Deadly Obsession. Maggie Shayne

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       4

      “Did you notice what I noticed out in the garage?” Mason asked an hour later.

      We were sitting at our favorite spot in the park, eating takeout we’d grabbed from the Spiedie and Rib Pit on Front Street and watching the Susquehanna River roll by. It was hot already, pushing up toward ninety, and I was glad I’d dressed in layers earlier because that meant I could remove them as needed. I was down to my tank top and sitting on the shady side of the picnic table because I hadn’t brought any sunblock.

      Mason sat in the shade, too, but he kept his sunglasses on. He looked hot in those solid black shades.

      “What did you notice?” I asked, once I reminded myself of the question.

      “His tools. All the same brand. Snap-on. Expensive.”

      I didn’t know Snap-on tools from strap-on tools, which is why I was just a classic-car buff and not a true motorhead. “So?”

      “So guys are the same way with tools that they are with cars. They have their brands. That’s what they buy. You’ll never catch a Chevy guy driving a Ford.”

      “You’re a Chevy guy. But you’ve driven my Ford.”

      “Owning. I should’ve said owning, not driving.”

      “So your point is?”

      “The hacksaw we found in the back of Rouse’s truck was made by Craftsman.”

      I blinked at him. “Do you know that you’re a fucking genius?”

      He smiled. “Yes, I was aware of it, but thanks for recognizing it, too.”

      I rolled my eyes at him and handed another bite of my lunch down to Myrtle, who was lying on the cool grass, in full shade, and panting anyway.

      “What did you sense from Peter Rouse?” Mason asked.

      I nodded slowly as I chewed, took a swig of Diet Coke to wash it down. “He’s a bundle of emotions, all of them intense, but I didn’t get the liar alarm going off, other than when he kept insisting the kids were there so you’d be less inclined to kick his ass.”

      He nodded. “So you think he was telling the truth? About this...Noelle Baker?”

      I reviewed my mental data. Inconclusive. “Maybe. But there was so much guilt coming out of him I can’t be sure. Seems like a stretch that his mistress would kill his wife just to have him all to herself, doesn’t it? I mean, he’s not the kind of guy who seems likely to inspire that kind of devotion.”

      “Obsession. Not devotion. Very different things.”

      “If you say so.”

      “So we’re looking for a Caucasian female of about five foot two with curly brown hair and blue eyes.”

      “Or a bottle of hair dye and a pair of tinted contacts,” I said. “We women...we’re like chameleons.” I sucked on my Diet Coke, even though it was all gone and I was just draining the ice cubes of their life’s blood.

      “Is that so? Then how is it you never change?”

      My brows arched up like hissing cats. I leaned back and set my empty cup down, eyeing him. “Is that a complaint?”

      “No,” he denied too emphatically.

      My jaw dropped. “It was. It was a complaint. You’re getting bored with me.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous, Rachel. I am not getting bored with you.”

      “I’ve only had my eyesight back for less than a year, you know. Jesus, I’ve only recently mastered the art of hair and makeup at all. If I go switching it up, I’m gonna have to start all over again.”

      “Rachel, I’m not complaining.”

      “Fuck you, Mason. Why don’t you go do something wildly different with your appearance, huh? You don’t hear me bitching that you never change it up.”

       “Rache...”

      “Don’t give me that warning tone you use on the boys, either.” I got up. “Come on, Myrtle. We’re going home.”

      I was overreacting. I knew that while I was doing it, and I knew why, too. He’d told me about the new nurse who’d shown up at his door that morning, and that he’d gone ahead and hired her already without even asking what I thought. He’d called her on the way here, he said. Liked her initiative, he said. She was cheerful and sunny, and the boys thought she was great, too, he said.

      It was my goddamn place to take care of him while he healed, and I was still stinging from him not wanting to move into my place to let me do that. I was starting to feel like this thing between us was getting a little shaky, and I knew it might be my own fault for not saying the L word back to him when he’d said it to me. And that pissed me off even more.

      Of course, I wasn’t going to admit any of that to him. I tossed my soda cup into a nearby trash can, took my dog by her ludicrous leash (she didn’t СКАЧАТЬ