Page 104 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

But the smell of cigarette smoke wafted in the air—thin and high.

Again he rang the bell. He was sure she was home. The dog was running loose, lights were turned on and then there was the Lexus parked smack-dab in the middle of her garage. He wiped the rain from his face, silently cursed his luck and hankered for a cigarette. There were times when he still yearned for the calming effects of nicotine.

Still nothing.

“Son of a bitch.”

He nailed the doorbell again. Leaned hard and insistent.

He was about to give up when he heard the footsteps. Quick, light footsteps, tripping down stairs. A face and body appeared in the long window next to the door. A beautiful face and great body.

Intriguing hazel eyes met his and instead of the usual fear that flitted through her gaze, he found steely, angry determination. Her chin was thrust defiantly, her mouth curved into a hard-as-nails frown. Quickly she unlocked the door but barred his way in with her body. It was hard to believe, but she actually looked intimidating, or tried to. As if she’d had some positive reinforcement training along with a couple of marital arts lessons.

“Detective,” she bit out, managing a smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes.

“Mrs. Bandeaux.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I have a few more questions.”

She didn’t move. Her hair was wet and piled on her head, little makeup remaining on top of the attitude that didn’t quite fit. “For me?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t move. “I think they’ll have to wait. I don’t want to answer any unless I have a lawyer present. And he’s not here right now.”

Smart-assed bitch. “It’s just about your phone records.”

She dropped the smile. “Didn’t you understand me? I’ve been advised not to speak to you without my attorney. So I don’t think we have anything to discuss tonight.” With that she slammed the door in his face. Through the window he watched her disappear into the back of the house.

What the hell was that all about?

He pressed the bell and waited. The dog went crazy again.

No one came.

Damn it all to hell. He felt like a fool standing on the damn porch like an unwanted suitor. “Come on, come on,” he said under his breath. “I know you’re in there.” He glanced at his watch. What the hell kind of game was she playing?

He jabbed hard on the bell again.

And waited. Checked his watch again. Three minutes passed, then five.

“For the love of St. Mary.” If only he had the damned search warrant, he’d break the door down. The dog was putting up enough of a ruckus to wake the dead in the next block. Christ, what a disaster. Another jab on the bell.

She suddenly reappeared, though as she opened the door, he noticed she’d changed her demeanor along with her clothes. She’d let her wet hair fall to her shoulders, and she looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was standing on her porch. She’d taken the time to change from jeans, sweatshirt and bad-ass attitude into a fluffy white robe cinched tight at her small waist. He caught a glimpse of cleavage, then kept his eyes on her face. “Oh, Detective,” she said, seeming confused, tucking the wet strands of her hair behind her ears. She didn’t bother trying to smile and looked as if she could sleep for a million years. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t hear the bell. I—I was in the shower . . . I’d been caught in the rain earlier and . . .”

“Your dog was barking his head off.”

“He does that a lot. And the water was running. I was upstairs and . . .” She stopped short as if she realized she was rambling. “Was there something I could do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you questions. Remember?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “About Mother, I assume, but I already answered them at the hospital. Were there more?” With a shaking hand, she brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes, and she looked suddenly vulnerable. Undone. As he would had expected a woman to appear if she’d just lost her mother.

“Not yet. I’m here about your husband’s death.”

“Oh.” One hand fluttered to her throat and she clutched the lapels of her robe, closing the gap.

---