Safe In His Arms

She wore the same thick robe she’d had on before, her hair pulled back from her face, no makeup on her skin. Nothing was different about her but she looked smaller in the morning light, less in control. Her expression was startled—she’d clearly forgotten he was coming over.

“I’m sorry I didn’t phone first,” he said. “I got busy. But I did bring coffee….”

“No…no, it’s fine.” She looked at the Starbucks cups in his hand and held her door open wider. He stepped inside the house he’d left only a few hours earlier and handed her one of the coffees.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “But thank you anyway.”

“I thought you could use the extra caffeine.”

“I never went to sleep,” she said. “So I didn’t have to wake up.”

He understood now. “I can come back later if you’re not ready.”

“No, that’s not necessary.” She smoothed her free hand down her ponytail. “If you don’t mind waiting, I can be ready in ten minutes. I know you need to get into Kenneth’s office.”

Once again, she managed to surprise him. He would have taken her for a woman who needed hours to get dressed. It took his ex ten minutes to even prepare her face to put on her makeup.

“That would really be great,” he said.

“I can’t be gone all day,” she warned. “I have a lot to do.”

“Ms. Estes can drive you back. I want us to ride together so I can tell you on the way about the headway we’ve made.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Did you cat—”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. “But we’ve gotten a few leads.”

She spoke over her shoulder as she left the room. “I won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”

He’d been hoping she’d say something like that.

Sipping his coffee, he looked around the living room he’d only passed through the night before. The area was nicely decorated but it could have been a hotel lobby. It didn’t seem lived-in. There were no personal photos or travel mementoes or knickknacks of the sort people usually picked up during a lifetime. Hoping to learn more about who Anise really was, he made quick work of the kitchen and dining room, then headed down the hallway that went the opposite direction from her bedroom. From outside he’d guessed it was her studio and when he stepped inside, he saw he’d been right.

He realized something else as well. The rest of the house served its purpose but here was where she really existed.

Windows lined every wall. In the past this had been someone’s sunroom, a place to retreat and view the garden and sip iced tea. The comfortable couches and hooked rugs he imagined were long gone, though. Brick pavers lined the floor and worktables filled the space. He took another sip of coffee and walked to the nearest one. It was covered with scraps of wood and fabric. A tiny plastic doll was propped up at one end, a miniature snake lying beside her. He stared at the bits and pieces and wondered how it all went together. Then something on one of the other tables caught his eye. He put down his cup and crossed the space to look.

It was a shallow glass box, about ten inches wide and twelve long. The lid, also made of glass and framed in wood, was smeared with something that obscured the contents.

He lifted the top and peered inside. Lined in red velvet, the box held a collection of tiny objects, none bigger than his thumb, dividers creating three distinct areas. One part held a diminutive bed with a tiny painted chest beside it, one held a small black table, and in the third sat a piece of paper cut like a heart with a ragged slash running down the length of it. It looked like a Valentine, the kind that kids made and gave to each other. Each of the items had been placed precisely but other things had the look of being tossed in. A doll’s tennis shoe, the eraser from a pencil, a glittering sequin…

None of it made sense to Bishop. But he was fascinated by it. And that’s why he didn’t hear Anise when she walked into the room.

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Bishop turned as Anise spoke. She didn’t appreciate his presence in her studio and she wasn’t bothering to hide it.

“What are you doing in here?” she repeated.

“My job,” he said.

“Snooping in here won’t help you find Kenneth’s killer.”

“You never know,” he answered. “Sometimes things you think aren’t important turn out to be significant in a case like this. I have to get all the information then decide.”

His words didn’t seem to mollify her but he continued before she could say more. “Tell me about this.” He waved a hand toward the box. “What does it represent?”

“I don’t talk about my work.” Her words came out stiff. As if realizing how harsh she’d sounded, she tried again. “You know artists…they’re funny about stuff like that.”

“Actually I don’t know any artists,” he said. “So enlighten me.”

“It’s like a jinx, I guess. If I tell you what it’s all about, then it won’t come out right.” She took a piece of black silk from the table and draped it over the box, a phone starting to ring as she did so. She stepped to the desk in one corner of the room and answered.

The person on the other end of the line was angry. Bishop could hear the agitated voice from where he stood. When the caller paused, Anise spoke into the silence.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I know I promised.”

The art dealer continued her harangue and Bishop began to understand. Anise hadn’t called her friend back. He wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Sarah Levy had grated on his nerves the night before but he also appreciated the fact that she wanted to protect her friend. He didn’t run across that too much anymore. People never seemed to put anyone else first.

“Yes, it was wrong…” More talk. “I’m sure you were worried, yes…” Anise let the other woman continue then finally, she raised her hand. “Look, Sarah, I’m sorry I upset you, okay? It was thoughtless and I won’t do it again, but I was tired and I thought you’d understand.”

The voice on the other end dropped and became conciliatory and Anise responded in kind. “No, no, it’s okay. But I can’t talk right now. I’ve got to go to Kenneth’s office with the investigator. He needs to examine the files and talk to Robin. I’ll call you later, okay?” A pause. “I will phone, I promise. I’m writing myself a note right now, okay? Good…bye-bye.”

She hung up the phone and turned, a sheepish expression on her face. “I didn’t call my friend last night.”

“Seems like she didn’t cut you any slack, either.”

“Sarah doesn’t know how to do that for anyone, including herself.” She smiled, then the expression slipped away. “I was just so out of it… All I wanted to do was work….”

“I’m sure she understood once you explained. I would.”

Her eyes met his and she lifted an eyebrow as if to ask why.

“Let’s just say, I have some experience in that area myself. Sometimes it’s easier to concentrate on work than to deal with the hard stuff.”

“The hard stuff being?”

He answered truthfully. It was the only way he knew how. “The hard stuff being life,” he said. “Nothing about it is easy. Not as far as I can see.”

TEN MINUTES LATER they were in Bishop’s car, heading for Kenneth’s office. The freeway was a mess as usual, the ever-present construction a daily occurrence for Houston drivers. They merged on I10 at a crawl then slowed down even further, all the lanes that ran downtown at a virtual standstill.

Anise turned to the cop sitting beside her. Finding him in her studio then getting Sarah’s call had flustered her but she didn’t want him to know that. She wasn’t sure why. Generally speaking, she didn’t care what people thought about her yet for some reason she wanted to impress him.

“Tell me what you learned,” she asked in an attempt to regain her bearings. “You said you’d found something?”

He glanced over his shoulder and bullied his way into another lane. “One of the kids who works the valet stand at the restaurant saw a guy running down a side street right after the shooting. He couldn’t see much beyond that, though. The runner had on a sweatshirt with a hood and it was pulled up to hide his face. We’re following up on that. If he saw him, then someone else probably saw him, too.”