Lover Beware

girlfriend should have filled her with relief, given that she’d spent the last three days hyperventilating about the possibility that he might want her . But she didn’t feel relieved. After months of living in an emotionless limbo, something had finally broken through her numbness. Against all odds, against all common sense, imagining Michael Rider sprawled in bed, naked, with another woman hurt .
    Yolanda shifted her toddler to her other hip and stabbed a finger at Mason. “You’ve changed your tune. I heard you say just the other day that Michael Rider was a hero.”
    “That was before Aubrey Dillon got shot, and his wife got raped.”
    “There are plenty of men in this town who had their eye on Carol Dillon; I don’t think Rider was in the running. Carol must be in her forties, a little old for Rider.”
    “Rape is rape. Age don’t come into it.”
    Macie made a sound of disgust. “God give me strength, we have an expert.” She viewed Mason over the rim of her coffee cup. “Why would a guy who looks like Michael Rider bother with rape?”
    Mason looked triumphant. “Everyone knows rape is a power crime.”
    Macie rolled her eyes. “Take one look at Rider, buddy. I don’t think he has any issues with power. He’s been beating women off ever since his wife left seven years ago. I know,” she said wryly. “I’m one of them.”
    “Way to go, Macie.”
    Macie flipped another finger in the direction of the supermarket overhang. “And if Rider didn’t do the deed, that means the murderer is still out there, maybe lining up his next target.”
    “Maybe the murderer’s a woman.”
    Yolanda snorted and gave Mason an incredulous look. “Get a grip, Mason. There was a rape. The police took samples, which means there was semen. I could be wrong, but I don’t think women have managed to produce semen yet. If they had, we’d be able to cut men out of the reproduction process. Now, that would be world news.”
    Mason’s neck flushed bright red. “I’m going to tell your husband you said that.”
    Yolanda rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, four kids down the track and one vasectomy later—like he’s going to be threatened. He knows that if he so much as comes near me with sperm, I shoot to kill. Look, maybe they’ve got the right guy, and maybe they haven’t, but I’m not going to take it for granted. If I were you I’d get an alarm system installed and lock up tight, because until I hear that Rider did do the crime, I’m going to assume that the murderer is still out there.”
    “I heard Rider’s got guns, including a twenty-two.”
    Jane jerked her keys from the boot lock. “Practically everyone in the district has a gun, and Rider’s got more reason than most to own guns. He’s a professional soldier.”
    “He’s used to killing.”
    “Yeah, right, so he’s bright enough to leave the SAS and open fire on his hometown? I don’t think so.”
    “John Tucker brought him in cuffed,” Mason said stubbornly. “There’s no smoke without fire.”
    Jane eyed Mason coldly. There hadn’t been any logic in this conversation from the get-go, she didn’t know why she expected any now. “In five years, Tucker’s biggest arrest was that crew from Winslow who were stealing farm bikes and rustling cattle. Apart from that he rousts drunks and prosecutes shoplifters. Homicide is not exactly his strong suit.”
    “I don’t care what Tucker’s expertise is. He’s got a suspect, and that’s good enough for me.”
    “Then you’re easy to please. I hope you sleep well tonight, Mason, because I won’t be.”
    There was a general murmur of assent, punctuated by a sharp cracking sound as Macie crumpled her coffee cup.
    “I don’t care if he did do it.” Macie glanced in the direction of the police station as she straightened with a graceful movement and slung the strap of her purse over one shoulder.
    “Speaking for every female on the planet, it would be criminal to lock that up for any length of time.”

Chapter 4
    GRIMLY, MICHAEL STEPPED out of the police cruiser onto the gravel drive that formed a circular area in front of his house. In contrast to the dry heat of the day, the evening was hot and brassy, laden with the pressurized steam-bath heat that presaged cyclone weather. The humidity was already climbing out of his comfort zone so that his skin was sheened with sweat, and his leg was aching, which meant it was going to rain. His head was aching, too, but that was because he’d been