The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [26]
“Harvey, you need to let me know about these things as soon as you get them. I thought we agreed that neither of us would play hero anymore.”
He listened while he licked, one ear perched higher than the other.
“So do we have a deal?”
He looked up at her and gave one sharp bark. Then he climbed to his feet, ready to run again, his entire hind end wagging.
“How ’bout we take it easy the rest of the way?” She knew she had pushed it a bit too hard. As she stood and stretched, she could feel a cramp threatening her calf. Yes, they’d walk the rest of the way, despite the wind chilling her sweat-drenched body and making her shiver.
A bulging orange moon peeked from behind a line of pine trees and the ridge that separated Maggie’s new neighborhood from the rest of the world. The houses were set far back off the street with enough property and landscaping between them to make it difficult to see the next-door neighbors. Maggie loved the seclusion and privacy. Though without any streetlights, darkness came quickly. It still freaked her out a bit to run after dark. There were too many Albert Stuckys out there. And even though she knew he was dead—that she’d killed him herself—she still sometimes ran with her Smith & Wesson tucked in her waistband.
Before she got to her long circular driveway, she saw a glimmer of windshield. She recognized the spotless white Mercedes and wanted to turn around. If he hadn’t seen her, she might have done just that. But Greg waved from the portico, leaning against its railing as if he owned the house.
“It’s a little late to be out running, isn’t it?” This was his greeting, which sounded more like a scolding, and she found herself flinching instinctively, just as Harvey had earlier. The gesture represented a microcosm of their relationship, which had been reduced to instinctive survival tactics, and Greg still wondered why she wanted a divorce?
“What do you need, Greg?”
He looked like he had stepped off the pages of GQ. He was dressed in a dark suit, with sharp creases she could see even in the moon’s dim light, not a wrinkle in sight. His golden hair was moussed and styled, not a strand out of place. Yes, her soon-to-be ex-husband was certainly handsome, no question about that. She knew he must be on his way home from dinner with friends or business associates. Maybe he had a date, and immediately she wondered how she would feel about that. Relieved, was her quick and easy answer.
“I don’t need anything.” He sounded hurt, and she saw him shift to his defensive stance, another survival tactic in his own arsenal. “I just thought I should check up on you.”
As they got closer, Harvey started growling, his signal that warned of any stranger on their property.
“Good Lord!” Greg backed up, only now noticing Harvey. “That’s the dog you took in?”
“Why are you checking up on me?”
But Greg was now preoccupied with Harvey. Maggie knew he hated dogs, though while they were together he had made excuses that he was allergic to them. Seemed the only thing he was allergic to was Harvey’s growl.
“Greg.” She waited until she had his attention. “Why are you here?”
“I heard about Richard.”
Maggie stared at him, waiting for more of an explanation. When one didn’t come, she said, “It happened days ago.” She stopped herself from adding that if he was so concerned, why did he wait until now.
“Yeah, I know. I did hear about it on the news, but the name didn’t ring a bell with me right away. Then I talked to Stan Wenhoff this morning about a case I’m representing. He told me about what happened at the morgue.”
“He told you about that?” Maggie couldn’t believe it. She wondered who else he had told.
“He was just concerned about you, Maggie. He knows