“My car’s down the road about a quarter-mile,” Croc said.
Jeremiah relented. “All right. You can drive me back to Mollie’s. But I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and leave her the hell alone. Understood?”
“Aye-aye, mon capitaine.”
Jeremiah charged down the driveway, Croc on his heels, unruffled. That they’d managed to avoid being spotted by any of tonight’s dinner guests suggested Croc had deliberately let Mollie see him. He’d wanted to find out what she would do, and he’d wanted to meet her.
“Think about it, Tabak.” Croc was having to move fast to keep up. “If you were an innocent dinner guest and came upon a strange man in the dark, would you have rolled down your window and chatted with him? I mean, it would have made more sense if she’d tried to run me over or drove back up to the house and called the police.”
“Croc, for God’s sake. She saw me half a second after she saw you.”
“I don’t know.” They came to the end of the driveway and turned up the road. Streetlights and passing cars provided some illumination. “I think she knows I wasn’t the jewel thief. Which means she must know who it really is.”
“That’s a huge leap in logic.”
“So? Logic’s your department.” He grinned over at Jeremiah. “I consider myself a visionary.”
“Yeah, well, visionary me back to my truck.”
Croc’s car was a little red Volkswagen Rabbit that fit in Palm Beach even less well than Jeremiah’s truck. A truck was an essential piece of equipment. Gardeners could have beat-up trucks. Rich men who drove Lincolns and Mercedes during the day liked to rough it with a beat-up truck. But a rusted, ancient Rabbit with bald tires didn’t make the grade. Croc didn’t seem to care. “I’m telling you, this baby costs nothing to keep on the road.”
Jeremiah wondered who paid the insurance. And whose name it was in. He could run the license plate, but that seemed premature, a violation of the fragile trust he and Croc, aka Blake Wilder, had established. Not that the little bastard was holding up his end. He was damned lucky Jeremiah still didn’t throttle him for following Mollie.
When they arrived at Pascarelli’s, she was backing Jeremiah’s truck onto the street. It was bucking wildly. “I don’t think she’s so good with a clutch,” Croc said.
“That clutch is balky.”
Jeremiah winced at the squeal of tires and sudden silence as the engine choked. The truck was still crooked, its front tires well out into the street, but Mollie apparently had had enough. The door opened, and she climbed out.
Croc gave a low whistle. “Guess that’s a hint, huh?”
“Go home, Croc.” Jeremiah pushed open the rusting passenger door and got out. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
This time not arguing, Croc did a quick turnaround and sped off. Jeremiah approached his truck, and Mollie, with a certain prudent wariness. “I’m surprised you didn’t let the air out of my tires.”
She turned to him, dusting off her hands as if there’d been something nasty on his steering wheel, and tossed her head back, the streetlight catching the ends of her pale hair. She still had on her little black dinner dress. “That would only encourage you to stay longer.”
He moved closer. “Mad, huh?”
“Very.”
“You deserve to be.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Is that an apology?”
“Mollie, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was Croc. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure we’d been followed. I didn’t want to ruin your evening if I was wrong. When I tracked him down on your friends’ grounds, I could hardly waltz up to the house and come clean to you.”
She didn’t soften. “Would you have told me if I hadn’t spotted him?”
Jeremiah moved even closer, aware of the cool evening air, the shape of her under her dress, of his own ragged muscles, his hair and clothes damp from the intermittent rain, the crazy trek through underbrush. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“I see. Well, fair enough. Here are your keys.” She dangled them from two fingers. Jeremiah held out his palm, and she dropped them in. “Good night.”
She started back toward her open gates, casting a long shadow on the elegant brick driveway.
Jeremiah stayed where he was. “What would you do if you were trapped in there with a pack of wild dogs and your gates didn’t work?”
She arched him a mystified look. “I’d just have to get out my tranquilizer gun and tranquilize them.”
“You don’t have a tranquilizer gun.”
“You don’t have a pack of wild dogs, and my gates work fine.”
He settled back on his heels, studying her.
She couldn’t stand the scrutiny for long. “What is it?”
“How come there’s no man in your life?”
She swiveled around at him, obviously taken aback by his question. “Should there be? A woman can’t be happy and fulfilled without a man in her life?” She thrust her hands on her hips. “Why isn’t there a woman in your life?”