Mariah Stewart - Cold Truth

“I’d like to see it. Can we go?”

“I’d be happy to take you tomorrow,” Cass told her, “but right now, I’m so tired, I just want to sleep. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope. Not at all.”

“No parties you can’t miss tonight?”

“Actually, someone at the clambake did mention something about a party tonight, but since you were such a sport, going out with me last night when you were so beat, I wasn’t even going to mention it.”

“You could go alone, you know. You really don’t need me to tag along.”

“I’m just not ready to go places alone.” Lucy held up one hand against the argument she knew would be forthcoming. “Don’t say it. I know how old I am. I know all that. It’s just that, after so many years of being married, I’m not used to going places alone, not social places, anyway. I know that must sound silly to you, but you’ve always been so independent, Cass, you’ve never needed to lean on anyone. If I ever had any real confidence in myself, I must have lost it somewhere along the way. I guess I need to work myself into my new life gradually.” She tightened the lid on the polish and set it aside, then picked up her glass and drank from it. “Besides, I don’t mind hanging out with you. I like your company.”

“Thanks, Luce.”

“Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll run out and pick up a DVD or two, and we can do beer and popcorn and movies tonight?”

“Beer and pretzels?” Cass asked.

“Sure.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” Cass rose and started toward the steps. “And there’s nothing I want more right now than a nap. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Do it. I’ll go now. Can you think of anything else you might want?”

“Right now I can’t think, period. But thanks.” Cass was almost to the top step. “Nothing that a little sleep won’t cure…”

He was in the video store, playing nice uncle to his nephews, when she walked through the door. Even the air around him seemed to change, seemed to charge with something vital and alive.

She was beautiful. Her body, her face. Her long dark hair.

“Can we get this one? Can we?” His five-year-old nephew tugged at his sleeve.

“Sure.” He nodded without taking his eyes from her. “Get whatever you want.”

“Can I get a big box of Raisinets?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get one, too?” The older of the two boys asked.

“Sure. Whatever you want. Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

He watched her move through the stacks of movies, and without thinking, followed as if drawn to her by an invisible force.

This one. This one. This one…

The closer he got, the more perfect she appeared to be.

He walked toward her, then behind her. She glanced up when he brushed against her.

“Sorry,” he said. “These narrow aisles…”

She smiled and stepped aside to allow him to pass. He looked at the movie in her hands. Sister Act.

“That’s a fun one,” he said, smiling in his warmest, most casual manner. “My nephews liked it a lot.”

“Whoopi Goldberg and some singing nuns.” She smiled back. “What’s not to like?”

“Hey, we’re ready to go now.”

One of the little bastards was at his elbow.

The other appeared right behind him. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure, boys.” He tried to beam affectionately at them, wasn’t sure he’d gotten it right, but she didn’t seem to notice. She’d already moved on. “Sure…”

They dragged him to the candy counter, and he barely paid attention to what he was paying for. Not that he cared. He wanted to wait around to see where she’d be going from here, but he couldn’t seem to drag things out long enough. The boys were already on their way out the door, and he should be right behind them. What if they were kidnapped? How would he explain that to his brother and stupid sister-in-law?

Though if the boys were his kids, he might consider kidnapping a favor. Boring little brats. Demanding. Annoying.

He followed them into the parking lot, then drove home the long way. Which eventually took him down Brighton.

He slowed when he passed the house where he knew she was staying. There was one car in the drive, the car she’d driven last night. He was wondering how she’d managed to get here so quickly, when another car drove past him. It, too, slowed as it approached the bungalow. He eased up on the gas and watched in the side mirror as she got out of the car.

“Hey, there’s a car coming!” his nephew yelled from the backseat.

He swerved to avoid it.

“Didn’t you see it?”

“Sure I saw it. I had plenty of time.” His eyes kept darting to the mirror. She was out of the car now, striding up the sidewalk on long bare legs. He pulled to the side of the road, permitting a convenient few cars to pass him on the narrow street.

“That’s what Daddy does. He pulls over and lets people pass. He says it’s polite,” the seven-year-old said.

“Now you’re being polite, too. You weren’t polite before,” the five-year-old reprimanded him.

He watched through the mirror until she was inside the house.

This one. This one. This one.

Yes. This one.

It was merely a matter of how and when.

How would take a little figuring. She was living with a cop-he knew who she was, but he wasn’t going to deal with her now, wasn’t even going to think about her now. There was no room in his head for thoughts of her. Not when he had the one-truly the one-in sight. The other, no longer important, could wait.

As for when, it couldn’t be soon enough.

Never soon enough.

Mitch Peyton sat across the table from Regan Landry and tried his best not to stare. How had Cisco described her face? Interesting?

If the face across from him was interesting, he had to wonder what Cisco thought was beautiful.

Oh, the face was interesting enough, all right. Deep-set green eyes and a mass of tumbled curly blond hair that was pulled up in a tangled knot at the back of her head. A trim well-proportioned body under a pale pink cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and black yoga pants. Bare feet.

He’d been startled when she’d opened the door and looked up at him when he arrived at her farm earlier in the day. He’d been expecting… well, he wasn’t quite sure just what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t her.

It wasn’t just her appearance that appealed. There was an energy to her, a vibrancy, that sent his senses into alert mode.

“Agent Peyton?” she’d asked, then glanced at the ID he held out to her. She studied it with serious eyes, then smiled at him. “Come in. Please. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The smile had really gotten to him.

He’d barely heard a word she spoke, just followed her down the hall to the study, where she said she’d been working, and he’d probably want to see what she’d found straight off, so they might as well just start right in.

“I’m glad you came to look over these notes in person,” she said. “John and I did discuss the possibility of me faxing them to the FBI, but then, there are all these other files, and God knows what’s in them…”

She had waved her hand around at the stacks of boxes that covered most of the carpeted area.

“… and I know there’s more to this story than what we have here. I told you on the phone how scattered my father was in his record keeping?”

Mitch had nodded.

“Well, we’re paying the price for that now.” She’d stepped behind the desk and seated herself in the leather chair, which seemed to swallow her, and motioned for him to have a seat.