Page 4 of Dark Terror
The detective stood in her small living room, and she watched as his gaze scanned the room. When one side of his mouth twitched, she followed his line of sight to the small pile of panties and bras on her sofa that she’d washed last night and hadn’t bothered to put away. Her cheeks heating—which they seemed to do a lot around him—she snatched them up.
“Back in a minute,” she muttered as she headed for her bedroom and dumped them on her unmade bed. So she was messy. She lived alone, hadn’t dated in months—not since breaking up with Jeremy—and didn’t care about impressing her girlfriends with her domestic skills when they came over. If she’d known the turn her life would take tonight and that she’d have a hot cop in her house before the evening was over, she would have tidied up. Although, if she had known all of that, she never would have gone into that damn park in the first place, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
When she returned, she found the detective in her kitchen, putting a bowl of water on the floor for Cricket.
“Oh, thanks,” she said at seeing the dog lap up the water. “I should go to the store and get some dog food, I guess.”
“We’ll figure that out later. How about we get the rest of the interview out of the way?”
“It’s your show, Detective.”
“Gabe.”
“Would you like something to drink, ah, Gabe?” As much as she wanted to get the interview over with, the longer she delayed, the longer a cop would be in her house, and while he was here, she felt safe.
“You have coffee?”
“I do.” She eyed the wine bottle on the counter. “Is it okay if I have a glass of wine?”
“Sure thing.” Cricket went to the garage door and whined. “Why don’t I take him out while you make the coffee?”
She hadn’t thought of the dog needing to go out. “How often do they need to do that?” No way was she walking the dog in the dark later.
“If I take him now, he’ll probably be good until the morning.”
That was a relief. She picked up the leash she’d dropped on the kitchen table and handed it to him. “You can take him to the backyard. The sliding glass door is in the dining room. There’s a floodlight switch right next to it.”
“Great.” He bent over, hooking the leash to the dog’s collar. When he stood, he glanced at her, then put his hand on her upper arm. “Everything’s going to be okay, Cara.”
Easy for you to say, she wanted to tell him but only nodded. He wasn’t on a killer’s radar. Maybe she wasn’t either, although that was impossible to believe. Murderers didn’t like loose ends, right? And she was definitely one of those.
After Gabe went out with the dog, Cara put her fingers over the spot he had touched. Her skin still tingled where his hand had been. The last thing she wanted was to be attracted to a cop, but her brain apparently wasn’t getting the message. Or maybe it was her heart refusing to listen.
Jeremy had grown tired of her grieving her brother’s death. Like that was something she should have taken a month to deal with and then pop back to her happy self. All David had ever wanted to be was a police officer, and he’d been so proud when he’d received his badge. Less than a year on the job he’d been killed, along with his partner, when they’d answered a domestic dispute call.
Cops were off-limits, even ones as hot as Gabe Calder, even though he’d made her skin warm and tingly with a mere touch. She started a pot of coffee, then poured herself a glass of wine. Going to the kitchen window, she looked out at the detective, clearly visible in the glow of the floodlight. He stood with one hand stuffed in the front pocket of his cargo pants and the other holding the end of the leash as he watched Cricket sniff the bushes. He filled out the light blue polo shirt quite nicely, and her gaze roamed over him, appreciating the view.
The green eyes behind the black frames were… arresting. That was a good word to describe them. And then that black hair, as glossy as ink, made her want to comb her fingers through it to see if it was as silky as it looked. Then he turned as he kept his focus on the dog now moving to the other side of the yard, and the gun strapped in a holster at his waist came into view.
“Off-limits,” she muttered, hoping to drill that fact into her brain, or heart, or girly parts—whichever one of those was intent on ignoring the no-way, no-how cop rule.
Cricket finally did his business, and seeing Gabe coming back in, Cara topped off her glass of wine and poured him a cup of coffee. “How do you drink it?” she asked when he walked into the kitchen.
“You have sugar? The real stuff, not the artificial kind that kills mice in laboratories?”
She couldn’t help smiling at the hopeful look on his face. “I do. What about cream? I don’t think cream kills mice.”
He returned her smile. “Nope. Just the sugar.”
“Here you go,” she said, sliding the sugar canister across the counter to him. She opened a drawer and took out a spoon, handing it to him. Her eyes widened when he added four generous spoons of sugar to the coffee. Someone had a sweet tooth. While he stirred his coffee, his gaze stayed on her, his eyes searching hers as if all her thoughts were there to see. She sure hoped not.
“Um, I guess the living room is the best place to do this.” Without waiting for him to agree, she walked away, needing to get those inquisitive eyes off her. The last thing she wanted was for him to pick up any vibes that she was attracted to him, and she was afraid she wasn’t hiding that unfortunate fact very well.
She sat at the end of her sofa and set her glass of wine on the end table. When he chose the chair facing her, she inwardly let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t sat next to her like he had at the library. Cricket curled up on the floor, resting his chin on her feet.
“I guess you want me to close my eyes again?”
“If it helps you to remember.” He took his phone out and messed with it for a moment. “I’m going to record this, okay?” She nodded. “Okay, Cara, start from the beginning, and tell me what you did and what you saw from the moment you walked out the library door.”
