Different Paths Page 18

  “Yeah, but it’s not on.”

  Probably because she didn’t want me calling her. Even if I did want to apologize.

  I looked at his work shirt, with the name tag: Hi! I’m Bryan. How can I assist you? “Aren’t you supposed to be at Home Depot?”

  “I was. The boss over-scheduled, so I volunteered to leave so I could take care of Carla.” He looked at a loss, and I wondered what he ever did before he met her. Like, a month ago.

  “Think maybe her phone being off is a sign?” I asked.

  “Of what?”

  “That maybe she’d like some alone time?”

  “Alone time?”

  I swallowed a growl. “You know, like time without someone hovering over her shoulder from dawn to dusk.”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it into a firm line. “I can’t imagine what you know about it.”

  I blinked. “About what?”

  “Anything. Me and Carla. Taking care of someone. Letting someone take care of you.”

  “I take care of—”

  “Sure. Of course you do. You want to take care of everybody. But do you ever let anyone do anything for you? You may not know it, but some people like being taken care of.”

  Exactly what Nick had been saying about Carla yesterday. “But maybe it’s too much.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s too much. You. You go around trying to tell Carla what to do, hating me because Carla has someone else in her life now, not letting her enjoy having a man to care about her. But you’re a bad one to say anything. You’re so bent on doing everything yourself you wouldn’t be able to accept help even if it was offered. Oh, yeah, Carla’s told me about you.”

  And what exactly had she been saying? I stood frozen, wondering what the hell was going to come out of his mouth next. He plowed on.

  “I don’t know what Nick’s thinking, being with you. All you do is boss him around and make him feel like less of a man. One of these days he’s going to realize he wants something more than a one-sided relationship. He’s going to want to be with a real woman, who has a soft side and makes him feel needed. Who looks up to him and wants him to be the strong one. So you’d better count your days with him. Because they’re numbered.”

  His face went suddenly white, probably at the realization he was actually talking to me—a regular speech, at that—and he turned on his heel and stalked to his truck. The engine gunned into life, and he spun a U-turn and raced out the drive, as Carla had done not long before. I watched as the dust settled back onto the ground, thankful no one else had been close by to hear his rant. I leaned my elbows on the fence and rubbed my face.

  Was I really such a monster?

  I turned to head back to the bobcat, and stopped. Nick stood about a stone’s throw away, his face a blank.

  I looked at him, my breathing heavy through my mouth.

  “He doesn’t know me,” Nick finally said. “Or you. Not really.”

  I studied his face. “You don’t think so?”

  “No.” A small grin appeared. “If he did, he would’ve been much more afraid of talking to you that way.”

  If I’d have been closer, I would’ve slugged him. Instead, I said, “You don’t want me to be more of a real woman? With soft edges?”

  He laughed. “If you were any more of a real woman I’d be dead by now.” He walked over and put his arms around me. “You are stubborn. And independent. And—”

  “Crabby, according to Tess.”

  “Well, you can’t help that.”

  I punched him lightly in the gut.

  “But you’re my woman. And it’s going to stay that way.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder, the tight knot in my stomach starting to unravel. I stepped back. “Do you think he’s our guy?”

  Nick blinked. “What?”

  “Look. I haven’t felt right about him since I met him. And now we know how his life changed when he was a kid, forcing him to take care of his mom and sisters. What if that’s what he wants now? What if he thought he was getting a real woman, but he’s finding out she’s not what he expected? No matter what he says, she’s pretty independent, too, just like me. She’s got her own career, her own house, her own friends. She doesn’t need him. Not like he’s talking about. What if he got frustrated and something snapped? And he’s not just taking it out on her—he’s taking it out on all of these other women, too?”

  Nick watched me, shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “You really want it to be him, don’t you?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “It could be.”

  “Sure. It could be. It could also be me. Or Zach. Or Lucy’s pastor Pete. Heck, it could be a woman for all we know.”

  “Carla saw a man.”

  “She thinks.”

  “The guy in Green Lane picked up a man.”

  “Who could’ve been a regular hitchhiker.”

  I let out a rush of air. “Look, Bryan’s new on the scene. He’s got a warped sense of what a woman should be.”

  “Most men do.”

  I stopped. “Do you?”

  He smiled. “Probably. But then I did grow up with two sisters.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. “So you think I’m crazy?”

  “Nah. No crazier than usual, anyway.”

  I didn’t know what else to say. So I turned and stomped back to the bobcat. When I got there, my foot throbbed. I’d have to learn to walk softer when I was pretending to be mad.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  I finished up with the bobcat and went inside to get a drink. Nick was sitting alone at the kitchen table, a glass of lemonade in front of him while he read the newspaper.

  “Where’s Tess?”

  He looked up. “I don’t know. Off somewhere.”

  “You’re done with the hutches?”

  “Yeah.” He watched me pour a glass of water and throw down an ibuprofen. “How’re you doing?”

  “Pretty good, actually. Hurts a little, but this should take care of it.”

  “Good.”

  I looked at him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  He smiled. “I have a plan.”

  “Uh-oh. What?”

  “Don’t say no before you think about it.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I can tell I’m not going to like it.”

  He sighed. “Can you at least listen?”

  I leaned against the counter and downed my water. “I’m listening.”

  “Let’s go to the gym.”

  I stared at him. “Are you crazy?”

  “Nope. Well, stir-crazy, maybe.”

  “So let’s go somewhere else.”

  “Like…”

  The mall? The grocery store? The zoo? “A movie?”

  “I said I’m stir-crazy. I don’t want to sit around any more.” He blinked doe eyes at me. “Pleeeeease?”

  “You sound like Tess.” I filled up my glass and drank some more. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  He laughed. “You have a pair of tennis shoes in your closet. I saw them.”

  “But—”

  “And you’re wearing a pair of shorts right now. And a T-shirt.”

  “People don’t wear Harley shirts to gyms.”

  “How do you know?”

  Well… “Are you sure you even should be working out? Can your body take it?”

  His face darkened. “Now you sound like my sisters.”

  Oh, crap. “Sorry.”

  “Come on.” His voice was pleading. “Let’s go. You don’t even have to do anything. You can just watch me, if you want.”

  Now there’s something worth saying yes to.

  So I changed my shirt—to a clean Harley one—and Nick drove us to Club Atlas, passes in hand. Wouldn’t Carla be surprised. If she ever talked to me again.

  Babs wasn’t there, but the extra-pe
rky-muscular-healthy specimen behind the desk was plenty good at making us fill out all sorts of forms and signing away our rights to sue for injury or dismemberment or who knew what else. After several worried glances at my cast, he took us on a tour of the place, pointing out the various torture instruments, more widely known as cardio and strength-training equipment. We viewed the sterile locker rooms, the aerobics floor with wall-sized mirrors that assured I would never participate, and ended up at the free weights. At his fourth offer to set us up with personal fitness plans I managed a loud enough snarl he left us alone.

  “Nice place, huh?” Nick was actually having fun.

  “Really great.”

  He grinned. “There’s a weight bench. Sit on it while I sweat.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  So I watched and he worked. I could get used to that.

  “Hey. Stella?”

  I looked up to see David, Katherine’s brother-in-law. Behind him, looking more animated than during the rest of the week I’d known him, was Trevor.

  David glanced at my work-out gear. “You a member?”

  I laughed. “No. Just trying it out. Well, he’s trying it out.” I pointed to Nick, who was grimacing through some terrible set of squats. “My boyfriend, Nick.”

  A surprised expression flickered over David’s face, but he hid it quickly. He was probably in league with Bryan in not believing anyone would want to date me. He caught Nick’s eye in the mirror and they did some sort of guy hello.

  Trevor was already picking out some hand weights by the wall. I gestured toward him. “You guys regulars?”

  David smiled. “For the week. I’ve been coming in daily, and was able to convince Trevor it would be fun.”

  He laughed at my face.

  “Well, maybe not fun, but at least beneficial. He’s a natural athlete. I just need to convince him of it. Maybe if I can get him fit he’ll go out for soccer this fall.”

  “I guess he needs some kind of an outlet.”

  “Yeah. This move has been hard on him.”

  We watched as Trevor began a series of biceps lifts.

  David clenched his fists and bounced on the balls of his feet.

  I waved toward the weights. “Don’t let me keep you from your fun.”

  “What? Oh. Thanks. I guess I will get started.” He walked over to Trevor and took off his sweatshirt to reveal a muscle tank. He also revealed just how huge his arms and chest actually were.

  “Hey, now, you’re not checking out the other guys?”

  Nick was beside me, grinning.

  “No need to. But good grief. Look at him.”

  “Yeah. He’s big.” Nick took a breath and bent over to stretch his legs, tilting his head toward me. “But look at his back.”

  I looked. “What about it?”

  “Look closer. But don’t be obvious.”

  What the…? And then I saw it. “Acne? He’s got acne on his back.”

  “Shh. You know what that means.”

  I did. Steroids.

  “So his muscles aren’t real?”

  Nick shrugged. “Guess it depends on your definition. Ask Marion Jones or Floyd Landis. Or anyone involved with Major League Baseball.”

  I studied Trevor. “You don’t think he’s getting Trevor onto them?”

  Nick shifted to his other leg and stretched some more. “No way to know. I don’t see any signs, but then, it takes a while.”

  “Well, David should be going home soon.”

  “I hope so, seeing that.”

  “Hey, David!” I called.

  Nick tensed, and stood up.

  David looked at me in the mirror as he steadied himself under a heavy bar.

  “How long are you and Tricia hanging around?”

  He adjusted the bar, wincing. “Actually, we’re leaving tonight. Sarah and I need to get home. Get back to work. And Tricia’s worried about leaving Elena for so long. She’s only in high school, you know.”

  So Trevor should be safe. Unless David had already gotten him started.

  “Well, it’s been nice meeting you.”

  “Yeah. You, too.”

  “See you, Trevor.”

  But he didn’t hear me. His grunting was too loud as he did some awful-looking ab exercise.

  I grimaced at Nick. “You are done, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am now.”

  “We can stay.”

  He smiled. “I think you’ve been through enough. Let’s go.” Sweat dripped from his hair, and he rubbed one of the gym’s complimentary towels over his head. “How about we go home now, so I can take a shower?”

  “A good plan.”

  “And next time, we’ll bring a change of clothes.”

  I looked at him, and groaned.

  Who said anything about a next time?

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “You rang?”

  I looked up from Esmerelda’s hind end to see Willard in the doorway of the parlor. “I did.”

  He came over, greeting Lucy on the way, and offered me a hand up, which was good, since standing was a multi-tasked event when rising from a stiff-legged squat.

  Willard wore a suit, the tie loose, his shirt’s top button un-done. Looking at him made me feel wrinkled and tired.

  “You just now going home?”

  “Yeah. Long day at court. And after checking my messages I had to go back to the station.”

  “You could’ve just called me.”

  “What? Oh, I’m not talking about your message.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He grinned. “It was the message about Carla’s truck that caught my attention.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You found the guy from Green Lane?”

  “No. But we got something that might help us track him down.”

  I waited.

  “Fingerprints.”

  “Fingerprints? You mean that dolt Meadows actually got something?”

  Willard chuckled. “He actually did.”

  “Amazing. What did he find?”

  “One of those fingerprints from the rear view mirror was a match to one in Dr. Peterson’s office.”

  I stared at Willard. “So I was right.”

  “You were. And I’m not afraid to say it.”

  My knees went suddenly weak, and I put an arm over Esmerelda to keep me upright.

  Willard took a step toward me, but I held out my hand. “I’m okay. But, damn.”

  I really had believed my theory, that all of the attacks were connected, but that was different from receiving hard proof. “So who was it?”

  “We still don’t know. The prints aren’t in the system, so whoever it is has never been arrested or worked for the government.”

  “What about the Kulpsville church? Any matching prints from Katherine’s office?”

  “I have a call in to the cops over there. If they have any prints we’ll compare them.”

  I thought about Club Atlas, and realized there wouldn’t be any prints there. It didn’t sound like that guy had touched anything in the parking lot.

  “So what was your call about?”

  I jerked out of my thoughts and remembered why I’d wanted to talk to him that morning. “I found a connection.”

  “Between what?”

  “Carla and the church.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I told him about the Hershbergers’ dog, and how Carla had been called to check on it. “Tons of people were there that day who would’ve seen her.”

  “Oh, well that helps.”

  “It does. It means there’s somebody who’s for sure had contact with both women. Who knows what Carla and Katherine do. Who they are.”

  “And who exactly would be that ‘somebody’?”

  “Well, someone from the church. The youth group. Katherine’s family.”

  He was looking at me with an expression of skepticism. �
��That it?”

  “Not quite.” Lucy chimed in. “Lenny was there. Want to suspect him, too?”

  “Don’t be stupid.” But I had to admit—my theory sounded pretty weak once I was saying it out loud.

  “It’s okay,” Willard said. “Your ideas don’t have to be stellar all the time.”

  “But it is a connection.”

  He nodded. “Sure. It is.”

  “Whatever.” I turned back to the cow.

  “Need something to eat, Detective?” Lucy stood next to him, wiping her hands on a towel. “I brought Stella some leftover chili. Plenty for three.”

  “Three? You staying?”

  “Oh, no, I gotta get home to the family. But Nick’s here. He’d be glad to see you.”

  “He is? That’s great. But I’ll have to pass on the supper. I’d like to stay, but I need to check in with my family, too. My wife probably has a plate in the fridge for me, and my kids need their dad for at least an hour during the day, even if they are teen-agers.” He patted Esmerelda on the haunch and stepped back. “Thanks for calling, Stella. I appreciate how you keep me in the loop.”

  Even if my theories are stupid.

  I eased back down to the floor to switch the milker to Bambi. “Well, why wouldn’t I tell you stuff? I want you to catch this guy.”

  “Right. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Nick’s in the house if you want to say hi on your way out.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Hey, Willard?”

  He stopped.

  “It’s illegal to take steroids, right?”

  He blinked. “Not if they’re prescribed. Are you—”

  “But if they’re not? If you’re just taking them to get big?”

  He came back, stood over me. “What’s going on, Stella?”

  “I just want to know. It’s not me. You know that.”

  He put his hands in his pockets, breathed out loudly. “They’re considered an illegal drug. It would be misuse of a controlled substance. You’d be penalized however the judge saw fit.”

  “Kids and adults?”

  “Now you really have me worried.”

  I waited.

  “Sure. Schools often have their own policies, but the law takes care of things, too.”

  I rubbed my finger over the shiny silver milker.

  “You going to tell me what this is about?”

  “Not yet. I’m not sure of anything.”