Suspicion (22 page)

  "But what did he want with you?" Frankie persisted. "Did he say anything?"

  "I think he was upset over the fact that I’m investigating Gina Lamont’s murder."

  "Is that what he said?" Mitch asked.

  Kate gave a small, bitter laugh. "No, he put it in a much cruder way, but I got the message. He also said-" she paused, willing her voice to remain steady "-that if I didn’t do as he said, or if I talked to the police about him, he would go after Alison."

  Frankie’s hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God!"

  Mitch was beside Kate in an instant. In a gesture that reminded her of his gentleness the night Alison had run

  away, he took her hand in his. "’That’s not going to happen, Kate. He was just trying to scare you."

  "Well, he succeeded. Which is why I can’t afford to screw up." After a pause, she added, "If I find out that you betrayed my trust, I swear I’ll skin you alive."

  Mitch, his face serious, nodded. "You can trust me. In fact, we don’t even need to talk about it anymore. You can tell us the details tomorrow. Right now, you need to see a doctor."

  "No." Kate pulled her hand away. "No police and no doctor."

  "Kate, don’t be stubborn. You’ve been battered. You have to be checked out."

  "A doctor will have to report the incident to the police. Even if I made up a story and told him I fell down a flight of stairs, he probably wouldn’t believe me."

  "This doctor won’t ask any questions."

  Kate threw him a suspicious look. "Why? What is he? Some kind of quack?"

  "Russell is one of the finest doctors around, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut. When necessary, he even makes house calls."

  Arguing with him would have taken every ounce of strength Kate had left. With a small sigh, she waved for him to do as he pleased. She didn’t stand a chance anyway, not with that look of determination in his eyes and Frankie so clearly on his side.

  Dr. Russell Blackstone was in his mid-thirties with windblown brown hair, serious eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses and a gentle smile. Judging from the blue-striped pajamas sticking out beneath his trench coat, he had either forgotten to dress or hadn’t wanted to bother.

  "Mitch tells me you fell down the stairs," he said after he had sent both his friend and Frankie out of the room.

  "Mitch has a warped sense of humor."

  "I won’t argue with you on that one." Gently lifting Kate’s pajama top, he ran his fingers over her rib cage, lingering a little over the tender spots. Then, coming to stand in front of her, he inspected her bruised cheek.

  "I washed the area thoroughly and then dabbed it with peroxide," she informed him.

  Russell Blackstone smiled. "That’s still the best treatment there is for surface wounds." He pulled out a penlight from his bag and shone it into her right eye, then the left. "Are you experiencing dizzy spells? Double vision? Nausea?"

  "No, nothing like that. Mitch is making a big deal out of nothing," she said, embarrassed to have dragged a tired doctor out of bed. "He shouldn’t have bothered you."

  "It’s no bother." He took a small plastic container from his bag and handed it to her. "Here’s a mild sedative, just for tonight. Take it. You’ll sleep better. Tomorrow, try to stay in bed and take Advil as needed. If you need something stronger, give me a call." He walked back into the foyer and called Mitch and Frankie back.

  Mitch was the first one in. "How’s she doing?"

  "There’s nothing broken and no concussion. She’ll have to take it easy for the next day or two. Other than that, she’ll be fine."

  "Thanks, pal. I owe you a home-cooked dinner."

  Russell winced. "I’ll pass. Unless, of course, you plan to have the dinner catered." He winked at Kate. "If at all possible, don’t let him near your kitchen."

  Laughing, Mitch wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. "You’re such a pessimist. One of these days, I might just surprise you."

  Frankie watched the two men walk out of the room and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Some girls have all the luck. It’s not enough that you have a gorgeous cop looking after you, but your doctor is a dead ringer for George Clooney. When I had the flu last month, tender loving care came in the form of my aunt Bernice."

  "What happened to Romero?"

  Frankie snorted. "Romero is a dirty, stinking pig. He’s out of my life forever."

  Before Kate could ask the reason for the breakup, Mitch was back, carrying Frankie’s coat. "Okay, young lady," he said, helping her into it, "you go on and get some sleep. I’ll take care of your friend."

  Facing Kate, Frankie rolled her eyes skyward as though she was in ecstasy.

  "I don’t need to be taken care of. So why don’t you go, as well?"

  "Because if I did, you wouldn’t get any rest. You’d worry about that ape all night. You’d come down every ten minutes, check all the doors and all the windows, go back upstairs and stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. By morning, you’d be a wreck."

  Kate fought back a smile as Frankie bent down to kiss her cheek. "Seems to me as if the man’s got you all figured out, Boss," she whispered in her ear.

  "Oh, shut up."

  Mitch walked Frankie to the door and waited until she had safely driven away before returning to the living room. "And now it’s your turn to go to bed." Wrapping an arm around Kate’s waist, he helped her to her feet.

  Kate took her time. As she walked, she could feel the shift of Mitch’s hard body against hers. It had been a long time since a man had held her that close, and longer still

  since she had found the experience pleasant, even mildly arousing.

  "I can manage the rest of the way by myself, thank you," she said as they reached the staircase.

  ‘"Are you sure?"

  "It’s going to take a lot more than some goon roughing me up to put me out of commission." She nodded toward the hall. "By the way, there’s a guest room in back of the kitchen. Bathroom is next to it." Since he was determined to play bodyguard and would no doubt do an excellent job, the least she could do was make sure he was comfortable.

  "Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather sleep on the living-room sofa."

  She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She started up the stairs, one step at a time. "You’ll find bedding in the hall closet."

  "Thanks, Counselor. Holler if you need me."

  Fat chance of that.

  Three hours later, Mitch was still up, surveying the deserted street from Kate’s living-room window.

  Standing vigil was an old habit, one he had performed dozens of times in various parts of the world. Tonight should have been no different. But it was, and he knew it. Tonight, he was standing vigil for a woman who was beginning to matter a little too much.

  Maybe he should put a stop to it before he was in too deep. A small chuckle rose from his throat. Judging from the way his gut had contracted when Frankie had called to say that Kate had been hurt, he was already in too deep.

  He tensed as a car went by, relaxing only when it had disappeared.

  When had she become so damned important anyway?

  He’d thought all he wanted from her was a date or two. A few laughs. And some hot sex. Nothing more complicated than that. And surely nothing lasting.

  So why the hell was he still awake at three o’clock in the morning, feeling so damned restless and analyzing himself to death?

  Cursing under his breath, he moved away from the window and pulled the drapes shut. The sofa, with the plump pillow and thermal blanket he had found in the hall closet, suddenly looked too inviting to resist. Hoping there would be no interruptions, he stripped down to his shorts, tossed his clothes on a chair and slipped into the makeshift bed.

  Arms crossed under his head, he closed his eyes and tried to blank out the intrusive image of Kate in those silky blue pajamas.

  Kate woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the rattle of pots and pans.

  Opening her eyes, she tried to focus on the sounds and smells, wondering at the same time why she was still in bed.

  Then she remembered. The attack in the underground garage; Frankie and Mitch coming to the house; Mitch insisting she see a doctor; Mitch announcing he was staying. And now… Now what? What was he doing down there anyway?

  Holding her breath, she stretched her legs, testing them before swinging them to the side of the bed and pushing herself up. She was still a little groggy from the sedative Dr. Blackstone had given her. But as she slowly made it to the bathroom, she was pleased to note that her body was much more pliant than it had been the night before.

  The fine, needle like shower spray felt good on her tight muscles. Tilting her head back, she let the water run over her hair and tried to keep her mind blank, but that was no easy task. Last night’s images were still so fresh in her mind that she could almost feel her assailant’s hot breath on her face, feel the bile rising in her throat as he talked about Alison.

  After nearly ten minutes under the water, she stepped out of the shower, toweled her hair dry and slipped into

  the thick white cotton robe she kept on a hook behind the door.

  What she needed to clear her mind and steady her nerves was a cup of that wonderful coffee she was smelling. She was worthless in the morning until that first cup.

  Focusing on that thought, she walked into the bedroom-and almost collided with Mitch.

  "What the devil are you doing up?" he barked.

  Kate nearly burst out laughing. His hair still damp from his own shower, he stood in the middle of the room, holding a breakfast tray. On it was a steaming cup of coffee, cream and sugar, toast and a plate of scrambled eggs. Somewhere he had found a champagne flute, then filled it with water and put a red carnation in it. She recognized the flower from the bouquet in the foyer.

  It was sweet, unexpected and definitely not something she would have associated with Mitch Calhoon. It was also exciting. Especially since she couldn’t remember the last time a man had brought her breakfast in bed. "What’s all this?"

  "Breakfast. Frankie called to remind me that you probably hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. So I whipped up something I hope is edible."

  "Shouldn’t you be at work?"

  "My shift doesn’t start until noon. Now get back in bed so I can unload this."

  Realizing she was starved, Kate slid obediently under the covers, sitting cross-legged so he could set the tray on her lap. "I thought you couldn’t cook."

  "Don’t believe everything you hear." Mitch pulled over a chair and sat down. "I hope you like your eggs scrambled. I don’t know how to make them any other way."

  "As a matter of fact, I do." She picked up her cup. "And the coffee smells divine."

  "You’re in luck there. Coffee is one of my specialties."

  She took a sip, then another. "Mmm. Excellent."

  He watched her take a bite of her eggs. The bruise on her cheek was beginning to turn blue and her lower lip was swollen, but besides that, she looked terrific. Even this close and with no makeup, he couldn’t find a single flaw in her beautiful face. He would have been perfectly content to stay here all morning and just stare at her.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her cheeks coloring slightly.

  "Because you amaze me," he said honestly. "Most ex wives I know wouldn’t lift a finger to help a former husband, and here you are, risking your life for yours."

  He could tell by her self-conscious chuckle that she wasn’t comfortable with compliments. "I wasn’t aware that I was risking my life. Now that I do, you can be sure that I’ll be a lot more careful."

  "I’m glad to hear that." He settled back. "How did you sleep?"

  "I don’t think I moved. The sedative your friend gave me must have worked." She glanced at him above the rim of her cup. "You?"

  Sleep had eluded him for a long time. When it had finally come, it had been restless. "Like a baby," he lied. "Your sofa was very comfortable." That much was true.

  "Hmm." Her eyes, so dull the night before, were beginning to sparkle again. "Don’t get used to it."

  "You’re firing me?"

  "Let’s just say that your talents would be wasted here. It’s obvious my attacker accomplished what he set out to do-scare me half to death. I doubt he’ll be back. Unless, of course, I give him a reason to."

  He was glad to hear her speak with such logic. It would make his solution for ensuring her future safety that much easier for her to accept. "Speaking of your attacker," he said after she had wolfed down the rest of her eggs, "are you up to telling me what happened last night? With as many details as you can possibly remember?"

  Kate nodded as she reached for her coffee cup again. "I was working late," she began. "Trying to make up for the time I had lost earlier. It was a little after ten when I left."

  "Alone?"

  "No. One of the other attorneys walked down with me. He even offered to walk me to my car, but I saw no need for him to do that. The garage was quiet, well lit. My car was only a few feet away."

  "You never saw the man who attacked you?"

  "Not at first. There was a blue van parked next to the Saab. He must have been hiding behind it." She recounted the attack, the warning, the threats. "I shouldn’t have called Douglas," she reflected, worried that her daughter would overhear him talk to Rose. "If I had taken time to collect myself, I wouldn’t have done it. But I was frantic about Alison. The thought that such a monster could lay even a finger on her-" Her voice broke. Tears of anger and frustration threatened once again, but this time she was able to fight them off.

  "He won’t." Mitch took the tray from her lap and carried it to the dresser. "And telling Douglas about the attack isn’t going to put Alison in danger. On the contrary, he and Rose will take even greater precautions to protect her now."