Tough Customer

CHAPTER 13

SKI STARED AT HER FOR SEVERAL MOMENTS, THEN LOOKED AT Caroline, who purposefully avoided looking back. He settled on Dodge, who mumbled unintelligibly and patted his pocket in search of a cigarette.

Ski asked him, "What's she talking about, she called Starks?"

"They told me about it while you were..." He gestured to indicate Ski's business outside the small room, then, using his former cop's verbal shorthand, explained the nature of the telephone conversation as Caroline and Berry had described it to him.

Ski assimilated it, searched for the logic behind it, and came up dry. He wanted to ask Berry what the hell she'd been thinking but figured he should contain his incredulity and soften the language a bit.

"This call. Was it to his house or a cell phone?"

"House phone," she replied. "Why?"

"We hoped we might locate him using GPS to track his cell phone signal. But the phone has to be on. Each time we've called his number, we get a recording saying it isn't in use."

"He would know better than to leave his cell phone on."

"Right." He paused for a moment, then asked the question he really wanted the answer to. "Why did you feel an apology was necessary?"

"Dodge just told you."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I'd said horrible things to him. I'd told him he was pathetic. I'd called him a creep."

"He is a creep," Ski said.

"I know, but maybe if I hadn't been so cruel to him that day, he wouldn't--"

"You are not responsible for his actions."

She didn't refute him, but nor was she convinced. "I wanted to make amends. I was trying to be nice."

Again Ski looked toward Caroline to gauge her reaction, but she averted her eyes. Dodge's opinion, however, was plain. He raised his shoulders and gave Ski a look that said,

Women. What can you do?

When Ski came back to Berry, she was staring vacantly at a point in the center of his chest. "I never would have guessed that an apology could have such awful consequences." Her gaze moved up and connected with his.

The guilt and misery he read in her eyes twisted something deep inside him. He felt her pain, wished he could alleviate it, wished he didn't know what it felt like.

"If Oren was out for revenge," she continued, "why didn't he shoot me? Why not me instead of Ben? Why kill that innocent boy?"

She looked so haunted, Ski didn't have the heart to say what he was thinking: That she should have thought twice about being nice to a man who'd stalked her relentlessly. He imagined she now realized that better than anyone in the room. It would be needlessly cruel to underscore it.

Changing the subject, he asked, "Did you pick up on anything Miss Arnold told us?"

"Nothing that would help. I agree that it sounds as though Oren was sleeping, probably with the pistol in his hand. They startled him awake. He fired the gun reflexively."

"His shot has improved a hell of a lot since he plugged Lofland," Dodge remarked.

"Why couldn't he have missed that boy?" Berry asked miserably, rhetorically.

Everyone would be asking that for a long time, and there would never be a satisfactory answer.

After a thoughtful silence, Ski continued. "Tire tracks matching those we found near the lake house were discovered behind the motel. He'd parked in a dense grove. The car wasn't visible from the highway or from the road behind the motel."

"After this, he'll ditch the car as soon as he can," Dodge said.

Ski nodded in agreement. "In the meantime, every peace officer in the state is on the lookout for a Toyota of that make and model. But still no definite color, no tag number. You heard me tell Lisa Arnold that we found a pair of shoes in the room. Apparently Starks left them when he fled. We've got shoe prints going toward the place, footprints going out.

"He used a towel, bar of soap, so we can get DNA and match it if he's ever caught. We can put him in that room, which is good if it comes to trial. But we've got to catch him first, and he's leaving us few clues. He didn't take anything into the room with him."

"He took the pistol," Dodge said.

"He took the pistol," Ski repeated grimly. "But no food wrappers, no empty drink cans, no extra clothing. Nothing was left in the trash cans. No sales receipts. No maps or brochures. Nothing that would point us in a direction."

He hesitated, then added, "The bullet's still in the body. Once it's removed, we'll match it to those we retrieved from the lake house and Ben Lofland. We must assume he still has the weapon."

No one spoke for a time.

Then Caroline said, "I thought all the motels and lodges had been canvassed. Was that one overlooked?"

Ski shook his head. "Checked but eliminated. Starks hadn't registered. He busted the bathroom window at the back of the building and crawled inside."

"How long had he been there?" Berry asked.

"No way of knowing," he said. "The room was cleaned--or so the owner says--three days ago. Hasn't been rented out since. Starks could've gone there straight from the bait shop Friday night and been there all day yesterday. Maybe he didn't get there till after dark last night. Anybody's guess. He needed shelter, a place to rest. He's got a bum leg."

Ski explained that the footprints bore that out. "One's deeper than the other. He's favoring his right leg. He needed a place to crash and took his chances on the room remaining vacant at least for last night."

"But it didn't." Berry's voice was almost inaudible. She hugged her elbows, and Ski noted goose bumps on her arms. She murmured, "I can't bear to think of what that boy's parents are going through."

"They're going through bloody hell, and you're right, Berry, it doesn't bear thinking about." Caroline stood up and retrieved her handbag. "What happened to their son could still happen to you. Oren Starks is aware that, if he's caught, he can be tried and convicted of killing Davis Coldare based on that girl's eyewitness testimony. He'll lay the blame for that mishap on you, and that makes him an even greater threat than he was before."

Dodge also came to his feet. "I agree."

"Then we're all on the same page," Ski said. "I'm going to double the number of men watching the lake house."

Dodge said, "I'm moving out there."

Caroline looked at him sharply. To her he said, "I'll stay in the room where Lofland was shot. Nobody else wants to sleep in it." He turned back to Ski. "Better swear me in as one of your reserve deputies."

"There's required training."

"Considered me trained."

"Can't do it, Dodge. I'm trusting you to--"

"Don't trust me to do a damn thing except kill that fucker if he shows up. He's upped his ante tonight. If I see him, his ass is fried."

Officially Ski wouldn't sanction vigilante law. But he'd been the one who'd had to break the news to the Coldares that their son was dead. He'd personally escorted them to the morgue to ID their boy's body. Friday night's crime at the lake house had been a grudge shooting, an act of jealousy, a personal vendetta that he had originally thought petty.

But now Oren Starks had killed an innocent kid in cold blood. Starks would receive his rights as guaranteed by law, but Ski would extend the man no mercy. Secretly he hoped, as Dodge did, that he was presented with an opportunity to take the killer out.

As Dodge and Caroline prepared to leave, she reminded him that his car was at the lake house. "You'll have to ride back with Berry and me. We'll stop at the Cypress Lodge on the way to pick up your things."

Ski said, "You two take care of that. I'll drive Berry home."

Once they were in his SUV and under way, Ski said, "I wanted to talk to you about Sally Buckland."

Berry sat stiffly in the passenger seat, staring forward, wondering if he realized that he had started using her first name. Another formality had also been dropped. It seemed to have been tacitly agreed that Harris Carlisle was no longer necessary. As they left the courthouse and went their separate ways, Dodge hadn't cautioned Berry against talking to Ski alone. With the fatal shooting of Davis Coldare, it was clear who the culprit was.

When she didn't respond to Ski's statement, he asked if the AC was all right.

"It's fine. What about Sally?"

"What's she like? As a person."

"Attractive, but in a modest, bookish sort of way. The librarian with distinct possibilities."

"I'm getting a mental image. What are her traits?"

"Character traits?"

Hoping to relieve her dull headache, she pulled the elastic band from her ponytail and shook out her hair. In addition to having the headache, she was exhausted. As a result of not sleeping long enough after taking the medication, she felt hungover and lethargic. Her eyes stung from an inadequate amount of sleep and the recent threat of tears. The sun was coming up, but it didn't lift her spirits. Rather, sunrise seemed like a mockery.

Ski was saying, "Is Ms. Buckland outgoing and talkative? Shy? What?"

"More toward an introvert, but not especially shy. She's conscientious. Anxious to please. That's why it was such a conflict for her to disappoint Oren."

"Is she a gossip?"

"I never knew her to be."

"A liar?"

"Again."

"Jealous? Malicious?"

"Not in my experience."

"Then why would she insist to me that you were lying about Oren Starks? There's no question now that everything you've said about him is true. In fact, you underestimated him."

"Unfortunately," she whispered.

"Don't beat yourself up."

"I can't help it. I shouldn't have called him."

He let that go for the moment, and she was glad. He had every right to rub in what an ill-advised move that had been.

Returning to the subject, he said, "If Sally Buckland's experience with Starks was similar to yours, why would she tell me the direct opposite? And this is what really puzzles me. She said you were lying before I'd even spoken the word stalker. She disputed the accusation before I made it."

"I'm sorry," Berry said, meaning it. "I can't fathom why Sally would lie, because it does seem entirely out of character. Perhaps to avoid involvement? I don't know. What I do know with certainty is that she left Delray because of Oren."

"Which brings me back to why she would lie about it." Looking frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair. "The whole conversation with her was..."

"What?"

"Off. But don't ask me how, because I don't know. It just was. I asked a Harris County deputy sheriff to go by her place, ask her some questions and get a read on her, but she wasn't at home. I've tried calling her again several times. No answer. Do you know where she's working now?"

"Last I heard she was freelancing from her house."

"Well, I want to talk to her again, first chance I get."

"You've been busy."

"I've been chasing my tail with nothing to show for it but a dead kid who was the light of his parents' life."

Urging him to let go of his guilt was pointless. She felt the same way. "As Dodge said, Oren upped his ante tonight. He has to be feeling the additional pressure."

"I hope. Stressed-out crooks get careless, make mistakes. My guess, he'll abandon that car soon if he hasn't already. Unless he's got a backup, he'll have to steal another. I'll be watching for reports of stolen vehicles. Also public transportation. Or," he said with a grim smile, "we might get lucky, and that Toyota will be stopped by a state trooper within the next five minutes, and Starks will come out with his hands in the air."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Me either."

She studied his profile for a moment and saw the fatigue in his face. "You're putting in long hours on this case."

"That's the job."

"What does your wife think of the overtime?"

He turned his head and looked at her.

Quickly she said, "I only ask because you seem to have been on the job since my 911 call."

"I won't go home except to shower and shave until we've got Oren Starks in custody."

"Where do you live?"

"On the lake. I've got a boat."

"Is your place near Mother's?"

He chuckled. "Hardly. That's the high-rent district. My house is half that size. Maybe less. The lot is only three quarters of an acre. It's nice, private, but nothing like your spread."

"It isn't mine. It's my mother's."

"Same as."

He waved to the reserve deputy as they turned in to the private lane. When they reached the house, he pulled around to the back.

Berry opened the passenger-side door. "Thanks for the ride." She could just as easily have ridden with her mother and Dodge. She hadn't answered many questions. Ski hadn't asked many, and what he'd asked, he could have done by telephone.

He got out when she did. She said, "You don't have to see me in."

"I'll feel better leaving you alone if I check the house."

"I won't be alone for long. Mother and Dodge are right behind us." She glanced toward the lake, where another deputy was stationed near the pier. "And with the two guards--"

"I'll feel better if I check."

Why argue? She turned and walked toward the back steps, retrieving the door key from beneath a pot of pink caladiums.

"That's not very safe."

"The alarm is set." She climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. The beeper went off. "See?" She punched in the code to disengage the alarm.

He reached beyond her and depressed the status button on the keypad. The LED showed that no interruptions had been made to the system since the alarm had been set. "Do all the doors and windows have contacts?"

"I think so."

"Glass breakage and motion detectors?"

"I assume. Mother is usually here by herself, so she's always cautious."

"Okay."

Berry set her handbag on the kitchen table. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Thanks, but I don't have time for it. I gotta shove off. You should get some sleep. You've had two short nights."

"I'd like to take a nap. Later I plan to go to the hospital to see Ben."

Ski's eyes narrowed fractionally.

Immediately she went on the defensive. "I haven't seen him since he was carried out of here on a gurney. Yesterday, I stayed out of his room because of the ugly scene with Amanda. But I'm entitled to go and see about my friend."

"I'm sure your friend will appreciate a visit. His wife won't."

The emphasis he'd placed on the word friend didn't escape her. "No, she probably won't. Because she, like you, can't get past the fact that I was naked when Ben was shot. In light of everything else, isn't it rather juvenile and ridiculous to be hung up on that?"

She stepped around him and headed for the door that led into the rest of the house. Over her shoulder she said, "You can see yourself out."

Before she'd taken two steps, he caught her shoulder with one hand and brought her around, pulling her against him. "I don't have a wife," he said in a low voice. "And the reason I can't get past you being naked is because I saw you naked."

Then he kissed her, hard and thoroughly, planting his tongue firmly inside her mouth. However, the kiss lasted for no more than a few seconds before it ended, and he set her away from him abruptly and decisively.

His chest inflated around a deep breath that he then expelled in a gust. His eyes skittered around the kitchen, stopping at random points before connecting with hers. Roughly, he said, "You could have the book thrown at me for that."

Berry's own breath was coming in short, insufficient gasps. She stared at him for several seconds, then reached up and linked her fingers behind his head. "To hell with the book."

She drew his head down as forcibly as he'd pulled hers to him moments earlier. She pressed her mouth against his, and, after the briefest hesitation on his part, the kiss resumed, hotter and hungrier than before. This is what they'd been moving toward. The mutual hostility had been a defense mechanism used by both in an unsuccessful attempt to deceive themselves. It had been about this from the start.

One of his arms curved around her waist while his other hand cupped her butt, and, using both, he pulled her high against him until she was on tiptoe, and he was fitted into the notch of her thighs, and, oh, my God, he was hard and solid, and it felt so good. Immediately her body grew warm and wanting, and when she inclined her hips to make the contact even more evocative, a growl vibrated from his throat.

The kiss intensified. It was that kiss you're lucky to experience once in a lifetime. That kiss that defies the rules, that banishes conscience, that is purely sexual. That kiss that makes you feel vibrantly alive and positively doomed. That I'm-going-to-die-if-I-don't-fuck-you kiss.

She thought he might.

She thought she might.

And they might have.

If they hadn't heard the car's approach.

The engine died. Doors closed. She and Ski released each other and sprang apart. She thought she probably should tug down her blouse, smooth down his hair, but there was no time because Caroline and Dodge were coming in through the back door.

Whatever Caroline was saying died on her lips as she cleared the doorway and drew up short, her eyes seesawing between Berry and Ski.

She had stopped so suddenly that Dodge ran into her back, crushing a grocery sack between them. Apparently sensing the electrically charged atmosphere, he took his turn looking back and forth between them.

Always the diplomat, her mother ignored the awkwardness of the moment. Pleasantly, she said, "We stopped at the supermarket and got some things so I could cook breakfast. I hope you'll join us, Ski."

"Thanks, but I can't."

Without another word or a backward glance, he squeezed past them and left.

Caroline and Dodge turned to watch his hasty retreat, then came back around to Berry. If they'd had question marks painted on their faces, they couldn't have looked more curious.

She backed away from them and through the connecting doorway. "I'm not hungry."