Love at First Sight - By B. J. Daniels Page 0,48
parked the Jeep, cut the lights and sat for a moment waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.
A silver Mercedes convertible was parked in front of one of the three windowless garage doors. Jack wondered if a large, dark, newer American car was parked in one of the garages.
He’d borrowed Denny’s gun and holster and felt less naked than he had since his recent suspension. But even with the pistol pressed against his ribs, he felt vulnerable. It was this case. It had taken too many twists and turns. At first he’d thought he was chasing a secret lover who’d killed Liz to keep her from ratting to his wife about their affair.
But now Jack wasn’t sure who he was chasing or why. All he knew was that it felt more malevolent. More dangerous. And he felt more for Karen, a woman he feared was in worse danger than he knew.
“Ready?” he asked her softly.
She nodded and straightened, looking as if she were ready to take on evil single-handedly.
He smiled, realizing that the more time he spent around her, the more he liked her. She was sharp-witted, smart and entertaining company. His only concern, other than that fateful moment when her memory returned, was staying out of bed with her. The more time they’d spent together, the more Jack wanted her. Each hour, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to make love to her.
“Let’s go,” he said and climbed out to open her car door for her.
Vandermullen opened the large carved wooden door, dressed in slacks, a polo shirt and boat shoes. If he was surprised to see either of them, he didn’t show it.
“Why, hello,” he said, glancing from Jack to Karen, apparently recognizing them both. “And to what do I owe this honor?”
He sounded as if he might have had a few bourbons but he didn’t seem in the least antagonistic to find a cop and a star murder witness on his doorstep. His only reaction to Karen was to leer for a moment.
“We wanted to talk to you,” Jack said. “In a strictly unofficial capacity.”
“Well, then you’d better come in and have a drink,” he said, seemingly amused, as he led them into a huge living room.
When Jack was seated on the couch beside Karen, the doctor took their drink orders. The air held the sweet distinct scent of bourbon and Vandermullen’s glass had left a half-dozen wet ring marks on the glass coffee table.
Under normal circumstances, Jack would have declined a drink but he figured Vandermullen would feel more comfortable not drinking alone.
“Sure. Scotch if you have it. On the rocks.” Jack looked to Karen.
“I’ll take a beer,” she said. “Bottle if you have it.”
No white wine. Not even a light beer in a glass. His Girl Next Door was just full of surprises.
Vandermullen seemed to find her choice of drinks delightful. He brought her a cold beer. “I assume you don’t want a glass?” he said, smiling down at her.
Jack noticed that Carl Vandermullen wasn’t a bad-looking man. Older, distinguished and in good shape, a man who would have no trouble finding another younger wife.
Karen smiled up at the doctor as she took the beer. “This is just perfect.”
Jack watched her take a long drink, tilting her head back, giving him a clear view of the pale vulnerable skin of her sleek neck.
Vandermullen stepped in front of him, blocking his view. He reached up to take the Scotch the doctor offered him, aware that Vandermullen had been flirting with Karen. Suddenly Jack wanted to nail Vandermullen for the murder and anything else he could dig up on him.
“So, what is it the two of you want with me?” the doctor asked, taking a chair across from them, a large glass of bourbon on ice in his hand. But when he spoke, his gaze went to Karen and stayed there.
Karen took a sip of her beer, trying to decide how she felt about the man. There was something too relaxed about him considering his ex-wife had been murdered and he’d been hauled down to the police department for questioning. But then, she reminded herself, he just might not have anything to hide. Or was a very good actor.
She glanced around the living room. Done all in white, it had the sterile feel of an operating room—except for several splashes of bright-red color tossed about the room like bloodstains.
“I know the police have already asked you, but I wondered what you were doing at the