"You think he's married?"

"Seems likely, huh?"

He finished his coffee. It was time to turn all of this over to his partner. And time for Jack Adams to get on with his so-called vacation. Denny could handle it from here. So why was Jack dragging his feet? Did he even have to ask? He smiled to himself. At thirty-four he knew himself pretty well.

"We need to get you, your information and that message on your answering-machine tape to Detective Kirkpatrick at the police department," Jack said finally.

She nodded. "You're not on the case?"

He laughed and looked down at his clothing. "I'm actually on vacation." Kind of.

She smiled. "You must be very dedicated, chasing speeders on your vacation."

He almost told her about seeing her at the Hotel Carlton, about making a bet with himself about her, about thinking there was something interesting and and suspicious about her, about picking up the coffee-stained napkin she'd dropped and following her. "Just a chance encounter," he said. suspicious about her, about picking up the coffee-stained napkin she'd dropped and following her. "Just a chance encounter," he said.

"Just my luck."

He wasn't sure how to take that, but she was was smiling. smiling.

He met her gaze and almost laughed at the tension that sparked between them. s.e.xual tension? It had been so long he almost didn't recognize it. Almost.

"What now?" she asked, her eyes large and expectant.

Several thoughts leaped to mind. He wondered if she had plans for later tonight. Except later tonight, he'd be frying freshly caught fish over his Coleman miles from here. Remember all those plans you had at the lodge? Remember all those plans you had at the lodge?

"Oh, there is one other thing," she said, toying with her coffee cup, the nervousness back. "The guy I saw at the hotel with Liz-" Her gaze came up to meet his. Fear darkened her eyes. "He saw me, too."

Jack felt his gut clinch. "Did he know you?"

She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. "I don't think so. He looked...surprised when he saw me, but it could have been because I had red wine all over my dress, which as you know looks a lot like dried blood."

He nodded, remembering only too well. He finished his coffee, then excused himself. In the quiet of the men's room, he punched in the number on his cell phone, telling himself he was doing the right thing. But he wondered if the woman back at the table would agree. She seemed to have a definite mind of her own.

"I wouldn't worry," he said, when he returned to the table. "By now the police could already have someone in custody."

She looked relieved as she put down her empty coffee cup. "That is possible, isn't it?"

"I'll try to find out for you."

She gave him her home number and he dug one of his cards from his wallet and wrote his cell-phone number on the back, still thinking he'd be fishing before nightfall. "Call me if you need anything."

THE PAST TWENTY-FOUR hours felt like a twilight-zone roller-coaster ride. Karen drove back to her apartment in a strangely electrified daze, wondering when the ride would end and the old Karen's quiet life would return. She couldn't believe she'd tried to chase down a killer. Even a possible killer. That just wasn't like her. hours felt like a twilight-zone roller-coaster ride. Karen drove back to her apartment in a strangely electrified daze, wondering when the ride would end and the old Karen's quiet life would return. She couldn't believe she'd tried to chase down a killer. Even a possible killer. That just wasn't like her.

No, she wasn't anything like the Karen Sutton she'd been prior to running into Liz yesterday morning. The old Karen Sutton had only read about murder and she'd definitely never been pulled over for speeding and frisked.

She felt her cheeks flush at the memory. Just the thought of Detective Jack Adams warmed more than her face. She'd even thought she felt high-voltage currents at the coffee shop. Crazy. She'd just met the man. He was a cop, for heaven's sake. A cop who'd pulled her over for speeding. So how did she explain her reaction to him? Shoot, she couldn't even explain her reaction to this new fearless her.

Maybe it was adrenaline. Adrenaline and too much sugar and caffeine.

She decided she'd take this new Karen home, get her cleaned up and properly clothed, then wait for Jack's call. Once the sugar, caffeine and adrenaline wore off she'd be her old self again.

When she reached her apartment, she was actually glad to see Howie waiting for her on the front step. She needed a good strong dose of reality right now.

"I have a confession," he said solemnly.

A confession. Great. She'd heard enough confessions for a while. But she and Howie did did need to talk and she didn't mind the company right now. need to talk and she didn't mind the company right now.

She opened her apartment door, just thankful to be home. She still felt numb from the shock of Liz's murder. But at least it was out of her hands now.

She put Detective Adams's card by the phone, cell-phone number up. Just in case.

"I'm not sure I'm up to any confessions," she said and turned to find Howie inspecting her poor, deprived houseplants.

"Do you have any organic fertilizer?" he asked.

"Howie, we need to talk."

"Your plants really need water-and fertilizer, Karen."

She decided to take pity on her poor neglected plants, which she only remembered to water when they looked as if they were on their last stems, to ease her own guilt.

"I think there might be some Make-It-Grow that your aunt gave me under the sink," she said, then added, "This isn't going to work, you know."

He looked up from digging under her sink. "What?"

Why did she feel they had never been on the same page? Maybe not even in the same book? "This. You and me." You and me."

Howie straightened, turning bright red. "You mean you thought-" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "But, Karen, you and I don't have anything in common."

Now she she was the one confused. "If you realize that, then why did you take me out, bring me pies, offer to water and fertilize my plants?" she demanded. was the one confused. "If you realize that, then why did you take me out, bring me pies, offer to water and fertilize my plants?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was interested in you, but, Karen, there's someone else."

"Someone else?" For just an absurd instant, she felt betrayed. No, this weird ride wasn't over yet. She took a wild guess. "Your friend at the Hotel Carlton?"

He nodded and smiled, almost starry-eyed.

Okay. She was starting to get it. That's why he'd taken her to the Carlton. "You took me out to make her jealous." It didn't do much for her ego but hey, if she could help out true love- Howie shook his head.

She plopped down on the sofa. "Okay, then I don't get it."

"Aunt Talley asked me to take you to dinner because she thinks you would be perfect for J.T. and she wanted my opinion. I was planning to talk to you about it but then I spilled your wine and the time just never seemed right after that."

Her head hurt. It had been a long day and it wasn't even half over. "J.T.?"

"My cousin."

Another of Aunt Talley's grandnephews. She watched Howie mix the fertilizer, wondering how many nephews Aunt Talley had. Well, she wasn't dating them no matter what her Cupid-playing neighbor tried to tempt her with.

The memory of the fried pies almost made her reconsider. What was she thinking? "Howie, I'm not going out with J.T."

"Don't worry," he said as he began to water her pitiful plants. "He's not interested, either."

Karen winced although she didn't know the man and knew his rejection wasn't personal since he didn't know her, either.

"Aunt Talley will be disappointed," Howie was saying. "She really believes that each of us has a perfect match and that J.T. might be yours."

Karen hoped that was meant to be a compliment. She closed her eyes. Not a good day. "Are there any of your aunt's pies left?" she asked, opening her eyes hopefully.

Howie brought her one on a plate with a gla.s.s of milk. He was going to make someone a fine spouse.

"Aren't you going to have one?"

He shook his head. "I've never cared for sweets."

The man was an aberration. Probably ran on the male side of the Iverson family. "So-" she licked icing from her lips "-what is J.T. like, just out of curiosity?"

"He's...interesting," Howie said, returning to the plants.

Interesting? The kiss of death. Worse than "nice personality." Good thing he wasn't "interested" in her.

Karen finished her pie and milk and Howie finished reviving her plants and left. She locked and bolted the door, feeling vulnerable and a little afraid. She wished Jack would call soon.

As she showered and dressed, she kept thinking about the man she'd seen at the hotel with Liz. She jumped when the phone rang, her heart thundering, her fingers trembling as she picked up. "h.e.l.lo?"

For one heart-stopping moment, she was afraid it might be The Breather again. When she heard Detective Jack Adams's voice, a bubble of pleasure filled her. Pure helium.

He burst that bubble immediately. "I just talked to Detective Kirkpatrick."

"Did they find the killer?" She held her breath.

"Sorry. Denny says he didn't interview anyone who admitted to even knowing Liz."

Karen stumbled into the nearest chair. She hadn't realized how much she'd been hoping the killer had already been caught. "He was in the hotel ballroom this morning. I saw him." He'd returned to the scene of the crime. Why?

She closed her eyes and tried to calm her hammering heart. "I'm the only one who can place him at the hotel last night with Liz, aren't I?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"It looks that way." Jack seemed to hesitate. "Karen, when you and Liz exchanged phone numbers on napkins at the coffee shop, did you see Liz put hers in her purse?"

"Yes... Oh, G.o.d," Karen whispered, seeing where he was headed. "You think she still had my number in her purse when she was killed?"

"I had Denny look through her personal effects. No napkin was found in her purse. Nothing with your number on it. But I checked. Two calls were made from her hotel room last night. Karen, both were to your number. One before her death. The other after."

Karen felt as if all the oxygen had been suddenly sucked out of the room. The Breather. That had had been him calling from Liz's room. She hugged herself, fighting for air. "He has my phone number." been him calling from Liz's room. She hugged herself, fighting for air. "He has my phone number."

CHAPTER FIVE

"He just has a phone number written on a napkin," Jack continued quickly. Liz must have left it by the phone when she'd called Karen and been interrupted by the killer. "That doesn't mean he knows you're the woman who saw him in the hotel hallway."

"Yet. How long will it take him to get my name and address?" All the man had to do was look in the city directory. Karen's name was listed along with her address. Jack had already checked.

He wanted to rea.s.sure her. But he couldn't. Now he just wanted to get Karen out of her apartment as quickly as possible. Make sure she was safe. Let Denny handle it from here on out. If Jack was smart, that's what he'd do. If he wanted to keep his job, that's what he'd do.

"Detective Kirkpatrick wants to talk to you," he told Karen. "It's probably best that you not stay at your apartment. Why don't I pick you up? How long will it take to pack enough for a couple of days?"

"I pack fast when there's a killer after me."

He'd known she wouldn't argue; she was too smart for that. At least, he'd hoped that was the case and was relieved when she said, "I'll be ready in twenty minutes."

He smiled. He also liked a woman who knew when to move quickly. "Good. I'll pick you up."

He hung up feeling relieved. Actually, too relieved. How had he gotten so involved in this? It wasn't his case. h.e.l.l, he was on probation, a forced two-week vacation. He should be miles from this case, from this town. Detective Captain Brad Baxter wouldn't like this.

But once Jack was sure she was safe- He put the cell phone into his pocket and looked up to find his friend and partner staring at him, waiting, and none too patiently.

"You want to tell me what this is all about?" Denny demanded, from across the table at the small greasy spoon on the edge of Missoula where he'd met Jack. "I thought you were on vacation. What's with all the questions about the murder?" Denny asked, more quietly, although at this time of the afternoon, the place was almost empty.

"What do you mean, 'I thought you were on vacation?'" Jack snapped. "You called me this morning with that cryptic bull about 'Jack, I'm in trouble. I've got to talk to you. It's urgent. Come to the Carlton. Hurry.' Remember?"

"It's not important now," he said, glancing at the waitress refilling a ketchup container at a far table.

"Not important?" Jack said, trying to hold his temper as he stared at his friend. Denny Kirkpatrick had been cursed with dark good looks that as far as Jack could tell, got him in trouble with women. It was his affinity for practical jokes that got him in trouble with everyone else.

Denny's call early this morning had sounded like the real thing. Jack had leaped out of bed, grabbed the first thing he found to wear and took off for the Carlton, running scared that Denny truly was in trouble. But when he'd gotten to the hotel and seen all the cop cars, he'd thought it had been one of Denny's tasteless practical jokes.

Either way, he wanted to throttle his friend.

"If this is another of your jokes-"

"I did need to talk to you, but it can wait, that's all," Denny said.

"What happened to urgent? urgent?" Jack demanded.

"This murder."

Jack decided to let it drop. He had Karen to worry about right now. She was in worse trouble than Denny. Maybe.