The Devil's Footprints

“It was just a simple question, Dr. Floyd. No offense intended.”

Curtis shrugged. “Not that there’s any reason I should have to justify myself to you, but my grandmother sent me over here. We’re going out to lunch, and she wanted to know if you’d found anything before we go.”

Lukas sniffed the air. “You smell something burning?”

“No, but it’s probably someone down the street burning leaves.”

“It’s too wet to burn leaves.” Lukas was sitting upright now. His gaze went back to the window as a gust of wind blew away the scent, bringing a fresh chill into the room. “Damn, that air’s cold.”

Curtis had retreated to the door and stood with one shoulder propped against the jamb. His professional concern had dissolved, and now he made no move to close the window or offer assistance to Lukas as he struggled to his feet.

Lukas went over to the window and glanced out. A tree limb scraped against the panes, reminding him that he’d been standing in that same spot when his attacker had slipped up behind him.

Now as he shoved the window down, he saw only his own reflection in the glass. But he had a feeling he was missing something. He’d seen something, heard something that now seemed to elude him.

He turned. Curtis was still in the doorway, watching him through narrowed eyes. Beneath a brown leather jacket, he wore a crisp white shirt that brought to mind Miss Esme at her ironing board.

For some reason, a snippet of their conversation suddenly came back to Lukas. “You think a mother won’t lie to keep her boy out of that kind of trouble?”

“Did you see anyone on your way over here?” he asked. “Somebody out on the street maybe?”

“Not that I noticed. Of course, you have only my word on that.” Curtis’s expression was inscrutable except for the glimmer of contempt in his eyes. That was all too easily discernible.

He straightened, his every move elegant and unhurried in spite of the simmering hostility. He looked to be a man who knew exactly where he was going and how he intended to get there. And Lukas had a feeling he wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way.

“I need to get back before my grandmother starts to worry,” Curtis said. “Are you sure you won’t let me take you to the hospital? If you were my patient, I’d order a CAT scan, an MRI and depending on the results, an overnight stay in the hospital.”

“For one little bump on the noggin?”

“It’s always best to eliminate unpleasant possibilities.”

“On that, we agree,” Lukas said. “Which is why the only place I’m headed at the moment is out to my car for my fingerprint kit.” He squatted beside the broken lamp. “You didn’t touch anything in here, did you?”

“You mean anything other than your pulse? I’m afraid I did.” Curtis folded his arms. “I had to move the lamp out of the way to examine you.”

“Then we’ll need to get a set of your prints for comparison. Assuming, of course, you’re not already in the system.”

Lukas had meant it as a joke, but when he glanced up, he could see Curtis’s nostrils quiver as he let out a sharp breath.

“Sorry. I guess that wasn’t so funny.”

The skin on Curtis’s face was suddenly as gray as the winter sky, and when their gazes met, he had to look quickly away. In the space of a heartbeat, the elegant facade had crumbled, and behind those green eyes, vulnerability weakened his contempt.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Lukas asked softly, taken aback by the man’s swift change.

Curtis lifted a hand and wiped it across his face, as if he could somehow scrub away the cracks and restore his stoic demeanor. “I was in some trouble in college,” he finally said. “Everything eventually got cleared up and the charges were dropped, but I was booked, processed, whatever you want to call it. I don’t know whether my fingerprints ended up in the system or not.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“No. It’s in the past.” He wore a pinkie ring on his right hand and the fingers of his left hand kept tugging at the gold. “My grandmother doesn’t know about any of this and I’d like to keep it that way. My father’s put her through a lot over the years. I don’t want her worried about me.”

“I can understand that. But you know what they say about secrets. They have a way of coming back to haunt you when you least expect it.”

“You sound as if you’ve had some experience.”

Lukas shrugged. “We all have secrets. Just take a look around this room.”

Curtis’s gaze wandered over Lukas’s face. “What are you talking about?”

He waved a hand, encompassing the blue walls and white linens. The posters of rock stars and screen idols. The dressing table strewn with makeup, perfume bottles and corsage ribbons. “This was Rachel DeLaune’s room, wasn’t it?”

Curtis pressed his lips together. “You ask that as if you assume I should know. But I was never allowed anywhere in this house except the kitchen.”

“But you knew this was Rachel’s room. How could you not? Even I know it’s hers. All you have to do is take a look around. I doubt anything’s been changed since the night she died.” Lukas paused, letting a long silence settle between them. “You can still feel her presence in here, can’t you? Tell me what she was like.”

The green eyes deepened angrily. “That’s not really what you want to know, is it?”

So he had more than just his grandmother’s nose and cheekbones, Lukas thought. He’d also inherited her insight. “No, you’re right. What I really want to know is if she was seeing anyone when she died. I can’t find a mention of a boyfriend in the police report. But a beautiful girl like that? She must have had plenty of guys sniffing around.” He walked over to the dressing table, and for a moment, swore he could still smell her perfume. After fourteen years.