See No Evil (12 page)

He shrugged. “I've got my laptop in the truck. I can work in Seaside as well as here.”

“And miss the beach?” I was truly horrified.

“The beach is sandy. And the ocean is salty.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“About what?”

I shook my head sadly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to rethink my opinion of you.”

He grinned, but I wasn't certain that I was teasing. How could a shore lover ever hook up with an anti-shore philistine?

D
orothy Ryder's viewing was one of the saddest things I had ever been to.

When Gray and I arrived at the funeral home Friday evening, the parking lot was nearly full. We joined the steady stream of people going inside even as I wondered where the people arriving after us would find space to park. The death of someone as young as Dorothy always brings a large response. Add to that the violence of her death and the splashy newspaper coverage, and it seemed all of Chester County had turned out.

Ken stood in the front of the room by the head of the closed casket. He had that shell-shocked look on his face that I had seen on my grandmother's face when my grandfather died and on my father's when Mom died.

Just beyond Ken stood a man and woman with silver hair. They wore the same disbelieving, lost expression, and I thought they must be Dorothy's parents, enduring the unthinkable pain of burying a child. Near them stood two couples about Ken's age. Dorothy's siblings, I decided.

The line was long, and as we moved slowly forward, I watched Ken. He shook hands with the men and hugged the women, who often kissed him on the cheek. As we ap
proached, I could hear a woman telling Ken a story about Dorothy bringing her family meals when she was in the hospital.

“How old do you think she was?” I asked Gray. I stared at the large picture of Dorothy sitting on the casket. She had been a very lovely dark-haired woman with strength and purpose shining in her dark eyes.

Gray shrugged. “Thirty-five? Forty? Somewhere in there.”

“So sad.” I sighed for the abrupt and tragic ending of one who had apparently been a very nice woman as well as a successful businessperson.

When Ken saw Gray, he tried to smile. “Gray. Thanks for coming.”

The men shook hands, and Gray patted Ken on the shoulder with that awkward show of affection men have. I hung back, not wanting to intrude.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am, Ken.” Gray's voice was rough with emotion.

Ken's eyes filled with tears, making me blink against the burning in my own eyes.

Gray put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. “This is Anna Volente, Ken. She was with me when we—”

Ken gave me the saddest smile. “I saw your picture in the paper.”

I nodded and gestured helplessly toward the casket. “I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Ken sighed, his shoulder sagging as he studied Dorothy's picture. Then he turned and introduced us to Dorothy's weeping family. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes, knowing how they hurt, remembering what it had been like when Mom died. I hadn't known what to do with all the love I'd still felt for her or how to fill that empty space in my
heart where she had lived. In many ways I still didn't. I ached for these people struggling with their versions of those emotions.

We moved on to make room for the many behind us. As we walked toward the exit, Gray looked at me with a crooked smile. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. “I'd hate to see you at the viewing of someone you actually knew.”

I wrinkled my nose at him as I blotted my eyes.

“You are such a girl.” He shook his head as if in disbelief.

“Is that a compliment or a criticism?”

He just grinned.

“It reminded me of my mom's funeral.”

“Ah.” He slid an arm around my shoulders and gave me a comforting squeeze as we reached the front door. He was very good at comforting squeezes. All those sisters probably.

We stood back as a man and woman entered. The man stopped when he saw Gray.

“Edwards.” Though he stuck out his hand, his manner was as friendly as a linebacker's as he faced his opponent in the Super Bowl. “Such a sad thing. And to think you found her?”

“Reddick, how are you?” Gray's manner was cool, too, and he ignored the question in the man's voice.

“Have you met my wife?” Mr. Reddick asked. “Josie, this is Gray Edwards.”

“Hello.” Josie didn't offer a hand, and she looked at Gray with barely concealed dislike. She was a tall, slim woman with a beautiful face marred by her cold, hostile expression. I expected arctic winds to start blowing despite the hot, humid temps.

After introducing me, Gray said, “Hal's a builder too.”

Ah, Reddick Brothers, a name even I knew. Competitors. Cobidders on the downtown project. That explained the chilly demeanors. Reddick Brothers had lost. Edwards Inc. had won.

Hal looked toward the front of the room where Ken stood, momentarily alone. “I bought our last two cars from him, and she was a partner in the CPA firm that handles my business account.” He shook his head. “Her death feels so personal. Josie and I have felt like a black cloud has been hanging over us ever since we heard.”

Josie Reddick nodded agreement though no tears sat in her well made-up eyes. “We'll miss her.”

Clearly about as much as I'd miss pneumonia.

“It's going to be a bear for Windle, Boyes, Kepiro and Ryder to replace her.” Hal frowned. “She was so good at her job. Even looked over my stuff recently what with Bob Boyes struggling with chemo treatments.”

Another couple came in the door, and the Reddicks were forced to move on.

“Lovely folks,” I muttered as we again stood aside to let the newcomers in.

Gray raised an eyebrow at my sarcasm. “Insightful of you to peg them so quickly. Most people think they're charming.”

“I'd say that he's nicer than she is. He's competitive like guys are, doing everything to win but moving on if he loses. While you'll never be his good buddy, he doesn't hate you. But Josie? Different story. She disliked me on sight simply because I'm with you. Going by that look in her eyes, she's never going to forget that you beat Hal. Never.”

“So it's a good thing that our paths rarely cross. Is that what you're saying?” He sounded amused as he leaned past me to hold the door.

I turned to answer and found his face very near mine. I could smell his shaving lotion, a smooth evergreen fragrance. It made me think of tall trees and woodsmen, strong things, just like Gray. “J-just don't let her find you in a dark, empty alley.” I looked over his shoulder at the Reddicks gladhand
ing everyone they passed. I looked back at Gray. “But I can tell that the best man definitely won.”

Gray grinned, his dark eyes warm and pleased. “Thanks, Anna. That means a lot.”

I gulped and hurried through the door. Talk about charm!

He took my elbow as we walked across the parking lot, and I liked the feel of his fingers on my skin. Since Glenn all those long years ago, I hadn't let myself be so attracted to a man. Sure, I'd dated. Sure, I'd enjoyed conversation with men. In fact I liked men's way of looking at life. But…

“You know, their house is my very favorite,” I said to get my mind back on mundane things. “Ever seen it?”

Gray shook his head.

“Big barn with an addition. Huge. Wonderful landscaping. And guess what? They have my window treatments in all their windows.”

“And Josie didn't even recognize you?” Gray shook his head.

“She never met me. She only dealt with the interior designer, not the lowly seamstress.”

“I can't say that surprises me.” He opened the passenger door for me. “But it was definitely her loss.”

The intensity of his gaze made my breath catch. I was grateful for the few moments that I sat in the truck alone as Gray walked to the driver's side. By the time he climbed behind the wheel, I felt I had myself in hand. I sighed. I'd better, for the sake of my mental and emotional health.

We drove for a few minutes in silence. Gray seemed lost in his own thoughts, and I had no idea what they might be. It was a relief to reach home. Gray followed me in with the intent of checking out the house for intruders once again. He stripped off his tie and stuck it back in his pocket.

Rocky greeted us, delighted that I had come home. He
wiggled so hard it was a wonder he didn't dislocate something spinal. Tipsy lurked in the background, clearly still ticked at having to share his home with this interloper.

I leaned over Rocky, rubbing his ears and scratching his head. “Any visitors while we were gone?”

“I'm going to check the basement to be sure.” Gray rolled up his sleeves as he headed for the stairs. Rocky abandoned me without a second thought for the fun of accompanying Gray.

“You're not supposed to go down there,” I told both of them.

“We won't touch anything. Besides, there's no other way to be certain there's no one lurking,” he said, the very soul of reason.

I couldn't argue with his logic. “I won't turn you in to Poole unless it's either you or me.” I grinned. “Then it's you.”

I leaned down and lifted Tipsy so he wouldn't feel totally left out. What an armload! At first he held himself stiffly, miffed that I'd loved on Rocky first. I kissed Tips on the top of his head. He turned, showed me his fangs, then melted against me.

I stared at him, struck by an unexpected thought. “Is all that fang-showing supposed to be a smile?”

Tips gave no answer, just settled more comfortably in my arms.

Gray came back upstairs, proclaiming all was well. Rocky ran over to me and Tipsy stiffened, the hair on his back rising. He hissed his displeasure and swatted at Rocky who by now had learned to duck. Tipsy pushed away from me with enough force to leave bruises, hit the floor, and headed for Lucy's room at a run. Rocky loped after him, clearly delighted with the game of tag. I hurried after both of them and saw Rocky trying to wriggle under Lucy's bed to join his new best friend.
Since Lucy used under the bed for storing all her out-of-season clothes, I didn't give the dog much chance. In truth, I found it amazing that Tipsy could find room under there.

I changed into something more comfortable for the trip to Seaside and was throwing the last of my toiletries in my duffel when Rocky joined me. “Couldn't fit under, huh?” Fifteen minutes later, Rocky and I were seated in Gray's truck, me in the passenger seat, Rocky in the second seat, all buckled into his restraint, clearly miffed at his lack of mobility. He wanted to sit in Gray's lap.

Sorry, dog. I get first dibs.

“You're sure you don't mind him in your truck?” I asked Gray again.

“Anna, I work on a construction site. Compared to some of the things I have to cart around in this vehicle, a dog is nothing, even a lug like Rocky.”

I turned to the back seat. “He loves you, baby,” I said, rubbing Rocky's ears again.

Gray snorted. “I don't think that's quite what I said.”

I grinned at him. “But it's what you meant, I'm sure.”

Apparently Rocky thought so too because he leaned forward and rested his chin on Gray's right shoulder.

We were well along the Atlantic City Expressway when Gray glanced at me, curiosity obvious in his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“I've been dying to ask you this question ever since you fell on top of me the other night.”

“Don't remind me!”

“I ought to warn you.” He pulled into the left lane to pass a van stuffed to the gills with folding chairs, pillows, duffel bags, and kids. “I learned from my sisters that it's always wise to have something embarrassing you can hold over the head of anyone you have a relationship with.”

We had a relationship? How cool was that! Of course, the fact that it was Rocky who rested his head on Gray's shoulder, not me, said something about the depth of our liaison. “So what's your question?”

“Why isn't someone as beautiful as you married?”

Beautiful? Me? I almost swallowed my tongue in surprise.

“Or is there a guy out there that I don't know anything about?”

“No guy.”

“Never?”

I felt Gray glance at me, but I stared resolutely out the front window. I never talked about Glenn. It was too painful, too humiliating. Even Lucy and Meg didn't know about him.

“Mmm,” Gray said. “What was his name?”

“Glenn,” I answered before I could stop myself. “But I don't talk about him.”

“That bad?” Gray's voice was sympathetic.

“Worse.”

“He stood you up?”

“Is sending you a note as you're waiting in your living room in your wedding gown, all ready to get in the limo for the ride to the church, standing you up?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Was there someone else, or did he just change his mind?”

“My maid of honor. They've been happily married for five years now.” I could no longer decide whether that fact made me happy for him or sad for me. I guess the fact that the I'm-going-to-die-it-hurts-so-badly feelings had eased into the-most-embarrassing-thing-that-ever-happened-to-me meant I had gotten on with life.