“Who?”
“Uh…you know. Mudville? Casey stepping up to bat?”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re making a joke about a man who tried to kill me?”
“Well. It’s just…you remember how the poem ends, don’t you? ‘…mighty Casey has struck out’? Since he missed…uh…”
Beth astonished herself by bursting out laughing. She laughed so hard she dropped the phone, so hard she had tears in her eyes. She heard Matt’s alarmed voice coming from a distance, but giggles kept erupting.
After a quick rap on her door, it swung open, Barbara popping her graying head in. “Are you all right?”
Still laughing, Beth waved her away. Picking up the phone at last, she said, “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Uh, you’re welcome?”
After letting him go, she dug in her drawer for a tissue to wipe her eyes. Mighty Casey. It was funny, in a macabre kind of way. So why did she still feel so sad?
As if she didn’t know. She’d get over it—get over him. Time, she told herself desperately.
By five, she was wiped out. A broken arm shouldn’t have her feeling like this, but it didn’t take a genius to understand that, really, it was the combination of stress, lingering pain, depression and anxiety.
Once again, she made sure to leave at the same time as Ramona, who stopped dead the second she stepped out the back door.
“Will you look at that?” she said, then made a humming sound of approval.
“What?” Her key in the lock, Beth looked over her shoulder at the man leaning against her car, his legs crossed at the ankles. Tall, dark, handsome, the personification of confidence—and a plainclothes cop. Her heartbeat revved, wiping out the tiredness, but not the sadness that felt like grief.
“It’s okay,” she told Ramona. “I know him.”
Ramona grinned at her. “I wish I did.” Her head kept turning, but she headed straight to her car.
Seeing Beth, Tony straightened, his hands dropping to his side, but he waited where he was. She walked toward him, wishing he was here to tell her he’d made an arrest, that she was safe, but suspecting otherwise.
He didn’t smile and, closeup, tension showed on his face. “Beth.”
“Hello, Tony.” She had her keys in her hand, but he stood between her and the driver’s door. “More questions.”
“Not about the investigation.” Lines creased his forehead. “I’ve mostly eliminated Michael Longley and Alan Schuh, although I can’t be a hundred percent sure. Don’t trust either of them.”
“Okay.” Beth wasn’t exactly brimming with trust for anyone these days.
“Reistad is my best bet at the moment. But…” He hesitated.
Finishing his thought for him was no problem. “It could be someone neither of us have ever met, whose name we’ve never heard.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true.” His gaze sharpened. “It hasn’t come to you?”
“No. I just…keep coming up with a giant blank. I think I’m trying too hard.”
He grimaced agreement, then hunched his shoulders. “Beth, I came to say I’m sorry.”
The words were naked, as was his expression.
Even she heard how stony she came across as when she asked, “About what?”
“You know what. Losing my temper after Emily called. Implying there was anything wrong with you needing to go to her.”
“Implying?”
He flushed. “Saying. You had to go. I…panicked.”
The exhaustion hit her again. Pride was all that kept her from crumpling. She had to get rid of him. “You’re forgiven. I understand your reaction. I even…took some of your advice.”
“My advice?”
“I talked to Emily. I’m pushing her to get into counseling. I can see that I’ve spoiled her past the point of being healthy for either of us. So you did that much good.”
“I’m glad.” Now he took half a step forward, his dark eyes searching hers. “Beth, I miss you. I probably don’t deserve it, but will you give me another chance?”
She locked her knees and gripped the hard shell of her cast with her right hand. “No. You’ve had me on a roller coaster, and I hate roller coasters. If I agreed, I’d find myself tiptoeing around you. Sneaking away when I wanted to call Emily, or lying about where I’d been when I went to Dad’s house to change his bed and make sure his kitchen is stocked. I’d be waiting for your next bout of second thoughts. You said, ‘I can’t do this,’ and I think it was a good call. Now I’m saying the same.”