Pulse Points. Mary Baxter Lynn

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      Two

       S he was exhausted. However, Kasey knew sleep would elude her, so she didn’t bother going to bed. Following a hot bath, which seemed to have wired her more, she made a cup of hot chocolate and sat on the wicker chaise lounge in her bedroom.

      It would be nice to sip on the drink, and in between sips close her eyes, maybe even dose a bit. Fear of what she would see imprinted on the back of her lids kept her eyes wide-open. Would that terrifying image of Shirley’s blood-stained body ever leave her? Not for a long time, she told herself. If ever.

      Kasey gnawed on her lower lip, her gaze veering to the French doors that led onto her tiny third floor balcony. When Shirley had told her about this secluded apartment complex nestled between numerous oaks and pine trees, Kasey hadn’t been all that excited.

      First, she hadn’t wanted to go into another apartment. She had wanted a small house; unfortunately she couldn’t afford one. Second, she hadn’t wanted to live on the third floor; the thought of trudging up such a long flight of stairs was uninviting.

      Now, she was glad to be there. An intruder would have a much more difficult time getting to her. Kasey shivered then reached for the afghan at the end of the lounge even though the July night was so hot and humid, she’d had difficulty in cooling her apartment. Once the coverlet was over her, she shifted her eyes back to the doors. She had to stop dwelling on morbid thoughts and possibilities.

      The fact that she wasn’t alone, that Detective Spiller was lurking somewhere in the darkness keeping watch on her, should have offered her a measure of reassurance.

      “Rest easy, Mrs. Ellis. Nothing will happen to you on my watch,” he’d told her when he escorted her to the door.

      Somehow she had dredged up a smile. “I’m counting on that.”

      “If you need anything or if anything out of the ordinary happens, call me on my cell.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her.

      “I’ll be fine,” she said, not at all certain that was the truth.

      He stepped back, then paused. “Don’t let Gallain upset you. He’s not always that abrasive.”

      “Are you sure about that?”

      “No,” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

      She managed another smile. “Don’t worry. I can handle him. He can’t make me see what I didn’t see or say what I don’t know.”

      Spiller seemed suddenly uncomfortable as if he’d spoken out of turn. “Protecting you is our primary goal.”

      Again she was struck by his kindness. As she closed and bolted her door, she wished he’d been in charge of the investigation instead of Gallain. She had never been questioned by the police. Now that she had, it wouldn’t go down as one of her most treasured memories.

      Maybe that was why Spiller’s presence couldn’t alleviate her anxiety even though she was home, out from under the prying eyes of his cohort. Her stomach continued to heave as reality struck her like a blow. She had witnessed the brutal taking of another person’s life—her friend and partner. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked several times.

      She hoped Shirley hadn’t suffered, that she hadn’t known what hit her. Kasey pulled the afghan under her chin and once again tried to focus her thoughts elsewhere. It didn’t work. Her mind rebelled.

      Had the killer seen her?

      No. He couldn’t have. He had never known she was there.

      But what if he had?

      That question kept haunting her. What if she was wrong and he was just biding his time until he came after her, thinking she could identify him? That thought almost brought Kasey’s heart to a standstill.

      Apparently Gallain had thought so or he wouldn’t have put her under protective watch. But for now, she was safe in her home. Her gaze touched on things that surrounded her—familiar things such as pictures, plants, books and even her chintz-covered furniture. The fact that the latter needed replacing, and she’d grieved over the fact she hadn’t the means to do that, no longer seemed important.

      Tomorrow, however, she would have to leave this security and deal with Shirley’s untimely death, a death that had a profound and life-altering effect on her.

      Kasey reached for the remote control and switched on the television, hoping to catch the late news. No doubt the murder would make headlines on the local stations, as well as in the papers, for days to come. In addition, the gossip mill would be churning.

      Although Rushmore had a population of over a hundred thousand, it still had many qualities of a small East Texas town. People made it their business to know their neighbors’ business.

      Kasey concentrated on the television. News of the bone-chilling murder was indeed being played out in vivid detail. Unable to view the crime scene again, she shifted her gaze and listened, mainly to see if anyone else had come forward as a witness. No such luck.

      Kasey wasn’t surprised. She had known all along she had been the only person in the garage other than Shirley and the killer. Who was he? Who had despised Shirley so much that he wanted her dead? Was her death perhaps business related? Or personal?

      A long time ago Shirley might have confided in her and vice versa, but their old friendship had been damaged by recent events. Since her husband Mark’s death two years ago, Kasey had been working in an advertising agency in Dallas. While it had been an okay job, it in no way met her financial obligations or fueled her dream of bettering herself, perhaps one day owning her own agency.

      So when Shirley had contacted her and offered her a partnership in her agency in Rushmore where Kasey had been born and reared, she had been ecstatic, certain life was about to turn around and take on a new dimension.

      “You can’t imagine what this call means to me,” Kasey had said following Shirley’s offer. “Although I’m not anywhere near worthy of this opportunity,” she added. “I’ve only been back in the workplace for two years, and I’m awfully rusty in a lot of areas.”

      “I don’t believe that for a second,” Shirley responded. “Besides—”

      Kasey cut her off, anxious to square things from the get-go. “More than that, I don’t have any money to buy into the business.” She paused, trying to figure out how to tell Shirley the truth and keep her pride intact.

      She had thought Mark had been a good provider, only to learn upon his death that they were on the brink of financial disaster. For two years she had struggled with her feelings of betrayal and the financial albatross around her neck. To date, she hadn’t won either battle.

      “We can work something out,” Shirley said into the growing silence. “Bottom line, I need help. The agency’s grown too much for me to handle alone. СКАЧАТЬ