them. I didn't appreciate
his scaring the bejeebers out of me, though I had to admit he looked
good-freshly shaved and wearing starched jeans with a soft yellow
sweater.
"Now that you know I'm alive and well," I said, "you can leave. I
have work to do." I headed for the kitchen.
"Work?" he said, trailing behind me. "It's after one in the morning."
"So?"
"Enough's enough," he said. "You'll run yourself ragged."
I stopped in the living room and turned around. "It's one A.M. on
your watch too."
"What has you all riled up?" A grin flickered at his mouth.
"You," I said.
"I think this mood started before you saw me."
"It's not a `mood.' I didn't ask you to look out for me. You have no
right to come prancing in here as if you own the place. And none of
what you've said explains why you were in the neighborhood to see
that the lights were turned on in the first place."
"Whew," he said. "That was a mouthful."
I blew out a breath. "Do you live nearby?"
"No."
"Then I'll repeat my question. What are you doing here?"
"Making the rounds," he said. "Looking for a killer lurking in the
shadows. I've spotted him before, out on the golf course."
"Who are you? The self-proclaimed watchdog?" The last thing I
needed was for McCall to stick his two cents in before Kevin had a
chance to come home and explain himself. "Just because you saw
someone doesn't mean he's guilty."
"He was acting guilty," McCall said.
"In your opinion. Ever consider you might be wrong?"
"Not about this. The guy was up to something."
My heart was still beating too fast, and McCall's innuendo about
Kevin wasn't helping. "I've had more than enough aggravation for
one night. Please go."
He looked around the room, making no move to leave. "Place
looks good. Millie have you working the night shift?"
"What's between me and Millie isn't your business," I said.
He stepped closer and lost the mocking tone. "Listen, sorry I
scared you."
I started to deny it, but I was trembling as if I'd just come from a
face-to-face meeting with Hannibal Lecter. I looked down, avoiding
his gaze, and rubbed my temples. My hair came loose from its clip
and fell across my forehead. McCall tipped his head and tucked the
hair behind my ear so he could look me in the eye.
"You okay?" he asked.
The intimate gesture had me momentarily tongue-tied. Finally, I
managed, "I'm fine."
"Did something happen here tonight?" he said. "I mean, before I
showed up?"
To turn the conversation away from his personal observations, I
told him about my run-in with Barton Fletcher.
"Fletcher's an oddball," McCall said. "To him, those homeowners
association rules are as serious as the Ten Commandments. Guy
probably takes pictures of everything. Flagpole too close to the street,
trailer parked in a driveway more than a day-he'll nail you."
"How do you know all this?" I said.
"I spend a fair amount of time in the area, doing odd jobs. Some
of them fixing problems Fletcher reported."
"I don't think that explains why he was out there tonight," I said.
"A father wouldn't turn in his own daughter."
"This one might," McCall said.
I was curious about the reason behind Fletcher's late-night photography, but I already had enough on my plate.
"I guess rules are rules," I said.
"Speaking of rules," McCall said. "Cops won't look favorably on
your violating their crime scene."
"I'm not. Troxell gave us the go-ahead. They're all finished here."
"So where's Millie?"
"At my house with her daughter."
McCall crossed his arms, nodding. "Now I get it. The infamous
Janice arrived, and she hasn't seen the house."
"Not yet. Which is why I need to get back to business."
"You can't work all night," he said.
"Yes, I can. Wouldn't be the first time."
"What about the Featherstone job?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll show up. Over there, I have you to
help me."
"I'm here too."
We stared at each other for a few seconds. McCall had intense
dark eyes, and I found it difficult to look
his scaring the bejeebers out of me, though I had to admit he looked
good-freshly shaved and wearing starched jeans with a soft yellow
sweater.
"Now that you know I'm alive and well," I said, "you can leave. I
have work to do." I headed for the kitchen.
"Work?" he said, trailing behind me. "It's after one in the morning."
"So?"
"Enough's enough," he said. "You'll run yourself ragged."
I stopped in the living room and turned around. "It's one A.M. on
your watch too."
"What has you all riled up?" A grin flickered at his mouth.
"You," I said.
"I think this mood started before you saw me."
"It's not a `mood.' I didn't ask you to look out for me. You have no
right to come prancing in here as if you own the place. And none of
what you've said explains why you were in the neighborhood to see
that the lights were turned on in the first place."
"Whew," he said. "That was a mouthful."
I blew out a breath. "Do you live nearby?"
"No."
"Then I'll repeat my question. What are you doing here?"
"Making the rounds," he said. "Looking for a killer lurking in the
shadows. I've spotted him before, out on the golf course."
"Who are you? The self-proclaimed watchdog?" The last thing I
needed was for McCall to stick his two cents in before Kevin had a
chance to come home and explain himself. "Just because you saw
someone doesn't mean he's guilty."
"He was acting guilty," McCall said.
"In your opinion. Ever consider you might be wrong?"
"Not about this. The guy was up to something."
My heart was still beating too fast, and McCall's innuendo about
Kevin wasn't helping. "I've had more than enough aggravation for
one night. Please go."
He looked around the room, making no move to leave. "Place
looks good. Millie have you working the night shift?"
"What's between me and Millie isn't your business," I said.
He stepped closer and lost the mocking tone. "Listen, sorry I
scared you."
I started to deny it, but I was trembling as if I'd just come from a
face-to-face meeting with Hannibal Lecter. I looked down, avoiding
his gaze, and rubbed my temples. My hair came loose from its clip
and fell across my forehead. McCall tipped his head and tucked the
hair behind my ear so he could look me in the eye.
"You okay?" he asked.
The intimate gesture had me momentarily tongue-tied. Finally, I
managed, "I'm fine."
"Did something happen here tonight?" he said. "I mean, before I
showed up?"
To turn the conversation away from his personal observations, I
told him about my run-in with Barton Fletcher.
"Fletcher's an oddball," McCall said. "To him, those homeowners
association rules are as serious as the Ten Commandments. Guy
probably takes pictures of everything. Flagpole too close to the street,
trailer parked in a driveway more than a day-he'll nail you."
"How do you know all this?" I said.
"I spend a fair amount of time in the area, doing odd jobs. Some
of them fixing problems Fletcher reported."
"I don't think that explains why he was out there tonight," I said.
"A father wouldn't turn in his own daughter."
"This one might," McCall said.
I was curious about the reason behind Fletcher's late-night photography, but I already had enough on my plate.
"I guess rules are rules," I said.
"Speaking of rules," McCall said. "Cops won't look favorably on
your violating their crime scene."
"I'm not. Troxell gave us the go-ahead. They're all finished here."
"So where's Millie?"
"At my house with her daughter."
McCall crossed his arms, nodding. "Now I get it. The infamous
Janice arrived, and she hasn't seen the house."
"Not yet. Which is why I need to get back to business."
"You can't work all night," he said.
"Yes, I can. Wouldn't be the first time."
"What about the Featherstone job?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll show up. Over there, I have you to
help me."
"I'm here too."
We stared at each other for a few seconds. McCall had intense
dark eyes, and I found it difficult to look
Similar Books
