enjoyed visiting when she was out working in her yard or on her house; and Richard Givens on the left, a fiftysomething divorcé, who considered himself God’s gift to women.
She shuddered in revulsion at the thought of Richard, with his bleached-blond hair, fake-bake tan and thick gold rope chain he wore around his neck, a throw-back from the disco era, no doubt. He’d made more passes at her than a professional quarterback and continued to do so even after she’d repeatedly told him she wasn’t interested. But the man had an ego the size of Dallas and a hide as thick as a rhinoceros, which obviously made him impervious to her refusals.
Frowning, she peered at the iron gate that opened from the side yard that ran between her house and Richard’s, the only other means of gaining entry to her backyard. She kept the gate locked at all times, unless she was outside. But she supposed a person could climb over it, if they wanted to badly enough. Richard was certainly physically capable of scaling the gate, but she couldn’t imagine why he would want to get inside her house.
She heard the familiar squeal of tires on the driveway next door and groaned, knowing it was Richard arriving home. A red Corvette braked to a stop in front of his garage. Yesterday he’d been driving a BMW coupe. An unending supply of cars to choose from was one of the many perks he enjoyed as the owner of a used-car lot.
Hoping to escape before he saw her, she grabbed her sander and started up the ladder.
“Hi, Andrea! Working on the house again?”
Stifling another groan, she stopped and forced a polite smile. “Yeah. I’m trying to get the rear wall scraped before it gets too dark to see.”
He wagged a stern finger. “All work and no play makes Andrea a dull girl.” Grinning, he motioned for her to join him. “Come on over and I’ll mix us up a batch of martinis.”
“Sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check.” She hefted the sander for him to see. “Duty calls.”
“Ah, come on,” he wheedled. “Surely you’ve got time for one of my famous dry martinis.”
She set her jaw to keep from screaming her frustration. “No, Richard, I really don’t.”
His smile slipped a bit at her refusal, then he shrugged and turned away. “Your loss.”
Staring, she choked a laugh. My loss? Shaking her head, she started up the ladder again. The guy was crazy. Certifiably insane. She stopped, her smile fading as she remembered the attempted break-in. No, she told herself, and resumed her climbing. Richard was a nuisance, but he wasn’t a criminal.
Or at least she didn’t think he was.
Shaking off the thought, she flipped on the sander. At the same moment, her cell phone rang. Muttering a curse, she shut off the machine and tugged the phone from the clip at her waist. “Matthews,” she snapped into the receiver.
“We’ve got a stabbing out on Maynor Road. Pete’s Place.”
She frowned, surprised to hear Gabe’s voice and not that of the dispatcher on duty. “Why are you calling me and not Joe?”
“Because I’m at the station and Joe has his hands full.”
She glanced at her wristwatch, gauging the time. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
“It’ll be faster if I swing by and pick you up.”
“No, I—” Before she could tell him she preferred to drive herself, there was a click and then the dial tone.
Furious that he’d hung up on her, she shoved the phone back onto its clip at her waist and stomped her way down the ladder.
She showered and changed clothes in record time and was locking her front door when Gabe pulled up in front of her house.
With her mouth set in a hard line, she climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “I don’t need a chauffeur,” she informed him tersely, “and if you hadn’t hung up on me, I could’ve told you that on the phone.”
He spared her a glance. “Are you this bitchy with everybody or do you reserve all your anger for me?”
Jutting her chin, she faced the windshield. “You rub me the wrong way.”
He put the truck in gear. “That’s odd. I don’t recall laying a hand on you.”
Before she could think of a smart comeback, he stomped the accelerator and the truck shot forward, thrusting Andi back against the seat. She wanted to demand that he slow down, but remembered the last time that she’d commented on his driving he’d considered it a dare, and decided not to push her luck.
“What’s the situation at Pete’s Place?” she asked, hoping if she distracted him, he’d slow down on his own.
“Stabbing. Jarrod, the new rookie, responded to the call.”
“Something’s always happening at Pete’s Place. Ten to one it’s over a woman.”
“As much as I’d like to accept your bet, it would be like taking candy from a baby.”
She gave him a droll look. “I take it you don’t think it started over a woman.”
He took a turn on two wheels, then shook his head. “No. Fights over women usually take place nearer to closing time, when folks start to pair off.”
She lifted a brow. “Is that the voice of experience speaking?”
“No. Common sense.”
“Okay, if not a woman, then what do you think started it?”
He made a sharp turn into the parking lot of Pete’s and braked to a rock-spitting stop behind the patrol car already at the scene. “Most of the men who hang out at Pete’s are construction workers. My guess is that it’s a disagreement they brought with them from the job.”
She reached for the door handle. “Well, let’s see which one of us is right.”
It appeared that the entire bar had emptied into the parking lot to watch the fight. Customers and employees alike formed a human wall that Gabe and Andi had to shoulder their way through before finding their victim. He sat on the ground beside a truck, his back propped against its rear tire, holding a blood-soaked cloth against his left arm. More blood was spattered on his shirt and jeans. Jarrod, the rookie cop, was standing off to the side, shooting the breeze with the ambulance driver.
Setting her jaw, Andi stalked toward him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The rookie jerked to attention. “Nothing, sir—I—I mean, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” she snapped, then pointed a stiff finger at the victim. “Do you realize that man might very well be bleeding to death while you’re over here flapping your jaws?”
“Uh, yes, ma’am. I tried to get him to let the paramedics load him up in the ambulance, but he won’t let anybody near him.”
Making a mental note to discuss later with the rookie his inability to control a scene, she
