reserved for law-enforcement vehicles and the various officers of the court. Mary knew this place; it was where shed been brought from the jail early this morning by two sheriffs deputies shed never seen before. Theyd put handcuffs on her and whisked her into the courthouse through a heavy steel door at the top of some concrete steps and into a barren little room where she was to meet with her lawyer, Mr. Klein, and change into the clothes hed brought for her to wear before the judge. She could still feel the cold bite of those handcuffsand the sick fear in the pit of her stomach.
Suppressing a shudder and making a conscious effort not to rub her wrists, she allowed the sheriff to guide her to an SUV with the departments logo on the side. He unlocked the door, opened it and waited for her to get in, then went around to the drivers side, taking off his hat as he opened the door, and tossing it onto the back seat.
Suppressing a shudder and making a conscious effort not to rub her wrists, she allowed the sheriff to guide her to an SUV with the departments logo on the side. He unlocked the door, opened it and waited for her to get in, then went around to the drivers side, taking off his hat as he opened the door, and tossing it onto the back seat.
Like were going on a date, Mary thought, and almost smiled at the irony.
The sheriff spoke briefly and, to Mary, unintelligibly into his radio, then started up the SUV. His ice-blue gaze slid across her when he turned to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space, and she couldnt hide her shiver.
Cold? he asked, and turned on the SUVs heater without waiting for her reply.
She turned her face quickly to look out the window, emotion catching her unawares. Why are you doing this? Why are you being nice to me? she wanted to ask-and then, to her dismay, she did.
If youve told me the truth about killing my b-Jason, he said, narrowed eyes focused on the road ahead, Ive got no reason not to be nice to you. Do I? She didnt answer, and after a moment he shook his head and let out a breath in an exasperated sigh. AhMary. I dont know what I can do to get you to trust me.
She gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. Trust you? You must be joking. You arrested me for murder.
She saw the depressions in his cheeks deepen with his frown before they were partly obscured by a big, long-boned hand scrubbed impatiently across the lower part of his face. Dammit, I told you, I didnt have a whole lot of choice. He threw her a brief, stinging look. The truth is, I-ah hell. Scowling through the windshield again, he growled, Look, I want the truth, thats all. If you didnt kill Jason, if youve got nothing to hide, thenthen for Gods sake tell me who you are. Tell me what your real name iswho youre being protected from.
Mary made an involuntary sound, then just gazed at him, heart pounding.
He turned his head to give her a sardonic little smile. Oh, yeah, Ive pretty much figured that part out. Look, dammit, he said, facing forward again, if youre a federally protected witness, you know Im gonna find that out sooner or later. The U.S. Marshals Office isnt going to protect you from a charge of murder.
Then why do you need me to tell you anything? she said bitterly, watching houses and yards flash by, bravely clinging to their fresh spring finery in the face of winters spiteful reprise. Blackberry winterthats what my mother used to call this weather.
Thoughts of her mother were so unexpected, and so predictably painful, she wasnt even aware of where they were until the SUV came to an abrupt stop. For a moment she stared at the little white clapboard house without recognizing it as hers. Then she noticed that while shed been in jail the big lilac bush beside the front porch had come into bloom, and that brought another flood of unwelcome memories.
I want to help you, the sheriff said softly.
She couldnt help herself. She laughed-and was shocked when she felt warm fingers brush her cheek.
Her breath snagged delicately, like roughened skin in fine silk. She caught and held it with infinite care, terrified to let it go for not knowing what might come with it. It had been so long since anyone had touched her this waygently, with that special kind of tenderness that happens between loversand how was that possible when this was the man responsible for her utter and complete humiliation?
She wondered what he saw when he looked at hera beautiful woman, a pitiful victim or a vicious killer? What did her skin feel like to his work-roughened fingers, and did he feel her blood surging hot and wild beneath it?
If youre innocent, why is that hard for you to believe? Its my job to protect the innocent, just as much as it is to catch bad guys.
His voice was like his fingerswarm, a little rough, but gentle and oddly stirring. His fingers caressed her cheek as he watched herstroked a strand of her hair aside as if it were an obstruction to his view. Under their hypnotic spell she no longer felt the least bit coldand yet she shivered. Protect? Who can protect me, if the marshals wont?
Loneliness and longing descended on her like a blanket, pervasive as the need for sleep; her eyelids grew heavy, and the muscles in her face and neck cramped with the fierceness of her struggle against the desire to rest her cheek on his hand.
I cant help if you wont talk to me, Mary.
Talk to me
Could he help her? Against all common sense, was it possible this man would protect her-this man who, by all indications, appeared to be trying to put her in jail for the rest of her life? What was it about him that, against all common sense, made the urge to trust him so strong? Was it his eyes, that seemed to know so much? His voice, so soft and yet so powerful? His hands, so strong and yet so gentle?
While she struggled with it, tense and silenton the verge of giving in, his hand left her cheek. He leaned across in front of her to open the door, muttering, Oh, hell, I just hope to God Harvey Klein doesnt catch me talking to you like this.
Her skin felt tingly and cold where his hand had been. She wanted to put her hand up and rub the spot, almost as if hed slapped rather than caressed her. Instead, in ignominious retreat, she cringed back from his arm and the too-intimate warmth of his body, grasped the door with both hands and held on to it for support as she slipped blindly from the car. With the pavement firm under her feet, she turned to slam the door, only to find the sheriff still leaning toward her, one arm across the back of the seat shed just left. The other hand was holding out a key.
Youre gonna need this. He nodded toward the house. Itll open both locks, here and the one at your shop.
She took the key and managed a stiff and grudging, Thank you.
The steely blue eyes seemed to darken as they stabbed into hers, and his mouth curved into what she knew better than to think was a smile. Im going to be watching you, Miss Mary. Count on it. So do yourself a favor-dont try to leave town.
Then she did slam the door. As she hurried up the walkway, she heard the SUV roar to life and drive away, but she didnt look back. She wouldnt look back.
Alone on the porch she paused, shivering with anger and cold and hopelessness, bathed in the scent of lilacs that was almost too sweet to bear. She stood staring at the criss-cross of yellow police tape and the padlock on the front door, with the key to the padlock a nugget of warmth in her cold hand. Warm from his hand And the thought of lifting it and inserting it into the lock, of opening the door and going alone into that strangers house, made her very soul cry out with loneliness.
Caught up in her misery, she almost didnt notice it at firstthe peculiar ratchety humming sound that seemed to come from nowhereand all around her. And thensomething soft, warm and heavy bumped her leg. As Mary stared down at the broad feline head covered with moth-eaten fur and sporting a pair of scarred and tattered ears, it nudged-incredibly-at her ankles. The strange snarling sound grew in volume. The mottled back arched and the raggedy tail quivered as the sinewy body twined and rubbed itself around her legs.
Oh, Cat, she whispered. And a tear fell with a soft plop to make a tiny wet stain on the wood porch floor.
Oh, Cat, she whispered. And a tear fell with a soft plop to make a tiny wet stain on the wood porch floor.
The days that followed were easier than Mary, in the long dark hours of that first sleepless night, had feared theyd be.
No sooner had she left the house the next morning, filled with dread but determined not to crawl into a hole and hide like a coward, than a sheriffs department SUV came cruising down the street and pulled up beside her. Her heart gave a drunken lurch and slammed into her ribs as the window slid down and a familiar rumbling voice drawled cheerfully, Mornin. Just happened to be passing this way, thought Id give you a lift to your shop.