"Really," she said in speculation, thinking about it. "You never bought me flowers before."
"I didn't work in a greenhouse before," he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah," Lisa said with a laugh, thinking about where he'd worked while taking the gardening classes. "You used to bring me light bulbs from the Sylvania plant."
"You light up my life," he told her, repeating the corny joke he'd said way back then.
The sick feeling in Lisa's stomach had begun to subside, but only a little. "I have to go meet Terry. He's probably worried."
"I'll give you a ride home," Deacon told her. "C'mon."
She protested, but he insisted. "I'm not letting you walk home in the dark. Even if you hadn't been attacked already, I wouldn't. Now be quiet and put on the helmet."
She hadn't been on the back of a motorcycle since the night at The Circle K. Now, riding behind Deacon as the powerful machine vibrated her entire body, Lisa couldn't help think about the promises of the kisses they'd shared. Starting over, she thought as Deacon leaned into a curve. She could handle that.
Only the single porch light glowed when they got to her house. Allegra must really have stayed at their parents. Lisa couldn't pretend she wasn't relieved. The last thing she needed tonight was a confrontation with her sister.
"Good night and thanks for the ride," she said, suddenly shy.
Deacon grinned under helmet. "Any time, lady."
"See you on Monday," she told him, hoping he'd disagree.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said. "We'll talk."
She watched him ride away and couldn't stop the silly, stupid grin from stretching her mouth. It was like being twelve years old again. She didn't mind. It had been a long time since she'd felt this giddy and lighthearted. Lisa fit her key into the lock and entered the dark kitchen, still grinning.
"Have a good time?" The question wriggled out of the blackness.
Lisa screamed and stepped back even as she fumbled with the light switch. Instantly, harsh light flooded the kitchen. She blinked against it, but could still see the figure sitting at her kitchen table.
"Terry! You scared me!"
It was an understatement. He'd terrified her. Lisa's hands shook and her knees felt so weak she had to sit in the chair across from his.
"You were late," Terry said flatly. "I called your parents' house and they said you'd left. I got worried. I came here to wait for you."
He still wore his uniform. The dark blue color set off his rich blue eyes. Terry was a handsome man. Why didn't she love him?
"I was walking," Lisa said. "And I decided to take a different way home. And...I ran past Deacon's house."
"Huh." The short burst of sound wasn't quite a word, not quite an answer.
Lisa continued, knowing there was no sense in putting off the inevitable. "He was outside. We started talking."
"Yes?" Terry waited as though he knew she had something more to tell him.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell Terry she'd let Deacon kiss her. He would be angry, but more than that, he'd be incredibly hurt. She didn't want to hurt Terry who'd been nothing but sweet to her in their time together.
Lisa suddenly felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. She hung her head, knowing she looked guilty. "Time got away from us. I lost my watch."
"You lost your watch." Terry repeated the words as though trying to mine a different truth from them. As though the excuse was too lame to even consider as truth.
"And I lost track of time," Lisa said. "I just forgot, Terry."
"You forgot our date?" Terry asked, a twist of humor on his mouth. "It must've been some conversation."
Tell him. But she couldn't. Not like this. She had to break things off with him, yes, but not that way.
"I'm sorry," was all she could say.
Terry tapped the table top with his fingers. Lisa sighed, twisting her hands in her lap. She couldn't meet his eyes.
"And he drove you home on his--" Terry paused in distaste. "--His motorcycle."
"He didn't want me to walk alone."
"You could've called me. I'd have picked you up."
"I didn't think about it." It was the truth.
"No, you didn't think about me, did you?" Terry yelled.
Lisa jumped at the shout. "Terry, I'm sorry--"
"You should be!" He shoved back from the table with a gesture so sudden it tipped his chair over. The chair crashed to the floor, skidding across the vinyl flooring and coming to a stop just under the sink. Terry didn't seem to notice the damage which was more frightening than his anger. "You should be, Lisa!"
"What else do you want me to say?"
He whirled to face her, her expression a twisted mask of anger. "I want you to say you won't see him any more."
"I can't say that," she answered quietly. "We work together."
"You can change that, if you want," Terry said.
"I can't do that, and you know it." Lisa's headache, which had ebbed during the time she'd been with Deacon, was coming back.
"You can if you want to." Terry leaned against the counter, his nightstick thumping the cabinets underneath. "But I guess the question is, Lisa, do you want to?"
She didn't say anything, knowing he didn't really want to hear the truth. Terry cracked his knuckles in rapid succession. Lisa waited.
"I guess that's my answer." Terry pushed off from the counter and started toward the door.
"Wait," she felt compelled to say, even though there wasn't any reason for him to.
Terry paused, his back stiff and straight like he'd been kicked someplace tender. "Just tell me one thing, Lisa."
"What?" She dreaded the question.
Without turning, he said, "Did you ever like being with me better? Ever?"
At this point a lie would only hurt worse than the truth. "No." Saying it made her sick and relieved at the same time.
His shoulders slumped, but only briefly. Terry touched the door with his fingertips, pausing before pushing it open. "He's a thief, Lisa. A no-good, lying thief. He's not good enough for you."
"Terry, it's not what you think," she said, though she wasn't sure what Terry thought, or even what was going on with Deacon and herself.
"No?" he asked quietly. "Then...then I can call you tomorrow?"
"Sure," she said with so much false heartiness the room rang with it. "Of course, you can."
"Okay," he said with a sigh all at once so sad it made Lisa want to cry herself. "Tomorrow. Good night, Lisa."
She answered his farewell and watched him shut the door behind him. A clean break would have been better, but she couldn't do it. Why'd he have to ask her? Why couldn't he have just gathered up his wounded pride and stormed out of her kitchen, telling her to go to hell?
Because that wasn't Terry, Lisa thought, letting her head sink into her hands. He was good and kind, and he was also very, very stubborn when he wanted his own way. She should have just told him no, but she hadn't, and what further mess had she gotten into because of it?
The answering machine blinked rapidly, its red light like a malevolent eye. Lisa needed a drink, a cold one. No pop in the fridge, though she knew she'd bought a six-pack just two days ago. She popped the top on a can of tomato juice instead and pushed the answering machine's button for playback.
The hiss of silence, only lightly broken by some muffled breathing. The click of a hang up. Wrong number. Their phone numbers was only one digit off from the local pharmacy, and they got a lot of wrong number calls. Another hang up. Then another.
Lisa began to feel uneasy. The silence seemed more menacing, the heavy breathing less like the sound of a confused dialer and more like someone deliberately not speaking. Someone...angry.
Terry. Of course, he'd have called here first--and maybe several times--before coming over to wait for her. He wouldn't have left a message, not if he expected to see her soon.
Yet, the messages didn't sound like Terry. Not his breathing, if she could even tell by something as s
ubtle as that. Not his style, either, no matter how worried he might have been. Terry was brisk and business-like. These hang ups sounded almost sly.
Then the phone jangled, startling her so she splashed tomato juice across the front of her sleeveless blouse. "Damn!"
Lisa grabbed the phone. She expected Deacon, or maybe Terry, but the voice on the other end wasn't either of theirs. She recognized the breathing, though. It was the same muffled sound as on the hang ups.
"Hello?" She demanded into the phone. "Who is this?"
A laugh...a low, raspy laugh. A rough, slurred voice she couldn't determine to be male or female. The phone began to slip in her suddenly-slick hand at the sound of it.
"Where've you been, Pretty Lady? I've been calling all night."
"Who is this?" she demanded with less strength this time.
"I'm not your hunky dory boyfriend, I'll tell you that," the voice mocked. "If I was, I'd be pretty pissed off at you for standing me up."
"Don't call me again," Lisa snapped into the mouthpiece.
"Don't hang up," the voice commanded. "Or I won't tell you where your underpants are."
"What?" Lisa took the phone away from her ear long enough to look at it.
"Those young boys down at the laundromat," the voice continued. "Such a shame. What perverts! Taking your underwear like that."
"How do you know about that, if you didn't do it?" Lisa demanded.
"I didn't say I didn't do it," the voice hissed. The light undertone of humor had vanished. "But I don't have it now. They do."
"What do you want?" Lisa asked, somewhat calmer now. Something about the voice snagged at her mind, but she couldn't figure out why. "Why are you harassing me like this? Were you behind what happened at The Evergreen?"
"Maybe," came the reply. "But you'll never know. And neither will Officer Friendly, no matter how much he tries to butt in. He'll never figure it out. Not that one."
Lisa glanced, finally, at the small box which normally showed the number of the person calling. Now it only said "unavailable." They got a lot of those numbers, too.
"What do you want?" Lisa repeated.
"I know everything you do," the voice whispered.
Click. It was gone. With shaking hands, Lisa put the phone back in its cradle.
"What was that all about?"
Lisa screamed, a shriek so loud and strident it embarrassed her even as it left her lips. The tomato juice flew out of her hands and splattered all over the floor. Lisa, turning with arms held up protectively, fell against the doorway to the living room.
She knew it was Terry, of course. She'd recognized his voice before she even screamed. His sudden reappearance after the frightening phone call had simply pushed her into the freak-out zone.
For once, she thanked the fates for Terry's take-charge attitude. Silently, he put his arms around her and propelled her into the living room and onto the sofa. Then he sat beside her, chafing her cold hands in his.
"What's going on?" he asked her finally.
"I just got a prank phone call, that's all." She tried to speak lightly, but Terry wasn't fooled.
"It was more than just a prank, wasn't it?" He sat back on the couch, reaching over to turn on the light.
In the lamp's golden glow and with a uniformed officer beside her, the phone call didn't seem so threatening. "Apparently someone down at the Spin and Suds likes my underpants."
"What's that mean?" Terry asked suspiciously.
"Things have been going missing," she told him.
"Like your watch," he said. She could see him mentally taking notes. Just like a good police officer.
"And other things. My underwear. My favorite tee shirt. Things I thought Allegra might have borrowed, but she didn't."
"And the caller just said they stole them from the laundry?" Terry frowned.
"If not him, then somebody involved with him," Lisa said.
"It was a him?" Terry questioned.
Actually, the voice had been hard to categorize. "I just assumed so. I've never had a dirty phone call from a woman."
"It was dirty, too?" Terry asked.
It hadn't been--not exactly. Not in the traditional sense anyway. "It made me feel dirty," Lisa whispered, looking down at her hands to stop herself from bursting into tears.
He does smell good, she thought, as Terry pulled her into his familiar embrace. His hands stroked her hair gently. Soothing. He was very soothing.
"You should've told me all this earlier," he scolded.
She'd thought of the times she'd tried to tell him, and of how he'd dismissed her. Lisa sat up. "I did try. You didn't want to listen."
"That's not true," Terry said.
She wasn't going to argue with him about it. Something occurred to her. "What're you doing here anyway?"
He looked surprised. "I got your beep. I thought you were paging me to come back. I thought you might want to talk."
"I didn't beep you," Lisa said.
He pulled his pager from his waistband and tilted the screen to show her the number. It was hers, all right. Lisa shook her head in confusion.
"I didn't page you, Terry," she said.
"Are you sure?"
A simple question, but one that set her teeth on edge. "Of course, I'm sure! I think I'd have remembered, don't you?"
Terry stared at her. "You're overwrought. Maybe you forgot."
"I did not page you," Lisa gritted out. "When did I have time? I was on the phone with that prank call, remember?"
Terry's look of concern became a scowl. "If you don't want to try and talk about this, Lisa, just say so. I'll go."
Lisa leaned back into the cushions and propped her feet on the large ottoman. She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Terry, at this point, I'm not sure what I want you to do."
She couldn't have been more shocked to feel his mouth on hers. Lisa's eyes flew open and her hands came up against his broad, blue chest. Terry kissed her with more passion and skill than he ever had before.
Lisa was too surprised by both the abruptness and quality of the kiss to stop him at first. Terry seemed to take her lack of protest as consent because the kiss grew deeper. He pushed her down further on the couch until he half-covered her with his body. His hands began roaming.
He was much bigger than she and heavier. With his tongue in her mouth, it was hard to tell him to get off. Lisa pushed, but Terry, so caught up in the moment, didn't seem to notice.
It wasn't until he came up for a breath of air that Lisa had the chance to snap, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She expected him to look contrite. There was an expression in his eyes, but it wasn't contrition. Smugness, maybe, mixed with some anger. She'd never seen him look that way before and it scared her.
In a flash, whatever it was had gone, and he was the Terry she expected. "I thought you might want me to."
"After what I just told you? After what happened tonight?" Lisa rubbed her bare arms with her still-chilly fingers.
"You were so upset," he told her. "I thought I could make you feel better."
"By mauling me?"
His mouth thinned. "It was just a kiss, Lisa."
A kiss unlike any others they'd shared before, she wanted to point out. "It's been a long night. I'd really just like to go to bed."
"I could stay," he said softly, reaching out a hand to touch her hair. "Let me stay tonight, Lisa."
For one brief, insane moment, she thought about saying yes. Not from any desire to take Terry to bed with her, but just so she wouldn't have to be alone. Saying yes, though, meant complications she did not want to pursue.
"No," she replied firmly. "You'd better go."
Terry sighed, letting his hand drop. "You won't even give me a chance, will you?"
"A chance for what?" She asked. "Sex? Terry, for God's sake, this is not the time."
"It's never been the time with you, has it?" He asked. "Not for me. Maybe for that greaseball loser...."
&nbs
p; "You leave Deacon out of this," she said.
Terry laughed meanly. "It's a little late for that, isn't it?"
He was hurting, and she didn't blame him for his cruel words. She would not, however, get into an argument with him right now. Both of them were ready to say things they would later regret.
"Just go," Lisa told him. "Please."
"Damn it, Lisa," Terry said. It was the first time she'd ever heard him swear. "You're driving me crazy."
"Let's be adults about this, okay? It's late. We're both tired. We can talk about this tomorrow."
"You'd let him stay," Terry said bitterly.
That he was probably right didn't make it any easier for her to reply. "That's none of your business."
"Did you think that maybe he's behind this all?" Terry asked her.
"Don't start." Lisa pushed further away from him into the cushions. "Just don't."
"Your dad told me about the email you got at work," Terry said. "And now the phone calls. He's got a reason to hurt you, Lisa. Can't you see that?"
Unless she told him about the conversation she'd had with Deacon tonight, she could not explain to him why he was wrong. Instead, Lisa just shook her head. "I told you before he has nothing to do with this."
"No? He could've dropped you off, then called from a cell phone."
"And you could've done the same thing," Lisa snapped. "The call didn't come until after you left. You came back after it was over. It could've been you, Terry!"
She'd only meant to counterpoint his argument against Deacon, but her suggestion clearly infuriated him. Terry got up from the sofa and straightened his barely creased uniform. He even took the time to resettle his hat.
"I'm a police officer," he said. "My job is to catch the scum bags who do stuff like that."
He wanted an apology she wasn't ready to give. When he didn't get it, Terry went to the house's front door across the living room. He rattled the lock and slid the safety bolt into place.
"I'm checking all the locks before I leave here," he said sternly. "And on the windows. Campbell might be content to just drop you off and ride away, but I'm not."
She couldn't protest, not when she was glad to have him secure the house. "Thank you."
He nodded. "It's my job. And I love you."