The Other Side - J. D. Robb [120]
Taking pity on her, Jake got to his feet, hoping to deflect the attention from her. “Mrs. Mellon, that was an excellent dinner. Thank you.” He smiled at Bonnie. “I enjoyed your camp stories. You ought to write a book.”
“Maybe someday.” She returned his smile.
He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Night, Tyler. See you tomorrow.”
When there was no response, he turned to Christina. “Thanks again for the dinner invitation. I had a great time.”
It was true, he realized. Though he hadn’t expected to enjoy himself, the time had flown by.
Christina started after him, eager to escape the room. “I’ll show you out.”
“There’s no need.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Mark following Christina from the room.
As he started down the hall, he heard Mark’s voice, low, angry. “What the hell is he doing eating dinner like one of the family?”
“Don’t be rude, Mark. I invited him.”
“And you were having so much fun with that . . . carpenter, you forgot all about our date.”
“I told you I wasn’t interested in going to Dad’s club.”
“It’s your club now, Chris. Ours, in fact. And maybe it’s time to think about what I want. Or don’t I matter anymore?”
“Don’t, Mark.” There was a weariness to her tone as Jake opened the front door and let himself out.
As he made his way to his truck, he glanced at the expensive convertible parked behind it. It seemed the perfect vehicle for a man like Mark Deering to show off his woman.
His woman.
The thought of it left a bad taste in Jake’s mouth. There was something unpleasant about Mark Deering, something shallow and phony. It was hard to picture a man like that with Christina. In the short time he’d worked here, he’d formed an image of a kind, compassionate, hardworking woman who was deeply involved in her little brother’s care. She deserved better than Deering.
Not his business, he reminded himself.
He climbed into his truck and drove away. But he couldn’t resist a glance in the rearview mirror. Bonnie had been right. Though he couldn’t explain it, just stepping inside the Crenshaw house each day was like coming home.
Leaving it had him feeling as empty as death.
Six
Henry Wickham blessed the inventor of the GPS as he took the twists and turns of the highway at a slow, careful pace. As he drove, he tried to imagine what it would feel like to discover, while maneuvering this rain-slicked stretch of pavement, that the brakes weren’t working and the car was hurtling out of control.
No matter how cool the head or calm the demeanor, Ted Crenshaw must have been horrified to realize that he was unable to save his life and that of his beloved wife.
As he rounded the curving driveway, Henry Wickham slowed to a stop and sat a moment admiring the sprawling stone house set amid lush gardens. It was, quite simply, every man’s dream house.
He climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. Moments later the door was opened by the housekeeper.
He handed her his card. “Detective Henry Wickham to see Miss Christina Crenshaw.”
Mrs. Mellon read the card before stepping aside. “Please come in, Detective.” She led him along the hallway and indicated a sitting room. “If you’ll wait in here, I’ll fetch Miss Christina.”
“Thank you.”
Minutes later, Christina entered, followed by Mark, who had been trying to persuade Christina to go to the city with him for the day. She seemed almost relieved to have a reason to refuse.
She offered a handshake. “Detective, I’m Christina Crenshaw. This is my fiancé, Mark Deering.”
“Miss Crenshaw. Mr. Deering.”
Chris stared pointedly at Mark. “Mr. Deering was just leaving.”
He nodded at the detective, then kissed Chris’s cheek before sauntering from the room.
When they were alone, Christina said, “What is this about, Detective?”
“It’s the policy of our department to conduct several tests on all vehicles involved in fatal accidents.” He handed over a manila envelope. “I’ve brought you a copy of the test results.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of