Copper Lake Confidential. Marilyn Pappano
of innate distrust of authorities? Did it have something to do with how her husband had died?
How had he died?
Stephen could ask his boss. Yancy Yates had been in Copper Lake forever. He’d married into the Calloway family, Copper Lake’s version of royalty, right out of school. Anyone or anything he didn’t know, his wife did.
Or he could do a Google search on Macy. The internet left few secrets.
But as he began examining Clarence—yes, the name fit—he decided against doing either. Macy had made it clear she wouldn’t be around long. If she chose to tell him more, great. If she didn’t…well, he could find out the rest after she left.
Clarence heaved a sigh as Stephen lifted one of his ears to look inside.
“It’s undignified, isn’t it, buddy?” he murmured. “We just poke and prod everywhere, and you don’t even get asked.”
Another reason he wouldn’t actively try to find out more about Macy. Technology aside, people were entitled to some dignity, some privacy.
After finishing Clarence’s exam, Stephen returned the dog to the run, where he would wait to be picked up later by his owner. He stayed busy the rest of the morning, finishing up the last of his charts exactly at quitting time. His usual routine was to grab lunch from a fast-food restaurant, take it home and write through the afternoon.
Would he stick to it today, or would he be tempted by his neighbor?
Let’s see. An afternoon with Lucan, Sa’arca and Tu’anlan, wreaking mayhem on everyone, or being neighborly and making sure Macy was doing okay.
He was no fool.
Or maybe he was, because he picked up two burgers and two orders of fries at the SnoCap and, instead of driving past the Howard house and out the gates into the Lesser of the World, he pulled into the driveway beside the minivan.
Bag in hand, he rang the doorbell, the deep sepulchral tones raising gooseflesh on his neck just for a moment. The place had cost more than he’d made in his vet career, but it couldn’t begin to reach the level of homeyness that his little house had, secondhand furnishings and all.
He didn’t hear any footsteps through the solid door. It just suddenly opened to reveal Macy on the other side. She wore a pair of red shorts that could have been a whole lot shorter and a tank top that couldn’t have been much snugger. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her feet were bare and there were faint shadows under her eyes. A hesitant smile curved her mouth, though it wasn’t directed at him.
“No Scooter?” she asked instead of greeting him.
“Not this time. I was on my way home from the clinic and I thought you might like to take a break.”
He held up the bag, and she eyed it while taking a deep breath. “SnoCap?”
“Of course.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and he looked, too, seeing stacks of boxes down the hall, taped and labeled in a neat hand. She’d been busy. She’d already packed more stuff than he even owned, but he would bet she hadn’t made a dent in the job.
Since she was clearly wavering between her options, he said, “Hey, you’ve got to eat. And if you’d feel more comfortable with Scooter, we can take it to my house or I can go get him.”
Another moment passed before she smiled tautly. “Let me get my shoes.” Leaving the door open, she went to the kitchen, then returned almost instantly wearing flip-flops and carrying her cell phone. After locking up, she slid her keys into one pocket, the phone into the other, before climbing into the front seat of his car.
Lunch with a pretty woman. Maybe he wasn’t a fool, after all.
Macy wasn’t sure, but she might have drooled just a little when she caught the first whiff of the hamburgers. Greasy burgers from a drive-in hadn’t been Mark’s thing. When he wanted a burger, he’d gone to the country club restaurant and paid a ridiculous price for an Angus burger that didn’t compare in taste.
She and Clary both loved SnoCap burgers.
As they drove through the gates that signaled the perimeter of Woodhaven Villas, she felt lighter. In such a short time, she’d become used to the smothering sensation in the house. Now that it was lifted, she could breathe easier.
“While you were away, the Villains tried to put up security gates at this exit that would have kept out those of us who live down here,” Stephen said. “It didn’t endear them to us.”
“The Villains?”
His cheeks flushed. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, but…you know, like Texas and Texans. Georgia and Georgians. The Villas and Villains.”
A laugh escaped before she’d even realized it was building. “Don’t apologize. It’s a good description for most of my neighbors.”
“This street is the only access to the houses down here, but they didn’t want the riffraff driving past their houses, though they claimed it was for security reasons. They even offered to build a new street to the north to solve the access problem, but it would have tripled the distance to anywhere we needed to go.”
Macy wished she were appalled or even surprised, but she wasn’t. Like Mark, some of her neighbors had a deep appreciation for exclusivity. “I assume you and the rest of the riffraff protested.”
“We did, but it wasn’t really necessary. The town council didn’t even consider their proposal.” He gave her a sidelong look before turning into a driveway. “I assume you wouldn’t have joined forces with them.”
She smiled grimly. “I wouldn’t have. But Mark…he would’ve been leading their charge.”
Stephen’s gaze stayed on her so long that she realized at last they weren’t moving, or else they would have crashed by now. She shifted uncomfortably then unbuckled the seat belt.
“Mark was your husband,” he said finally, once again using the soothing tone that had probably calmed and comforted untold pets and their owners.
“Yes.”
The silence stretched out again, quickly becoming unbearable. He broke it by opening his door and picking up the bag of food, swinging it gently in her direction. “We should eat before the food gets cold. Prepare yourself for an exuberant greeting. Scooter’s not very familiar with the concept of company since we don’t get it very often.”
“I’ll brace myself.” As she got out, she took a quick look around. The house and the yard were small, almost doll-sized compared with their counterparts in Woodhaven. Everything was neat, though: the white paint and green trim fresh, the sidewalk edged, the picket fence faded to a soft gray. The front porch was big enough for a couple of rockers and a half dozen baskets of brightly colored flowers, though it stood empty now, and the door was painted a rich russet that welcomed guests.
Scrabbling sounded inside as they climbed the steps, accompanied by excited panting. By the time Stephen opened the door, Scooter was beside himself with anticipation. For an instant, it seemed he didn’t know which deserved his attention first—Macy or the bag of burgers—but the burgers soon won out. She couldn’t blame him. At the moment she was more interested in the food, too.
Then she sneaked a glance at Stephen and felt the need to confirm that. She really, really was.
“Welcome to my castle,” he said on the way to the kitchen. “Which is probably just a little smaller than the master bedroom in your palace.”
Probably, she admitted. The house was compact: small square living room, double doors opening right into the kitchen with its dining table, bedroom visible from the living room, second room—office, apparently—visible from the kitchen. It was cozy and snug, the shine long since worn off the wooden floors, the walls a nice neutral buff, the furniture well-worn and actually inviting. She always felt as if she should perch on the edge of the antiques in her house, but