Chapter 18 #2
“Sure. It’s Christmas.” What kind of daughter did he think she was?
A bad one, evidently. She knew that about herself but she didn’t need him reminding her.
“We’re doing lunch.” She backed toward the kitchen door.
“All the more reason to get a move on. Let me grab my jacket and I’ll be ready when you are. ”
She hustled to the guest room, strapped on her belt, and nestled her weapon in place on her hip. She gathered her jacket and cell phone. The sooner she was out of this house the more comfortable she would feel.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she made a face. Damn, she needed a rubber band or something for her hair. Bathroom. Though she couldn’t imagine why Wyatt would have a ponytail holder of any sort, it couldn’t hurt to look. Maybe there was something usable in there.
She checked the hall bathroom. Didn’t find anything. Next she banged on his bedroom door. “I need to get into your bathroom.”
He opened the door. “What’s wrong with—”
She squeezed past him. “I’ll be ready in half a minute.” Since it was Christmas or maybe because it was Saturday, he’d kept the jeans and added a dark green shirt. The color would bring out the green in his eyes. It wasn’t necessary to look, she knew his eyes as well as she did her own.
Nothing in the two drawers. She crouched down in front of the vanity and opened the doors.
“What are you looking for?”
She glanced up. “Something for my hair.” She shoved a handful of the wild stuff behind her ear.
He loitered in the doorway, wedging those massive shoulders from jamb to jamb. “I don’t think—”
“Here we go.” She held up a ponytail holder. Black in color. Hmm. “You have a girlfriend with black hair?”
Frustration lined his brow. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Really?” Adeline held up a neatly folded pad in its flowery wrapper. “When did you start using these?”
Their gazes held for a few drama-filled seconds. The kind where you’re scrambling to come up with what to say or do next. The reality of what her feminine finds meant had abruptly sunk into her brain.
It felt intensely strange. He had a girlfriend.
She’d had plenty of guy friends. Sex whenever she wanted.
No real relationships but plenty of repeat dates.
Nine years had passed. Of course Wyatt had been with other women.
Maybe even moved one into his place—which was exactly what this felt like. What had she expected?
Adeline blinked first, looked away. She tossed the unused pad back into the vanity and stood.
“This’ll work fine.” She slid the holder onto her wrist, fingered her hair into an acceptable bunch and tugged the stretchy holder into place.
She checked her work in the mirror. Ignored the fact that Wyatt was watching her in that very mirror.
She turned to the door and the tall frame blocking her path. “I’m ready. You?” He looked ready. All the way down to the boots.
“Her name was Rita. She works in the courthouse.”
He swallowed. Adeline’s gaze followed the tense movement.
“You don’t need to tell me this.” She took a breath. Did not want to hear about his sexual escapades. “Let’s just go.”
He continued to stand there, staring at her. The building tension seemed to push all the oxygen out of the room. She’d been right about his eyes. They looked greener with the shirt. Somehow that fact prevented her from breathing at will.
“I don’t want to . . .” He shook his head, his mouth a firm line, those eyes full of regret or sadness. “I can’t just pretend the past didn’t happen. Maybe you—”
Music drowned out his words.
His cell phone.
She relaxed marginally, grateful for the reprieve.
He pulled his phone from the holder on his belt. Read the screen. Frowned, then answered the call. “Henderson.”
Adeline managed to suck in a lungful of scarce air.
Wyatt listened another moment or two. “I’ll be right there.”
He ended the call, the look in his eyes giving her the details before he said a word.
She guessed, “The second princess has been taken.” Her gut clenched.
“Real estate agent over in Wiggins.” He slid the phone back into its holder. “She got a call early this morning, went to meet a client.”
“On Christmas?” Adeline thought she was the only female who made that sort of socially unacceptable sacrifice.
He nodded. “She promised to be back within the hour. When she wasn’t back, her husband started calling her cell. She didn’t answer so he loaded the kids up and drove to the property she’d gone to show. He was pretty pissed since it’s Christmas.”
“He found her car,” Adeline guessed.
“No sign of her or the cell or her purse.”
“Any message?” Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, shocking her heart into a frantic rhythm.
“On the windshield of the car. The message instructed whoever found it to call my office. Dispatch just got the call.”
“Come on.” Adeline pushed him away from the doorway. “We’ll take the Bronco.”
He argued all the way out of the house. She ignored him, hurried down the drive, past his SUV, to where she’d parked her Bronco.
She stalled.
An envelope was tucked beneath a wiper blade. She was at the vehicle and climbing onto the running board before he caught up with her.
“Don’t touch it, Addy!”
She froze. He was right. She took a breath. Ordered her hands to steady.
Wyatt poked around in his SUV, then walked over with a pair of latex gloves.
She tugged on the protective wear and reached for the envelope. She hopped down, opened the unsealed envelope. A single sheet of white paper . . . like the others. She unfolded the paper and stared at the words pasted on the page.
Merry Christmas, princess. You’re next.