Kill Me Again

But he was one hundred percent male in every way that she’d been able to detect. So how did she reconcile the author she’d so admired, and the purity of the bond she’d felt with him through his work, with the gorgeous, sexy man in the hospital bed? The type who would normally send her running in the opposite direction.

She didn’t know. And there were a hundred other things on her mind at the moment, things far beyond her questions about Aaron and who would want to kill him, and why he knew about fingerprint dust and hit men and defensible positions. She was also thinking about having to cancel tomorrow’s fundraising event, telling the main office to refund money for the one hundred spots they’d sold, and the length of time she’d left Freddy home alone. Even though he had a doggy door and a fenced-in backyard, he didn’t like being by himself for extended periods. She actually came home between classes to spend time with him most days.

So Carrie’s statement wasn’t translating in Olivia’s brain just then. “What?”

Carrie held up a set of keys. “The car that my brilliant son and his best friend, Kyle Einstein Becker, decided to take out joyriding today—the car they were driving when they found our John Doe in there—it’s not mine.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Are you saying they stole a car? Sam stole a car? Come on, Carrie, Sam wouldn’t steal a Tic Tac.”

Carrie nodded and jangled the keys. “I need you to take it, so he doesn’t do this again.”

“Excuse me?” Olivia was baffled. “How can I take a stolen car?”

Carrie shoved the keys into Olivia’s palm. “Sorry. I’m not explaining this very well. I feel guilty as hell for not being honest with the police, but I don’t want Sammy ending up arrested for grand theft auto.”

“What’s going on? Whose car is it? Do they know it’s missing? Are they pressing charges?”

“Not exactly.” Carrie lowered her head, and her long red curls curtained her face. “Long story short, okay? I’m dating Karl Mallory.”

“Professor Mallory—head of the math department? I had no idea he was dating again.” Olivia thought Karl Mallory was a milquetoast dishrag without much of a spine or a hint of a personality, and that a beautiful, intelligent, successful woman like Carrie could do far better. “Seriously? Since when?”

Carrie nodded. “Two dates. It’s very casual. But still—he’s in Europe for the summer, and he left his gorgeous, prize-winning showpiece of an SUV in my garage until he gets back. That’s the vehicle my son took out today.”

“Oh,” Olivia said. “Bryan didn’t mention that.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell him. I did phone Karl. Told him what happened. He was upset, but willing to forgive and forget, thank God. I just want to move the thing elsewhere, anywhere, just to get it out of Sam’s reach until Karl gets back in two weeks and can take it home.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“He said I should ask you.”

Olivia lifted her brows. She and Karl Mallory weren’t close, but they were friendly enough. “I really don’t think Sam would do it again, Carrie. Do you?”

“No. But his friends…that’s another matter. Aside from his girlfriend, Sadie—that girl is a gem, I swear to God—the rest of the kids he hangs out with, I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them. And they can be pretty persuasive—and you know about peer pressure.” She closed her eyes. “I keep getting these nightmare images of what could have happened if they’d gotten there earlier—while the killer was still there, I mean.” She said the final words in a whisper, even though they were alone at the nurses’ desk for the moment.

“It won’t do any good to think about that,” Olivia said. “It didn’t happen that way. He’s okay, and he knows what he did was wrong. That’s what matters. Besides, he saved the man’s life. Bryan said so.”

“That’s no excuse.” Carrie lowered her head, sighed. “Karl says you have a two-car garage with only one car in it. So will you do it? Take his SUV and keep it at your place for two weeks?”

Olivia shrugged. “Sure, why not? I have room.”

“Are you sure? It’s huge. A Ford Ex-something.”

“It’s fine. My garage is pretty big and nicely free of clutter. My SUV’s a Ford, too. Escape Hybrid. How much bigger can it be?”

“Great. It’s in the parking lot nearest the E.R. Red with black—the paint job jumps right out at you. Hard to miss.”

“I’ll take it home now and leave mine here overnight. I can get it tomorrow morning.”

“Better leave your keys here, then. If it looks like it’s in danger of being towed, I’ll move it for you, and I’ll leave those instructions for the night shift, as well.”

“Thanks. It’s white, by the way.”

“Well, of course it is.”

Olivia paused in the middle of handing her own keys to Carrie, about to ask just what that comment was supposed to mean, before thinking better of it. She was boring. Okay, everyone knew it. That was exactly how she wanted to be.

Carrie hung the keys on a peg beside the nurses’ desk. “So what do you think about him?” she asked. “Do you think he’s that writer?”

Bringing his face to mind, Olivia said, “I don’t see how he could be anyone else.” She looked at Carrie, bit her lip, then blurted out the question on her mind. “Is it just me, or is he gorgeous?”

“Oh, he’s gorgeous, all right,” Carrie told her.

“I thought so. Just didn’t trust myself.”

“Why not? You’re that big a fan?”

“I’ve admired him so much for so long that…I don’t know, I was afraid my brain might have interpreted him as gorgeous no matter what he looked like. Though I’ll admit, I half expected a balding bookworm with Coke-bottle glasses and a pretentious goatee, or maybe a guru in white robes with a shaved head and a vow of celibacy or something.”

“I guess I need to read some of his books,” Carrie said. “But I think I’m happy for you. You got something far better than a guru or a goatee.”

Olivia glanced up at her friend. “I didn’t get anything.”

“Come on. He’s got amnesia. You’re his lifeline. And he thinks you’re hot. I can tell.”

“He thinks you’re hot, unless he’s blind,” Olivia said. And he has it all over Karl Mallory, she added silently.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t look at me the way he looked at you, I’ll tell you that much.”

“We’re cold, divvying up the poor guy like a leftover steak.” Olivia made a face. “That’s not like me. I don’t usually even like men.”

“You’ll learn to like this one, I’ll bet—if he stays in town long enough,” Carrie said.

Olivia elbowed her lightly in the ribs and smiled, but the smile died quickly. “Carrie, how is he? Really?”

“I think he’s fine. His head hurts. And head injuries can be sneaky. But so far, I don’t see any sign there’s going to be a problem.”

“But you want to keep him overnight anyway.”

“If his brain swells, he’ll be in trouble. It’s best he stays right here, just overnight. If there’s no swelling, he can go home tomorrow. Which is just as well, since we don’t even know where home is today.”

“I guess so.”

“So are you heading home now yourself?”

“Not yet. I told him I’d come back to say good-night before I left. Thought I’d run over to the vending machines and get him some junk food first.”

Carrie stared at her for a moment, her head tipped to one side.