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She left him unsettled. And he didn’t think it was just the uncomfortable fact that she was an attractive woman.
After some thought, he decided part of the problem was that her responses had veered from the norm. Which led him back to where he’d started: Helen Boyd wasn’t telling him all she was thinking, by a long shot. But what was she hiding?
* * *
HELEN JUMPED SIX inches at the soft knock on the door of the hotel room even though she’d expected it. She had horribly mixed feelings about seeing Detective Renner again tonight. She wanted to know what he’d learned, of course. How could she make decisions otherwise? But he made her nervous; he watched her with those penetrating blue eyes until she felt as if he was reading her mind.
He also wasn’t the only one who could find her here. She approached the door cautiously.
“Who is it?”
The detective’s voice both reassured her and didn’t. Like she had a choice about whether to let him in.
He dominated the room from the moment he stepped into it. She couldn’t quite figure it out, since she had the feeling he was trying to be unassuming. Some of it was size; he certainly topped six feet, which made him a whole lot taller than she was. Broader, too, with impressive shoulders and a rangy, athletic build.
As she backed away, she decided unhappily that the quality was innate. The strength of his control and purpose, his determination, were impossible to miss. She wondered if his police chief or whoever was his direct boss ever dared to give him an order.
Of course, he started by assessing her with those sharp eyes before sweeping the room in search of...who knew? Enemies crouching behind the bed or peering from the closet? At last, his gaze settled on Jacob, sound asleep on one side of the queen-size bed. He looked so small in the big bed, so defenseless.
In a low voice, the detective asked, “Will we wake him if we talk?”
Helen shook her head, knowing her voice softened because of his concern. “An earthquake wouldn’t wake him once he’s really conked out. He’s a very early riser, though.”
His laugh was quiet and a little gravelly. It sent a shiver of reaction over her skin. “I won’t keep you long.” He still eyed Jacob as she led him to the pair of small upholstered club chairs by the window. “He’s past needing a crib?”
“Oh, yes. He was only fifteen months old the first time he climbed out of his crib.” She grimaced at the memory. “He fell, of course, screamed bloody murder—” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat. “That was a poor choice of words.”
Another rumble of a laugh settled her nervousness a bit.
“Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but we transitioned to a mattress on the floor pretty quick. Which turned me into the world’s lightest sleeper. Every night, I imagine him wandering around the house while I sleep, completely unaware.” Why was she babbling? “I may not get a good night’s sleep again until he leaves home for college.”
His smile was a little crooked. “According to my mother, that’s no guarantee.”
Helen gave a choked laugh. “Thank you for that thought.” She looked down at the table, clasped her hands together on her lap and struggled for calm before she lifted her chin again. “Have you found out anything?”
“Nothing to explain her death yet, I’m sorry to say. I was able to talk to her husband. You were right. The car at the curb was hers.”
“What about children?” That possibility bothered her terribly.
“Two stepkids,” he said. “Thirteen and fifteen. Her husband is ten years older than Ms. Sloan. The kids weren’t home, so I can’t say how they’ll take her death.”
With a huge lump in her throat, Helen only managed a nod.
“None of the neighbors saw anything helpful, unfortunately. Most weren’t home until five thirty or later. Your Iris naps late every afternoon.”
She closed her eyes momentarily. “I knew that.”
He was silent until she looked at him again, when he said, “So now I have a problem.” All traces of humor or sympathy had vanished from his face. The shadow of his evening stubble only made him appear more threatening. “I have to understand the connection between you and Ms. Sloan. It wasn’t chance she was killed in your kitchen.”
