CHAPTER FIVE
She refused to run. Back in the market, she had run and he’d taken her down from behind. It was a mistake she would not repeat.Cautiously, turning to check every side, she made her way to the front door. She stood against its cool wood, the handle near her hip, and reached behind her with the key. It clicked and skidded against the lock-face. Finally, it slid in. She turned it. The lock tongue snapped back.Through the bushes to her left, she saw a quick pale movement. She jerked her revolver toward it. The shape rushed clear of the bushes and appeared in the open ahead of her, just across the lawn.A man. Cliff Woodman. Out for a run.He glanced toward Lacey, waved, and suddenly stopped.“That you, Lacey?”“It’s me.”“Is that a gun?”“Yeah.”“Trouble?”“I don’t know.”Lacey stepped away from the door and lowered her revolver as Cliff jogged toward her. She immediately felt better. Cliff, a gym teacher at the high school, was forty years old and an ex-marine. To night, in his running shoes, shorts, and a bandanna knotted around his head as a sweatband, he looked almost savage.“What’s the problem?” he asked.“I think I’ve got a prowler.”“Where?” He squinted at the bushes in front of the house.“I don’t know. I think he was in my car.”“Your car?” Cliff strode toward it, hunched slightly, arms away from his sides like a wrestler about to do battle. Lacey hurried after him. He jerked the handle of the passenger door.Thank God it’s locked, Lacey thought, hoping he wouldn’t discover her torn bra and pan ties.He tugged open the back door. “Nobody there now,” he announced, and flung the door shut. “I’ll look around the back.”Lacey held out the revolver. “You’d better take this.”“Couldn’t hurt.” He took it, and started up the driveway toward the rear of the house.Lacey followed. “I’ll go with you.”He nodded.She hurried forward until she was beside him. “You’ve got to know, Cliff,” she whispered. “I think he’s a murderer.”“For real?”“I just came back from Hoffman’s Market. Elsie was killed there to night. So was Red Peterson.”Cliff’s heavy brows lowered. “Fella that offed Red’s dog?”“I guess so. I think he hid in my car when I left there.”“Maybe he high tailed it.”“I don’t know.”“Well, if he’s around here, we’ll get him.” Cliff grinned. “Save the taxpayers the expense of a trial.”They followed the driveway past the back of the house. Cliff stared ahead at the garage.“It’s padlocked,” Lacey said. “The laundry room’s open, though.”“Let’s have a look.”Walking near the front of the garage, Lacey scanned her yard, the lounge chairs and barbecue, the hedge along the far side.Cliff took her arm. He pushed her against the wall, close to the laundry room door. “Don’t move,” he whispered. He knelt in front of her. Reaching up, he slowly turned the knob. He threw open the door and leaned forward to peer in. Then he rose to his feet. He entered the laundry room, crouching. Lacey stepped in after him.“Do you want the light on?” she asked.“It’d wreck our night vision.”He went to the far end, then hurried back. Together, they cut across the yard. They walked singlefile through the narrow space between the side of the house and the hedge. Then he led her to the front door.“Any chance he got inside?”“No, I don’t…”Cliff opened the front door.“Oh no,” Lacey sighed. “I unlocked it just as you came along.”“I’d better have a look.”“Yeah, please. Damn, that was stupid.”They entered the house, and she locked the door. Cliff walked ahead of her, glancing behind furniture, lifting draperies. In the lamplight, his back was glossy. The band of his gray shorts was dark with sweat, and Lacey caught herself wondering what—if anything—he wore beneath them. She suddenly became very aware of her own nakedness inside her jeans and flimsy blouse, a body beaten, soiled by another man’s filth.She tried not to think about it.She followed Cliff around the dining room table, and into her bedroom. The lamp was still on, the nightstand drawer still open. She stood against the door frame, watching him. On the far side of the bed, he dropped to his knees and lifted the coverlet. Then he got to his feet again, and came back. His eyes met Lacey’s, and he smiled as if to reassure her. When he looked toward the closet, Lacey lowered her gaze. His chest was muscular, his belly flat. His shorts hung low on his hips. They fit snugly. She glimpsed his bulge, and quickly looked away, a warm thickness of revulsion in her stomach.He opened the closet door and looked inside.“So far,” he said, “so good.”Lacey backed out of the doorway. She followed him into the kitchen. He walked through, glancing to each side, ducking to peer under the heavy wooden table that barely fit into the breakfast nook, opening the utility closet door and shutting it again after a quick inspection. He checked the back door. Locked.Glancing at Lacey, he shook his head.He had, she realized, a dangerous face: deep-set, dark eyes, jutting cheekbones, thin lips, a blocky jaw. A somewhat handsome face, but not a face to inspire any special feeling of tenderness.He stepped past her, his arm brushing against her breast. She flinched away from the unwanted contact. Had he done it on purpose? Staying farther away from Cliff, she followed him around the corner and into her study. He walked past its bookshelves, checked behind an easy chair, and looked in the closet.“I really appreciate your helping me like this,” Lacey said.“Glad I came by when I did.”“I guess it’s just a wild-goose chase.”“Not yet,” he said, stepping toward her. She quickly backed out of range. He went past, pulled open the linen closet door, then entered the bathroom and turned on its light. He walked past the toilet and sink. At the tub, he slid back the frosted glass door. Then he turned to Lacey and smiled. Not an open friendly smile: it was guarded and sardonic. “
Now,” he said, “it’s a wildgoose chase.”“Well, thanks an awful lot.”“I’m just sorry we didn’t bag him. For your peace of mind. If you’d like me to stick around for a while, I’d be happy to.”“Thanks. I think I’ll be all right.”“Suit yourself.”He handed the revolver to Lacey. “If you ever have to use this, go for the torso and don’t settle for one hit. Put three or four in him, but save a shot or two, just in case.”Lacey nodded. Strange advice, she thought, but coming from Cliff it sounded perfectly natural.“And remember I’m just three houses away, if you need me. Let me give you my number.” He wrote it on a pad by the kitchen telephone. “If you have any trouble, give me a ring. I can get here a lot quicker than the cops.”“All right.” She walked ahead of him to the door.“Sure you won’t feel better if I hang around for a bit?”“I’m sure. Thanks anyway.” She opened the front door for him. “Have a good run.”He jumped off the stoop, and raced across the lawn.Lacey shut the door and locked it, relieved that he was gone. Had it been intentional, touching her breast? Probably. He’d been so insistent on staying. More than likely, he’d hoped she would fall into his protective arms and…Hell, he was just being a good neighbor.She tried to push the revolver into her waistband, but the jeans were too tight. She shoved its barrel down a front pocket. It wouldn’t go in past the cylinder, so she pulled it out and carried it into the kitchen and held it while she poured herself a glass of pinot noir. She took the revolver and wine into her study and sat at her desk.Her back felt exposed. Turning her chair, she could see the open door. That was better, though she still felt vulnerable. She placed the revolver on her lap. With a trembling hand, she lit a cigarette.Then she sipped her wine and picked up the phone. She dialed.On the other end, the phone rang twice.“