“Your hands are hot.”
“No, yours are cold. Drink the water.”
“Can’t swallow.”
“Yes you can. Drink the water.” He nudged it on her, sip by slow sip. “Davey’s on his way.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me.”
“I saw a hummingbird. I saw a hummingbird, and I stopped to get the mail. It was in the mail. I picked up the mail, brought it in with the groceries. I thought it might be pictures of one of my dogs—students. I get them sometimes. But...”
He rose, took the bag by the corner with two fingers, flipped it over. “It’s postmarked Lakeview, Oregon. There’s no return address.”
“I didn’t look. I just opened it—right before you came in. Right before.”
“I couldn’t have walked in and scared you if you hadn’t left your door open.”
“You’re right.” The knot at the base of her throat wouldn’t loosen. The water wouldn’t wash it away, so she focused on Simon’s face, the rich tea color of his eyes. “That was careless. Comes from being relaxed and happy. Stupid.” She pushed to her feet, set the glass on the counter. “But I had the dogs. I had a weapon. If it hadn’t been you, if it had been...”
“He’d have a hard time getting by the dogs. Odds are he wouldn’t. But if he did, goddamn, if, Fiona, he’d have taken that knife away from you in two seconds.”
Her chin came up; so did her color. “You think so?”
“Look, you’re strong, and you’re fast. But grabbing a weapon you have to use close in, and can be used against you, isn’t a smart alternative to running.”
Her movements jerky, she yanked open a drawer, pulled out a spatula. The knot dissolved, with anger and insult in its place. “Take it away from me.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
“Pretend it’s a knife. Prove your point, goddamn it.”
“Fine.” He shifted, feinted with his right hand, then reached for her arm with his left.
Fiona changed her leg base, grabbed his reaching arm and used his momentum to drag him by. He had to slap a hand against the wall or run face-first into it.
“Now I’ve just stabbed you in the back with the knife—or if I’d been feeling less murderous, I’d have kicked you in the back of the knees and taken you down. I’m not helpless. I’m
He turned toward her. Fury shone on her face now, infinitely preferable to fear.
“Nice move.”
“That’s right.” She nodded sharply. “That’s goddamn right. Do you want to see another? Maybe the one where I kick your balls up against the back of your teeth, then beat you into a coma when you’re on the ground writhing in pain.”
“We can skip that one.”
“Being scared doesn’t make me weak. Being scared means I’ll do anything and everything I have to do to defend myself.” She heaved the spatula into the sink. “Couldn’t you show some compassion, some understanding instead of jumping down my throat?”
“You’re not sitting on the floor shaking anymore. And I’m feeling less inclined to punch my fist through the wall.”
“And that’s your method?”
“I haven’t been in a situation like this before but apparently, yes, that’s my method.” He took the spatula out of the sink, shoved it back in the drawer. “But if you want the strong male to blubbering female, we can go with that.”
“Blub—
“It makes me crazy.”
She pushed her hands over her face, back into her hair. “What?”
“Seeing you like that. Have you ever seen yourself when you’re seriously scared, seriously sad? You lose every drop of color in your face. I’ve never seen anybody still breathing get that white. And it makes me crazy.”
She dropped her hands again. “You’re damn good at leashing the crazy.”
“Yeah, I am. We can talk about that some other time. Don’t think—” He broke off, shoved his own hands in his pockets. “Don’t think you don’t matter. You do. I just haven’t—Now, see?” he said with raw frustration. “The minute I stop pissing you off you start crying.”
“I’m not crying.” She blinked desperately at the tears welling in her eyes. “And what’s wrong with crying? I’m entitled. I’m entitled to a jag of major proportions, so be a man, damn it, grow a pair and suck it up.”
“Crap.” He yanked her against him, chained his arms around her.
She felt the sob flood her throat. Then he eased her back, skimmed his fingers down her cheek, laid his lips on her brow.
The tenderness shocked her eyes dry, killed the sob before it released. Instead she let out a long, shuddering sigh and leaned on him.
“I don’t know how to take care of people,” he muttered. “I’m barely able to take care of a damn dog.”
You’re wrong about that, she thought. So wrong about that.
“You’re doing okay,” she managed. “I’m okay.” Still she jolted when the dogs barked the alert. “That’ll be Davey.”
“I’ll go let him in.” He stroked his hand down her hair once, twice. “Sit down or something.”
Sit down or something, Fiona thought as Simon walked out. Then she took his advice and made herself sit at the kitchen table.
Simon walked out onto the porch. “She’s inside, back in the kitchen.”
“What—”
“She’ll fill you in. I need about twenty minutes, and I need to know you’ll be here that long.”
“All right.”
Simon headed to his truck, ordered Jaws to stay, then drove away. Calmer, Fiona thought, she was much calmer when Davey came in. “I haven’t touched it since I opened it,” she began. “I don’t guess that’s going to matter.” She looked over his shoulder, frowned. “Where’s Simon?”
“He had something to do.”
“He—Oh.” The pressure on her chest returned, just for a moment. “Fine. It was in the mail. It’s got an Oregon postmark.”
He sat first, took her hands. Just took her hands.
“Oh God, Davey. I’m scared senseless.”
“We’re going to look out for you, Fee. If you want it, we’ll have somebody parked outside the house twenty- four hours a day until they catch this bastard.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that. Yet. It could come to it.”
“Have you gotten any unusual calls, any hang-ups? Anything troubling on your website or blog?”
“No. This is the first thing. And I know it might not be from him. It’s probably not. It’s from some vicious person who read that damn article, got my address. That’s just as likely.”
“Maybe it is.” He released her hands, took out two evidence bags. “I’m going to take these in. We’ll do what we can. There’s a federal task force on this now, and we’ll probably need to turn these over to them. Fee, it’s likely they’re going to send someone out to talk to you.”
“I’m okay with that.” Wouldn’t be the first time, she thought bitterly. “I’m good with that.”
“We’ll be reaching out to the police in Lakeview. I know this is hard for you, but maybe it’s a break. We might get prints or DNA off the stamp. Something from the handwriting, or we’ll trace the scarf.”
Investigations, routines, procedures. How was it all happening again?
“What about Perry? He might have paid somebody to send it to me.”
“I’m going to see what I can find out, but I have to think they’ve talked to Perry. They’d monitor his contacts,
