“But did you before that?”
“No, of course not.”
“There are several lines and cables beneath the car. How would you know which one to cut?”
“I guess I’d have to ask someone. More likely I’d just cut everything.”
“Which proves my point. Women aren’t likely to know enough about a car to cut a brake line.”
“
“Okay, let me ask you another question. If you wanted to kill someone, is that a method you would even think of? How would you do it?”
“If I wanted to kill someone,” I mused. “First, I’d have to be really, really angry or really, really scared, like if I had to protect myself or someone I loved. Then I’d use whatever weapon was handy, whether it was a tire tool, a rock, or my bare hands.”
“That’s the way most women are, and there goes the premeditation down the drain. I said
Everyone nodded agreement.
“Now, if I were just pissed at someone, that’s different,” I said.
Wyatt got a look on his face that said he knew he shouldn’t ask, but he did anyway. “How so?”
“Well, that would take some planning. Like maybe I would bribe her hairdresser to do something really awful to her hair. Things like that.”
He propped his chin in his palm and stared at me, half smiling. “You’re a scary, vicious woman,” he said. Dad snorted with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” I said. “And don’t you forget it.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Mom wouldn’t let me leave until she worked on my bruises. Siana and Jenni helped, plastering me with cold packs, vitamin K cream, cucumber slices, and tea bags soaked in ice water. Other than the vitamin K cream, everything else seemed to be just a variation on an ice pack, but doing it made them feel better and being coddled and fussed over made me feel better. Dad and Wyatt were smart enough to stay out of the way while this was going on, entertaining themselves with some ball game.
“I was in an accident once,” Mom said. “When I was fifteen. I was on a hayride; the hay wagon was pulled by a pickup truck. Paul Harrison was driving; he was sixteen and was one of the few people in our school who had something to drive. The only problem was, Carolyn Deale was beside him in the truck. I don’t know what all she was doing, but Paul forgot to pay attention to the road and ran off in a ditch and turned the hay wagon over. I wasn’t hurt at all, I didn’t think, but the next morning I was so stiff and sore I could barely move.”
“I’m already that way,” I said ruefully. “And I haven’t even had a hayride. I’m missing out.”
“Whatever you do, don’t take any aspirin, because that’ll make the bruises worse. Try ibuprofen,” said Siana. “Massage. A whirlpool tub. Things like that.”
“And stretching exercises,” Jenni added. She was carefully kneading my shoulders as she spoke. She took some massage classes once-she said just for the fun of it-so she was our go-to girl for sore muscles. Normally Jenni was a chatterbox, but she’d been unusually quiet tonight. Not pouty or anything like that, though she can be on occasion, just sort of thoughtful and withdrawn. I was actually surprised that she’d stayed around to do the massage, because usually she had a group of friends she was meeting, or a date, or some party.
I loved being with my family; I stayed so busy with Great Bods that I didn’t have a lot of opportunity to do that. Mom told us all about her problems with her computer, which involved a lot of nontechnical language like “doohickey” and “little thingie.” Mom operates computers just fine, but she sees no need to learn terms that she considers silly or stupid, such as “motherboard,” and for which other normal words will do just as well. In her version, a motherboard is “that main deal.” I totally understand that. Technical support (what a laugh) wasn’t living up to her expectations, because evidently they’d had her uninstall everything, then reinstall, and that hadn’t solved a damn thing. Mom said they’d made her take everything out and put it back in.
But finally we had to leave. Wyatt came to the doorway; he didn’t say anything, just looked at me with that look men have when they want to go, the impatient, “Are you ready yet?” expression.
Siana glanced at him and said, “The look’s here.”
“I know,” I said, and gingerly got up.
“The ‘look’?” Wyatt glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting something to be standing behind him.
All four of us instantly mimicked the expression and body language. He muttered something, wheeled, and went back to where Dad was. We could hear them talking. I think Dad was telling Wyatt some of the finer points of how to live in a household with four females. Wyatt was a smart man; Jason had thought he already knew all he needed to know.
But Wyatt was right, and we did need to leave. I wanted to get the bread puddings made tonight, because I knew I’d feel even worse in the morning.
Which brought up the subject of what he intended to do with me the next day, because I had my own ideas. “I don’t want to go to your mother’s,” I said when we were in the car. “Not that I don’t like her-I think she’s adorable-but I figure I’m going to be so sore and miserable tomorrow I’d rather just stay at your house so I can lie in bed all day if I want.”
By the dash lights I saw him give me a worried look. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”
“If you didn’t think I was safe at your house, you wouldn’t be taking me there.”
“It isn’t that. It’s your physical condition.”
“I know how to handle sore muscles. I’ve had them before. How did you usually feel after the first day of full-contact practice?”
“As if I’d been beaten with a club.”
“Cheerleader practice was the same. After the first time, I learned to stay in shape all year long, so it was never that bad again, but the first week of practice was still not a lot of fun.” Then I remembered something and sighed. “Scratch staying at home and resting. My insurance agent is supposed to arrange a rental car for me, so I’ll have to pick it up.”
“Give me your agent’s name and number, and I’ll take care of that.”
“How?”
“Deliver the car to me. I’ll drive it home, then have your Dad come pick me up and take me back to work to pick up my car. I don’t want you in town again until I find this bastard.”
A really bad thought struck me. “Is my family in danger? Could this man use them to get to me?”
“Don’t borrow trouble. So far this seems targeted specifically toward you. Someone thinks you’ve done ’em wrong, and he wants vengeance. That’s what this feels like, honey: vengeance. Whether it was something in business or a personal matter, he wants revenge.”
I honestly couldn’t think of a thing, and in a way not knowing
