Bug Man Suspense 3-in-1 Bundle (138 page)

“All right,” she said. “I guess it's only fair.”

Alena sat on the sofa with Callie beside her. The power had failed so many times that she finally turned off the television and just listened to the storm. Rain had not begun to fall yet, but the wind was carrying so much debris that it sounded like raindrops on the farmhouse's tin roof. Callie was engrossed in her usual stack of books, but each peal of thunder made her let out a quick shriek. Alena called Phlegethon up onto the sofa and had him curl up next to Callie so that the dog's soft fur might comfort her.

Ruckus suddenly snapped to his feet and growled at the door. Alena called him off just as the door opened.

Kathryn stepped inside and picked at her windblown hair. “It's getting bad out there,” she said. “The wind is really picking up. The rain can't be far behind.”

“You're home early. Didn't you have a good time?”

“I wasn't sure how Callie would do in this storm and I thought I should get back.”

“We were doing just fine,” Alena said. “You didn't have to end your evening early just to—”

The door opened again and Pasha stepped into the room.

“Alena, this is Stefan Miklos. Stefan, this is my friend Alena.”

Pasha nodded to Alena. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Would you excuse us for a moment, Stefan? I need to talk to Alena.” Kathryn took Alena by the arm and led her into Callie's bedroom and shut the door.

“Boy,” Alena said. “And I was feeling bad about you ending your evening early.”

“I need to ask a favor,” Kathryn said. “Would you mind taking Callie back to your place for a few minutes? I want to talk to this guy alone.”

“Why?”

“At dinner he mentioned my ‘boyfriend.' I never told him I had a boyfriend. I called him on it and he tried to flatter me—he said he just assumed I would have one.”

“You think he's lying?”

“I don't know, but I want to find out. Something's not right here.”

“Let me talk to him—I can tell you if he's lying.”

“How—by having your dog grab him by the throat? I don't want to confront him, Alena; I just want to ask a few questions.”

“What if you're right about him? What if he catches on and goes postal on you?”

“That's why I don't want Callie here.”

“Maybe you shouldn't be here either.”

“I just want to ask a few questions. I'll be careful, I promise. Take Callie back to your place, okay? In twenty minutes, come back and say she needs me—that'll give me an excuse to send him home.”

Alena shook her head. “I don't know about this.”

“Come on—it's what you would do.”

“Just because I'm a fool, that doesn't mean you have to be.”

“Twenty minutes—if he leaves before that, I'll call you.”

“You can't call—the phones are out. Which reminds me: Nick called.”

“He did? When?”

“While you were gone. He tried your phone, but he couldn't get through so he called mine instead. He says he needs to talk to you—it sounded important.”

“Where did you tell him I was?”

“I told him you were on a date.”

“What did he say? Did he sound jealous?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. Did he say what he wanted to tell me?”

“No—before he could tell me, my phone cut off too.”

Kathryn took out her cell phone and checked it—there were no messages. She dialed Nick's number and listened—there was no signal. “Try yours,” she said.

Alena did. She got the same result.

“Take Callie back to your place,” Kathryn said. “Twenty minutes, then come back. And please, keep trying Nick—it might be important.”

When the women came out of the bedroom they found Pasha sitting at one end of the sofa with Callie and Phlegethon curled up at the other.

“That is a very large dog,” he said.

Alena bent down to gather up Callie's books. “Don't worry about him,” she grumbled. “He won't kill you unless I tell him to.”

Alena took Callie by the hand, opened the door, and stepped out into the wind, Phlegethon following behind.

“Your friend seemed upset,” Pasha said.

“She's just a little overprotective,” Kathryn replied.

“That is a good quality in a friend.”

“Let me get you that drink.”

Pasha followed her into the kitchen. “You seem upset as well. Is something wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “A friend has been trying to reach me and the phones are out. He left a message with Alena—he told her he has something to tell me and he said it's important, but he got cut off before he could say what it is.”

“Who is your friend?”

“His name is Nick Polchak—he's the man who's been investigating my husband's murder. You might find this interesting, Stefan: Nick is a forensic entomologist.”

Pasha slowly nodded. “Yes—that is interesting.”

45

A
s he sped back to NC State, Nick kept trying Kathryn's number, hoping that the storm might let up just enough to give him a signal and let his call go through. Each time he tried the number and failed he found himself getting angrier.

What's she doing on a date? I'm breaking my back trying to solve her husband's murder, and she's out gallivanting around Sampson County with some salesman?

He tried again—no signal.

She never mentioned any salesman to me. Who is this guy, anyway? He just “stopped by,” Alena said. He just stops by and Kathryn goes out with him? That's a pretty good sales technique—I wonder what else he's selling?

Again—still no signal.

And what's with Alena? “He was hot—I wonder what he's doing tomorrow night.” What kind of a crack is that? It's nice to know what a woman is really like before you get in over your head.

Then he noticed it—the little icon on the cell phone screen that told him there was a message. He tried to retrieve the message, but the call would not go through. He kept trying until he finally got a connection; he quickly punched in the access code and password and put the phone to his ear.

“Nick, it's Kathryn. Where are you? You're not picking up and you're not returning my calls. I've got something I'd like to run by you. A salesman stopped by just now; he had a great suggestion for controlling my tobacco hornworms. I've decided to give it a try and I'd love to know what you think . . . You haven't been coming around lately. How come? Callie misses you—so do I. Call me, okay?”

Nick pulled his car off onto the shoulder and put it in Park. He reviewed the message in his mind.
A salesman stopped by . . . he had a suggestion for controlling my hornworms . . . I've decided to give it a try.

The message had been left days ago. Whatever that salesman was selling, Kathryn had already bought it—and whatever he advised her to do, it was probably already done.

Nick felt a cold finger run down his spine.
Who is this guy?

He tried Kathryn's number once more . . .

He heard the phone ringing.

Kathryn handed Pasha a bowl of mixed nuts and a plate of wheat crackers and cheese. “Why don't you take these out to the sofa—I'll get the drinks.”

Pasha took the bowl and plate to the coffee table and set them down beside Kathryn's cell phone. He took a seat on the sofa and waited.

“How did you get my name?” Kathryn called from the kitchen.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was just wondering. Your insectary is up in Raleigh—what brought you all the way down here?”

“Organic farms are few and far between,” he said.

“There are a couple in Raleigh . . . in Chapel Hill too. Those are a lot closer. Did you visit any of them?”

“Of course.”

There was a pause. “Really? Which ones?”

The cell phone rang.

“Would you mind getting that?” Kathryn said. “It might be Nick.”

Pasha picked up the phone and looked at it—he recognized the number. He pushed Send . . . and then a second later pushed Stop. “Hello?” he said into the dead phone. “Hello?”

Kathryn peeked around the corner. “Who is it?”

“No answer,” Pasha said. “It must be the storm.”

Nick pressed the phone tighter against his ear. The wind buffeting his car made it difficult to hear, but for a second he thought he might have had a connection. He looked at the phone: A number in the upperright corner of the screen told him that six seconds had elapsed on the last call. There had been a connection—but no one had answered.

He quickly tried the number again.