Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 45

He leaned toward me and whispered into my ear. “No, but you are beautiful.” His head stayed there, his breath warming my cheek and neck. Every nerve of my body jumped to full alert.
“I like your dog. I think she’s full of potential.” His voice was low and husky in my ear.
I had a hard time concentrating. “Why did you leave last night?” I asked, the words tumbling out in a rush.
“Because I was a fool. What man could leave you?” He put his finger on my chin and turned my face toward his.
“Why do you keep changin’ the subject?” I whispered.
His eyes watched my mouth, then raised. “Why do you keep askin’ questions?” His head lowered slowly until his lips were on mine. I forgot about questions. I even forgot about Muffy until she howled.
I jerked away, startled. “What? What’s wrong?” I asked her.
Joe laughed. “I don’t think she likes me kissin’ you.”
I reached over and rubbed her head. “It’s okay, baby. The big bad man isn’t kissin’ me anymore.”
Joe leaned back, his hands braced behind him. “I take back what I said about your dog havin’ potential.”
“So what were you talkin’ about earlier?”
“Your dog.”
I turned to him and raised my eyebrows. “I’m experiencin’ déjà vu.”
“Why did you tell your dog you’d be leavin’ in five days?”
We sat in silence for a few moments while I rubbed Muffy behind her ears.
“Where are you going, Rose? I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the county.”
“Who said I was leavin’ the county? Last time I checked, county lockup was in Fenton County.”
Joe sat up. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“The police think I staged the break-in to take the focus of Momma’s murder off of me. My attorney expects them to arrest me by next week.” It was all true, even if it wasn’t what the five days meant. “But if you went to the police and told them you saw someone, it might get me off the hook.” And give me one less thing to worry about.
Joe leaned his elbows on his knees, grasping his head in his hands. Then he let loose a string of obscenities. “I can’t.” His head still hung between his arms, muffling his words.
It didn't matter, the meaning was clear enough to pierce my heart. I got up and started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. I stood there, neither one of us saying anything. I kept waiting for him to say he changed his mind or let me go, but he did neither. He couldn't have it both ways.
“I thought you were my friend, Joe.” Tears burned my eyes and made my words scratchy. “You’re just going to sit here and let them arrest me.”
“Why didn’t you tell them about me?” He sounded like he was in pain.
“Because you asked me not to.”
He looked up, his eyes full of guilt and anguish. “Why didn’t you tell them anyway?”
“Because I’m gonna leave it up to you and hope you pick me over your silly pride.” He didn’t say anything, his face begging my forgiveness and I knew I lost again. I always lost. Why did I think it would ever turn out differently?
“Stupid me.” I jerked my arm away and picked up Muffy’s belt.
“Go home, Joe. You just keep hurtin’ me and I keep lettin’ you. Please, just go home.” I started crying and I didn't care, I had no pride left. I’d left that behind the minute I let him kiss me after finding out about Hilary.
But Joe didn't get up. He sat there in the grass having the nerve to look all tortured and angsty when I was the one about to get arrested.
When I settled into bed that night, I told Muffy it was her job to protect me if someone broke in again. It was then, as I drifted off to sleep, that I realized I’d never told Joe I wasn’t allowed to leave the county.
Chapter Thirteen
Early the next day, I vowed I was done with Joe McAllister. If I didn't know I was going to die in four days, I might tell the police anyway. But this way I could die and let Joe suffer in his own guilt. He could spend the rest of his life wishing he’d done the right thing.
But I began to wonder if he’d feel guilty at all. How did he know I couldn’t leave the county? Why wouldn’t he go to the police? The night of Momma’s murder, why did he tell me he was “just the neighbor” as though he could actually be something more? What if Joe McAllister, the man who helped me paint my living room, who gave me my first kiss and made me laugh until I cried, played a part in Momma’s murder? What if he was the intruder who broke into my house?
It seemed inconceivable. But there was no refuting he had information I hadn’t given him and that he wouldn't talk to the police even though he knew my arrest was inevitable. Everything pointed to him being involved.
But why would he do all those nice things for me including putting new locks on my door, if he wanted to kill me? I closed my eyes, and sank into the big chair in the living room, remembering Joe’s breath on my neck and his lips on mine. How could the same man want to hurt me?
Muffy began to whine and set her chin on my knees. I opened my eyes and smiled at her forlorn face. I had no idea dogs could look so sad. I rubbed her head, surprised I’d become so attached to her already. “What’s wrong, Muffy?”
She set her paw on my lap, whining.
“Do you need to go outside? I need to get you some dog food. And a leash.” Muffy’s butt made an odd noise and a stink filled the room. I waved my hand, trying to move the smell. “And perhaps some diapers. Whew!”