Her mother smiled in that gentle way of hers. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“He’s…yeah, I don’t know how to explain it in specifics—he just reminds me of Dad.”
“Is he a Catholic?”
“I don’t know.” They’d never talked religion—well, except for the whole back-from-Hell thing—but now that her mother brought it up, she thought it might be cool if he was. “I’ll ask him.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“It’s complicated.” Christ, did he even have a job?
“Does he treat you nicely?”
“Oh, yes. Very much so. He’s…a good man.” Who might be crazy as a loon. “He takes care of me.”
“That’s important, you know. Your father…he always took care of you and me—”
“I’m really sorry about last night.”
Her mother palmed her cup and stared into the distance. “I think it’s wonderful that you found someone. And that you came home safe this morning.”
Oh, shit…she hadn’t thought about that part of it—of her mother not just up and waiting, but likely replaying that night when members of the CPD had come to the front door.
“Can I ask you something about Dad?” Mels said abruptly.
“Sure.”
Man, she could not believe she was going there. “Did he treat you well? Because he was gone a lot, wasn’t he. Working.”
Her mother’s eyes swung around. “Your father was very committed to this city. His job was everything to him.”
“What about you? Where did you fit in?”
“Oh, you know me, I’m not much for being the center of attention. Would you like some more coffee?”
“I’m good.”
Her mother got up with her bowl, went to the sink, and rinsed out the uneaten granola. “So, more about your mystery man. Can you tell me his name?”
“Matthias.”
“Oh, that’s a nice name.”
“He has amnesia. He can’t tell me much more than that.”
Brows lifted, but there was no censure, no concern, no flip-out. Just calm acceptance. “Is he in the care of a good doctor, I hope?”
“He was seen at the ER, yes. And he’s okay—it’s coming back.”
“Does he live here in Caldwell?”
“He does right now.” Mels cleared her throat. “You know, I’d like you to meet him.”
Her mother froze over by the sink. Then she blinked fast, like composure was hard to keep. “That would be…lovely.”
Mels nodded, even though she had no idea whether it was even possible. The thing was, though, she’d given so little to her mother, and at the moment, Matthias was—or at least seemed to be—the biggest deal in her life.
So it seemed appropriate to open up about him.
Although, boy, after all this time, the whole sharing thing felt odd and awkward…the interpersonal equivalent of a training bra, or a set of braces, or a learner’s permit.
More significantly, it hadn’t been until this moment, on this morning, in this kitchen, that Mels realized that for all the sum total of her age, she hadn’t grown up. Not really. She’d checked out of life on a lot of levels after her father died, her feelings regressing and getting buried under career goals that had soured into a sustained dissatisfaction with everything.
Matthias had shaken her up.
Woken her up.
And she didn’t like what she saw in the lines of her mother’s face.
“Yeah,” Mels said. “I don’t know how long he’s in town for, but…I’d really like you to meet him.”
Her mother nodded and seemed to take an inordinate time sponging around the counter. “Whenever you like. I’m always here.”
God, that was true, wasn’t it.
And why had she felt like that was a burden she had to bear?
Mels glanced at the digital clock on the stove and stood up with her cup. “I guess I’d better go get ready.”
“Would you like my car today?”
“You know what…yes, please.”
Now her mother really smiled, the expression lifting some of the perma-sadness that had been there since…well, forever, it seemed.
“That’s good. I’d like to help in any way I can.”
At the archway into the hall, Mels stopped. “I’m sorry.”
Her mother’s answering smile struck her not as weak, but as accepting.
Huh. It wasn’t until now that she realized the two were very different—and she had to wonder why she’d mistaken the latter for the former.
“It’s okay, Mellie.”
“No, it really isn’t,” Mels said as she turned away and headed for the stairs. “Not at all.”
Generally speaking, Matthias wasn’t in a situation where he should be making dinner plans of any kind.
It was just impossible not to want another hit of Mels naked with him in bed.
Or on the floor. Against the wall. Over the bathroom sink.
Wherever.
The bottom line was that it was time for him to get going. He’d been too long in Caldwell, too exposed in this hotel…and too close to Mels.
Time to take off.
And it was in the dour spirit of having to leave Caldwell that he walked out of the Marriott, Jim’s gun with its silencer packed at the small of his back, a baseball cap he’d bought at the gift shop pulled down tight to the sunglasses.
The day was warmish, and with the spotty cloud cover that had rolled in overnight, the temperature probably wasn’t going to improve much—
“Out for a morning stroll to the candy store?”
Matthias stopped and turned around. Jim Heron had magically appeared behind him, and somehow, that wasn’t a surprise.
What was a shock was the emotion that hit as he looked into the other man’s eyes.
Jabbing his palm out, he said gruffly, “Thank you.”
Dark blond brows popped, and Heron went preternaturally still as pedestrians broke pattern and swung wide to avoid them, the herd of rushing people re-forming on the far side.
“What,” Matthias said, keeping his hand where it was. “Too proud to accept a little gratitude?”
“You’ve never thanked me or anybody else before. For anything.”
In the silence, a moment of clear resonance set up shop in the center of Matthias’s chest, the kind of thing that told him that the statement was true.
“New leaf,” he muttered.
As Jim clasped what was offered, he said, “What’s the gratitude for?”
“Taking care of my girl last night. I owe you one.”
After a pause, Jim said in an equally rough way, “You’re welcome. And I can take a guess about what’s gotten you up and moving. Come back to my place—I’ve got plenty of ammo there.”
Considering that would conserve cash, Matthias gave the idea a big fat yes. “Where you parked?”
“Over here.”
A quick trip across the street, and then he was sitting side by side with the guy in a black Explorer.
As they hit the main highway, for some reason he kept having the urge to look into the backseat, and he gave in to the paranoia from time to time. There was nothing/no one back there, however.
What the hell—
“So how’s your memory doing?” Jim asked.
“Same as.” Matthias left things there, because the whole back-from-Hell theory seemed too weird to put out there. It was one thing to share that shit with Mels. Spouting it to Jim seemed…like he was dropping his trou in front of the guy.
Not going to happen.
Matthias reached out and put the radio on. “—body of a woman found at dawn on the front steps of the Caldwell Library. Trisha Golding, second wife of Thomas Golding, CEO of CorTech, was discovered with her throat cut and some of her clothes removed early this morning by a street sweeper. CPD units responded immediately, and are still on site. Officially, the homicide department is downplaying the possibility of another serial killer in the city, but a source inside tells WCLD exclusively that the term is being used in connection with this victim and the case of another young blond woman found…”
As the report droned on, Matthias noticed that Jim’s hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn the knuckles white.
“What’s the matter?” he asked the guy.