Hidden Riches

falling back and ramming hard into the table. Slowly, like a woman waiting for the tiger to spring again, she backed away. “I haven’t been in here. I just got home ten minutes ago. Go feel the hood of my car, for Christ’s sake. It’s probably still warm.” Her voice hitched and sputtered in time with her heart. “I’ve been at the theater all night. You can call, check.”
    He said nothing, only watched her edge for the door. Her robe had fallen open. He could see her muscles quiver and the sheen of panic sweat. She was crying now, fast, choking sobs as she fumbled with the doorknob.
    “Stay away from me,” she whispered. “I want you to stay away from me.” She fled, leaving his door swinging open and slamming her own.
    He stood exactly where he was, waiting for his own heartbeat to slow, waiting for some grip on control, however slippery.
    He hadn’t been wrong. Goddamn it, he hadn’t been wrong. Someone had been inside. He knew it. His books had been moved, his clothes run through, his gun examined.
    But it hadn’t been Dora.
    Sickened, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He’d snapped. No surprise there, he thought, dropping his hands. He’d been waiting to snap for months. Wasn’t that why he’d turned in his badge?
    He’d come home after a miserable day of dealing with lawyers and accountants and bankers, and he’d snapped like a twig.
    And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d terrorized a woman. Why had he picked on her? Because she’d gotten to him. She’d gotten to him and he’d found the perfect way to make her pay the price. Nice going, Skimmerhorn, he berated himself, and headed for the kitchen. And the whiskey.
    He stopped himself before he poured the first glass. That was the easy way. He dragged a hand through his hair, took a long breath and walked over to Dora’s to take the hard way.
    At the knock, she stopped rocking on the arm of the chair. Her head jerked up. She scrambled to her feet.
    “Dora, I’m sorry.” On the other side of the door, Jed shut his eyes. “Damn,” he whispered, and knocked again. “Let me come in a minute, will you? I want to make sure you’re all right.” The silence dragged on, tightening his chest. “Just give me a minute. I swear I won’t touch you. I want to see if you’re okay, that’s all.”
    In frustration he turned the knob.
    Her eyes widened as she watched it rotate. Oh God, oh God, she thought in panic, she hadn’t locked it. A little sound caught in her throat. She lunged for the door just as Jed opened it.
    When she froze, he saw the wild fear on her face, something he’d seen on too many faces over too many years. He hoped he remembered how to defuse fear as skillfully as he’d remembered how to incite it. Very slowly, he lifted his hands, palms out.
    “I’ll stay right here. I won’t come any closer.” She was shaking like a leaf. “I won’t touch you, Dora. I want to apologize.”
    “Just leave me alone.”
    Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes were dry now, dry and terrified. He couldn’t walk away until he’d eased that fear. “Did I hurt you?” He swore at the stupidity of the question. He could already see the bruises. “Of course I hurt you.” The way she’d cried out when he’d shoved her against the wall played back in his head and made his stomach clench.
    “Why?”
    The fact that she would ask surprised him. “Does it matter? I don’t have any excuses. Even an apology’s pretty lame after what I did. I’d like to—” He took a step forward, stopping when she flinched. He’d have preferred a fist to the gut. “I’d like to say it was justified, but it wasn’t.”
    “I want to know why.” Her hand clenched and unclenched on the neck of her robe. “You owe me why.”
    It was a hot ball in his throat. He couldn’t be sure which would be more painful, holding it there or spitting it out. But she was right. He owed her why.
    “Speck tossed my house a week after he killed my sister.” Neither his face nor his voice gave away what it cost him to tell her. “He left a snapshot of her, and a couple of newspaper clippings about the explosion on my dresser.” The nausea surged, almost as violently as it had all those months ago. He paled as he fought it back. “He just wanted me to know he could get to me, anytime. He wanted to make sure I knew who was responsible for Elaine. When I came home tonight, and I thought you’d been in, it brought it back.”
    She had a