Obsession (Southern Comfort) (11 page)

His lungs burned, and his legs felt a little rubbery, but Justin attributed that to the
exercise.

If he’d become a big enough pussy that he got shaky just from sending a woman a text, then he might as well hang it up now.

“Hey.”

Acting on instinct
, Justin whirled around toward the sound of the voice directly behind him, leading with his elbow. 

“
Whoa there.”  The smaller man just had time to get his arm up to block Justin’s move.  Even in his surprise, his reflexes were lightening quick. 

But then, he had been a cop for
a number of years.

“Remind me not to
sneak up behind you in the future.”  Anthony flashed a grin, his teeth white against the wind-reddened tan of his cheeks as he shook out his arm.  “You’ve got a mean jab there, Wellington.”

“Sorry.”  Justin felt heat creep up the back of his neck.  Whether it was from the fact that he’d overreacted to being startled
– something he’d have to examine later – or the tone of the text he’d just sent to this man’s girlfriend, he really couldn’t say.  But because he was uncomfortable, Justin went on the offensive.  “What are you doing here?” 

Anthony
didn’t even live on the Isle of Palms.  And it was still shy of eight am.  Judging from his jeans, boots, and the circles beneath his eyes, Justin didn’t think he’d driven all this way to enjoy a stroll on the beach.

The private detective
pushed a hand through his windblown hair.  “Working a case.  What else?  I saw you through my binoculars,” he explained, and Justin noticed the equipment hanging around the man’s neck, along with some sort of book sticking out of the pocket of his jacket.

“Bird-watching.”  He tapped the field guide – Justin could just make out the word Audubon at the top.  “Makes a great cover.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a nice day for it,” Justin said, rooting around for some conversational gambit that didn’t involve Kathleen, or the text he’d just sent Kathleen, or the things he wanted to do to Kathleen as soon as he could edge Anthony out of the picture.

Because he felt like an asshole, Justin
muttered something about catching him later and started walking, hoping the other man would take the hint and go back to spying on whomever he’d been spying on before he spotted Justin.

But Anthony fell in step beside him.

“I’m all done for now,” he explained.  “The particular bird I’ve been watching has flown the coop for the day.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she teaches at the high school.”  His voice took on a rueful tone.  “Seems she’s real popular with her male students.”

Catching his drift, Justin’s brow
s arched skyward.  “And you’re investigating her for the school district or…”

“Husband.” Anthony shook his head as they approached the boardwalk.  “Or rather, future ex-husband.  He found some suspicious texts, a couple naked photos of herself
she’d stored in her phone. Battle royal ensued, she denied all, deleted all, yada, yada, and now she’s trying to take him to the cleaners in the divorce.   I tell you, man, if I hadn’t already arrived at the conclusion that marriage is for the birds – pun intended,” he added with a tap on his binoculars, “this job would have crystalized that in my mind.  I’ve never seen so many miserable people in my life.  You okay?” he paused to ask when Justin stumbled a little in his surprise.

“Yeah.  Loose board.”

“Okay.  Well, I’ve got to run, and my car’s parked that way.”  He gestured with his chin.  “Good to see you.”

“You too.”

Justin stood at the end of the boardwalk, the morning breeze drying the sweat that clung to his skin, watching Anthony walk away as he contemplated his moral dilemma.  He liked the man.  He really did.  He was a straight shooter, and Justin didn’t think he was the type to string anyone along.  Not that Kathleen was being strung along.  She’d been dating the man fairly exclusively for almost a year.  Surely she knew his stance on marriage.

Which implied that Kathleen wasn’t looking to make
their relationship anything permanent.

He hoped. 

She hadn’t given any indication to the contrary, but Justin realized that he’d been watching her over the past several months, at least, for any indication that things were getting serious with Anthony.  He’d lived in a minor state of terror that she’d show up to meet him one day wearing a ring.  It was why he hadn’t paid enough attention to his own relationship, how he’d let Mandy – whom he’d dated extremely casually off and on over the past couple years – slip beneath his radar and almost move into his house.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Well, that particular mess was no more than he deserved for being too much of a coward to go after what he really wanted.

And what he really wanted was
Kathleen.

Justin shot a glance toward Anthony, but the other man had already climbed into his vehicle and driven off.  Clearly not the type to hesitate.

Disgusted with himself yet again, Justin resumed walking.  At least he’d sent that text.  It was minor, but it was a start.  Weren’t there about a billion cheesy quotations about that being the most difficult part?  Taking the first step?

Man
, he was embarrassed by his own thoughts.  And James told him he was mooning before.  Thank God he wasn’t privy to this quasi-motivational pity fest taking place in Justin’s head.

Grasping the back door knob, Justin tried to turn it before remembering that it was locked.
Taking out his key, he let himself into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeting him.  His brother really did have his uses.

Heading toward the pot, Justin noticed that a mug had already been poured, steam curling from the top. 
He glanced around for some sign of James, heard nothing, then decided to take a sip.  His brother put enough sugar in his own coffee to power an entire platoon of preschoolers, so Justin would know right away whether he’d already doctored this one. 

No sugar.  Just the way he liked it.

Commandeering the mug for his own, Justin headed toward the back of the house and the shower.  When he passed the guest room door, he rapped it with the knuckles of his free hand.

“I stole your coffee,” he called through the paneled wood.  “You’ll have to pour yourself another cup.”

“What?” came the mumble from the other side.

“I liberated your coffee before it could be sweetened to death,” Justin repeated.  Since the door wasn’t fully shut, he poked his head through the opening.  “You snooze, you – ”

He stopped midsentence.  James leaned up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around his bare chest, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stared at Justin.

“What,
you made coffee and then went back to sleep?”  That made no sense.  The coffee was still steaming.

“What’re you talking about?” James mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“The coffee.”  Justin offered his mug as evidence.  “Did you wake up just to make a pot for me?”

“Why would I do that?  Although now that I’m awake, that coffee smells damn good.  Is there any left?”

Justin stood there, mug in hand, the sweat slicking his skin suddenly feeling icy.  “You just made a pot,” he reminded his brother, wondering what the hell was wrong.  Sleep-walking?  Narcolepsy?  He hadn’t noticed any signs before now.  Brewing a pot of coffee was a little outside the normal realm of the automatic behavior associated with the condition, but not impossible. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.”  James looked a little more alert now.  “But I didn
’t make a pot of coffee.”

“There’s a fresh pot on the counter.  And this mug was poured.” Justin held it aloft again and let his eyes roam over his brother.  His pupils looked normal, but Justin should probably go get his penlight and do a more thorough check.  “There are some medical conditions that – ”

“Whoa, whoa.”  James held up a hand before running it over his eyes.  “I don’t have a medical condition.  I did not make coffee or pour you a mug.”

“James.”  He kept his tone as neutral as possible
so that he didn’t sound like he was lecturing.  “If you had one of these conditions, some of the behaviors are automatic – completely unconscious – so you may not know if –”

“
Justin.” James’ tone was as neutral as the one Justin had just used on him.  “I realize that you are a doctor and your first instinct is to rationalize a situation in terms of potential medical problems. But look at me.”  He met Justin’s gaze with a level stare.  “I did not make a pot of coffee.  Now, normal people who are not trauma surgeons might ask the question: if my brother, who is the only other resident of the house, did not make a pot of coffee, then who did?”

“What are you talking about?  Who would randomly, what,
break
in
and brew a pot of coffee?  And then leave?  And besides, the door was locked.”

“Just like your truck was locked.”

The coffee he’d drunk swished uncomfortably when Justin’s stomach gave a little lurch.  He stared at the mug in his hand as if it were a serpent about to strike.

“Justin?”

He looked up and met his brother’s gaze.  James looked far more serious than he’d ever seen him.  “You might not want to drink any more of that.” He nodded toward the mug.  “And Bro?  Change the house locks, too.  Because I think you have a problem.”

CHAPTER TEN

KATHLEEN
reduced her speed as she drove over the Isle of Palms connector.  The tide was out, the last rays of daylight rippling like gold dust in the water.  At this time of the year the marsh was more mud flat than undulating sea of chartreuse cord grass. But with a lone great white egret standing atop the bones of a long-abandoned boat, the elder statesman of the lowland, it still made a picture.  Sometimes, even when you were used to the beauty that surrounded you, it could still catch you off guard and grab you by the throat.

I miss you.

Justin’s text ran through her mind like a ticker tape, as it had since she’d received it that morning.  Three simple words, seemingly straightforward.  Basically harmless.

So why did she feel like she’d
inadvertently opened a ticking time bomb instead of a text message?  That she had two wires to choose from: one of which would defuse the situation, while the other would cause it to blow up in her face.

And even more troubling, why d
id she have a niggling suspicion that she wanted it to blow up?

She hadn’t known how to respond.  Blow it off with a smartass rejoinde
r?  Suggest they meet for lunch later this week or a drink after work?  Either of those two options were what she would have done BC.

Before Christmas.  Or more specifically, before that kiss.

Of course, Justin had never said anything like
I miss you
prior to this.  Probably because they saw each other regularly, but even when they hadn’t seen each other for a while, one or the other of them would simply drop the other a quick message or call and ask when they were free.  They’d never gone so long without chatting.  And there’d been none of these…
undertones,
fraught with confusing emotional wires and explosive potential.

B
ecause she hadn’t known how to respond, Kathleen let almost the entire day go by without answering.  Not unheard of, given both of their careers.  There were often days that it took hours for either of them to check their personal messages.  And Kathleen
had
been in court today, offering testimony in a trial. Justin wouldn’t necessarily think that she was ignoring him.

But Kathleen knew she’d been ignoring him.  Or not ignoring, rather, but p
utting him off.  And she didn’t like the feeling.

So,
perhaps typical of her personality, she’d decided to deal with the situation face to face.

Not that she knew what she was going to say, because she honestly had no idea.  But one thing she’d learned as a detective was that body language spoke volumes.  If she really wanted to get a bead on what the hell Justin had intended to signify with that text, she needed to see him in person.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, she turned down his palmetto and oak-shaded street. Her pulse kicked up a notch when she spotted the bright red bulk of Justin’s pickup.  “Like a flag before a bull,” she muttered, pulling in behind it.  Although why she was making a comparison between herself and an irate animal preparing to charge was something she’d have to think about later.

Kathleen headed toward the
wide expanse of front porch before the sound of hammering drew her attention.  She paused, determined it was coming from around back.

Cursing the
form-fitting skirt and high heels she’d worn for her court appearance, she followed the crushed oyster shell path around the corner of the small frame house – which Justin had recently painted a classic taupe with creamy trim, adding sage green, paneled shutters – wondering what he was working on this time.