Return To Stony Ridge

“Have a seat while I make us some eggs,” he told her. “Scrambled, okay? With cheese? I’ve tried doing them over easy but they usually end up scrambled anyway.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” Her stomach growled loudly in protest.

R.J. raised his eyebrows, noting the way her blush gave her high cheekbones a delicate pink stain. She really was quite attractive. He wondered what she’d look like in something other than black.

Though obviously embarrassed, she held his gaze. “I didn’t have dinner last night. Scrambled eggs would taste great.”

He wanted to smile but didn’t. “I’ve got precooked bacon strips, too. They aren’t as good as the real deal, but I don’t have much time most mornings.”

“That’s okay. Eggs are more than enough. What can I do to help?”

“How are you at toast?”

“Depends on the toaster.”

“Not the domestic sort, huh?”

“There are restaurants for a reason, you know.”

He didn’t want to like her, but she made it difficult. He found his guard slipping as they prepared breakfast with the deft ease of people who had done so together more than once. The domesticity of the scene unsettled him. R.J. was fully conscious of her on several levels, and that alone was disturbing. Letting himself be attracted to her wasn’t smart. He needed to keep in mind that the woman was here with an agenda.

“Where’s the army that’s going to help us eat all this?” she asked, watching him stir the grated cheese into a huge mound of eggs in the frying pan.

“I work construction. I protein and carbo-load most mornings. You should see what I have for lunch.”

Her lips quirked. “Pass.”

“You one of those women who diet all the time?”

“No.”

That had struck an unexpected nerve. Her flat tone and severe expression left him wondering, but then he should have known better than to mention the D word to a woman.

She set silverware on his small table, poured them each a glass of apple juice and, at his request, buttered several slices of toast.

“Are you always this domestic?” she asked as they sat down together.

“Not much choice if I want to eat. You’ll have noticed there aren’t a lot of restaurants nearby.”

Lucky plopped on the floor between them with his usual wistful expression.

“Your dish is over there,” R.J. reminded him. But he broke off a slice of bacon and tossed it to the dog. For a second, he thought Teri was going to scold him, but she reconsidered and started eating.

For someone who didn’t eat breakfast, she made hearty inroads on the food he’d put in front of her, including the bacon strips. She could stand to gain a few pounds, though he wouldn’t have told her so under torture.

She was a little too thin, if generously proportioned. Her dark red hair floated around a pinched face that still showed lines of strain. She’d made an effort to restrain the silken mass of her hair, but his bathroom wasn’t well equipped for unexpected guests. Probably because he rarely had any. At least the smudges beneath her impossibly green eyes weren’t as dark as they had been last night, but the sliding glances she kept sending his way were still wary.

Fine with him. R.J. didn’t trust her, either.

“Sleep okay?”

Startled, she looked up. “Yes. Thank you. But your dog licked me awake before the crack of dawn. He made it clear he wanted out, so I turned him loose. Hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I appreciate it. Lucky’s a dog of simple needs, but he does think people are here to serve.”

“Uh-huh. Well, if you ever run out of sandpaper, I’m sure his tongue could fill in for you in a pinch.”

R.J.’s lips curved. The persistent tug of sensual awareness annoyed him. He decided it had been too long since his last date and finished his meal quickly, anxious to clear his driveway and get her car out of the mud. He’d be glad to send her on her way. The thing was, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy.

He was right.

“Do you think we could make a fresh start this morning?” she asked over a forkful of eggs.

“In what way?”

“Tell me everything you know about the night Valerie disappeared.”

His fingers tightened around his coffee mug. He took a swallow to buy some time. He couldn’t see any reason not to share the small amount of information he had. He’d already told her most of it anyhow.

“According to Kathy Walsh—she’s the house mother, I guess you’d call her. Anyhow, according to Kathy, Valerie went to her room shortly before eleven. In the morning, she was gone. Her son and her clothes and her car were still there. Even her purse. She wasn’t.”

He found he was gripping the cup tightly enough to snap the handle and set it down. Teri’s expression was equally bleak.

“No one heard a thing. The house alarm was still armed for the night. All the doors and windows were locked. One of the kids heard her son crying that morning and Kathy went up to check on them.”

A flash of sympathy, almost pain, came and went in her expressive, too green eyes.

“The chief of police is a friend of mine. Wyatt’s wife is the founder of the shelter so he was called in right away. He discovered the broken cell phone in back by the fountain,” he went on more calmly. “Wyatt thinks it belonged to Valerie, but he’s checking to confirm that. He came to see me right after he found the phone.”

“Why?”

There was no need to tell her how Wyatt had questioned him about R.J.’s argument with Valerie the evening she disappeared. Wyatt had only been doing his job. And quite possibly that argument was responsible for her disappearance. If he hadn’t pressured her to talk to Wyatt and press charges against her husband, maybe she wouldn’t have run.

“I took her to Heartskeep. Wyatt thought maybe I knew where she had gone.”

Mistrust was back in Teri’s eyes. R.J. ignored it and continued.

“We searched the grounds until it got too dark to see. By then, it was raining hard enough to wash away any useful evidence of anything. The thing is, if she’d stayed close to the house someone would have found her.”

“Why would she have gone outside in the first place?”

R.J. raised and dropped his shoulders. “We don’t know. It’s possible she went to get something from her car before the house alarm was turned on and surprised someone on the grounds, possibly an intruder who had nothing to do with her husband. The crushed cell phone was found in some disturbed grass out in the maze. That’s quite a distance from the parking area and there were no signs of a struggle near the car, nor that anyone had been dragged there. I can’t come up with a single reason for her to have gone into the maze that night. It was dark and raining.”

Feeling the helpless anger once more, he had to force his tightly balled fingers to relax.

“Maybe she ran from someone and was trying to use the cell phone to call for help,” Teri suggested.

“Or she dropped it when she was unloading things from her car and someone else took the phone out back.”