But the frown never left his face while he did. And a moment later, he was gazing intently at Carrie again.
“Is everything really cool?” he asked urgently. “I can hang out here if you need me—”
“I’m fine,” Carrie assured him, putting her hand on his arm.
I wished I could see the expression on her face. Was that just the touch of a friend? Or a lover?
He clasped her hand. She didn’t pull away.
“If anyone ever hurt you, they’d have me to answer to,” he muttered. His frown deepened. He looked even more handsome. And dangerous. A chill prickled the hair on my arms.
“There is no call to be so protective, Travis,” Carrie said a beat later. And then she did pull away. “I assure you I am not in any personal danger.”
She turned back to me, a weak smile on her face. I looked at her, wondering what Travis meant by “they’d have me to answer to.” Under the circumstances, the phrase sounded frightening. But then the male of the species is given to those kind of pronouncements, I told myself.
My thoughts must have shown on my face.
“Don’t worry, Kate,” Carrie said. “Travis is a friend. I’ll be safe with him for the evening.”
Was I being dismissed?
After a few more moments of awkward silence, I was pretty sure I was being dismissed, but I dragged Carrie into the hall with me to make sure.
“Are you all right alone with this guy?” I whispered.
“I am perfectly capable of defending my virtue, such as it is,” she whispered back with a grin. “I don’t need a chaperon.” Was she misunderstanding me on purpose? Or was I misunderstanding her?
“Carrie, you think a member of your group is a murderer,” I reminded her impatiently. “What if it’s Travis?”
Her grin disappeared.
“No, not Travis,” she said. Her hands rose suddenly, palms out. “Not Travis,” she repeated, jerking them awkwardly, Richard Nixon-style.
“But—”
“I will be perfectly fine,” she insisted, dropping her hands and pulling back her shoulders.
She led me to the front door at a brisk pace, then turned to enfold me in a tight hug.
“Thank you, Kate,” she whispered and released me.
“I’m not sure if—”
“Don’t you worry,” she ordered and opened the door.
I stepped out through the doorway, trying to think.
“I’ll let you know when I schedule the emergency group meeting,” she added.
The door closed before I could respond.
I drove home through the dark, my shoulder muscles aching with tension as I gripped the steering wheel, wondering all the way about Carrie’s relationship with Travis. It was better than remembering Slade’s battered head. Were Carrie and Travis lovers? And if so, so what? It was about time Carrie found someone to love. As far as I knew, she hadn’t been serious about anyone since her husband Cyril had died. But what if Travis was a murderer? What if Carrie was? I shook my head hard. I wasn’t going to even let myself think that.
As I pulled into my driveway, popping gravel, another thought hit me. Maybe Travis was the one Carrie really suspected of murder, despite her protests. Was that why she had turned off the computer? Was that why she wanted so badly to investigate?
I didn’t have any answers to my questions by the time I climbed the stairs and opened the front door.
C.C. was waiting for me in the entry hall, on the other side of the door. She meowed in disapproval. Where had I and my lap been when she needed us? Not to mention the fact that she was starving. C.C. was always starving.
“Cease and desist!” I shouted.
C.C.’s eyes widened. She silently tilted her head for a moment. A smile twitched my lips. Then she started yowling in earnest.
“All right, all right! It’s dinner time,” I conceded.
I dropped my purse next to Slade’s manuscript on the pinball machine and trotted into the kitchen to feed her, turning on my answering machine on the way.
“Hi, this is Judy,” the machine said as I scooped Friskies Senior
“Is everything really cool?” he asked urgently. “I can hang out here if you need me—”
“I’m fine,” Carrie assured him, putting her hand on his arm.
I wished I could see the expression on her face. Was that just the touch of a friend? Or a lover?
He clasped her hand. She didn’t pull away.
“If anyone ever hurt you, they’d have me to answer to,” he muttered. His frown deepened. He looked even more handsome. And dangerous. A chill prickled the hair on my arms.
“There is no call to be so protective, Travis,” Carrie said a beat later. And then she did pull away. “I assure you I am not in any personal danger.”
She turned back to me, a weak smile on her face. I looked at her, wondering what Travis meant by “they’d have me to answer to.” Under the circumstances, the phrase sounded frightening. But then the male of the species is given to those kind of pronouncements, I told myself.
My thoughts must have shown on my face.
“Don’t worry, Kate,” Carrie said. “Travis is a friend. I’ll be safe with him for the evening.”
Was I being dismissed?
After a few more moments of awkward silence, I was pretty sure I was being dismissed, but I dragged Carrie into the hall with me to make sure.
“Are you all right alone with this guy?” I whispered.
“I am perfectly capable of defending my virtue, such as it is,” she whispered back with a grin. “I don’t need a chaperon.” Was she misunderstanding me on purpose? Or was I misunderstanding her?
“Carrie, you think a member of your group is a murderer,” I reminded her impatiently. “What if it’s Travis?”
Her grin disappeared.
“No, not Travis,” she said. Her hands rose suddenly, palms out. “Not Travis,” she repeated, jerking them awkwardly, Richard Nixon-style.
“But—”
“I will be perfectly fine,” she insisted, dropping her hands and pulling back her shoulders.
She led me to the front door at a brisk pace, then turned to enfold me in a tight hug.
“Thank you, Kate,” she whispered and released me.
“I’m not sure if—”
“Don’t you worry,” she ordered and opened the door.
I stepped out through the doorway, trying to think.
“I’ll let you know when I schedule the emergency group meeting,” she added.
The door closed before I could respond.
I drove home through the dark, my shoulder muscles aching with tension as I gripped the steering wheel, wondering all the way about Carrie’s relationship with Travis. It was better than remembering Slade’s battered head. Were Carrie and Travis lovers? And if so, so what? It was about time Carrie found someone to love. As far as I knew, she hadn’t been serious about anyone since her husband Cyril had died. But what if Travis was a murderer? What if Carrie was? I shook my head hard. I wasn’t going to even let myself think that.
As I pulled into my driveway, popping gravel, another thought hit me. Maybe Travis was the one Carrie really suspected of murder, despite her protests. Was that why she had turned off the computer? Was that why she wanted so badly to investigate?
I didn’t have any answers to my questions by the time I climbed the stairs and opened the front door.
C.C. was waiting for me in the entry hall, on the other side of the door. She meowed in disapproval. Where had I and my lap been when she needed us? Not to mention the fact that she was starving. C.C. was always starving.
“Cease and desist!” I shouted.
C.C.’s eyes widened. She silently tilted her head for a moment. A smile twitched my lips. Then she started yowling in earnest.
“All right, all right! It’s dinner time,” I conceded.
I dropped my purse next to Slade’s manuscript on the pinball machine and trotted into the kitchen to feed her, turning on my answering machine on the way.
“Hi, this is Judy,” the machine said as I scooped Friskies Senior
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