He nodded, his beautiful midnight blues staring straight into mine, and I held both the fear and the love I saw in them even as I closed my eyes to focus on what our future held. “I see our new home,” I whispered. “And it’s beautiful. A two-story Tudor the color of cream with blue shutters, tons of windows, a red clay tile roof, and ivy creeping up the sides. Out back there’s an amazing garden and a gorgeous view of the surrounding hills. Inside, we’ll have a little breakfast nook facing east so that we can watch the sunrise over coffee. And our den will face west, so that we can watch the sunset over ice cream. Eggy will be a little old man by then, and Tuttle will completely rule our house, so that won’t change.”
I opened my eyes again and saw that I still had Dutch’s full attention. “Above the garage we’ll each have a home office. I’ll see a few clients a week, and you’ll work your security business, and we’ll enjoy the heck out of our lives. Together. ’Cause that’s what we do, cowboy. We stick together, no matter what.”
For the first time in my life I saw something reflected in those magnificent blue eyes that stunned me. Real tears. Dutch wasn’t just misty; he actually welled up and teardrops leaked down his gorgeous face. I leaned in to kiss him softly and sat back after he’d had a moment to collect himself. He then cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. “Do you remember that mole I had removed on the back of my neck?” Dutch had mentioned that on the advice of the doctor that gave annual exams to all FBI agents, he’d seen a dermatologist here in Austin right before we moved to have a mole removed.
I felt the hairs along my arms tingle. “Oh, sheep,” I mouthed.
“The lab says it’s malignant.” I felt my stomach drop to my toes. “The dermatologist called two days ago to tell me. I have to go back in tomorrow to meet with him.”
I used my radar to scan his energy carefully. I’m not a medical intuitive, but after reading for thousands of clients, my radar has become really adept at picking up major medical conditions like heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, and of course cancer. When I focused on Dutch’s health, I did pick up the tiniest hint of malignancy on the left side of his neck, and it was so subtle that it was no wonder I’d missed it. Quickly, I moved over to sit in Dutch’s lap and wrap my arms tightly around him. “You’re going to be okay,” I reassured him, so relieved that I felt deep in my bones he’d be fine. “Really, honey. I’ve seen you in that house with me five years from now. This is nothing to worry about. You’re going to come bouncing back from this, no problem.”
“I’ll have to go in for additional surgery,” he said. I couldn’t tell from his voice if he believed me when I told him he’d be okay.
“Surgery?” I asked. This was sounding like a bigger deal than what I’d felt intuitively.
“It’s outpatient. They want to make sure they’ve gotten all of the malignant tissue, and there are a few other moles that he wants to remove from my back, just to be safe. Hopefully, I can schedule it in the morning and be back to work right after lunch.”
I eyed him skeptically. “I think you can take a sick day, tough guy.”
“Anyway, they’ll excise the cells, then schedule me for some topical radiation therapy.”
“It’s early,” I insisted, using my sixth sense again to feel my way along Dutch’s diagnosis. “You caught it in time. This is nothing, cowboy. Nothing. You’ll be right as rain in no time.”
He kissed me on the forehead. “You’re sure?”
I smiled and backed up a little to look straight into his eyes. “I pinkie swear.”
“I was afraid to ask you.”
“I didn’t even pick up on it,” I admitted. “Seriously, it’s such a small spot and so early that I had no heads-up about it at all.”
“Sorry I’ve been taking all my stress about it out on you, Edgar.”
“S’okay. Just don’t take me back to that shooting range anytime soon, all right?”
Dutch gently gripped my chin with his fingers. “I have to know that you can take care of yourself, even if I’m not around.”
“Sugar, if there is one thing I know how to do by now, it is call for help. And there are plenty of people like Candice and Milo who have answered that call. But we don’t need to worry about that, because you’re always going to be around for this particular damsel- in-distress, sweetie. Always.”
That got him to smile. “If you say so.”
I stood up and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go out and talk Milo into trading in his Motown collection for a cowboy hat and a pair of spurs.”
“I’ve been working on that all day.”
I tapped my temple. “Yeah, well, my radar says he’s going to hold out unless we keep at him.”
“He seems to like the beer down here,” Dutch said, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Let’s get him drunk and convince him it was his idea in the first place.”
Chapter Seven
Milo left Austin a few days later. As we saw him off to the airport, I still wasn’t sure we’d convinced him to move—mostly because it would mean relocating his family from the only home they’d ever known. Still, I knew that the door to his relocating to Austin would remain open for some time, and that was a positive thing at least.
Dutch compromised with my suggestion to take a sick day by working in the morning and scheduling his procedure for later in the afternoon. He kept reassuring me he wasn’t nervous about it—but I saw right through him. “I got you some snacks for later,” I told him. “I’ll pick you up from the office at three, and drive you over to the clinic. They said they’d get you in and out by five, and I’ll be in the waiting room the whole time.”
“Thanks, doll.”
“You’re going to be okay, you know.”
“If you say so.”
“Seriously. You are.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
I scowled at him. “God! Are you a stubborn son of a peach or what?”
“What’d I say?”
“Dutch!” I yelled angrily, using my hands like a bullhorn. “You’re going to be fine! Do you hear me?! F-IN-E!”
He just turned and looked at me in that wide-eyed way that suggested he’d woken the beast without meaning to. “Of course I am,” he said very carefully. “I know I will. I’ll be fine. Ducky even. Okay?”
“Bah!” I snapped, crossing my arms and turning away. “I give up. You’re impossible!”
Dutch parked in front of the office, gave me a very quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried inside. I frowned at his departing figure, moved into the driver’s seat, and drove over to Candice’s. We were heading to Dallas to begin our discreet investigation into Keisha and Fatina’s disappearance.
“Ready?” Candice asked, meeting me at the door to the parking garage.
“Yep.” I followed her to a shiny new canary yellow Porsche. “Subtle,” I said, pausing next to the car.
“It was a toss-up between this and candy apple red,” she admitted.
“No one will
ever
notice you running surveillance from this puppy. It’s so nondescript!”
Candice gave me a smart look. “Get in, Sundance. We’re already running behind.”
If we’d been running behind, we made up time very quickly. And, for the record, Porches are super-
duper
fast, just in case you didn’t already know that.
To take my mind off the scenery flashing by at lightning speed, I casually glanced over at Candice’s left hand.
“It’s still in the box,” Candice said before I even had a chance to ask.
“Have you seen it?” I’d heard from Dutch that Brice had moved back to Candice’s, and I’d hoped that meant that the two had patched things up and were now engaged.
“Yes.”
I waited for more, but Candice wasn’t talking. “Don’t force me to use my radar on you,” I told her. “Come on, girl! I want details.”
The corner of Candice’s mouth lifted in a sideways grin. “We sat down and hashed it all out.”
“Annnnnnd?”
My partner squirmed in her seat. “Well, after discussing our feelings, we both decided that we’ve been moving pretty fast, and maybe it’s better to slow down and give this thing some time. See if we both feel the same way in a few months and then move it to the next level. We agreed to take all the pressure off—you know, just go really slow and easy. We even talked about seeing other people if the mood fit.”
I gaped at her. “
While
you’re living together?”
Candice shook her head. “Brice is going to look for his own place next week.”
“So you two are splitting up?” I couldn’t believe it.
Candice shook her head. “No. We’re just stepping back and giving this thing some room to breathe.”
“Oh, so now your relationship is a bottle of wine?”
“It’s the right thing to do, Abby. I mean, Brice and I have clearly rushed into this. Three months ago we couldn’t stand each other and now we’re living together and talking marriage? That’s not smart. So we’ve agreed to go back to casual dating, and if in six months we’re still together and want to move things forward again, then okay. But giving it some time makes sense.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow, mostly because I’d switched my intuition on anyway and my radar was insisting that a big ol’ diamond would soon find its way to Candice’s left ring finger.
But it was none of my business, so I vowed to stay out of it. Using all my willpower, I turned in my seat without saying another word and stared straight ahead, repeating the vow to butt out.
To distract myself, I flipped on the radio and tapped my toe to the music.
Five minutes later I took out a pen and notebook and jotted down a grocery list.
Three minutes later, I pulled out the paper from my purse and played Sudoku.
Two minutes later, I gave up on Sudoku and leaned my head back to take a quick nap.
One minute later I opened my eyes and snapped, “You know, maybe it’s me, but most of the succsessful relationships I know don’t come equipped with a day planner and a stopwatch.” (Vow of silence—eleven whole minutes.)
Candice sighed. “Here we go,” I heard her mutter.
I swiveled in my seat again. “I’m serious!”
“Oh, I know you are,” she said. “So, go ahead. Get it out of your system, Abs. Lay the lecture on me.”
I ignored the sarcasm and dove in. “It’s just that when I look intuitively at you and Brice, you work. As in, for the long haul. It’s like you guys have known each other for years, and I don’t know what six months of waiting and pretending to adore each other less than you actually do is going to accomplish. And agreeing to date other people is just ridiculous! You don’t want to see anyone other than Brice, and he doesn’t want to see anyone other than you, and I know that the moment he moves out, both of you are going to feel miserable without the other. You’re fooling yourselves with all this bullsheep of slowing down. What you two
really
need is some assurance from each other that you’re in a committed relationship. You guys
love
each other, Candice. And the sooner you own that and just say, ‘I do,’ the better. For you. For Brice. And for the rest of us faced with six months of looking at your sad little faces.”
Candice didn’t say anything for the longest time. And I figured that she might be mad at me for speaking my mind, so I turned again and went back to staring out the window.
“You know what?” she asked abruptly.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
“Duh.”
That won me a smile. “So what do I do now, Abs? I mean, he and I already had
the talk
and all.”
“You tell him how you honestly feel. You throw that big bag of caution you’ve carried around with you all these years out the window, and you tell that man that you love him, you don’t want him to move out, and that you’ll marry him anytime, anywhere.”
Candice swallowed hard. “That’d be taking a mighty big risk, don’t you think?”
I grinned. “Since when have you ever stepped away from taking a risk?”
“Point taken,” she said.
“And, Candice?”
“Yeah?”
“I hear Key West is a great spot for a quickie wedding.”
Candice laughed and pushed my shoulder playfully. “Stop, okay?” she giggled. “Just stop.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
We arrived in south Dallas about twenty minutes later. I resisted the urge to fan my underarms, as screaming down the highway at dizzying speeds tends to make me sweat like a gorilla. “You okay?” Candice asked when we got out of the car. “You look a little pale.”
“I will be once we find the spot along the route where I lost my stomach.”
Candice ignored me and looked at the house we’d parked in front of. It was a lovely home painted olive green with shiny black shutters and a beautiful white porch all along the front. The flower garden was well tended and fuchsia crape myrtles gave the porch some colorful shade. “Nice,” Candice said as we walked up the driveway.
“Whose house is this?” I asked.
“Fatina’s grandmother’s. Since Fatina went missing last, I thought it best to start here where the leads might be a little warmer.”
We approached the front door and Candice rang the bell. “Did it ring?” she asked.
“I didn’t hear it.”
We waited another few seconds; then Candice knocked. From inside we heard a dog barking and footsteps clomped across a wood floor. The door was then opened by a woman with gray hair, big sad eyes, and hunched shoulders. She put her foot out to stop the inquisitive nose of a small white dog before addressing us. “May I help you?”
“Mrs. Carter?” Candice asked.
“No,” the woman replied, her sad eyes turning suspicious.
Candice pulled out the folder she’d tucked under her arm. It was a duplicate of the one I’d given back to Dutch. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course. You must be Mrs. Dixon. Your daughter was Mrs. Carter and your granddaughter was Fatina Carter.”
At the mention of her granddaughter, the woman physically flinched, and those sad eyes returned. “What’s this about?” she demanded.