There was no getting around the plain truth. Like those other times, her brain had been invaded by the personality traits of the victim. Life, or death, wasn’t fair.
A siren wailed, closed in. The promised black-and-white wheeled around the corner, pulled to the curb facing the wrong way, and stopped nose to nose with her little Miata. The uniformed officer climbed from the car, and the crowd, driven by the blue-haired woman, parted like the Red Sea. The cop smiled broadly at the elderly lady from a too-young face. “Thanks, Ladybird.” The name sounded like a cute little garden bug.
Sweeping the gate aside, the cop crossed the lawn with long strides. Witt met him halfway, leaving his ... witness by the edge of the driveway. The uniform clapped him on the shoulder. Witt clapped back. Jees, cop fraternities; he hadn’t even pulled his badge to ID himself. Witt grabbed the younger, smaller man’s forearm while they talked. Cops were a touchy lot in a macho, big guy sort of way. Witt sure did his share of touching her now that she was neither a victim nor a suspect. Touchy, yeah, in a very different way that usually left her panting for more. Between the two men, there was a lot of pointing, first at the girl, then the house, finally at Witt’s department vehicle parked across the street.
Max felt conspicuous in the fact that Witt acknowledged her with neither a look nor an introduction. She stood stranded in the middle of the walkway, but retreating to her car would have been akin to defeat.
The officer’s mike, clipped to his shoulder, crackled. He spoke into it softly. Witt left him, and finally came to Max’s side. For some strange reason, she wouldn’t have minded if he put his arm around her shoulder as he had the baby-faced officer. He didn’t. “Meat wagon’s ordered, and the on-duties’ll be here soon.”
“On-duties?”
“Detectives. Harmon over there called ’em out. We’ll wait. They’ll want my statement since I was first on the scene.”
She really hadn’t meant to put him in an awkward position. “Do they want to know why you happened to be first one here?”
Witt stared at her. He was detached, his usually expressive blue eyes now bleak and cold, and his cop jargon callous.
Max shivered. The sun was going down on the early October afternoon. She wondered if this was what he’d meant when he said—what, a week, two weeks ago?—that most women wouldn’t understand a man like him. He was like a chameleon, changing his colors, his mood, his manner, and even his voice to fit the surroundings.
Finally, he said, “Told ’em my Mom lives in the area.”
Max gave him an admiring wide-eyed look. “Wow, that’s great thinking.” She tipped her head. “What if they decide to check out where your mom really lives?”
“They won’t.”
He was so sure. She let him be so she wouldn’t have to worry about him. “I suppose they’ll want to talk to me, too.”
He gave her a look, his head tilted back, his nose appearing longer than usual. “Why?”
She smiled thinly. “They’ll want to know what I saw.”
“You didn’t see anything. You dreamed it.”
“Since when did you stop believing in me?” Jees, that sounded bad. Proprietary. Needy even. She couldn’t remember him saying he believed in her, only that he believed some of the things she told him. “I mean since when did you question my psychic abilities?”
“Since the day I met you.”
Men. They were all scumbags. She narrowed her eyes. “You know I was right the last time. You know it wasn’t a lucky guess. You saw that with your own eyes.” On video even, played out exactly like her vision.
“I know. These guys don’t. Stay out of this mess.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “What did you see in there?”
“Classified until I give my statement.”
“Bullshit.”
He raised a brow at the word.
“It was exactly like I told you, wasn’t it? Right down to the peach-colored robe she was wearing and the truffles she hadn’t finished eating.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Fear maybe. No, he wasn’t afraid of anything. When he spoke, his voice had hardened. “Stay. Out. Of. It.”
Oh yeah, that’s exactly what he’d seen. Bastard for not admitting she’d been right. He was worse than a plain old scumbag, he was a dictatorial one. Well, he’d find out fast that attitude had never—and she meant never—worked on her. “How will they know she was a phone sex operator? How will they know to look for the guy on the phone? How will they know he knew where she lived? If. I. Don’t. Tell. Them.”
His hand whipped out and cupped her cheek. The abrupt change in attitude stole the breath from her lungs and set her skin buzzing while his eyes suddenly blazed. “Trust me.”
God, the worst words any man could ever say in a rasping tone that melted her from the inside out. Yes, yes, yes. She wanted to, she really did, wanted to lean into that warm touch, lean on him, and turn her lips to his palm. But ... “You already know the answer to that.”