sleeping,” she said as she slid in next to him, looping a hand around his chest and squeezing him toward her.
“Welcome home,” he said.
“Your heart’s racing. You okay?”
“I’m just so happy to see you,” he said, turning and kissing her on her neck. She was wearing a T-shirt with nothing on underneath, and he slid a hand between her legs. She shifted, opening her legs for him. Quickly, before the feeling went away, he slid on top of her, pressing his face into the pillow next to her neck. He thought of his neighbor, what she might sound like if he were doing the same thing to her, then quickly pushed the thought away.
“That was a surprise,” Mira said, after he had rolled away from her, and they were in the same position as before, Mira up against his back, her hand around his chest.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“It was a long trip,” Matthew said.
Mira laughed. “Not really, but I’m glad you think it was.”
“What are you doing Columbus Day weekend?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Wanna go away for a night?” he asked. “Maybe up to that hotel in Portsmouth?”
“The one with the clam dip?”
He laughed. “Yes, the one with the good clam dip. You would remember that part.”
“I remember the rest, too. Yes, I’d love it.”
“I’ll book it tomorrow,” Matthew said.
Before they fell asleep, Mira said, “Your heart rate is back to normal.”
Chapter 15
Detective Martinez called just as Lloyd, home from the office, was rooting through the refrigerator.
“Can you hold on a moment?” Hen said, then told Lloyd it was her agent and she needed to talk with him in her office. Hen raced up the stairs, wondering if it had been obvious that she was lying. Once in her tiny office—the place where she struggled with all forms of paperwork—she said into the phone, “Yes?”
“I wanted to let you know that I visited your neighbor and we talked.”
“And?”
The detective paused, and Hen knew that he was about to report that nothing was going to be done. “And he’s a person of interest, that’s all I can say right now.”
“Oh,” Hen said. “You think he’s guilty?”
Detective Martinez laughed. “No, I didn’t say that. Frankly, the interview produced nothing, really, but he was aware of the situation between Dustin Miller and Courtney Cheigh, so you’ve provided some valuable information. I’m calling to thank you for the tip.”
“It wasn’t just a tip. He’s guilty, you know.”
“Even if he did have a fencing trophy, it could have—”
“It’s not just that,” Hen said, pushing her foot against the office door to make sure it was completely closed. “I know he did it. I followed him the other night, and he was stalking someone else. Hunting him.”
“When was this?” the detective said.
Hen told him the whole story, about following Matthew while he followed the couple in the car.
“What makes you think that that behavior had anything to do with what happened with Dustin Miller?” the detective asked after she’d finished her story.
“I think it proves he’s some kind of serial killer, or at least a serial stalker. There’s something wrong with him. He’s creepy.”
“Trust me when I tell you that there are many creepy people out there. But most of them are not murderers.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Hen said, “but some of them are murderers, right?”
There was a lengthy pause, and for a moment, Hen thought the detective had hung up. Then he said, “There are many reasons he could have been following someone, very few of which would have anything to do with Dustin Miller.”
“Yes, I know. But it was suspicious.”
Another pause, and then, “Can I ask you to do me a favor, Hen?”
“Sure,” she said, knowing what it would be.
“Let us take it from here, okay? If your neighbor is guilty of murder, then we’ll get him, but it’s not going to be helpful to us if you’re following him around. And it could be dangerous for you.”
“Sure,” Hen said. “I understand.”
“You promise, then?”
Hen laughed. “I pinkie-swear promise.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “It’s not just for your safety, but it could compromise the investigation. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Hen said. She nearly added his name—it was Iggy, wasn’t it?—but it just didn’t feel right.
“Okay,” the detective said. “Thanks. And feel free to call me anytime if you think of anything else. I’ll keep you updated as well if anything comes up.”
“Thanks,” Hen said.
Back downstairs, Lloyd asked, “Who was on the phone?”
“I told you. My agent. My original contract