“His name is Zack. Zack Jones.”
“Jones. You really told him that you hear voices?”
“Yes.”
Bradley looked at her with patent disbelief. “And he doesn’t have a problem with that?”
“Says it turns him on.”
“Something’s wrong with this picture.”
“Good-bye, Bradley. Good luck with the book.”
She hitched her purse over her shoulder and started to rise.
“Please.” The word sounded as if it had been ground out of him. “I need your help. This book is very important to me. If it works, I’ll be able to use it to leverage myself straight into the chief’s office. Hell, maybe I’ll go private.”
“Good luck,” she said, meaning it.
“You owe me,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He leaned a little farther toward her.
“I did you a favor a year and a half ago when you came to me with that wild story about a woman who was kidnapped and murdered by her husband, remember?” he said, his tone low and forceful. “Nobody else in the department was willing to give you the time of day. But I went into the old files and found one that matched the details you provided. I got the chief to authorize the DNA work. I tracked down the husband and got the confession.”
“And you got all the credit for closing the first in the long string of cold cases that will soon make you famous. I’d say we’re even, Bradley.”
“Shit. We should have kept the relationship professional. Why did you try to make it personal?”
She flinched a little and then managed to rally. “My mistake. I thought we were more than colleagues. I thought you understood—” She broke off. “Never mind. I take full responsibility for the failure to communicate. Now, I’ve got to go. Chief Langdon said the detectives from Portland and Seattle may want to interview me this morning. As soon as that’s over, I’m going back to Oriana. I’ve got a business to run.”
He reached up and grabbed her wrist. “Damn it, Raine, we’re a team.”
Zack materialized in the doorway. He started toward the table. She could feel the dangerous vibes from halfway across the room.
She looked pointedly at her captured wrist. “I think you’d better let me go,” she said quietly. “Now.”
Bradley finally noticed Zack coming toward him. Hastily he released her. His expression hardened.
“Wise up, Raine,” he said. “I don’t care if Jones knocked your socks off in bed. He didn’t just appear out of thin air. Whoever he is, he wants something from you, too, doesn’t he? And it isn’t just hot, sweaty sex.”
“That’s none of your business.”
Bradley was in full interrogation mode now.
“I can’t believe you met him yesterday,” he said. “What’s his connection to you?”
“I guess you could say he’s an old friend of the family.”
Fifteen
An hour later Zack leaned a shoulder against the inn room wall, folded his arms and watched Raine place a toiletries kit into her small overnight suitcase. She had looked different after that conversation in the dining room, he thought. She was back inside her safe zone.
“The interview with the detectives didn’t last long,” he said.
“Mostly because they weren’t interested in talking to me.” She zipped the small suitcase closed. “They’re too busy working the crime scene. Also, I got the feeling that Chief Langdon had warned them that I wasn’t quite right in the head.”
“Did he tell you when you could get back inside the house?”
“No, but it will probably be several days, at least.” She made a face. “For all the good it will do me to put it on the market now.”
“You never know. You might get some wack job of a buyer who will get a little thrill out of owning a genuine house of horror.”
“In Shelbyville?” She made a small, derisive sound. “Fat chance.”
“Well, at least you did a good job staying out of the limelight. This place is filled with reporters and camera crews. I counted two more news vans in the parking lot this morning. But no one is paying any attention to you.”
“Thank goodness.”
“According to the local morning paper, Spicer is getting the credit for rescuing the girl.”
“He’s welcome to it. Langdon probably finessed things to throw the spotlight his way.”
“What are you going to do about Mitchell?”
“Nothing, at least not right away.” She put on her raincoat.
“He’s not going to give up.”
“Probably not.” She took a last look around the room, checking to see if she had missed anything. “He thinks that the book Cutler wants to write will make his career.”
“He’s going to have a hard time maintaining his glittering track record without your help.”
“Bradley solved a lot of cases before he met me,” she said quietly. “He’s a good cop.”
“What did he say to you this morning that made you go back behind your barricades?”
She looked at him, eyes widening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He said nothing, waiting.
She gripped the handle of the suitcase very tightly. “Okay, he pointed out that my relationship with you had gone from zero to sixty in a very short length of time. He seemed to think that I had allowed myself to be seduced and that you probably wanted something from me other than hot, sweaty sex.”
He whistled softly. “Had a feeling that might be it. A comment like that would definitely account for the dimming of the postcoital glow.”
She flushed and stalked toward the door, suitcase in tow. “I’m leaving now. See you in Oriana.”
“You’ll see me in your rearview mirror.” He dropped his arms and straightened away from the wall. “I’ll be right behind you. Couple things before you leave.”
She paused at the door and regarded him with steady suspicion. “What?”
He moved closer and caught her chin on the edge of his hand.
“Mitchell was right,” he said. “I do want something from you.”
“I know.” She lifted her chin free of his hand. “But it’s okay because I’ve got an agenda, too.”
“You want to find out if your aunt was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“In other words, when it comes to using each other, we’re even,” he said.