her who he was.
Theirs. She tried out the word, let herself wonder over it while they waited for Bert to relieve himself after the drive.
Theirs in the pretty, star-dazzled night, with the flowers glowing, the creek murmuring and the soft breeze urging the leaves to whisper an answer.
Their house, their gardens, their greenhouse and creek and woods.
Hers was safer. Quieter.
Theirs. Full of compromise and questions.
And promise.
She unlocked the front door, reset the alarm. “Would you like to move in with me?”
“Well, that’s a big step. I’m going to have to think about it.”
“You just said …” She turned into his grin, felt her lips curve in response as she locked up. “You’re teasing.”
“Caught me.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him again. “But it is a big step for you, I know.”
“It’s a more natural progression for you. You were raised in a traditional two-parent home.”
“Boy, my mother’d be pissed to be labeled traditional.” He put an arm around her shoulders to lead her upstairs. “We’ll keep that between you and me.”
“I never considered sharing a home with anyone. And I’ve only begun to believe it’s possible for me to stay here, to have a home here.”
“Believe it, and keep believing it. No point sending negative thoughts out into the universe.”
“Optimistic or pessimistic thoughts don’t influence events.”
“How do you know?” Playfully, he gave her hair a quick tug. “You can’t know what other people are thinking or wishing or believing unless they tell you. And what about the whole faith can move mountains deal?”
“I’ve never seen a mountain move, much less through faith.”
“Literal brain.” He tapped her forehead. “What about volcanoes? A volcano moves the hell out of a mountain.”
“It’s ludicrous to posit that a rupture in the earth’s crust, the diverging and converging of tectonic plates, the release of lava, gases and ash through those ruptures can be caused by faith—or the lack of it.”
“Did I posit? I don’t know what got into me.” He saw her roll her eyes as she walked toward the bathroom. “I made a volcano for a science project in sixth grade. It was very cool.”
For the first time she didn’t shut the door, but continued to talk to him as she prepared for bed. “It’s a very good project for a young student.”
“Plus cool.” He walked in, picked up his toothbrush as she washed her face. “I wanted to name it The Devil’s Fart, but my father convinced me my grade could be adversely affected.”
“Wise.”
“I called it that in my head, though, so it made the whole baking soda, food coloring and vinegar lava spewing out of the flour paste over soda bottle cone more memorable. I bet you killed in science projects.”
“I did well.” It felt odd, but in an interesting way, to share the bathroom sink with him. “I built an underwater volcano on converging tectonic plates to demonstrate how islands are formed.”
He lowered his toothbrush, narrowed his eyes at her in the mirror. “Underwater volcano.”
“Yes. Hot water always rises to the surface of cold, and floats. With the baked clay model—”
“Baked clay.”
“Yes, and the remote controlled plates, I was able to create a very satisfying eruption.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“Show-off.”
“I did enjoy doing well in school. You’re talking about science projects so I’ll relax and sleep better.”
“It’s working for me.”
She found when she lay beside him in the dark, her mind drifting, it worked for her as well.
Brooks arrested Roland Babbett as his first official duty of the morning. He felt pretty damn good about knocking on Babbett’s door at seven a.m. Better yet when the heavy-eyed, bed-headed Babbett opened the door.
“Roland Babbett?”
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
“There is for you. I’m Chief Gleason of the Bickford town police, and this is my deputy Boyd Fitzwater. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“Huh?”
“And another to search your room, belongings and vehicle. You’re going to need to get dressed and come with us.”
“What’s this about? Under arrest? That’s crazy.”
“Not considering you’re in possession of burglary tools, and used same at two-fifteen this morning to illegally enter the Ozarks Suite. Which is both locked and posted.”
Roland’s eyes, not so heavy now, took a long study of Brooks’s face. “I want to make a phone call.”
“No problem. You can have your phone call once we’re at the station. I’m going to give you a chance to get dressed, or we can take you in while you’re in the hotel robe. It’s a nice robe.”
“I’d like to get dressed.”
“Okay, then. Boyd, why don’t you read Mr. Babbett his rights while he puts some pants on.” Brooks held up the search warrant before he started wandering the room. “Nice view. Mr. Conroy does it up right. You try the restaurant for dinner?”
“Room service.” Roland dragged on a pair of pants, pulled out a T-shirt. “I had the steak.”
“How was it?”
“Bloody and good.”
“Yeah, they do it right.” He opened the navy backpack, poked through, then put the lock-pick set in an evidence bag. “You visiting?”
Despite the circumstance, Roland snorted out a laugh. “Everybody asks. You know by now I’m here on business.”
“Stuben-Pryce out of Little Rock.” As he sealed a mini tape recorder into a bag, Brooks’s voice stayed smooth and easy as warm cream. “I was on the job down there. You probably know that by now, too. That’s a fancy firm, with fancy prices, Mr. Babbett.”
“We do good work.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He shot Roland a friendly smile. “Too bad you don’t have better taste in clients.”
“Not my call. Do you mind if I brush my teeth, empty my bladder?”
“I’d mind if you didn’t.”
Brooks continued to search the room while Boyd stood in the open bathroom doorway. “We’re a quiet town,” Brooks said conversationally. “Oh, it can heat up some now and then, especially this time of year and on through the summer. A lot of tourists, a lot of conflicting personalities, you could say, stewing in all that heat. But we don’t often run into PIs from fancy city firms doing some B-and-E right in our landmark hotel.”
“I’m going to get my ass kicked over this.” In a gesture that mirrored his attitude, Roland spat toothpaste in the sink. “Lose my bonus. I was hoping to bring my wife down for a kid-free break after she has the baby.”
“When’s she due?”
“August fifteenth.”
“October’s a pretty time in the Ozarks,” Brooks commented, as Roland came out. “We’d be happy to have you, when you’re visiting. Boyd, you can finish up with the search. I’ll take Mr. Babbett in.”
“You’re not going to cuff me?”
Brooks offered that friendly smile again. “You want me to?”
“No. I appreciate it.”
“I don’t figure you’re going to run, and if you did? Where’re you gonna go?”
