Bear Bait (9781101611548) (26 page)

Blake opened the front door, his arms clasped around a full grocery bag, and stopped, studying her. She waited for his smart remark. Simon bounced off the couch with a meow of greeting for him.

Her housemate strode into the room, leaving the door open as he moved toward the kitchen, Simon following at his heels. As he passed, he said, “Hot dress.”

“I concur.”

She turned back to the door. Chase, clean-shaven and blue-suited, leaned against the frame, grinning.

It was funny how she was getting used to him showing up unexpectedly in all sorts of places. For once, luck was with her; she was freshly showered, her hair was combed and lay shining around her shoulders, she’d shaved her legs
and armpits, and she was fully dressed. Smiling, she gestured him in.

“A
very
hot dress,” Chase reiterated. “On a
very
hot woman.”

“But I clomp.”

“I’m sure your clomping is hot, too.” He shrugged off his suit coat and deposited it on the couch. Crossing the room, he came up behind her and put his arms around her. They regarded themselves in the mirror. His shoulder holster and gun added a thuggish note, turning them into a petite blond Bonnie and a tall dark Clyde.

“I’ll bet Nicole doesn’t clomp.” Sam turned in the circle of his embrace and lifted her face for a kiss.

“True.” He dipped her backward so far she would have fallen on her ass if he hadn’t been holding her. “But then, Nicole is never
hot
.”

He hauled her back up and she stood on tiptoe as their lips met. He smelled of lime aftershave and his chin and cheek were smooth against hers, not stubbled with whiskers as they had been in the woods—had that really been only three days ago? Marmot Lake seemed a world away instead of only a four-hour journey.

“Got time for dinner out?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no.” She pointed toward the open door to the laundry room, where one load rumbled in the dryer, one was rotating in the spin cycle in the washer, and another pile of dirt-encrusted clothes waited on the floor. She’d spent yesterday finding parts and fixing the leaking drain pipe in the kitchen, and was just now getting around to her laundry.

Blake rounded the refrigerator, a bunch of Italian parsley clutched in one hand, a paring knife in the other. “Stay,” he commanded, looking at Chase.

“Yes, sir.” Chase dropped onto the couch and tugged at his tie.

Sam kicked off her left shoe and slid her foot into one from the other pair. “Bone or taupe?” She turned slowly sideways, gazing expectantly at her housemate.

Blake responded, “Don’t ask me. Heels are not my style at all.”

“Mine, neither,” she replied.

“Dress color?” Chase asked.

“Aqua.” She frowned at herself in the mirror. “I hope it turns out to be closer to turquoise than sea green. Pastels make me look like a corpse.”

“Go with taupe. More versatile.” The blue-patterned tie slithered from around Chase’s neck, and he stuffed it into a pocket of his suit coat.

“Dinner is nothing fancy,” Blake told him. “Ravioli and salad. And this wonderful sourdough herb bread I found at TJ’s.”

“Sounds like heaven.” Chase stood up. “What can I do?”

Blake stepped out of sight and then returned a second later, holding a corkscrew and a large chopping knife. “Choose your weapon.”

Chase yanked a bottle of wine from the pocket of his folded sport coat, crossed the floor, and took the corkscrew. “I’m basically a nonviolent type.”

“Then ditch the gun.” Blake disappeared behind the refrigerator.

“Deal.” Chase unsnapped the holster from his belt, and tossed it onto his jacket on the couch. Giving Sam a wink, he, too, vanished into the kitchen.

She’d fretted about whether her macho FBI agent would get along with her gay housemate. Now she was starting to feel like a third wheel in her own home.

“I’ll make the salad,” she yelled. “Be back in a minute.” She dashed into her bedroom to change.

She felt short without the heels but more like herself in worn blue jeans and an orange cotton sweater and flip-flops. Chase reclined against the blue-tiled counter, sipping a glass of red wine and regaling Blake with a story about thieves who chained a cash machine to the bumper of their pickup. Blake stirred a pot of tomato sauce.

She took the salad makings to the table and started chopping. Chase moved into the dining area, handing her a
glass of wine as Blake slid the bread into the oven. She glanced at the wine bottle on the counter. What were the odds that Chase just happened to bring Chianti when they were having pasta? This had to have been prearranged. Maybe the men had met at the grocery store?

“Blake,” she said, “have you heard teenagers say ‘five’?”

“Five what?” He knelt and took a large pot from a lower cabinet.

“Nothing, just ‘five.’ Like a smart-ass answer to a question.” At least that’s the way Joe had explained it to her when she’d stopped by the district HQ to tell him about the rose and the headlights last night. “You know—‘what are you up to, kiddo?’ ‘Five.’” She mimicked a teenage voice on the last word.

“Hmm.” Blake considered as he filled the pot with water. “I’ve never heard Hannah say that, at least not yet. But she’s only twelve.” He shot a glance at Chase. “Hannah’s my daughter.”

Chase didn’t even blink. Maybe he knew a lot of gay men with children.

“Well, this girl’s thirteen,” Sam told them both. “Ranger Joe Choi’s daughter, Lili.”

Chase guessed, “Maybe it’s some kind of teenage shorthand for the Fifth Amendment.”

“As in “taking the fifth’?”

“That’s the only part most people have heard of.” He launched into a quotation. “No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.” He finished with a swig of wine.

Blake looked stunned. “Good grief. Who knew all that other stuff was in there?”

Sam quartered a small tomato and tossed it into the bowl. “You think a thirteen-year-old would know the Fifth Amendment?”

“Oh, man,” Blake said, “Never underestimate what they know. Hannah informed me yesterday that plants bend toward light because the side away from the sun grows faster. I work in a friggin’ greenhouse, and I didn’t know that. It’s kind of scary.”

Sam laughed. “I know what you mean. Lili told me ‘Aunt Sam’ sounded like a transvestite.”

They both turned toward Chase.

“You don’t want to hear any of my stories about the baby monsters I’ve encountered, believe me.” He set down his wineglass, picked up a quarter of tomato, and tossed it into his mouth. “‘Five,’ huh?”

She knew that he was thinking about the numbers carved into the trees. “Kind of weird how all these numbers keep cropping up, isn’t it?” she said.

“It’s downright hinky.” He grinned.

She cleared the salad makings from the table.

“Silverware? Plates?” Chase asked.

Sam pointed to a drawer and a cabinet. “And placemats in that drawer over there.”

It seemed so natural to have Chase there. How did he do that, just slip into place wherever he found himself? She watched with admiration as he discussed cooking with Blake throughout the meal. Chase favored fiery Asian and Mexican dishes. Blake was studying French cuisine right now at the culinary program at Bellingham Technical College. They found common ground in French-influenced Vietnamese food. Her own cooking didn’t extend much further than grilled cheese sandwiches, so she wasn’t able to contribute much other than her opinion as a taster.

After dinner she left the men to clean up while she attended to laundry. Simon kept her company from the top of the dryer, paws curled under his chest as he supervised
the transfer of wet clothes from the washer. He took offense when she moved him aside to press the Start button. She was cuddling him against her neck and apologizing when Chase came in with a serious expression on his face and a manila envelope in hand.

She looked up from Simon’s fur. “What’s that?”

“Autopsy results. Lisa Glass.”

“Anything unusual?”

“We got a match on her prints.”

“So you know where she’s from? You found her family?”

“We don’t have a verified identity yet. Her prints match those found on the padlock of the mine shed the C-4 was stolen from.”

“
Lisa
stole the C-4?” Sam yelped. The girl had seemed so young and vulnerable. “I suspected she wasn’t telling the whole truth about what happened at Marmot Lake, but…that’s a surprise.” Now it seemed probable that C-4 had been used to open up the mine. What went wrong? Who set the fire? “What else?”

“Lisa died of bleeding into the brain. Apparently it was too slow to be caught at first, and by the time they realized her confusion wasn’t just smoke inhalation, it was too late.” He opened the envelope and thumbed through some photos, selected one, and thrust it toward Sam. “She had a tattoo on the back of her left shoulder.”

The image gave her a start. An upside-down peace symbol, or perhaps a stylized tree, surrounded by curling ivy. “Was this a permanent tattoo?”

“Henna; I’m told that can last as long as three weeks.” Chase raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Joe Choi’s daughter has this same tattoo. Can I take this?” She waved the photo in the air.

Chase looked startled. “Uh…no. I shouldn’t even be sharing this file with you.”

She took the photo to her office, woke her computer and scanner from hibernation mode. She quickly scanned the photo and printed it on her color copier. Chase followed her
in and frowned at her actions, but said nothing. She handed the original back to him. “What does that tattoo mean?”

“We don’t know yet. We’ve got a tech running it through the data banks. Of course, it might just be a popular design, like dragons and angels.”

Dragons and angels. Some days Sam felt like she was living in a foreign country.

“And remember that slip of paper you gave me from Lisa’s Bible? The Seattle address is the Veterans Administration Office.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What would Lisa be doing with the VA?”

Chase shrugged. “Who knows?”

“And the other note, Frazier in Wyoming?”

“We’re still working on that.” He returned everything to the envelope. “I may find out more tomorrow.”

They went back into the living room and watched a sci-fi show with Blake. Sam liked the way that the women characters were warriors equal to the men. She liked even more the fact that Chase and Blake either didn’t see anything remarkable about that, or at least chose not to comment on it if they did.

Chase showed no sign of leaving. Surely he and his partner were booked into some hotel. During a commercial, she asked, “Where’s Nicole?”

“San Juans again,” he said. “With hubby, ’til Tuesday.”

“That must be nice.”

“Must be.” He made a face. “She left me to deal with the task force meeting in Seattle tomorrow at eight thirty.”

At ten o’clock, she yawned and stretched elaborately, raising her arms over her head. “I’ve got to be back at work by ten tomorrow morning. I have my alarm set for five,” Sam told him. “I was planning on an early night.”

Beside her on the couch, Chase stretched, too. “Sounds good to me. Seattle’s a two-hour drive.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that and she couldn’t bring herself to ask with her housemate not twenty feet
away. She stared at Chase and tried to divine what was going on behind his clear brown eyes.

Blake snorted from his recliner. “Do you two need
instructions
?”

When Sam stopped laughing and could breathe again, she stood up and held out her hand to Chase. “Coming?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Good night, Blake. Thanks for dinner.”

“Any time, Bro.”

Bro? Now she was sure that these guys had colluded. What personal details had Blake shared with Chase? Even more worrisome, what had Chase asked?

Thank goodness that her sheets were newly washed and the room was in reasonable condition, her sunflower quilt smoothed over the queen bed, and her old sweats kicked into the closet.

“An honest-to-God bed,” Chase remarked happily. “I was beginning to think you didn’t own one.”

The cat observed from her bookcase headboard as they undressed, but she nudged him out of the bedroom before she stripped off her underwear. Chase slid between the sheets, and she climbed in after him, pulling herself up on top of him, relishing the warm hardness of his chest against her bare breasts. Putting an arm on either side of his head, she pressed her lips to his, and felt his instant reaction hard against her inner thigh.

“Mi corazón,”
he groaned, his hands cupping her backside.

“Querido.”
This time it came out sounding natural. With enough practice, she could get used to these endearments. And she would certainly welcome getting used to the other feelings she was experiencing right now.

After their lovemaking, lying on her side with Chase snuggled up against her, she wondered if the noises she’d made had been as loud as the hallelujah chorus ringing in her head. She wavered between wanting to drift into a cozy sleep and wanting to repeat the performance. Who knew when they’d meet again?

Chase was still awake. She could tell by the firmness of his arms around her, although his breathing was slowing. He shifted a hand, pulled back her hair, and blew softly across her sweaty neck.

Suddenly she was back in the dark woods, a madman close enough to touch.
I could kill you right now.

“What’s the matter?”

She rolled over to face him. “After you left, I stayed Thursday night at Marmot Lake.”

He sighed. “I knew you would. What happened?”

She told him everything: the bear-kill site, the booby trap she’d set, the intruder and the white rose and the terrifying encounter.