Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,45
across his eyes. “C’mon, Tori, isn’t that going a little overboard? Beth knows darn well what our sleeping arrangements were.”
“I must have picked his phone up off the nightstand instead of my own . . .”
“Which is beside his bed . . .”
“He’s sleeping right now.”
She swallowed as she focused on the woman’s exact words rather than their implication. Everything Beth had said could fit with what Milo was describing, but still . . .
“Okay. Then can I ask why she was sleeping in your house at all?”
He dropped the bag and cell phone onto the table beside her notebook and walked around to her side. Squatting down beside her, he took her hands in his and held them tight. “I got a call from Beth last evening as I was out walking. She was in a panic, convinced someone was out to get her. So I went to check on her, to make sure she was okay.”
“And?” She knew her voice sounded curt, maybe even a little harsh, but she couldn’t help it.
“When I got there, I saw the soaped threat on her windshield. It was just one word but it was unmistakable.”
“What was it?”
“Die.”
She stared at Milo. “Are you serious? What did the police say?”
He pulled his left hand from hers and held it to the side of her face. “Beth wouldn’t let me call them. She said she doesn’t want anything taking away from the announcement about her company.”
Tori rolled her eyes. “Her company is more important than her safety?”
“Apparently. I tried to argue, to insist she call, but she was hysterical. And that’s not all.”
“Tell me.”
“The owner of the inn told me someone had called repeatedly that day trying to find out what room Beth was staying in. When he and his employees refused to give that information, they were met with angry hang-ups.”
“Was it a man or a woman who was calling?”
“They said it was hard to tell, that the voice was garbled and unnatural.” He let his hand drop back down to join hers. “So I did what I felt I had to do to ensure her safety. I brought her home with me.”
“You couldn’t have sent her to another—” She stopped mid-sentence as the reality that was Sweet Briar dawned. “Okay, I get it. She was scared, there was nowhere else for her to go, and you wanted to make sure she was safe. Is that right?”
He nodded. “I guess I should have called and warned you. I’m sorry.”
She said nothing for a moment, her mind trying desperately to accept everything Milo had said against the memories that belonged to Jeff’s betrayal.
“I’m sorry if I caused you any hurt, Tori. I really am.” He stood, tugging her off her chair and into his arms. “Please tell me you understand.”
Did she? Did she really understand why he’d bring Beth to his home?
She did. Because he was Milo Wentworth, a rare breath of fresh air as far as chivalry and compassion went. He’d displayed it to her again and again since they’d met, supporting her through Tiffany Ann Gilbert’s murder investigation, her need to stick her nose into the disappearance of Colby Calhoun, and the unfair murder charges against Rose Winter’s mentally challenged former student.
Finally she was able to say the words he sought, her voice raspy from the reality she not only wanted but needed as well. “I understand.”
The second the words left her lips, his shoulders slumped in relief. “Talk about scaring a person half to death.”
“I’m sorry but you have to understand what I heard.”
“I do, and I’m sorry. I should have called you and told you. I realize that now. But after I got her situated in my room, I went out to the couch and absolutely crashed.”
“At least one of us slept,” she teased.
“What? You didn’t sleep?” He released her from his arms to study her closely. “Why?”
“Because I thought I’d lost you, for starters.”
“You didn’t.”
“I’m glad.” She pointed toward the notebook on the table. “And secondly, I guess the weight of being considered in yet another murder investigation is taking its toll more than I realized.”
“Chief Dallas is still sniffing around?”
She sat back down in her chair and motioned toward the one across from hers. “He showed up at the library yesterday for a chat.”
“A chat?”
“That’s what he called it when he suggested we retire to my office. However, after an hour of this so-called chat, I have to say it leaned much closer to an interrogation.”