Superstud wasn’t Tim’s image. Paunchy, flat-butted, and bald on the back of his head, Tim seemed like a big stuffed animal, more stuffed than animal. unexpectedly, Nick Stiles came to mind. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“So bring Molly over. Meantime, I’ll ask my guys at the Roundhouse what’s up with Stiles.” The Roundhouse was police headquarters.
“No, Susan. Don’t—really—”
“I want to know his situation. Is he married? Divorced? Is he a player?”
I swallowed. “Susan, this is not a date.” “Of course it’s not. And Molly can stay as late as you want. She can even sleep over.” “Susan—”
“Just in case your meeting lasts later than expected. She’s welcome to stay.”
It was no use arguing. Susan would think what she wanted. I knew the truth. My dinner date wasn’t a step toward romance or seduction. It was a step in the pursuit of a serial kidnapper and probable murderer. When we hung up, I started for the bathtub to get Molly but stopped at the bedroom mirror.
Was I stunning? Strands of stark gray streaked the brown of my hair. My skin was pretty smooth, eyes clear. Brows dark and arched. Forehead high, facial bones defined. Lips full. The face was symmetrical. But stunning? I looked closer, trying to see my face as if it were unfamiliar. A stranger’s. What would I think of it? Was it a face I’d even notice if it weren’t on my own neck? What did stunning mean, anyway? I stared, trying to decide. I posed, changed expressions. Decided it wasn’t possible for me to decide; the answer would be found by other eyes. Besides, I had to get moving.
I took a fresh towel into the bathroom for Molly, wrapped her up, brushed her hair, and tried to ignore the persistent image of Stiles, turning around, the muscles rippling in his back.
THIRTEEN
As I FINISHED MOLLY’S HAIR, THE PHONE RANG AGAIN. HE’S canceling, I thought. Stiles is going to cancel. I didn’t want him to, considered not answering. After all, if he couldn’t reach me, he couldn’t cancel.
Molly came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. She cocked her head, watching me as I stood motionless, staring at the jangling phone. “Mom—pick up the phone!”
I took a deep breath. What was wrong with me? Even without dinner, I’d still work on the case. I’d just pick up a copy of the profile in the morning instead of at dinner. Who needed his damned dinner, anyhow? I answered, prepared for his excuse, whatever it would be.
“Zoe? What’s wrong?”
Phew. It wasn’t Stiles. Our meeting was still on. “Hi, Michael.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t there. I was getting worried.”
“Worried? Why?”
“Why? You can’t be serious. You’re a single woman. Single women are disappearing almost daily in your neighborhood. And it’s getting dark, so I knew you wouldn’t be out with your kid—”
“Wait. You think I never go out after dark?”
“Mom, I have tangles.” Molly hopped up next to me on the bed, her brush caught in her hair.
“Are you saying that you do? With everything that’s been going on down there?”
I ground my teeth and gently untangled Molly’s knots, refusing to be baited. “As a matter of fact, I’m about to head out now. But thanks for your concern. What can I do for you?”
“Head out? Now? I was hoping to stop by. Bring you some Chinese.”
“Some Chinese.”
“Yeah. I’m in the area. I thought you’d enjoy it. Still like Peking duck?”
Oh Lord. What did he want?
The knots were out. “Who’s on the phone?” Molly whispered.
“Go get dressed,” I whispered back. “It’s nobody.” She nodded as if my answer made sense and scampered away, dragging her towel. “So, what’s the deal, Michael? You trying to bribe me?”
Leave it to Michael to offer a couple of egg rolls in exchange for a flawless diamond.
“Bribe you? Damn, Zoe. Why do you always suspect the worst? I was just thinking of you, all alone there with your kid, nobody to check on you, trapped in that tiny house while all around you, every five minutes, single women are getting snatched—”
“Thanks, Michael.” Was he trying to scare me? “I’m fine. No need to worry. Take it easy.” I started to hang up.
“Wait—Zoe? Well. As long as I’ve got you on the phone, I might as well ask you. Have you given any thought to the engagement ring situation?”
Good old Michael. “That’s what you really called about, isn’t it?”
“No. Not at all. I told you why I called. I was worried about you. Have you decided