Still Lake - Anne Stuart [91]
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself. Why the hell hadn’t she just bluffed it? So she’d been snooping. So he’d be pissed off. She wasn’t really afraid of him, was she? He might be angry, but he wouldn’t hurt her.
She leaned back in the leather seat, reviewing her options. Her talents ran more toward stripping wallpaper and turning buckets into planters, not hotwiring classic cars, and he hadn’t left the keys in the ignition, damn it. Actually, if he hadn’t left the keys in the ignition he must have them on him, and her locking the doors did her absolutely no good at all. She’d learned that the last time she tried this little stunt.
She looked up at him as he lounged on the porch, watching her. As if he could read her mind, he held up the keys in one hand, dangling them with a taunting gesture.
All right, so he’d won this round. She still wasn’t about to climb out of the car. Instead she rolled down the passenger window, letting in the cool lake air.
“We’ve already done this dance before,” he drawled. “Aren’t you getting tired of it, Sophie?”
“Who’s Thomas Griffin?” she demanded.
“Ever hear the phrase, curiosity killed the cat?” he said.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I’m not in the mood. Not right now, at least. Though I could always be persuaded to change my mind.” He might have been talking about afternoon tea in that pleasant, unemotional voice.
“Who are you?”
“Who the fuck do you think I am?” he said. “Use your brain.”
He was really beginning to piss her off. Not enough to make her get out of the dubious haven of the car, however. “I don’t know! I’ve already figured out that you aren’t a reporter, you aren’t a cop, and you aren’t a lawyer. That leaves a lot to go through.”
“As a matter of fact, I am a lawyer,” he said, as cool as the lake breeze. “But that’s not all. According to popular belief I murdered three women here some twenty years ago. I was known as the Northeast Kingdom murderer.”
He said it in such a calm, matter-of-fact tone that for a moment she believed him, and her stomach knotted in instant panic. And then common sense surfaced.
“Sure you are,” she shot back. “That’s why the place has been littered with bodies since you got back.”
His smile wasn’t the slightest bit reassuring. “You don’t believe me? Think about it, Sophie. Where have you heard the name Thomas Griffin before? You’re a smart woman underneath those stupid ruffles—it’ll come to you.”
Her momentary confidence faltered. She remembered the photo of the killer in the newspaper, the grainy features that looked nothing like the man lounging on the porch. He’d worn sunglasses and had a beard, and the tattoo of a snake coiling over one hip, and his name was…
Thomas Griffin.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, but her voice quavered.
“Oh, yes, you do. You’ve been so busy worrying about your mother and sister that you haven’t been jumping to the logical conclusions. I think Doc must have figured it out a while ago, though I can’t figure out why he hasn’t said anything yet. He’s always been so protective of his little town and its young women that he should have figured it out long ago.”
“He said something to me. He warned me away from you. I thought he was just being a fussbudget.”
“Did the warnings work? No, I guess they didn’t.” He answered his own question. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“If you hurt me they’ll know you did it.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then why have you got me trapped in this car?”
“I don’t. You showed up and decided to go snooping, and you’re the one who locked yourself in there. I can unlock the doors any time I want.”
“I’ll lock them again.”
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but I’m stronger than you are. I’ve already proved that I can unlock the door even if you put your whole weight on it.”
“Enough with the cracks about the weight,” she snapped, her fear momentarily fading.
He laughed. “It’s the only way I can get to you. Besides, you know perfectly well how sumptuous you are.”
“Sumptuous?