Page 28 of Hostile Witness
Whoa. Touché.His resolve to stay single slipped and fell on a banana peel. How hot would it be to remove a gun from her bed? Scorching. Whew! Good to know in case he ever stayed overnight. A guy could dream. He would be prudent to disarm the bed first.
Ethan shook off the mental picture. There was no way they’d ever sleep together.
He changed the subject. “How’s your back?”
“It hurts. Flynn and I were a tangled mess after he leaped into the front seat. Why?”
“There are bloodstains on your blouse. Maybe take it off so I can see how bad you’re hurt, and I’ll clean you up.”
She arched her eyebrows. “I’m not taking my blouse off.”
He dipped his head and silently counted to three. “Not liketake it all off. You can cover up with something, but if you aren’t willing to go to a clinic, someone has to disinfect your back.”
Her mouth rounded to a perfect O. “Gotcha. Right.” She went upstairs and returned wearing a high-neck backless beach cover-up.
Come to think of it, he’d never seen her with a button undone or showing a hint of cleavage. It was unusual behavior for a woman as attractive as her. He hadn’t thought much of it until now, but she almost always wore a turtleneck, a button-down, or a zip up that completely covered every inch of her front. Why? And the last thing he needed to be thinking about was her chest, so he chucked the thoughts into the recycle bin with the previous leg thoughts and hoped he could forget about the freaking gun in the bed, because last night he’d relived every sexy detail of the yard kiss and hadn’t been able to sleep.
Sliding onto a counter stool, she held out a pair of latex gloves and the peroxide. “Go easy. I looked in the mirror. There are a lot of them, and they hurt.”
He grabbed a wad of cotton balls and counted the dime-size cuts on her back. There were twenty-three of them to be exact. After soaking the cotton in peroxide, he dabbed at the dried blood. “Flynn didn’t mean to hurt you. He was working and even investigated your yard before he came in tonight.”
She gasped when the peroxide bubbled.“What do you mean... working?”
“He was protecting you and didn’t have enough room in the front seat. A dog like him will lay his body across yours to shield you.”
“It was just a traffic stop. Why on earth would Flynn feel the need to protect me from a police officer?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a working theory.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “What kind of theory?”
“It was on the late news last night. Someone impersonating a policeman has stopped a number of our citizens. He’s roughed up a few people, threatened and taken money from others. Dispatch has no record of these stops. Every officer lets dispatch know their location when they initiate a traffic stop. It’s for their safety in case they need backup or someone needs medical care.I called dispatch, and there haven’t been any recorded traffic stops on Holly Knoll Road in the past eight hours. ”
Her body went rigid. “What?”
“For a couple of weeks, we’ve known we have a murderer and an imposter cop out there. We’ve been treating the cases as separate incidents because until now, there wasn’t a point of intersection to tie them together.” He reached for a fresh clump of cotton balls. “Flynn is the only one who knows who killed Margie Plante, and let’s not forget that the killer also beat him within an inch of his life. A smart dog like him won’t ever forget the scent or the voice of that killer.”
“Stop.” Tia spun her counter stool around. “So Margie’s killer and the guy who stopped me are the same person?”
The shock on her face was obvious. He’d go easy. “It’s possible. Let’s just say I’m thinking it through at the moment. Why else would Flynn go berserk over something as benign as a traffic stop? My theory makes sense.”
Tia shook her head slowly. “I may have been stopped by Margie’s killer. I’m glad I didn’t know then what I know now.”
Ethan cocked his head. “Why was Flynn with you? Didn’t you have school today?”
“Yes, I had school, but I ran home afterward, picked up Flynn, and took him to Harlan Brinker’s farm to run with his hounds. Flynn loves those dogs, and the socialization and exercise do him good.” She shook her head. “All this happened because I wanted to be a good dog mom.”
His fingers had stilled. “You know Harlan?”
She laughed. “Duh—I’m a local. Everyone knows Harlan. I baked an apple cake for him last night and dropped it off while the dogs had their run. Harlan loves my apple cake.”
“You bake?” He couldn’t believe it. Where the hell did she keep the milk and eggs? The refrigerator was always empty.
Her voice lowered to a scold. “Yes, I bake. I’ve even been known to mix pasta salad in a bowl and use a cast-iron skillet on occasion. But it’s more fun to bake for somebody else. When I bake for myself, I eat the whole thing and worry about getting fat.”
Fat she was not, but he understood the sentiment. “Well, anytime you feel like baking, just let me know, and I’ll pick up the ingredients and eat the finished product with you. Then we’ll only get half as fat together.” The wordtogetherstopped him from teasing her more. What was happening to him? He hadn’t wantedtogetherwith anyone since his divorce. He thought back to what they’d been talking about before Harlan and the apple cake.
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”