Near You (Montana Series #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,48

to you, Mr. Thompson.”

“Can I come in and talk to you?”

“I said no, Mr. Thompson.”

“Please call me Paul.”

“Doesn’t matter what I call you, Paul. I’m not talking to you about my late husband.”

“I don’t want to talk about Clarke Mead,” he insisted. “I want to talk about Elijah Weston.”

“I don’t know him that well.”

“That’s not what I heard. Some say you were pretty close in college.”

“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” she said quickly. “I’m not talking to you.”

He reached in his pocket. “Let me give you my card.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?”

As if she had not spoken, he scribbled something on the back of the card. “I’ve written the name of my motel on the back. I’ll be in town a few more days getting background material and doing general research. I think it would be good for us to talk.” He held out the card for her.

He was clever. He was smooth. But she was not swayed.

When she did not take the card, he tucked it in the seam between the front door and brick wall. “Call me.”

She waited and watched until his car lights swept the house as he pulled away.

When she was certain he was gone, she snatched up the card. She was tempted to toss it, but she feared this was not the last she would see of him.

She locked the front door and jiggled the handle several times until she was convinced it was locked.

Time to find Maura, get her key back, put this house on the market, and then bury the past forever.

I hurt people, but I do not enjoy it. And like it or not, pain is unavoidable. In this case, a lesson needs to be taught.

As I sit beside the sleeping woman’s bed, I’m struck by how soundly she sleeps. I remember when I was younger, I slept that hard. But as I got older and the Need inside me grew, sleep abandoned me. Once, seven hours of sleep a night was the norm. Now it is closer to one or, if I’m lucky, two hours.

Tonight is no different. The catnap lasted all of forty-nine minutes, and my eyes popped wide open, and I was ready to go. Feeling at odds, I spent some time driving, looking for an all-night coffee place. And when I found one, I ordered a double latte with extra sugar. Images of her grew stronger until I knew I had to act.

Leaning forward now, I stare at her closed eyes, knowing her lizard brain will soon sense my presence. It is one of those evolutionary quirks. We think we have dragged ourselves out of the primordial ooze, but in reality, that lizard brain is as it was during our ancestors’ time. It’s always on the lookout for danger.

With gloved hands, I tug at her sheets, slowly pulling them off her body until I see her gray flannel nightgown covered in purple flowers. Christ, how does a grown woman end up wearing something like this?

Her nose twitches, and she reaches for the covers. When she does not find them, her eyes flutter open. She was not expecting to wake. But when those beady little eyes crack, they do not see empty darkness. They see me. And I am smiling.

“Hello,” I say softly.

Alert, her eyes blink like a newly installed stoplight. She wants to clear her vision and convince herself this is a nightmare.

“No, I’m still here,” I say.

She scrambles to a sitting position, her full breasts flopping under the flannel. More blinking and then: “What do you want?”

“Not much,” I whisper.

“Don’t hurt me.”

She reminds me of my aunt who brought me the marshmallow chocolates I hate at Christmas and who always smelled of coffee and cigarettes.

“I have money,” she adds.

“Do you? How much?”

“A couple hundred dollars. It’s in my purse.”

Cash always comes in handy. “Could be of use.”

Her gaze darts to the door, as if she’s calculating an escape. “You’ll take it and leave?”

“You won’t tell the cops I was here?” I tease.

She shakes her head. “No. I swear.”

Ah, she swears. That means I’m in the clear, right?

I rise, knowing this is a mini fakeout. I love those. As I stand, she relaxes, believing after she has seen my face that I am going to take a couple hundred bucks and be on my merry way.

As she unclenches her fists a fraction, I take the moment and move quickly to grab the other pillow and press it against her face. I am on top of