Within Range. Janice Kay Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ laugh was quiet and a little gravelly. It sent a shiver of reaction over her skin. “I won’t keep you long.” He still eyed Jacob as she led him to the pair of small upholstered club chairs by the window. “He’s past needing a crib?”

      “Oh, yes. He was only fifteen months old the first time he climbed out of his crib.” She grimaced at the memory. “He fell, of course, screamed bloody murder—” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat. “That was a poor choice of words.”

      Another rumble of a laugh settled her nervousness a bit.

      “Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but we transitioned to a mattress on the floor pretty quick. Which turned me into the world’s lightest sleeper. Every night, I imagine him wandering around the house while I sleep, completely unaware.” Why was she babbling? “I may not get a good night’s sleep again until he leaves home for college.”

      His smile was a little crooked. “According to my mother, that’s no guarantee.”

      Helen gave a choked laugh. “Thank you for that thought.” She looked down at the table, clasped her hands together on her lap and struggled for calm before she lifted her chin again. “Have you found out anything?”

      “Nothing to explain her death yet, I’m sorry to say. I was able to talk to her husband. You were right. The car at the curb was hers.”

      “What about children?” That possibility bothered her terribly.

      “Two stepkids,” he said. “Thirteen and fifteen. Her husband is ten years older than Ms. Sloan. The kids weren’t home, so I can’t say how they’ll take her death.”

      With a huge lump in her throat, Helen only managed a nod.

      “None of the neighbors saw anything helpful, unfortunately. Most weren’t home until five thirty or later. Your Iris naps late every afternoon.”

      She closed her eyes momentarily. “I knew that.”

      He was silent until she looked at him again, when he said, “So now I have a problem.” All traces of humor or sympathy had vanished from his face. The shadow of his evening stubble only made him appear more threatening. “I have to understand the connection between you and Ms. Sloan. It wasn’t chance she was killed in your kitchen.”

      “I don’t know!” Helen cried. “I don’t have a relationship with the woman.”

      “After seeing the two of you, I might have guessed you were sisters,” he said slowly.

      “That’s ridiculous,” she protested, stiffening when she realized that hadn’t come out as forcefully as she’d hoped. “Even in a town this size, there must be a lot of women with dark hair and brown eyes. And...and about the same height.”

      “Close enough in age to be twins.” He sounded both thoughtful and inexorable. “And it’s more than coloring. You have similar bone structure, noses. Straight on, I wouldn’t mistake you for her, but at a quick glance...” Renner shrugged.

      Light-headed, Helen could feel the speed of her pulse in her throat. Dear Lord, she should have run. Before this man got too curious about her.

      “I don’t understand.” Her voice came out little more than a croak, but that was surely natural, given what he’d just suggested. “I’m a single mother. New in town. I haven’t been on a date since my divorce. The only man at work who ever asked me out just got engaged to someone else. I do my job, and the rest of the time Jacob is my whole life. How could I have an enemy?”

      “Ex-boyfriend. Ex-husband.” Seemingly relaxed, he never looked away.

      She could tell him. She could say, I think my ex-husband murdered Andrea, thinking she was me. But then what? Richard was sure to have an indisputable alibi—he’d have been in a meeting with someone like the Seattle city mayor or a congressman. Anyway, admitting to that much would mean revealing her real name—and Detective Renner would soon find a warrant for her arrest. If she’d killed a man in Seattle, why not a woman here in Lookout? Richard was smart enough not to have left so much as a fingerprint behind, she thought bitterly.

      Fingerprints. Oh, dear God, if this detective submitted hers, a match would pop up immediately.

      Panic pushed her to her feet. She grabbed the chair back for support. Voice shaking, she said, “I don’t appreciate you scaring me this way. Maybe Andrea has been stealing from renters in every house she has keys to. She could have a partner that...that she betrayed somehow. Or a lover. What if they met in other people’s homes during the day? Do you know anything about this woman?” She put everything she had into this scathing speech. “Or did you decide right away that I must be some kind of...I don’t know, ex-CIA agent on the run, or a femme fatale with cast-off lovers hunting for me?”

      Standing stiffly, she defied the detective’s continued contemplation.

      Seemingly unmoved by her defiance, he said, “I really hadn’t gotten that far in my thinking. And of course my first assumption is that Ms. Sloan was the intended victim, not you. My hope was to get you thinking, in case there’s something you’re not telling me.”

      She pretended that wasn’t a question. “This has been an upsetting day. I’d like you to go now.”

      His eyebrows flickered, but he bent his head in acknowledgment and rose to his feet as casually as if he’d made the decision himself. As he strolled to the door, he said, “I assumed you were already asking yourself these same questions, Ms. Boyd. You’re smart enough to have been scared. It wasn’t my intention to make it worse.”

      Helen didn’t hold back a snort.

      Almost to the door, Renner turned, expression inquiring.

      “Of course you meant to scare me! Congratulations, you did a great job.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

      “You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “Lock the door behind me.” He wasn’t all the way out into the hall when he added in a much harder voice, “I’ll expect you not to leave the area. Do you understand?”

      “Yes!” She felt herself vibrating with tension. No chance he wouldn’t be able to see that.

      “As long as you’re not her killer, I’m on your side, you know.” He nodded and closed the door behind him.

      Helen leaped forward and, with shaking hands, turned the dead bolt and hooked on the probably useless chain. Then she stood still and strained to hear any sound from the hall, with no idea whether he still stood there or was walking away.

      In listening to that silence, she had a horrifying thought. If Richard had killed Andrea, where was he now? Had he been somewhere he could watch when she arrived home and the police responded? If he had, he’d know where she was—and he’d have seen Jacob. And that was assuming the private investigator who’d trailed her in Southern California hadn’t seen Jacob.

      A dry sob escaped her. Who was she kidding? To know she had a child, Richard had only had to step inside her house. The high chair at the table alone would tell him.

      Most of her desperation to escape him had been to ensure he never knew she was pregnant. There was no possibility that he was capable of being any kind of parent. СКАЧАТЬ