over the evidence, she took him around the far side of the house with her, and onto the deck.
Tears swam when she saw the flats and pots lined up on the deck, and her own garden gloves, spade, and rake beside them.
“He’s a sweet man,” she told the dog. “Remind me to stock some Mountain Dew. That’s our Lelo’s drink.”
Though Tag objected, she tied the leash to a picket. “You need to stay with me, let them do what they have to do around front.” To soften the insult, she got him a bowl of water, a biscuit.
Then she crouched, rubbing the spot between his ears that made his eyes roll back in bliss. “Was it you? Did you chase him off—big, fierce dog? Did some good fairy put you on the side of the road that day for me?” She laid her head on his. “Did you scare him as much as he scared you? Well, we’re not going to let him scare us. We’re going to take a bite out of him, you and me, if he tries it again.”
She pressed her lips to his muzzle, looked into his wonderful eyes. She’d fallen in love with the dog, just as she’d fallen in love with Xander. Against her better judgment.
“There doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do about it.”
She rose, then walked to her pretty new containers to plant.
Xander found her tamping the dirt around a tomato plant while the dog stretched out full-length in the sun, half snoozing.
“They’re pretty much done out there, and said there’s no reason the landscapers couldn’t get back to it tomorrow. Kevin’s crew, too.”
“That’s good. That’s fine.” She picked up a pepper plant. “Do you know why I’m doing this?”
“It looks obvious, but tell me.”
“Besides the obvious, I’m planting these herbs and vegetables. I’m going to water them, watch them grow, watch the vegetables flower and watch the tomatoes and peppers form. I’ll harvest them and eat them, and it all starts with what I’m doing right here. It’s a statement. I need to do some research, but I think you can plant things like kale and cabbage in the fall.”
“Why would you?”
“I can make some very good and interesting dishes with kale and cabbage.”
“You’re going to have to prove that to me.”
She kept planting while he went in, came out, and stood watching her.
“He ran away,” Xander began, and she nodded.
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“Saw what?”
“The footprints. You don’t have to be an expert to conclude, or at least speculate. The ones going toward the house, toward the side are different from the ones leading away. Leading away they’re farther apart, and with a kind of skid—moving fast, even running.
“I bet he strolled around the back here. The son of a bitch. Cocky, confident. I don’t know if he’d intended to break in or just look, but he wasn’t feeling cocky and confident when he left. The dog scared him.”
Tag thumped his tail at her quick glance.
“I think he came around here, and would’ve gone in if the door hadn’t been locked—or maybe planned to get in anyway, but the dog scared him off, defending his territory. Defending what’s ours.”
“You ought to know that the scenario you just outlined is the one those trained feds and cops outlined a few minutes ago. It’s how they see it.”
“Well, aren’t I fucking clever?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I think so.”
“I’m so pissed off. I should probably level that out before I plant any more. I don’t think you should plant living things when you’re so incredibly pissed off. You’ll probably end up with bitter tomatoes.”
She yanked off her gloves, tossed them down. “He used her again, Xander. He used Donna, used the fact that everyone who’s usually here would be at her funeral. That makes me sick inside.”
“Then think of this instead. That stray, that dog who wandered from place to place as much as you used to, stuck, like you stuck. And scared the bastard off. He didn’t leave here strolling, Naomi, just like you said. He left with his heart knocking and his knees shaking.”
“Damn right, he did. Damn right,” she repeated, and strode up and down the deck. “If he tries it again, he won’t get to leave, heart knocking, because he’s going down bloody. If he thinks I’m an easy mark, that he can come for me whenever he damn well pleases, he miscalculated.”
“I get the value of mad, as long as it doesn’t walk with stupid and careless.”
She whirled to him, eyes dark green fire. “Do I look stupid and careless?”
“Not so far.”
“And that’s not going to change.” She calmed a little, told herself to keep the mad in a back corner until she needed it. “Do you think Kevin and Jenny can get a sitter? I’d like them to come over, I want to tell them sooner rather than later, but not with their kids around.”
“I’ll make it happen, if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“What time?”
“Whatever works for them will work for me. I’m going to finish these containers, clean up, so any time that works for them.”
—
Where did you confess your blood ties? Naomi wondered. The scarcity of furniture in the living and sitting rooms made that difficult. Sitting around the dining room table on folding chairs seemed too uncomfortable.
She opted for where she herself felt most relaxed and brought more chairs out to what she thought of as the kitchen deck.
“Do you want me here?” Mason asked her.
“You have work?”
Did she serve food? Naomi wondered. What sort of canapé suited the moment, for God’s sake?
My father’s a serial killer. Try the crab balls.
“I mean, of course you have work, but something specific?”
“The team’s meeting for a briefing, but I can catch up with it if you want me here. This is hard for you.”
“Why hasn’t it ever been as hard for you?”
“I wasn’t in the woods that night. I didn’t go down into that cellar. I didn’t find Mom. She was his last victim.”
“You never were.”
She remembered that day in the coffee shop, after she’d bolted from the movie theater. How young he’d been, and how strong and steady.
“You resolved so early on not to be, to be everything he wasn’t. And however much I denied it, ignored it, shoved it back, I let myself be his victim. I’m done with that. Go to the briefing. Find a way to end this, Mason.”
She put a tray together—cheese, flatbread crackers, olives. It kept her busy until Xander got back from a roadside call and Mason left.
“Do you know how many people don’t pay attention to, or just don’t believe the fuel gauge?”
“How many?”
“More than you think, so they end up paying more than double what the gas would’ve cost in the first place, so they bitch about that—like you should make the service call as a fricking favor. Are these any good?”
Look at him, she thought, heading toward scruffy again. Annoyed with some stranger who’d neglected to get gas, unsure what to make of sesame and rosemary flatbread. Idly scratching the dog’s head as he decided whether to risk the fancy.
“You brought me lilacs.”
He looked over, frown deepening. “Yeah. Was I supposed to do that again?”
“Sometime. But you brought me lilacs in an old blue pitcher. That was when.”
“When what?”
Not really listening, she thought. She’d grown up with a brother. She knew when a male wasn’t really listening.
All the better.
“You told me when, and I’m telling you.”
“Okay.”
“Stolen lilacs in an old blue vase.”
“It wasn’t that big a deal.”
“You’re wrong. It was a very big deal, the biggest of my life, because that’s when. That’s when, Xander, I knew I was in love with you. I didn’t know what to do about it,” she said as—oh, he was paying attention n
ow—his gaze snapped to hers, hot blue and intense. “I’ve never felt what I feel for you before, never believed I could feel it, so I didn’t know what to do about it. I have a better idea now.”
“What’s the better idea?”
“To be glad you’re in love with me, too. To be grateful, really grateful it happened now after I’d already realized it was time to stop running. Or at least try to. To be happy it happened here where we both want to be. And to hope. To be brave enough to hope you’ll want to stay with me here.”
“Lilacs?”
“Lilacs.”
“Lelo needs to work one into his design.”
“It’s going out back, so we can see it from the deck. I told him I wanted to plant it myself.”
“We’ll plant it.”
Her throat closed; her eyes brimmed. “We’ll plant it.”
He stepped to her, caught her face in his hands. “I’m moving in. You’re going to have to make room.”
The first tear spilled over. “There’s plenty of room.”
“You say that now.” He kissed the tear away, then the second as it trailed down her other cheek. “Wait until I tell Kevin to build a garage.”
“A garage.”
“A guy’s got to have a garage.” He brushed his lips to hers. “Three-car garage, north side of the house, put a side door on the laundry room.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“I was just waiting for you to get used to it. I love you, Naomi.”
She lifted her hands to his wrists, squeezed hard. “You do. I know you do. Thank God you do. I love you so much we’re going to build a garage. Wait, a three-car—”
It was as far as she got before his mouth took hers, before the kiss swept her up, swept her away. Then to the delight of the dog, he lifted her off her feet, spun her around.
“You’re what was missing,” he told her. “Not anymore.”
“You told me you made me happy, and you do. But it’s more than that. You helped me understand I deserve to be. A thousand hours of therapy never got me all the way there.”
She sighed, drew back. “I’m still screwed up, Xander.”
“Who isn’t?”
The dog let out a yip, then raced toward the front of the house.
“Early-warning system says Kevin and Jenny are here.”
She drew a breath. “All right.”
“It’s going to be okay. Have some faith.”
“I’m going to borrow some of yours. My supply tends to run low.”
“Try regular fill-ups. I’ll let them in.”
She took the tray out, set it on the folding table, went back for glasses, plates, napkins, heard Jenny’s laughter.
As she opened a bottle of wine, Jenny came in.
“Great timing! Oh, Naomi, every time I get out here there’s more done. It must be crazy living in the middle of it, but it’s amazing to see it off and on.”
“I’m glad you could come. I know it was last-minute.”
“Worked out great. We had my parents over for dinner, and they took the kids back with them for a sleepover. Fun for all.” She moved in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’ve had trouble. Kevin told me somebody was poking around out here while we were at Donna’s funeral. I’m sure it was just some kids trying to get a look in the house.”
“I think it was . . . something else. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“All right. You’re really upset. I shouldn’t make light of it.”
“I thought we’d sit outside.”
“Perfect. Oh! Look at these planters—Lelo built them? They’re wonderful. You’re really making this deck a wonderful outdoor living space. Kevin, look at these containers.”
“Nice,” he said as he came out with Xander. “How are you doing?” he asked Naomi.
“I’ve had better days. Then again . . .” She looked at Xander. Love, given and received, outweighed everything. “Let me get you some wine, Jenny. Then I’m going to dive right into this, get it done.”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Oh God, are you sick?” Immediately, Jenny grabbed her arm. “Is something wrong, or are you—”
“Jenny.” Kevin spoke quietly, drew her back. “Come on, sit down.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”
Naomi poured wine for Jenny, for herself, but couldn’t sit. “Okay, straight in. Carson was my mother’s maiden name. It’s my uncle’s name. Mason and I had our names legally changed a long time ago. From Bowes. Our father is Thomas David Bowes.”
She wasn’t expecting blank, quietly expectant looks, and it threw her off.
“Not everybody knows who that is, Naomi,” Xander pointed out. “Not everybody gives a damn.”
“It’s familiar,” Kevin said. “Like I ought to know.”
“Thomas David Bowes,” Naomi continued, “killed twenty-six women—that he’s admitted to—somewhere between 1986 and 1998. August of 1998, when he was arrested.”
“Bowes. Yeah, I remember some of that,” Kevin said slowly. “Back east somewhere.”
“West Virginia. He raped and tortured and eventually strangled his victims.”
“Your father?” With one hand gripping Kevin’s, Jenny stared at her. “Is he alive?”
“Yes. They don’t have the death penalty.”
“Did he escape? Is that what’s happening now?”
“No. No, he’s in prison. He’s been in prison for seventeen years. We changed our name, we moved away. But it doesn’t change the reality of it. You’ve been friends to me. You’re helping me make a home here. I needed you to know.”
“I remember some of it, I think. We were just kids,” he said to Xander. “They made a movie. I caught it on TV a few years ago.” His gaze shifted to Naomi. “You found that girl he had. Is that true? You found that girl and helped her, got her to the cops.”
“I never saw the movie, or read the book. I don’t know how accurate they were.”
“Close enough,” Xander said. “She followed Bowes into the woods one night, went into the cellar by a burned-out cabin, found the girl.”
“Her name’s Ashley,” Naomi added.
“Ashley. Found her, got her out, walked miles through the woods, and got her help. That’s how they found him. That’s how they stopped him.”
“Seventeen years?” Jenny repeated, eyes huge, face pale. “But you’d have been . . . Oh God, Naomi.” She sprang up, shoved her wine at Kevin, threw her arms around Naomi. “Oh my God, poor little girl. You were just a baby.”
“I was nearly twelve. I—”
“A baby,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, so sorry. God! Did he hurt you? Did he—”
“He never touched me. He was strict, and sometimes he’d leave for days at a time. But he never laid a hand on me or Mason. He was a deacon in the church. He worked for a cable company. He mowed the lawn and painted the porch. And murdered women.”