“Only son, at that.”
“All the more reason.”
“So how’d you end up in his good book so much that he pimped you and your buddy to his daddy’s firm?”
“No idea, and that still puzzles me. Neither Todd nor I saw that coming, I can tell you. We took Melvin out, thanked him with a nice dinner and all, but it was never comfortable. I think the bottle of Scotch Todd bought him is still sitting in his office on the credenza.”
“Really?” He could hear Tibbet scratching notes. “Waste of good Scotch.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I gotta get home. Remember, call. I don’t care if you think it’s only a mouse farting, if it’s out of place, lock the damn bedroom door and call.”
“Got it, loud and clear.”
He would call because he had something for which to live. He had Torie. He was going to do whatever it took to find her forgiveness.
For the first time, he understood Todd’s obsession with making it up to Torie. The difference was, Todd had felt that he’d somehow let a friend down, embarrassed her.
From the vantage point of love—dear God, that was hard to admit, even to himself—he could see that Todd wanted to ease a friend’s pain. On the other hand, Paul wanted to win her back, and he didn’t give a damn about the short term. He wanted forever. He wanted a chance to be with her, hear her laugh. Have another dinner out. Or in.
It wouldn’t matter if it was burgers and fries, or the finest steak and wine. He just wanted it to be with her.
“Christ Almighty, I’m getting sappy talking to myself,” he complained aloud.
It was true, though.
Tomorrow he would plan. He would figure out a way.
He’d loved her too long to let her go without a fight.
He turned off the lights in the living room, but sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop. There was one thing he could do now.
Within minutes, he’d ordered the flowers to be sent. They would be delivered to Torie’s room first thing in the morning. The card would have only four words.
“Save me a dance.”
That done, he shut down the laptop and turned out the lights. He turned off the porch light, but the other light, the one in his bedroom, he turned on.
That was nearly his death sentence.
He was walking to shut the drapes when he saw a glint of something directly across the street, where the neighborhood kids’ playground was located. Someone moving.
Something different, Tibbet said.
As he dove for the phone, the glass shattered.
A whoop of a siren made him wince, and he heard engines revving outside as they tore off toward the park.
He dialed Tibbet.
“What?”
“Your guys hit the sirens.” He couldn’t help the shake in his voice. “Someone just put a shot through my bedroom window.”
“Damn, I was right. Marsden owes me twenty bucks.” Paul heard the sound of rustling clothes. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight.”
“Okay if I do that on the floor?”
Tibbet laughed and cut off the call. Paul heard the doorbell, and shakily got to his feet to answer it.
By the time Tibbett arrived, the crime scene tech had dug the bullet out of the trim around his closet door and left. Paul was sweeping up the glass, wondering if he had any plastic or a board in his shed to cover the gaping window.
“Hey,” Tibbet whistled from the doorway. “Nice room.”
“Ha, ha,” Paul faked a laugh. “Hand me that garbage can.”
Tibbet brought the can and held it as Paul tossed the last load of glass into it.
“So what was the bet?”
“I said the crazy would go for you again. Get you out of the way so your girl was left unprotected.”
He let the “your girl” part slide by him. He hoped he could make it true.
“Yeah, so Marsden thought he’d go for Torie again? We both have someone watching her, right?”
“Yep, sitting in the lobby as we speak.”
“Great,” he said, and meant it. “Mine, too.”
Another officer came down the hall and spoke to Tibbet. “No luck, Detective. No casing, no nothing.”
“Smart bastard,” Tibbet muttered. “Too smart. He’s getting predictable. Pushing the time limit. He hardly gave it a day between shooting twice at you. That’s what we call an escalating tendency to violence.”
“Focused on me.”
“Right now.”
“Nice. But better me than Torie.”
“Yeah, thought you’d see it that way. So,” Tibbet paused, eyeing him, “were you schtupping the bride before the wedding? Is that why Peterson called it off?”
Paul stared for a moment. “Hell, no,” he protested. “She didn’t like me at all.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Why was she so hell-bent on keeping you away?”
“Because she didn’t like me.”
“Didn’t. Past tense, right? So, you had this thing for her for a long time? Did your friend know?”
“What? No.”
“Look,” Tibbet said, putting his notebook away. “Let’s talk here, off the record, as you’re so fond of sayin’. What’s more important, your pride or her safety?”
“Her safety, of course.”
“Then spill it.”
“Torie and I have a history.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Tibbet snorted. “You’ve known her longer’n most people have known their wives. Just tell me what happened.”
“There was a fraternity party…” Paul started the story, and found he had to sit down to tell it. His knees were shaking. “We were all drinking, but Torie doesn’t drink that much. So suddenly she disappears.”
“You two were dating at that point?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I was interested in her, though. One of the senior brothers had invited her to the party, but he was off smoking a—” Paul grinned, realizing he was talking to a cop—“cigarette.”
“I’ll bet. So?”
“So I was watching to see if I could talk to her. I wanted to ask her out. But she was gone. When she didn’t come back in a few minutes, and her date was feeling no pain with a bunch of the guys on the deck, I went looking for her.”
“Altruistic of you,” Tibbet drawled.
“Not really, though she thinks it’s real white knight kind of stuff. I had a vested interest. So, I go upstairs, I ask around. Somebody tells me one of the brothers helped her upstairs, and that she wasn’t feeling too well.”
“I take it that didn’t sit right with you.”
“No. The frat was already on probation for violating policies about people sleeping over, and I knew she wasn’t with anyone.”
“Not a party girl?”
“No. Not that way. She enjoyed a party, but I’d never heard of her going for the wilder stuff. Anyway,” Paul said, remembering all too vividly how he’d found her, “I found her in an unused room, tied to the bed, naked and drugged. In the space of fifteen minutes, she’d gone from nursing one beer—to that. Whoever did it worked fast.”
“Not Todd then.”
“No, not his style. Besides, he was singing karaoke in the dining room with four of the other guys.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No, neither of us were dating her at the time, so it didn’t occur to me to tell him. I got her untied and dressed, and took her to my room. Stuck my finger down her throat and got her to throw up whatever shit they gave her.” The memory of her quaking body, miserable and shaking, nearly made him sick. “She refused to go to the health center, and I was too dumb and scared to insist. She was sick for an hour. I got her a washcloth, helped her get cleaned up. Later, I sneaked her out of the house and got her back to her dorm. When I checked on her the next day, she said she was okay and only wanted to forget it.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah, I think she did, but she never came to another party. I asked her out.”
“Did she go?”
“Yeah, we had one date. It got hot and heavy, then I said something stupid, something about the birth-mark she has on her back, and broke the mood. She accused me of only asking her out because I thought she was some kind of kinky tramp. I denied it, and we went at it for a bit at the top of our lungs. We both calmed down and apologized, but it was our only date.”