Dark Moon. Lindsay Longford
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toward her and she jerked away.
The heavy glass ashtray was too near her elbow. Spraying ashes and matches, it fell to the linoleum floor. “Sorry,” she muttered and made no move to clean up the mess.
Neither did Stoner. “Look, I know you’re distraught—”
“No, Detective, I’m not distraught. I’m angry. You can’t even begin to believe how angry,” Josie said, clipping her words out. She wasn’t about to allow him to label her and dismiss her. She knew how the bureaucratic mind worked. If Stoner could stick a label on her, he would be able to get rid of her more easily. She wanted him to take the memory of her face home with him every night. She wanted him to think about Mellie’s small face in the dark of the night. “I want my daughter found. I don’t know anything about Ryder Hayes. But I saw the dogs. They were going to attack me. Maybe he had nothing to do with them, as he says. I don’t know. But I’m not so distraught—” she made the word into a blasphemy “—that I’m losing my grip on reality. I’m the last person in the world who would do that, believe me.” She spoke fiercely, willing him to understand. “I’m not going off the deep end. I want my daughter back. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. So I want to know what happened to her, that’s all!”
“We’re doing the best we can.” Stoner’s face was obdurate.
“Right,” she said and stood up so abruptly that the chair skidded away. “Fine. Ryder Hayes is as innocent as a newborn babe. He doesn’t have a pack of killer dogs hanging out at his house. Splendid. I’ll sleep much better tonight, Detective. Thanks.” When he grimaced, she knew her irony had been too heavy-handed, but she didn’t give a damn. She only wanted out of the stifling atmosphere created by Stoner and his bureaucratic mentality.
She was glad Stoner didn’t follow her to the door. She might have said something she would have regretted. She was ready to pick a fight, ready to vent the rage and frustration and grief that pooled in her and grew deeper and stronger by the day.
Outside the station, she blinked in the brilliant sunlight. Everything was glazed with white-hot light and Sunday-morning still. In half an hour, the churches would empty and the streets would be filled.
Head down, she walked to the parking lot. She’d lied to Stoner. She was losing her grip. Exhaustion and the constant drain of not knowing about Mellie were taking a bigger toll than she wanted to admit. That, and her refusal to go anywhere, see anyone except the detectives on the case.
She had to organize her life. If she didn’t, she’d never make it through whatever was going to happen. She had to keep strong for Mellie’s sake.
The car was idling next to hers, a low purring that she didn’t even register until she reached into her purse for her car keys, and then she looked over.
The silvery car was backed in so that its driver’s side faced forward. Her car faced the chain links at the edge of the parking lot.
Breaking the glittery silver expanse, a darkened window slid down.
Blinded by the blaze of sunlight in front of her, Josie couldn’t see the face inside the shadowed interior. But she recognized the voice and the lazy grace of his movements as he leaned forward, dipping his head.
“May I have a word with you, Josie Conrad? A moment of your time?” Ryder Hayes said politely, the cool smoothness of his words spreading over her suddenly flushed skin like melting ice cream.
CHAPTER THREE
The sidewalks down both sides of the street in front of the parking lot were empty. Heat shimmered over the surfaces.
The concrete seared the soles of Josie’s flats.
Washing into the noon heat, the chill from Ryder Hayes’s expensive car eddied around her ankles. His house had been cold, too.
She was fenced in between the wire chain in front of the hood of her car and the partially open door on the driver’s side of the ghostly silver sports car.
It glittered in the heat.
Josie didn’t back away, but her pulse swung wildly for those few seconds as she looked into the car and couldn’t see his face.
“A moment of your time, Mrs. Conrad?” he repeated, shifting toward her. “No more than that. A small request it seems to me. Between neighbors, at any rate.” His head angled in her direction. His hair absorbed the light, turned the glare into shades of darkness.
Josie could see the square of his chin, the harsh bones of his cheeks.
But not his eyes.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Hayes,” she answered in the same vein, her voice as exquisitely polite as his, denying the frantic pumping of her heart. She turned her head, looking back toward the police station. Where was Stoner? He’d been Johnny-on-the-spot when she’d arrived. Where was he now?
“You and I need to discuss some things.”
She extended her key. “Unfortunately, I’m on my way home.” She wanted to inhale the words, take them back, as he shifted again. “I mean,” she added, spacing the words, “that I have errands to do.” She hoped the words didn’t sound as contrived to him as they did to her. She stuck the key into her car door and opened it. “People are expecting me.”
“Yes, I thought so.” He shoved his door farther open, completely blocking her. “That people were expecting you, that is,” he added, irony shivering along his dark voice.
His exquisite politeness exposed her lie as the pathetic thing she’d feared it was, but doggedly Josie stuck to it. “Friends who are stopping in for dinner.”
“I’m sure your friends won’t mind waiting a few moments. Since I’m sure they’re such close friends.” The smile that curved long furrows into his lean cheeks mocked her. He glanced at the police station. “You decided to swear out a complaint, after all.”
She edged closer to her car. “Of course I did,” she said. “What did you expect?”
There was a long pause, and then he smiled. “I expect you’re lying, you see.”
She must have blanched because he nodded.
“But you intended to swear out a complaint. If I hadn’t already entertained the gentlemen in blue. And in suits. I wasn’t sure, but I thought you would, in spite of my call. It seemed the most logical action for you to take. That’s why I approached the police first. It seemed…easier. A preemptive strike, if you will. I like to avoid trouble when I can. You should have taken my advice. You would have avoided complications for yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her knuckles hurt with the strength of her grip on the car. The edges of her consciousness were darkening, thickening, closing in. She had to get away from him. Josie inhaled slowly, pushing back that terrifying darkness.
She should never have pulled her car in right to the edge of the chain-link fence. “Would you mind shutting your door, Mr. Hayes? I’d hate to scratch the finish. I’m sure it’s expensive.”
“Yes, in fact, it is.” His teeth flashed in the dim interior. “Very.”
No matter how she tried, Josie couldn’t see inside his car. Her eyes couldn’t adjust quickly enough between the blinding light bouncing up from the concrete and the cool shadows of his car. She examined the side of the police station. In this new building all the windows were shut and sealed against the heat and humidity, thanks to the central air. The old police station had made do with tall windows, taller ceilings and lots of fans.
This was supposed to be an improvement.
Unless you were in the parking lot wondering if anyone would hear you if you screamed.
Josie studied the ground, trying to decide what to do. A chameleon on the raised concrete next to the fence lifted one translucent green leg.