Madigan's Wife

Ray flashed a wide smile. “You know all my ex-wives still adore me and depend on me to take care of them. Gracie’s no different.”

His smile didn’t falter as Luther shot him a biting glance that said, too clearly, that Grace was different. Luther knew too much.

“I have no body,” Luther said in a low voice. “No blood, no sign of a struggle, not a single corroborating witness, even though this supposedly happened right out in the open. I’m looking for a big dark car, and a big guy with medium brown hair under a baseball cap, a trench coat and hard-soled shoes, and evil pale eyes. Blue or green, take your pick.”

“And a temporary limp,” Ray added lightly.

Luther delved in his coat pocket for another piece of candy. Strawberry, this time. He played with it instead of placing it in his mouth, rolling it in his palm and between his fingers. “She might as well have given him a hook and sent me chasing after the one-armed man. Why can’t I get something easy like the Taggert case? A body, a murder weapon, blood, fingerprints, enough evidence to convict the guy twice…but no, that jerk Daniels has the easy cases fall into his lap, and I get a hysterical woman’s fairy tale.”

Ray wasn’t yet ready to admit that Grace might be lying. He couldn’t forget the vulnerable expression on her face as she’d looked at him and said, You believe me, don’t you?

“Maybe it happened the way she said, and maybe she saw something and just overreacted,” he reasoned. “I don’t think she’d make this up.”

“You don’t?”

He knew she’d been terrified when he opened the door to his apartment, when she’d fallen inside and into his arms. She’d have to be terrified to forget her unspoken rule and actually touch him.

“I don’t,” he finally said.

Luther shook his head. “Well, think about it. Has anything happened lately that might upset her? Something that might send her off the deep end.”

“We had lunch yesterday.”

“That’ll do it,” Luther cracked.

Ray’s smile faded. “I told her about the Mobile job offer.” He didn’t like the niggling seed of doubt that settled uneasily in his brain.

Luther stood and lifted both arms wide. His dark suit jacket gaped to reveal his shoulder holster and the snub-nosed six-shooter in it. “That’s it. Don’t you see? She figures if you stick around here to protect her from some big, strong killer in a trench coat and a mysterious dark car you’ll forget about the undercover job.”

The theory made too much sense. He might not like the idea, but he couldn’t immediately dismiss it, either.

“She always hated the undercover work,” Luther added needlessly. “Divorced or not, I think she’d do anything to keep you from going into that again.”

He remembered the look on her face yesterday, when he’d told her about the job offer. Terror, anger, revulsion. She hadn’t even tried to disguise her true feelings. Would she lie to keep him from taking that job? Did she know he wouldn’t leave town if he thought she was in danger?

Of course she did. Like it or not, she knew him better than anyone else ever had.

“Well hell,” he drawled, as if this new wrinkle didn’t make a bit of difference. “If a body shows up with a broken neck, or if you get a missing persons report on a man that matches her vague description of the victim, then what?”

“Then we reevaluate,” Luther said as he made his way toward the door. “Frankly, I don’t think anything’s gonna turn up. I think Grace pulled a nasty trick out of her hat to make sure you stay right here in Huntsville for as long as she wants you here.”

“And if she didn’t?” Ray asked as Luther opened the door.

“Then we could all be in a heap of real trouble,” Luther said, and then he closed the door softly.

The numbers on the computer screen added up perfectly, as usual. Things had been a mess three months ago when she’d taken this job, but the accounts were beginning to look good. Everything on the screen before her made perfect sense. Losing herself in the menial task had almost made her forget this morning’s horror.

Grace heard a soft noise, a shuffle and a sigh behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Ray standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with a smile on his handsome face and his arms folded across his chest. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. She had never been more glad to see anyone in her life.

She didn’t want to depend on Ray, to need him the way she once had, but again her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him. Why did he have this effect on her? Her heart melted; she felt a rush of warmth and tenderness in her body. She’d never been able to completely get Ray Madigan out of her heart, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try.

“Almost finished,” she said. “Come on in and have a seat.” She gestured to the single unoccupied chair in the room, a rather uncomfortable, hard chair against one wall.

She returned her eyes to the computer screen, even though she’d finished with this particular task. Ray’s presence unnerved her, and she needed a moment to gather her wits. She moved the mouse and clicked the icon to save her changes, again.

Running to Ray this morning hadn’t been a mistake, or so she’d told herself again and again during this long day. Falling into his arms, that had been a mistake. A big one. She liked being there too much, even though she knew they had no future together. He would never forgive her for leaving him, and she couldn’t live with the knowledge that there would always be an enticing, dangerous job waiting for him around the next corner. An enticing, dangerous job he loved more than he’d ever loved her.

She swiveled in her chair to face him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. She had the strange notion that something new lurked beneath the surface; a wariness in his voice and in his blue eyes.

“Fine, I guess. Did Luther find anything?”

Ray shook his head. “No.”

She didn’t think there was any way the killer could find her, but she worried just the same. What if, somehow, he knew where she lived? What if she walked into her house tonight and found him waiting for her? She shivered as she recalled the way he’d so easily snapped a man’s neck. She’d surprised him and gotten away once. She didn’t think she’d have the opportunity again.

“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” Ray asked softly. He stared at her obstinately, as if trying to read her thoughts. If anyone could…

“Yeah,” she admitted.

Ray looked comfortable in his uncomfortable chair, at ease in a cramped office he’d never set foot in before. But then, he always looked at ease. He fit in, wherever he happened to be.

“Grace,” a gratingly familiar voice called from the hallway just before stepping through the doorway into her office. “Did you finish…” Dr. Dearborne suddenly stopped speaking, as he saw Ray sitting against the wall. He even took a half step back. “What are you doing here?” A hint of revulsion touched his voice, and he paled. Just a little.

“Hi, Doc,” Ray said with a wide smile.

“You two know each other?” Grace asked, more than a little confused.

“We’ve met,” Ray said casually.

Their meeting had probably had something to do with Trish’s unpleasant encounter with the dentist, Grace reasoned. Ray could be downright old-fashioned about some things; like honor and the way a lady should be treated. It was the Southern gentleman in him, she supposed. Still, he sometimes went too far.

Dr. Dearborne put his less than steady eyes on her. “Never mind, Ms. Madigan. What I wanted to speak to you about can wait until tomorrow. Or Monday.” He gave her a sad, weak smile as he backed out of the office. “Nothing important.”

Grace hadn’t been working for Dr. Dearborne all that long, but she recognized fear when she saw it. The poor, personality-challenged dentist was so anxious to get out of the room he tripped over his own feet. After a quick recovery, he disappeared down the hallway.

“What on earth did you do…” she began.

Ray stood, quick and graceful. “How about I buy you dinner?” he interrupted.

Just as well. She didn’t need to hear how he’d so gallantly defended ex-wife number two from the man he insisted on calling Dr. Doolittle.

But dinner sounded too much like a date. “I don’t feel like going out,” she said as she reached into the bottom drawer of her desk for her purse. But oh, she didn’t want to be alone. Not yet. “I can cook you dinner.”

He made a face, screwed up his nose and squinted his eyes until she could no longer see the vibrant blue. “What have I done to deserve this?”

She smiled as she stood. “I’m a much better cook than I used to be. Give me a break. I was just nineteen when we got married. At the time all I could do in the kitchen was make macaroni and cheese out of a box and open a can of soup.”