vehicle was in prime running condition. He made sure to keep it that way. Working on cars helped soothe him whenever he felt particularly agitated.
Brady paused before pulling out of the lot. He knew he should go home, maybe tune up his engine to work the frustration out of his system.
Instead he turned his car in the opposite direction and headed back to the animal clinic.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, we’re not going home. At least not yet.” He glanced at the dog in the mirror. “Don’t give me that look. She’s a tax-paying citizen. Those are the ones we’re supposed to protect, remember?” King’s face remained impassive. “I just want to check up on her, make sure everything’s all right. Something happens to her, the department’s gotta find a new vet. Which means that you’ve got to get used to someone else poking at you. You want that?”
King continued to stare at him.
“I didn’t think so.” Brady took a sharp right. The open stretch of road in front of him invited him to go faster. He did.
Fifteen minutes later he eased his car to a stop, parking across the street from the animal clinic, which was attached to Patience’s home. After tossing the dog a large treat, Brady looked out at the two-story building. Except for the one just above the front entrance, the lights within the clinic had long since been extinguished.
The lights inside her home, however, had not. She was home. Most likely alone.
Brady settled in.
Chapter 3
Patience pushed back the curtain.
There it was again.
The car parked directly across the street from her home had been sitting there for a while now. Ordinarily she might not have even noticed it, except that for once, there were no other cars parked along the street. The neighbor who had a hundred and one excuses to throw a party was off traveling in Europe somewhere. According to the neighborhood gossip, he wasn’t due back for another three weeks.
Everyone else around her parked their cars either in the garage or in their driveway. Which made this particular vehicle stick out. Even if it hadn’t been red, which it was.
Walter owned a beige sedan. Beige, like his personality. Had the man bought a new car?
Her palms felt damp. Why did anxiety always crowd in the moment sunlight left?
Her mind was working overtime. She had to stop doing this to herself. So there was a strange car parked across the street from her house, so what? There were a hundred reasons for it being there.
She could think of only one.
She’d noticed the parked vehicle as she’d walked by her family room window. Ten minutes later, she was drawn back to the window. And again. Each time she looked, she could feel something in her chest tighten just a little more.
Get a grip.
She worked the curtain fabric through her fingers, staring at the vehicle. Telling herself that memories of her father’s case were making her overreact. Walter hadn’t hurt her last time. Why would he this time? Patience didn’t know for sure that the flower had come from Walter. But it had begun the last time with a single rose. Just because Walter had sent it, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t send her a flower for a completely innocent reason.
There could be all sorts of explanations for that flower. It could have even come from a new real estate agent trying to make an impression. Realtors were always doing strange things like that, giving you pads, newsletters, flags. Why not roses?
Okay, so where was his flyer? Flying off somewhere? She watched a bunch of leaves chase each other at the curb where she’d swept them. Gusts of wind had been blowing all afternoon. Fall was settling in.
Stop it, Patience, you’re making yourself crazy. Just wait and see what happens next.
That was what she’d told herself earlier this evening—just before she’d spotted the car. Patience chewed on her bottom lip. Did the car belong to Walter? She didn’t know. No, she wasn’t going to break down, wasn’t going to be the spooked female, was not going to let her imagination run away with her. She could handle this. At the very least, she had to be sure if it was Walter or just a car someone had innocently parked near her house.
Summoning her courage, Patience looked out a third time. And saw the vague outline of a dog in the back seat. The relief she felt was massive. It wasn’t Walter’s car. Walter was terrified of dogs. Each time he had come into the clinic, he made sure to steer clear of any canine patients in the waiting area. He’d told her that he’d had a bad experience as a young boy that had scarred him for life.
Okay, not Walter. But, if not Walter, then who? A patient with an “emergency”? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen a patient after her doors were closed.
She’d even gotten a couple of calls from frantic pet owners in the middle of the night. The last one had been less than a month ago, involving an encounter between a Great Dane and a pit bull that had accidentally gotten loose in the residential area. Jogging with her master, the Great Dane had been no match for the smaller, more powerful animal. If it hadn’t been for a cruising patrol car, Patience had no doubt that the Great Dane would have been killed. As it was, she’d spent the better part of three hours stitching up the poor victim.
Determined to get to the bottom of this, Patience slipped on a sweater and went downstairs to the front entrance of her house. The wind was picking up again. Two weeks into fall and the weather had decided to surrender to the season. Patience wrapped her arms around herself as she crossed the street. She missed summer already.
As she approached the vehicle, she saw the man in the driver’s seat look her way. Because of the location of the streetlamp, his face was bathed in shadow. She recognized the dog first. King. Which meant that the man in the car had to be Coltrane.
But why?
She leaned down until she was level with the window and his face. He looked none too happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged carelessly. “I was just making the rounds.”
The hell he was. She glanced at his vehicle, one that, even in this light, she could tell had been lovingly handled and restored. She’d had no idea that he was handy around cars. Only someone who was handy could drive an automobile like this. It required a great deal of attention. “In a ’78 Mustang?”
He looked mildly surprised that she could identify not just the make and model, but the year, as well. “You know cars?”
She laughed shortly. In this light, the car looked a deep blood-red. Not exactly the most inconspicuous color for a vehicle. “Most of my relatives are male. I’d have to be deaf not to have picked up something about cars over the years. And don’t change the subject. You’re off duty.” She ran her hand lightly over the dog’s head. “You both are, unless the police chief has suddenly decided to relax the uniform code. Besides, you’re part of the narcotics division.”
He’d never seen her outside of the clinic and without her lab coat. She wore a pair of faded jeans that adhered to her like a second skin, a white T-shirt that just barely covered her midriff and a cardigan that did nothing to hide her curves.
