Chapter Seven #2
“I’ve got to get over to the crime scene,” he said. “That means you have to come with me. Pull on a dry T-shirt and let’s get going. I’ll bring you back as soon as I’m finished.”
Her hackles went up. “I can’t go running off with you, Ethan. I have to get ready for the show.”
“I thought they were doing hair and makeup at the theater.”
“They are, but I have to shower, throw a few personal items into a bag. I was planning on doing a little meditation, try to get myself relaxed before tonight.”
“You’ll still have time for that. Dry T-shirt, or I take you the way you are.”
She couldn’t believe it. He might be handsome, but he was still an overbearing, macho jerk. “You’re kidding, right? Now you’re threatening to manhandle me?”
Amusement touched his lips and his hard look softened. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice dealing with women. I need to keep you safe, Val. I have no idea where the crazy who killed Delilah might turn up next. Until we know more, I need you somewhere I can protect you.”
He had a point. A woman was dead. Val had also received one of those letters. She sighed. “Okay, I see your point. But you’d better get me back here in time to get ready.”
“No problem.”
She hurried into the bedroom, dragged off her wet Seahawks tee, pulled on a yellow T-shirt with I heart Seattle on the front, then returned to the living room.
Ethan was occupying himself with a perusal of her apartment.
“Nice place,” he said, his gaze going over the antique bookshelves, the overstuffed nutmeg tweed sofa and chair that complemented the flecks of brown in the beige carpet.
One of her mom’s framed samplers hung on the wall next to some cute dog and cat prints.
“Homey,” he said. She noticed Snoozie had wandered in and was winding his way between Ethan’s long legs. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Another surprise?”
“I would have guessed modern and expensive.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you don’t exactly look the homey type.” He picked up the big gray tom and absently stroked his fur. Val felt the movement of his fingers as if they were touching her instead of the cat.
“I’m saving my money to finish vet school,” she said, shaking off the thought. “Sam told you that. This place is as much as I can afford until I graduate. And if you want to know the truth, I like it—so there.”
His lips twitched. God, the man had a beautiful mouth. Just looking at the way it curved did funny things to the pit of her stomach.
“You live alone?”
“Just me and Snoozie.”
“We’ve met.” Ethan scratched the cat beneath his chin one last time, then set him back on his feet. “No boyfriend, then. Sam didn’t say, but I don’t see any sign of one.”
“What, you were prowling around while I was changing?”
“I’m a detective. Prowling is what I do.”
She shook her head. “No boyfriend. I don’t have time.”
She didn’t say more as Ethan opened the front door and she walked out of the apartment, crossed the old-fashioned covered front porch, and made her way along the walkway out to his Jeep—a big black Wrangler four-door hardtop that looked like a smaller version of a Hummer and shouted too much testosterone. She couldn’t deny it seemed to fit him.
He opened the door on the passenger side and Val climbed up in the seat. Ethan walked around, slid in on the other side, and cranked the engine.
“How much college do you have left?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“One more year. It’s taken me longer than other students.
I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven. I .
. . umm . . . had a couple of setbacks in high school, didn’t graduate on time.
My . . . umm . . . parents got me a tutor and I started getting good grades.
Even with a partial scholarship, I still had to work. ”
She smiled. “I’ve already had an offer for a job in one of the local animal clinics as soon as I get my degree.”
A dark eyebrow arched in her direction. “You don’t think you’ll miss being a model? Most women would go blind with joy if they could work for La Belle.”
Val laughed. “I’m not most women.”
Ethan flashed her a look that made her stomach lift. “Yeah, I’m beginning to get that.”
He turned off I-90 onto Lakeside Avenue, then began to follow the shoreline, eventually pulling up near an expensive set of condos with views out over the lake.
“Modern and expensive,” Val said, repeating Ethan’s earlier words. “It would have suited Delilah perfectly.”
“But not you.” He cast her a sideways glance. “Now that I’ve been to your house, I stand corrected. Not you at all.”
She didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.
The thought slid away as she noticed the police cars lining both sides of the street in front of the residence.
Seeing them there made her stomach roll.
It reminded her why Ethan had insisted she come with him instead of staying home by herself.
Delilah was dead. She’d been young and beautiful, her whole life ahead of her. As Ethan stepped out of the Jeep, Val closed her eyes and said a prayer for the woman who had died so needlessly and whatever family she had left behind. When she looked up, she caught Ethan’s gaze through the window.
He opened the door on her side of the vehicle. “I won’t be gone long. Lock the doors. I’ll have an officer keep an eye on you until I get back.”
“That isn’t necess—”
“Just sit tight.”
She blew out a breath as he walked away, his strides long and determined. He paused to speak to a uniformed policeman and the officer nodded, his gaze swinging her way as Ethan disappeared inside the building.
Val leaned back in her seat. For the moment at least, there was nothing she could do but follow orders.
She thought of the years she had bounced from one foster home to another, the bad attitude she had carried that had protected her and at the same time caused her nothing but grief. She was older now and wiser.
But she still wasn’t much good at following orders.