Cold Judgment by Joanne Fluke Page A

was different. It wasn’t just the sex thing, either. She felt safe with Mac and she hadn’t felt that way with any man since her husband.
    â€œI . . . well . . . yes!” Debra blushed to the roots of her hair. “I’d like to move in with you, just temporarily, of course, until things settle down. It’s really nice of you to ask me, Mac.”
    It took only fifteen minutes to drive to Debra’s apartment. Mac was grinning as he followed her up the stairs. The apartment building was old, but it was in good repair. Mac wandered through the apartment while she packed a couple of suitcases. Debra’s living room was tidy and bare of more than minimal decoration. There were no family photos, no pieces of memorabilia to clutter her bookshelves. Mac looked in vain for some evidence of her personality, but even the magazines on the end table were standard and unexciting.
    He poked his head in the small kitchen. There were no grocery bags or coupons lying about, no hastily written notes tacked to the refrigerator. The sink was clear of dishes and the porcelain was scrubbed to a dazzling white. All the pots and pans were highly polished, lined up on their shelves in precise geometric order. Even her Tupperware fit. Every lid sat on its matching container.
    The bathroom was perfectly nondescript. Matching towels hung on the rack. A bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner sat on the shelf over the sink. The level of liquid in both was the same. Mac shook his head. Such precision was almost frightening. Debra’s whole apartment looked like the models that builders showed to their clients. There was nothing personal anywhere.
    Suddenly Mac understood. Debra was hiding. If there was nothing of Debra on display, that meant there was nothing to criticize. She was too frightened to put the stamp of her personality on these rooms. Somehow he would have to change that.
    â€œMac?” He heard her call out to him. He found her in the bedroom, trying to close the lid of the suitcase. “I can’t get it shut!”
    She looked endearingly untidy. Her hair was mussed and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
    â€œSit on it.” Mac grinned and lifted her up. “Just wiggle a little and I’ll do the rest.”
    Debra laughed as Mac snapped the suitcase shut. “Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn. Nineteen fifty-seven. Love in the Afternoon!”
    Mac loaded her suitcases in the trunk and dropped her at the paper. He had to spend a couple of hours at the station. They’d meet later for dinner and then go home. He found himself looking forward to the end of the day.
    Now it was evening and they were sitting in his living room watching television. Mac smiled. It was surprising how much more he enjoyed his movies when he shared them with Debbie. Just having her next to him on the couch was a pleasure. He had never realized how lonely he had been.
    â€œ ‘I suppose I was in your way going down the rapids. Then what you said to me back there on the river was a lie about how you never could have done it alone and how you lost your heart and everything. You liar! Oh, Charlie, we’re having our first quarrel!’”
    Mac grinned as Debra mouthed the words along with Katharine Hepburn. She was staring at the screen intently, her crocheting forgotten on her lap. They were watching The African Queen, but Mac found himself watching Debra instead of the movie. She was so beautiful sitting there with the brightly colored skeins of yarn stacked at her side.
    It was almost like being married. There had been only one awkward moment when they’d first gotten home. Debra had been standing in the doorway of the spare room, staring at the single bed.
    â€œIt’s way down here at the end of the hall.” Her voice had quivered slightly.
    â€œWhy don’t you sleep with me?” Mac had taken the suitcases from her and carried them into his room. “I got used to you last