Chapter Four

By the time I approached my driveway, I was actually beginning to see myself curled up in front of the fireplace with a book, after a long, relaxing soak in the tub. A pleasant evening awaited me. Or would have if Mitch Malone's pickup wasn't parked in my driveway.

I was about to shift into reverse and drive off, but it was too late. Mitch spotted me, because he was already getting out of his truck. It crossed my mind to drive into the garage and hit the remote button to close the door before he had time to dart underneath. I probably would have done just that, had I not glanced in the rear-view mirror once I was inside the garage. When I saw him, reach into the passenger's side of his truck for something, as usual, curiosity got the best of me. Once I saw what looked like a pizza box, I decided against shutting him outside.

"I come offerin' peace," I was told as I stepped out of my car and was handed the pizza box in exchange for the key to my house.

The perfect gentleman held the door for me before following my lead into the kitchen.

I put the box on the table. Mitch dropped my keys down next to it, then broke into the silence that stretched so tightly between us.

"It's extra pepperoni."

I finally looked over at him and cracked a smile.

"You really do feel guilty, don't you?"

"For what?"

I wasn't in the mood to explain in detail what a nagging pain in the butt he had become lately. Actually, I didn't owe him an explanation of any kind. For supposedly being such an intelligent man, he could be so thick sometimes, especially when it came to understanding me. Or women in general.

Mitch filled two glasses with bottled spring water while I dug in the cupboard for paper plates. Before I joined him at the table, I grabbed a bottle of soda from the refrigerator. He was staring at me. I could feel it as I twisted off the bottle cap and took a long swallow. It wasn't until he went to the refrigerator and got his own soda that I looked over at him, completely bewildered.

"I do understand." He took a swallow of his soda, then added, "I'm sorry, okay?"

Even if I could have spoken, I wasn't sure what I'd say. One thing was certain though, the man was an absolute wonder.

"You know, Fay, I'd do about anything for you. Except, if you ask me to share a cigarette with you, I'd have to refuse it."

"Of course you would. And I'd want you to. But I really don't know why we're even discussing this. I have no desire to light up one of those stinky things."

I was dying for one. I'm sure Mitch knew it, too. But the subject was dropped and we polished off the pizza in peace.

It wasn't until we had worked our way into the living room and Mitch was building a fire, while I made myself comfortable on the couch, that he finally asked me about the woman who answered Joe's door earlier in the day.

"I haven't a clue who she is," I told him.

"What about a daughter? Maybe a niece or-"

"No. Joe doesn't have any family left. At least not now that Thomas is gone."

If I hadn't reminded him about Joe's brother, possibly a victim of murder, I believe Mitch would have eased down next to me. The man may have given up his badge to become and organic farmer, but the need for truth and justice continued to walk within him. I knew his gut instinct was telling him Thomas's death might not be accidental, and he would sniff around like a bloodhound until he satisfied himself with the truth.

"You mind if I stop by a little later?"

"Only if you promise to tell me everything you find out."

He leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead. When he straightened, I could tell by the way he narrowed his eyes and smiled that he understood it was pointless to deny knowing what I was talking about.

"You'll know everything I do."

He let himself out, while I remained in a corner of the couch with my feet tucked up underneath me. It would have been so easy to remain in that position, gazing into the snapping and cracking flames before me, my mind nowhere in particular. But besides having the curiosity of a cat, I also have a strong sense of responsibility. It might be going overboard to make another trip to Joe's home, but a telephone call was an absolute must.

I pressed the memory button and number five on my cordless phone and listened to three rings.

"Hello. The Wise residence."

It was her. I recognized the flat voice immediately. It was the waif from earlier. Who was she? And what was she doing answering Joe's telephone? Why had she answered his door?

"Put Joe on the phone, please."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wise can't come to the phone right now."

"Why not?"

"Mr. Wise is having his bath..."

Whatever else she said went unheard when I dropped the phone and shot off the couch.