He made an impolite noise. "It's about time," he said, then asked, "You have another reason for wanting to see me today, don't you? You want to know what I thought of your young man."

I felt my face redden. "Well, of course I'd like to know about that, but the real reason I wanted to meet was because I promised I'd talk with you about the investigation. But it seems you're already completely up to speed."

Fingers knotted across his middle, he settled himself as though to talk, but I detected a shrewd glint in his eyes. "For the record, I don't believe he intends to sue. That's unusual these days. Everyone looks for an excuse to demand a windfall, and frankly, I'm surprised." I was digesting that when he asked, "Have you ever been to Colorado?"

"Except to change planes once, no."

"Your Mark Ellroy seems like a very earnest fellow. Handsome, successful, and-although he took pains not to admit it to me-smitten with you."

"I wouldn't say smitten . . ." I protested, though inwardly I cheered.

Bennett grew serious. "You know I will never stand in the way of your happiness. Even if it comes at the expense of my own."

I leaned forward to touch his arm. "Bennett-"

He clasped a hand over mine. "All I ask is that you slow it down. You have plenty of time to make decisions that could affect the rest of your life."

"We've only gone out once."

"And look at how you blush when we talk about him," Bennett pointed out. "The few times we've discussed Jack, you've never had such a strong reaction."

"That's because Jack . . ." I stopped myself. I'd been about to say that my relationship with Jack had had a very slow start and had suffered delays, distractions, and detours.

"Because a relationship with Jack could be difficult and this new shiny attraction to Mark is easy?" he asked.

I didn't answer.

"Your young man and I met in this very room."

"Why here?"

"I don't care to invite strangers into my personal living s.p.a.ce. I don't care for the a.s.sumptions people make, nor do I enjoy having my private rooms invaded." He waved the air. "Call it a phobia, call it whatever you will, but I prefer to visit with new acquaintances elsewhere."

"Why didn't you have him to your office?" I asked.

"Too cold. I wanted the man to let his guard down. I wanted to see who you were attracted to, and why."

"You liked him?" I asked, believing I was reading between the lines.

"I 'like' anyone who makes you happy. Mark Ellroy makes a good first impression. Let's see how he holds up over time."

Chapter 20.

MARK HAD LEFT A MESSAGE ON MY CELL phone while I was meeting with Bennett. He told me that his arm was much better now. So much so that he'd jettisoned the sling and rented a car. He intended to pick me up tonight like a real gentleman ought to. He a.s.sured me he remembered where I lived, but promised to call in the event he got lost. Listening to his enthusiasm, I realized how much I was looking forward to tonight.

I thought about what Bennett had said about taking things slowly. I knew he worried that I'd follow Mark out West and that he'd never see me again. What Bennett didn't realize was that he was as important to me as I was to him. That I loved my life here. That Emberstowne was home. I'd considered telling Bennett about how Mark confessed he was considering a career change. That maybe he wanted out of Colorado. But to share that would have been to admit that I was in deeper than I'd let on.

It was nice to have a man courting me, I thought as I prepared for our evening. I donned my favorite sleeveless dress and spent extra time with my makeup.

As I was getting ready, I couldn't help but think about the case. I felt certain that the photo I'd taken would help in identifying the killer. Flynn's Bat-computer comment notwithstanding, I'd called Rodriguez to find out if he'd heard anything from John the tour guide. The news hadn't been encouraging. Whether it was because he was viewing in an e-mail a photo taken with a phone, John couldn't say for sure if my bald and threatening visitor was the guy he'd seen that day at Marshfield.

Flynn's point that it didn't really matter until they determined his ident.i.ty crowed in my brain, but I'd wanted to hear John say yes, certainly, absolutely that was the guy. I felt as though it would bring us that much closer to a solution to the problem.

I was in the middle of twisting a lock of blonde hair around my curling iron when a thought occurred to me. "Tooney!" I said aloud.

Bootsie had taken up a position outside the bathroom and had fallen asleep. Her eyes opened again, pupils huge. I turned to her. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

I ran over to my purse, grabbed my phone, and dialed Tooney's number. Briefly, I explained.

"Say this again," he said. "You're sending me a photo of the possible killer? How did you get it?"

I didn't have time to explain. "I happened to run into him yesterday," I said. "I'll tell you about it later."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Everything is fine. I've sent the photo to Rodriguez and Flynn, but it dawned on me that if you had it, you could use it when you ask about the blazers at the secondhand stores. Maybe seeing the guy's face will jog their memory."

"Good thinking," he said.

"I wanted to get this to you so you could talk to them bright and early tomorrow."

He hesitated. "Most of the secondhand shops are closed on Sundays."

I made a noise of impatience.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'll hit them first thing Monday morning and I'll let you know what they say."

"Sounds good." It would have to do. "As soon as we hang up, I'll send the photo to you. Text me back when you get it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Two minutes later we were all set. Knowing I'd taken my amateur sleuthing about as far as I could for the day, I went back to curling my hair and thinking about the evening ahead.

Mark arrived right on time in a four-door Ford Taurus. I'd been ready for fifteen minutes and kept checking the front window, so when he pulled up in the driveway, I opened the front door to welcome him. "You look wonderful," I said as he got out of the car. The sling was gone, and if I hadn't known better, I never would have guessed this handsome guy with the bold stride and wide smile had ever suffered a gunshot wound.

"You look pretty wonderful yourself," he said as he took the front steps two at a time. When he reached the porch he pulled me into a hug. "It's so great to see you. I feel as though it's been a lot longer than one day." As he squeezed tight, he said, "G.o.d, it feels good to have the use of both arms again."

"It still hurts though, doesn't it?"

"Doesn't matter. This is worth it."

I held him close for a breathless moment, taking in his strength, his warmth, his smell. "I like your aftershave," I said when we broke apart.

"I'll buy a case of it."

I considered inviting him in to meet Bootsie, but decided that move might play better later this evening. "Let me get my purse." I rushed in, said good-bye to the cat, and then met him on the porch again.

"You have a lot of land here," he said on the way to the car. "It's nice that you and your neighbors aren't on top of one another. In my suburb outside Denver, the homes are much closer together." He patted his chest with both hands. "Here you can breathe."

"I'm lucky," I said. "I couldn't afford this house if I wanted to buy it today. These old beauties are very expensive. Even run-down ones."

He pointed to a house farther down the street where the FOR SALE sign had been covered with a bright red banner that read: SOLD. "Looks like someone was able to buy onto your block. Getting new neighbors?"

I thought about it. "That house has been vacant for a couple of months. The owner got transferred," I said, repeating what I'd heard. "I didn't really know them, so it'll be nice to meet whoever moves in."

"This neighborhood suits you," he said. "I can't explain why, but it does."

"I love it here," I said as he held the door open for me. "It would take a lot to get me to move away now that I've finally put down roots."

"I wanted to talk with you about that," he said with an odd look, "but it can wait until we're at dinner."

He shut the door and came around as I pondered his words. He'd broached the subject of a long-distance relationship last time we'd gone out. I'd had time to think and I couldn't see any reason why not to give this the best chance we could. I was looking forward to talking about that, too.

"Would you mind if we went to Bailey's again?" he asked. "I know I'll lose points for originality, but I liked the seclusion."

"The food was spectacular," I said. "It's fine with me."

We had a different waiter this time, but sat at the same table overlooking the pond. Like dej vu. What was different this time was Mark. Where last time he'd been attentive and in high spirits, today he was thoughtful and much quieter.

"What's wrong?" I asked after the waiter poured our wine and left with our dinner orders. "Something is bothering you."

He swirled his gla.s.s, watching the ruby liquid as though mesmerized. "Bennett," he said. "Have you talked with him since he and I met?"

"A little," I said, reluctant to share Bennett's confidence. "He said it went very well. Why do you look like you're in pain?"

He laughed and put his gla.s.s down. "Just the opposite," he said. "Bennett was gracious, interesting, and the evening was enjoyable."

"Then why the pensive look?"

"He worries about you."

I smiled and sipped my wine, thinking that Mark would continue. When he didn't, I said, "He worries about all of us."

Mark leaned forward, his eyes intense. He leaned his elbows on the table edge and held up a finger. "No, there's more there. He looks at you the way a father would a daughter."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if you're never planning to leave Emberstowne."

My stomach knotted. "I don't have any immediate plans to leave."

"Not now," he said, "but what if . . ." He stopped himself. "I can't do this to you. I can't ask you to think that far into the future. Not when we're only on our second date."

I didn't want to go there, either. Not so soon. Not when such topics held the potential to ruin the evening. "Let's talk about something else," I said. "Other than discussing me, how did the rest of the evening go?"

Mark leaned back, stretching his hands out. "The room we were in: Wow. It's gorgeous. I mean, after having taken the tour I should have expected it, but all that history in one amazing room. The s.p.a.ce felt more personal to him, somehow."

"Bennett loves to collect." I thought about telling him about the tiara, but decided against it. The cursed object and lost love seemed like a bad tangent to follow. "You were a few steps away from my office there."

"Really? So close? I'd love to see where you work every day."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea. That means you'd have to meet Frances. She's a real hoot." I explained, giving him a few Frances highlights.

"I'd love to meet her."

Maybe it was the wine speaking, but I said, "You know, I believe you'd charm her socks off."

"Not sure I want to do that."

After dinner, and after we'd declined dessert and decided to relax with coffee, I broached a tougher subject. "I had a visitor last night," I said cryptically.

Obviously a.s.suming I was about to share a humorous anecdote, he smiled. "Go on."

I told him about seeing the killer at Amethyst Cellars the night before. Mark's face took on an expression I'd never seen before-it was a combination of concern and panic. He sat forward, hands on the table, looking ready to leap into action. "You could have been hurt. Did he see you? Did you call the police? What happened?"

"Everything is fine," I a.s.sured him. I waited for him to settle down again before I resumed the story. I told him about taking the guy's picture.

Mark raised his hands to his head. "What were you thinking?"

"He didn't see me." Mark looked so upset I decided not to tell him about the warning note. No sense in making things worse. "I sent the picture to Rodriguez and he talked to John Kitts about it."

"And?"

"No luck," I said, dragging my phone out of my purse. "Do you want to take a look and see if he's familiar at all?"

"Of course I do," he said, reaching across the table. I sorted through the menu until I pulled up the shot I'd taken, then handed it to him.

He studied it, squinted, then held it at arm's length. "I don't know," he said at last. "It could be." With a hopeful look on his face he asked, "Do you think that maybe you were mistaken and that you took a photo of a complete stranger?"

I hesitated. There was no way to insist I was right without spilling the beans about the note. "I'm pretty sure this was the same guy I saw at the Oak Tree Hotel when I was waiting for you."

Mark looked at the photo again. "It could be the guy who shot me, but I can't say for sure." He handed my phone back. "Let's hope you just took a random photo of a fellow and you don't get into any trouble."

"Yeah," I said with resignation. An idea popped into my head and I sat up. "Hey . . ."

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"For half a minute there you seemed to relax. Now all of a sudden, you're all riled up again."