“Maybe our partnership will come to an end sooner rather than later, which would be a good thing.” Good for Michelle’s safety, anyway.
She nodded. “Absolutely. Of course, if this guy Chris is arrested for Amanda’s murder, it doesn’t solve the other two murders.”
“We’ll let the FBI agents assigned to those cases worry about that.” He signaled to the waitress. “You probably have to get home and grade those quizzes.”
“Yeah, just another exciting Saturday night.”
She made a grab for the check, but he beat her to it. “Are you looking for excitement? I would’ve thought you’d had your fill.”
Her cheeks burned red. “I didn’t mean that. Amanda’s been dead for less than twenty-four hours. The last thing I need is excitement.”
Colin grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t feel guilty for surviving.”
“Like you do?”
“That’s…different.”
“If you say so.” She tilted her chin at the check on the table. “How much do I owe?”
“It’s on me. You can get the next one.” Because he really wanted there to be a next one.
The sun had made its brief appearance. Now the marine layer was staging a comeback. Michelle peered at the sky through the windshield of her car.
“It’s going to be another one of those nights.” Her fingers white-knuckled the steering wheel.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure. The chief said he’d send a patrol car by the house a few times tonight.”
“And I’m right down the street.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but unless you remember quadratic equations, I think I can handle things.”
If she asked him to stay he’d accept in a heartbeat, but Michelle had an independent streak and he had to respect that. Who knows? Maybe after he’d told her how he’d left Kieran to fend for himself, she didn’t trust him to protect her. Hell, he wouldn’t.
She slowed the car as she approached her house. “Do you want a lift to your place?”
“I can walk.”
She swung into her driveway, avoiding the bedraggled yellow tape from the crime scene, and Colin reached into his pocket for a card.
“Do you still have my card from last night?”
“I think it’s in my purse.”
He pressed another one into her palm. “Here it is again, just in case. My cell phone number is on there. Call me if…if you need anything.”
Her doe eyes searched his face, and he relaxed the muscles and even managed a smile. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Thanks, Colin. I think I’ll be okay. After grading, I’m going to bed early. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” He walked her to the front door, and she gave him a tremulous smile and slipped inside.
He strolled to the end of her walkway and shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared at the spot where Amanda had been killed. He knew that homeless guy wasn’t responsible for the murder. When would the police realize it? When the killer cut down another member of Michelle’s graduating class?
He turned and surveyed Michelle’s tidy beach house through half-closed lids. Michelle was not going to be the next victim. And he’d make damned sure of it.
He had no intention of running away…this time.
Several hours later, Michelle stretched and dropped her red pen on the coffee table where she’d been grading the algebra quizzes. She’d planned on getting them done early, having a light dinner and then turning in, but the hands on her watch were creeping toward midnight.
She hadn’t been able to focus all night. Or rather she hadn’t been able to focus on algebra all night. Her thoughts had drifted down the street toward Colin Roarke. No wonder he’d seemed sad that first night she’d seen him. He’d left his brother behind. Had escaped while his brother faced an uncertain future—maybe death.
She’d wanted to assuage his guilt, but she hadn’t been very successful. It was easy to tell other people to shrug off their guilt. Outsiders had a more logical, more clinical approach to someone else’s situation. After what had happened to Amanda, Michelle found it easy to understand Colin’s feelings.
Would she always feel this way? Would she always wonder if there was something more she could’ve done for Amanda? Maybe she should’ve insisted that Amanda spend the night.
Michelle crossed the room to the window and lifted the side of the curtains. The weather outside mimicked the conditions of last night and she gave an involuntary shiver. The fog had rolled in thick and heavy, blanketing the street in its moist embrace.
Clutching her upper arms, Michelle balanced a shoulder against the wall. She’d already spotted one cop car on a drive-by. She’d be fine. Except now she couldn’t discern a cop car on the street even if it drove by with flashing lights. And the cop couldn’t see her.
Michelle let the curtain fall, tousled her hair and yawned. She stuffed the last of the quizzes into the folder for that class and glanced at her laptop. Should she enter the grades online tonight or wait until tomorrow?
She plopped the folders on top of the closed laptop and spun around. She’d wait until tomorrow when her eyelids didn’t have to be propped open with toothpicks.
She turned off the light in the living room and clicked on the lamp by her bed. She peeled off her clothes, tossed them in the basket in her closet and padded to the attached bathroom in her bra and undies.
Still unable to get Colin off her mind, she brushed her teeth and scrubbed her skin as if that could expunge the image of his face imprinted on her brain. She didn’t need to renew her schoolgirl crush on Colin Roarke. He’d be moving on soon enough.
She wandered back into the bedroom, massaging night cream into her face. She slipped out of her bra and tugged a long T-shirt over her head that had Math Teachers Do It With Pi emblazoned across the front—a silly gift from Amanda. Kicking off her flip-flops, she reached for the lamp.
She froze.
She’d heard a scratching sound on the window like a twig scraping the glass. Only she didn’t have any trees outside her bedroom window.
She held her breath. She squinted at the filmy white curtains. It could just be grains of sand whipped up from the sand dunes.
With her heart pounding, she sidled along the wall toward the window. Crouching down, she inched the curtain to the side. A wave of fear rushed through every cell of her body as she watched a hand scrabble at her window.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MICHELLE SCREAMED AND tumbled to the floor. Her fingers had curled around the curtains, and they ripped as she brought them down with her.
Still clutching a piece of white linen in her fist, she scrambled toward the bedroom door on her hands and knees. She glanced over her shoulder at the gaping rip in the curtains framing a smooth expanse of glass. No face. No hand.
Had she imagined it, that hand clawing at the windowpane?
Someone yelled and pounded on her front door. Michelle let out another yelp. She leaped to her feet and dashed for her cell phone, charging on the kitchen counter.