Friday, February 20,
8:00 P.M.
„Give me your keys.“
Kristen said nothing, moved not a muscle, just sat staring out the window as she’d done the entire way to her house. She was in shock, Abe realized and cursed himself for not following his gut and driving her straight to the ER.
He crossed around to her side of the SUV and gently grasped her chin. „Kristen.“ He snapped his fingers and she blinked. „Let’s go inside. Can you walk?“
She nodded dully and slid down, her face contorting in pain as her foot touched the ground. Ignoring her muted protests, he swung her up into his arms and carried her as if she were one of Sean’s kids.
He eased her in through her kitchen door, careful not to jar the knee he’d seen her favoring as he’d stalked off to relieve that bitch Richardson of her ill-gotten gains. He couldn’t stop Richardson at the press conference, but he’d be damned if he allowed her to portray Kristen scared and hurt for all Chicago to see.
Because even through her bravado, the woman he held in his arms had been both hurt and scared. Terrified. He thought about the look in her eyes that morning. Had it just been that morning that they’d sat outside the Restons ’ home?
Impossible to believe, but true. She’d said victims never, ever forget. And he’d suspected she’d been one. Was still one. Now, he knew for sure. How that made him feel was something he wasn’t ready to analyze. He was still too pissed off by the here and now to even think about the past.
„I need to turn off the alarm,“ she murmured. So he set her down long enough to punch the buttons on the console, then guided her to the overstuffed sofa in her living room, stretched out her legs, and slipped a pillow under her knees.
He unbuttoned the top button of her coat and her hands sprang to his. „No.“ She looked up, her eyes carefully blank in the darkness of the room.
„Okay.“ He switched on the overhead light and they both blinked. „I’m going to make you some tea.“ He hoped she had tea bags, because he had no idea of how much loose tea to put in her china teapot with the big roses. „Stay here.“
She did have tea bags and he completed the task with reasonable competence while he placed calls to Spinnelli, Mia, and his physician sister-in-law Ruth, his voice steady. But when he picked up the cup of tea his hands trembled.
Abe turned, leaning against her ancient refrigerator, her fragile teacup clenched in his hands, his stomach churning. And once again he was back there, with Debra the day she’d been shot, stuck in the scene he’d replayed in his mind too many times to count. It had been cold, a late-spring storm dumping five inches of snow the night before. The sidewalks were still icy, and he’d worried she’d slip and fall. Hurt herself or their unborn child. How ironic.
„I’ll drop you off in front of the store,“ he’d said, worried that the walk from the parking lot to the baby store would be too much for Debra, round in her eighth month.
She’d laughed, that husky sound that he’d found so incredibly sexy. „Don’t be such a daddy,“ she’d said, playfully reproachful. „I’m pregnant, not disabled. The exercise is good for me. Ruth said so.“ So he’d driven on to find an empty metered space on the street two blocks from the baby boutique on Michigan Avenue. The gift certificate she’d received at her baby shower the night before was burning a hole in her pocket, she’d said, and jumped from the car before he’d had a chance to come around and open her door.
And then everything happened so fast. The shot, the way Debra’s body just crumpled to the ground, the look of surprised disgust on the face of the teenaged gunman before he ran to his waiting car. The sound of squealing tires as he escaped.
Then everything moved so slowly. The way her blood pooled in the gutter, a bystander calling for help, his own futile attempts to stop the blood spilling from the hole in the side of her head, his own voice, pleading. „Debra. Please, baby, open your eyes.“ Again and again.
But she didn’t. Not then, not ever again. The doctors delivered the baby at the hospital an hour later, still and lifeless. Never in his life had he felt so helpless.
Until tonight. Driving up to two wrecked cars, knowing Kristen was locked inside one of them, knowing two bloodthirsty gang punks had threatened her for something she’d had no part in causing.
But she’s all right. She took care of herself.
He huffed a mirthless chuckle. With a pathetic can of pepper spray. And thank God she had it, that she had the guts to use it. That she hadn’t frozen, helplessly.
„Abe.“
He looked up to find her standing in the arched doorway, her brow creased in concern. She’d called him Abe. „You shouldn’t be up,“ he said.
She limped across the tired old linoleum and took the cup from his hands. „I’m not hurt. I’m all right“
She was better, he could see right away. Her eyes were sharper, her face less pale. But she wasn’t all right, not by a long shot. „Right. That’s why you haven’t taken off your coat in your own house.“ His voice was harsher than he’d intended, but she just quietly removed her coat, revealing a charcoal suit with a bright fuchsia blouse that should have clashed with her hair, but somehow did not.
„Is this my tea?“ she asked.
„Unless it tastes bad, then it’s mine.“
She sipped. „It’s fine. Can I get you something? You look worse than I do.“
He supposed he might at that. „Do you have anything stronger than tea?“
„I don’t drink, but I might have something.“ She searched a cupboard and brought out an unopened bottle of scotch, a really good brand. „I won the door prize at John’s office Christmas party last year. If it’s no good, blame him.“
He followed her to the kitchen table, taking the seat across from her. „It is good,“ he said after the first sip. Alden had good taste. „Why don’t you drink?“
She blinked at him over her teacup. „You are a nosy man.“
He sipped at the scotch, feeling it warm his belly, settling the residual nerves still buzzing from his stroll down memory lane. „It’s a job requirement.“
She acknowledged the point with a wry nod. „My sister was killed in a drunk-driving accident when I was sixteen. I’ve never touched the stuff.“
„I’m sorry.“
„Thanks.“
They said nothing more after that, just sat drinking then-beverage of choice. It was not an uncomfortable silence, Kristen thought, watching Reagan watch her from across the table. Actually she’d become accustomed to seeing him in her kitchen after the last few nights. It had an air of intimacy that she savored even though she knew it was a product of her own imagination. And fruitless wishing.
The front doorbell rang and Reagan stood up. „That’ll be Officer Mclntyre. He’ll want your statement.“
„Have him come in here if you don’t mind.“
Kristen heard him open the door, greet Mclntyre. Then curse loudly and she knew what he’d be holding before he came back into the kitchen, a plain brown box in his hands.
„Sonofabitch,“ Reagan snarled. „At least we’ll have him on tape this time.“
Kristen stared at the box, utter exhaustion making her limbs heavy. „We knew it would happen sooner or later. You want to open it here or down at the station?“
Reagan flipped out his phone. „I’ll let Spinnelli decide.“ He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her with the box and an agitated Officer Mclntyre.
„This is a really bad time, Miss Mayhew,“ Mclntyre said, and she couldn’t say why, but the young man’s earnest words struck her as incredibly funny and the laughter just rolled. She laughed and laughed, slumping down in the chair when her breath simply gave out. Mclntyre was eyeing her teacup suspiciously.
„It’s just old-fashioned Earl Grey, Officer,“ she said when her gasps had refilled her lungs. „The scotch is Reagan’s.“
„Yes, ma’am. Could I take your statement now?“
Kristen pulled out a chair and gestured him into it. „Go right ahead. I’m not under the influence, Officer Mclntyre, just damn tired and worried sick.“ She straightened in her chair. „You just delivered the punch line to a very bad day.“
He looked sympathetic as he took out his notepad. „I’ll make this quick.“
And he was true to his word, not asking stupid questions or making her repeat anything. He’d slipped his notepad back in his pocket when Reagan came back.
„Got everything you need, Mclntyre?“
„Yeah. I don’t know that we’ll catch anybody, but we’ll send some men into the neighborhood tomorrow. Maybe somebody heard somebody bragging. We’ll see.“
Reagan grimaced. „They’ll try again.“
Kristen’s stomach rolled over. „Wonderful.“
Reagan gently squeezed her uninjured shoulder. „Try not to worry.“ He removed his hand before she gave in to the temptation to lean into him. „Spinnelli and Jack are coming here. Mclntyre, you’ll need to confirm the location of the box on the front porch.“
Mclntyre snugged his hat on his head. „No problem, Detective. Miss Mayhew, I’ll call you if there’s anything more.“
Reagan walked him out, but she could hear him welcoming someone else and opened her eyes wide when a thirty-something woman with light brown hair and a black bag appeared at his side. Her house had seen more visitors in the last hour than in the last two years. Reagan shot her a cautious look. „This is my sister-in-law, Ruth.“
The pediatrician. Kristen pursed her lips. „I told you I wasn’t hurt.“
„And you’re probably right, Miss Mayhew,“ the woman said. „Let’s check it out, and we can both go to sleep.“
„Please call me Kristen.“ She glared at Reagan, who looked not a whit apologetic. „I’m sorry Reagan dragged you away from your house, but there’s nothing wrong with me.“
„It’s her shoulder and knee,“ Reagan said, ignoring her. Kristen exhaled in frustration, but Ruth just looked amused.
„Call me Ruth or Dr. Reagan, but don’t call me Dr. Ruth, that’s all I ask. Abe, scram.“ She waited until he’d obeyed, then smiled. „Slip off your jacket and your hose if you can.“
The jacket was painful enough, but manageable. The hose, however, were a different matter. Annoyed, Kristen acknowledged defeat. „It’s a good thing you came by, I guess. I can’t imagine sleeping in these things.“
Ruth grinned and knelt by her chair. „I can’t imagine wearing them at all. Like being stuffed into sausage casings. Let me help.“ A few tugs and Kristen sat bare-legged, her skirt hiked above her knees. Ruth poked gently for a few minutes, then sat back on her haunches. „You’ve probably twisted your knee and strained your shoulder socket. Neither one is life-threatening though you’ll feel really sore tomorrow.“
Kristen frowned. „Worse than now?“
„Oh, a lot worse,“ Ruth said cheerfully. „But considering the alternative I’d say you’re lucky.“ She rose and looked down, her expression shifting from cheerful to concerned.
„Abe’s a fine man. He was afraid you’d gone into shock. Don’t be too hard on him.“
Kristen tugged her skirt to her knees. „I’m just sorry you got dragged out here.“
„It’s okay. Have you eaten?“
Kristen frowned, trying to remember. „Yes, I did. I stopped at Owen’s for dinner. It was on my way home from the diner that those guys stopped me.“
„Well, then I’d say the best idea is to take some ibuprofen and a nice bath.“
Kristen snorted. „That’s what I told Reagan, but he’s too thickheaded to listen.“
Ruth laughed. „Runs in the family, honey. Wait till you meet his dad.“
Kristen shook her head, sincerely panicked that Ruth thought… „Oh, no. I don’t want… I mean…“ She gave up when Ruth just looked more amused. „Never mind.“
„It was nice to meet you, Kristen.“ Ruth’s smile faded and she glanced at the door. „He’ll need to take care of you. Please let him. It’s very important.“
Kristen remembered the look on his face when she’d entered the kitchen. Such desperate desolation. And he’d clutched her teacup so tightly that she’d thought it would shatter, right there in his hands. „Why?“
But she got no answer as Reagan picked that moment to return.
„She’s fine, Abe,“ Ruth said, patting him on the shoulder. „You, on the other hand, look like you could use a hot meal and a good night’s sleep.“
He smiled down at his sister-in-law with such genuine affection, Kristen’s heart ached a little at the sight. What it must be like to have a family so close that you could call and know they’d come at a moment’s notice. Wishes, once again.
„Don’t worry about me,“ he said.
Ruth sighed. „That’s what you always say, but I always do. You’re still coming on Saturday, right? A week from tomorrow, don’t forget.“
„Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from my newest niece’s christening.“
Ruth bit her lip. „I’m sorry about Debra’s parents, Abe. My mother invited them. I couldn’t un-invite them without causing a huge family row.“
Who was Debra? And why did the mention of her parents make his eyes harden?
„It’s okay, Ruth. I’m sure we can manage to coexist peacefully for one evening.“ He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the movement practiced, as if he’d done it many times before. „If it looks like trouble is brewing, I’ll leave. I promise.“
„I don’t want you to do that, Abe.“ Ruth’s voice thickened and she closed her eyes. „I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve missed so much. I don’t want you to miss this.“
He glanced over at Kristen, his expression slightly embarrassed. Good manners dictated she look away, but again she remembered the look of desolation on his face and gave him what she hoped was a supportive smile instead. He’d been good to her, this relative stranger. Caring for her when he hadn’t needed to. Ruth said that it was important he take care of her and whatever his reason, Kristen believed that was true.
„Now don’t go getting squishy on me,“ he said. „You know how much I hate that.“
Ruth grinned tearily. „It’s just the damn hormones. Kristen, it was so nice to meet you. Keep your foot elevated.“ She leaned up and kissed Reagan’s cheek. „Dinner on Sunday?“
Kristen watched in fascination as Reagan’s stubbled cheeks reddened at the little kiss. „Me miss ham? I don’t think so. Let me walk you to your car.“
Kristen gave Ruth a little wave. „Thank you.“ And she watched them leave, Reagan’s arm around Ruth’s shoulders, the sight making her eyes sting. Hating herself for wishing for things she could never have, she turned and stared at the box.
He was here because of the damn box. Because of all the damn boxes. And as soon as their humble servant was safely put away, he’d be gone. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. And focused on the damn box.
She wondered who the vigilante had targeted this time and tried to make herself care, but it was hard to care about the loss of such twisted, evil people. Harder still after tonight. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what those men would have done to her had she not gotten away. It didn’t take imagination to conjure the picture of herself at their mercy.
Memories sufficed.
„Spinnelli will be here soon,“ she murmured to herself, and it wouldn’t do to be sitting here bare-legged when he arrived. She needed to change her clothes. Summoning all her energy, she pushed herself to her feet.
Friday, February 20,
9:15 p.m.
He didn’t knock. He banged hard enough to wake the damn dead.
Zoe opened her door. „Do you have any concept of self-control?“ she snapped.
He pushed inside and slammed her front door so hard the building shook. „Obviously not, since I was stupid enough to get tangled up with you.“ His body shook with barely suppressed rage and for the first time, Zoe was afraid.
„Calm down, for God’s sake. Do you want a drink?“
„No, I don’t want a drink.“ He grabbed her arms hard and she cried out. He hauled her up on her toes. „What I want is for you to back off. No more stories about Mayhew or vigilante killers.“ He pulled harder and she bit back a whimper. „Understand?“
She struggled, but he held firm. „It’s my job. I’m doing my job.“
„Then go find another story, because you doing your job will make me lose mine.“
„You’re overreacting. Nobody’s going to lose their job.“
He shook her, hard. „That’s because you’re going to stop.“
She threw her head back, stared him in the eye. „Or what? What could you possibly do to back up your spineless little threat? Tell the world I’m sleeping with you? I’m not married. I don’t care.“ She narrowed her eyes. „Or maybe I’ll turn up as one of Kristen’s gifts.“
He paled as she’d known he would. „What are you talking about?“
She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. „The power of the press, the spoken word. A whispered allegation. Association with a vigilante. It could ruin a man’s career.“
He stared at her for a moment, then threw her away as if she burned him. She hoped she had. Nobody threatened Zoe Richardson. Nobody.
„You’re insane,“ he whispered.
„Unfortunately for you I am quite sane.“ She settled her hands on her hips, well aware of the picture she made. „You want to stay or what?“
Horror flickered across his face. „You think I’d sleep with you now? My God.“
„Pity. Press conferences and interviews with the Contis really get my blood stoked. Sleeping hadn’t crossed my mind.“
His eyes narrowed. „Conti? What does that sonofabitch have to do with anything?“
Zoe laughed. „So sanctimonious suddenly. Go on home, sugar. You can probably just catch the interview if you leave right now.“
He shook his head. „You’re poison.“
„Probably. Oh, and I’d be careful about that sleep-talking thing if I were you, sugar.“
He paled and went still. „What are you talking about?“
It was too rich for words. „You talk in your sleep, honey. I’m sure your wife knows all about us. Or will soon.“ She tilted her head, her smile patronizing. „Sleep well.“
Friday, February 20,
10:00 P.M.
He’d chosen the next name from the fishbowl. It was a good choice. He stared at the name, thinking of the vileness of the man’s crimes. It would be too much of a pleasure to see this man dead.
He sighed. He really should admit it, if to no one but himself. He’d started this mission to avenge Leah and the countless other victims denied justice. After the second one, Ramey, he’d felt satisfaction, and that was okay. With King it had been more than satisfaction, it had been almost… exhilarating, beating that man’s face to a bloody pulp. But with Skinner… it had been pleasure.
Watching Skinner’s eyes, so horrified. The way Skinner tried to struggle, gasping and gurgling at the very end. And he’d felt pleasure.
Was it wrong? Would God be displeased?
No, he told himself. God’s people often were commanded to kill and afterward, celebrated. There was precedent. Even Skinner would have appreciated precedent.
He stood up to go to the computer when the flickering television caught his eye. He’d been watching it all day, off and on. Watching for mention of himself, gauging public response. He was ahead in the polls if the public demonstration at the courthouse had been any indication, he thought, then stilled when Zoe Richardson filled the screen.
He hated that woman. She was vile also, prancing around, portraying Kristen as an incompetent. He was glad Reagan had taken her videotape earlier this evening. If Reagan hadn’t, he would have done it himself. He sat down, grabbing for the remote and turned up the sound. Richardson was interviewing that murderer, Angelo Conti. „So what was your reaction when you learned of the ‘Humble Servant’?“ Richardson asked and Conti swaggered in place.
„I wasn’t too surprised,“ Conti replied.
Richardson tilted her platinum blonde head. „Why were you not surprised, Angelo?“
„The way she went after me, like she was crazy or something. I was innocent.“
„Actually, the jury was undecided, Angelo. ASA Mayhew could try you again.“
Angelo’s face flushed dark red. „Yeah, and she’ll lose again. She’s incompetent, you know? That’s why she hired this guy. She can’t win, so she takes the fight outside.“
Richardson looked taken aback. „Are you suggesting that ASA Mayhew somehow hired this vigilante to kill the people she was unable to convict? Like a hit man?“
His stomach roiled as Richardson’s accusation rolled from the television. „Wo,“ he whispered, his hand clenching the medallion around his neck. „It wasn’t like that.“
Angelo Conti shrugged. „Call it what you like. I’d just like to see somebody checking her financial records the way she’s checked mine.“
„An interesting perspective.“ Richardson turned back to the camera. „This is Zoe Richardson in Chicago.“
He switched off the television, trembling. He looked at the name on the paper he’d drawn from the fishbowl. It would have to wait. He had another target to eliminate first.
Friday, February 20,
10:30 p.m.
„Where’s Spinnelli?“ Jack grumbled. „I wanna open the box.“
Abe’s smile was wry. Jack sounded like a little kid on Christmas morning. „He’ll be here soon. You’ll have all day tomorrow to analyze what he’s left this time.“
Jack grunted. „Where’s Mia? I would have thought she’d want front-row tickets to this.“
„She had a date. I called her to tell her Kristen was all right, but when I called her a half hour later, her phone was turned off.“
Jack huffed. „Well, at least one of us will be smiling tomorrow.“
Kristen looked up from her seat at the end of the kitchen table. She’d changed into a sweat suit, but her hair was still fiercely pinned to her head and Abe fought the urge to release her curls, knowing it was likely the last semblance of control she possessed.
„Why should Mia be any happier than the rest of us?“ she asked. Then her eyes widened as she caught Jack’s meaning, and her face blushed a pretty pink. „Never mind.“
Jack grinned. „Sorry, Kristen.“ Then sobered. „You know there won’t be a hell of a lot to analyze tomorrow. He wasn’t even here, we know that.“
They did. The bastard must have seen the cameras because the surveillance tape showed only a young boy delivering the box. They had a good picture of the kid’s face and of the name of his high school on his letter jacket, so they could find him pretty easily.
Nevertheless, Jack’s team was currently dusting Kristen’s front porch for prints and combing every square inch of her front yard for anything that might have been left behind. A call to her neighbors revealed the box had been there when they got home from work at five o’clock, and beyond that, nobody had seen anybody.
Jack pointed at the box. „Let’s just open it, okay?“
Abe sighed. „Okay. Go for it.“
Jack had already covered Kristen’s kitchen table with white paper. „I don’t expect to find any prints on this box either, but you never know. Here goes.“ He sliced open the box and pulled out an envelope. And sat down hard in his chair. „Dear God.“
Kristen jumped to her feet, wincing. „What?“
Jack looked up, every ounce of color drained from his face. „It’s Trevor Skinner.“
„Oh, no.“ Kristen sank back down, her face white as the paper on the table. „I was afraid of this,“ she whispered. „He’s added defense attorneys to his target list“
Abe reached for the envelope in Jack’s trembling hand. He’d heard of the man by reputation only. A real piece of work. „Did you know him well?“
She nodded, stunned. „We butted heads quite a few times. He was ruthless. I hated being in the same courtroom with him. He was merciless to the victims, pounding away until they were… nothing.“ She pressed her fingertips against her lips. „I can’t believe this.“
Abe shook the envelope’s contents on the table, found the letter. „ ‘My dearest Kristen, I am so glad the proverbial cat is now out of the bag. I hope you’ve taken comfort knowing these monsters are dead. I’ll continue for as long as I’m able. By now you’re probably wondering why I’m doing this, why I’ve set out on this mission to rid the city of the festering filth that roams its streets. Suffice it to say that I have my reasons. I’ve watched Mr. Trevor Skinner at work in the courtroom, the way he so skillfully turned opinion away from the victim, often rendering them incapable of speaking on their own behalf.’“ Abe paused and looked up at Kristen.
„Yes, that’s very true. I would object and object, but he never stopped. He’s a favorite among the defendants with money. He could make a victim look worse than the accused. The rape cases were so painful.“ Her lips quivered and she pursed them. „He made those women feel so worthless and dirty,“ she finished on a whisper, met his eyes, hers shiny and wet. „I’m sorry he’s murdered, Abe, but I’m glad he can never do that to a woman again.“ She blinked, sending two fat tears down her cheeks and Jack reached out to take her hand.
„We should have done this in my lab,“ Jack said softly. „This is too much for you, after what happened tonight.“
She drew a steadying breath, gently pulling her hand away. „I’m okay, just shaken up. Let’s hear the rest of it.“
„ ‘So in the spirit of an eye for an eye, I devised a punishment that was fitting. Sleep well, Kristen, knowing Mr. Trevor Skinner died unable to say a word in his own defense. Please ensure the criminals of Chicago know that I am watching, I am angry, and I am not bound by the laws of man. I am as always, Your Humble Servant.’“ Abe sighed. „ ‘P.S. You really should finish one job before you start another.’“
„What new job did you start?“ Jack asked.
Kristen’s mouth thinned to a grim line. „Last night I started making curtains for my damn windows.“
Jack’s lips twitched. Then he began to laugh and after a moment she joined him. She had a wonderful laugh, Abe thought, once again feeling as if he’d been kicked in the gut. His face must have shown it, because she quickly sobered, looking guilty.
„I’m sorry, really. It’s just… been a really long day.“
„It’s about to get longer,“ Spinnelli said from the doorway. „You catch the news?“
„We’ve been a little busy, Marc,“ Kristen said wryly. „We were at the press conference. What more harm could she have done since then?“
Spinnelli pulled a tape from his coat pocket. „Where’s your VCR?“
„It’s in the living room,“ she said, worried now.
Spinnelli looked at the box. „Who was it this time?“
„Trevor Skinner,“ Abe said and Spinnelli’s face went as pale as everyone else’s.
„And I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.“
Saturday, February 21,
2:00 A.M.
„You should be sleeping.“
Startled by the sound of Reagan’s nimbly voice on the basement stairs, Kristen jerked her attention from the mantel she was sanding, putting a pause on the delightful fantasy of Zoe Richardson dipped in honey and tied to a thriving anthill. Vicious red ants that bit hard. She was still angry, hours later. Angry that Richardson had insinuated she’d hired a killer. Angry that the bleached blonde bitch had given the criminal community yet another reason to come after her with knives. Angry that Angelo Conti got another chance to posture in front of a camera. And at this very moment, angry that just the sound of Reagan’s voice could make her pulse race.
But none of her anger was his fault. He’d been more than kind, refusing to leave after Spinnelli and Jack left, worried that the men who had accosted her would be back. „I’m sorry,“ she said quietly. „I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was trying to be quiet.“
„I wasn’t asleep.“ She watched as he descended the stairs in a slow, deliberate way. He still wore his hard shoes, as if he expected to go chasing after an intruder any moment. His trousers were still creased, despite all the hours he’d worn them. The only sign he’d relaxed at all was the absence of his tie and the shirt he’d pulled out of his pants, unbuttoned just past the hollow of his throat. Her eyes lingered there, probably longer than they should have. She lifted her eyes to his face where dark stubble shadowed his cheeks, then to his eyes which were shadowed with concern. For me, she thought, and tried not to let it mean too much. „Doesn’t that hurt your shoulder?“ he asked and she looked down at her sandpaper.
„It’s okay. It’s my left shoulder, and I’m right-handed.“
„Oh. I thought you were sewing curtains,“ he said. „The sewing machine makes too much noise, and I -“ „You were trying not to wake me. Got it.“ He walked over to the little windows that lined her basement wall. Unlike herself, Reagan was tall enough to look through the glass without standing on a chair. There was something settling in his size and strength. „Where’s your sewing machine?“
„Up in my spare bedroom.“
„Then he could have seen you from the street.“
Kristen dropped her sandpaper, her palms suddenly clammy. She wiped her hands on her sweatpants. „Yeah.“ She stood up, wincing at the soreness in her knee. „Look, I know this sounds weak and lame, but could we not talk about him right now? It’s driving me insane, wondering if he’s out there, looking at me.“ She rubbed her upper arms, suddenly cold. „Watching me. God, it’s like some kind of Hitchcock movie. I’ve been afraid to get in the damn shower.“
His mouth quirked up, and it wasn’t the first time she noticed how nice a mouth he had. It suited his face which at the moment he was turning her way. „Well, if you want to take one tonight, I’ll stand guard outside your door and I promise I won’t look.“
She went still, every muscle in her body going taut. He’d meant it as a silly tease, intended to make her smile, but she could see his words had affected him as well. His only movement was the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as his blue eyes flared and held her. The very air between them was suddenly charged. She could almost feel the sparks.
Sparks. Her chin came up as her mind clicked into gear. „You were working the Sparks case, weren’t you? That’s where I saw you before. It was two years ago, in the summer. You were undercover and got arrested with everybody else they’d picked up for possession. I saw you in the holding area.“ She’d heard him before she’d seen him, as she recalled. It would have been impossible not to.
That mouth of his curved in a smile that was almost smug. „I was wondering if you’d remember. Took you long enough.“
She advanced a limping step. „No fair.“ She chuckled, remembering. „You were something else. You had a pony-tail, a beard, a shiner, and a really big mouth.“
He grinned and her breath caught at the sight „I was in character that day. You should have heard what I said about you after you’d gone.“
She was alone with a man she’d known only three days, who made her feel safe and who, if she was not mistaken, was flirting with her. She’d been flirted with before, but had always been left with cold nerves. She now felt the nerves, but she was definitely not cold. „I’m almost afraid to ask.“ How true.
He lifted a dark brow, making him look devilish and to her mortification, her mouth watered and the warmth in her face spread down. Don’t wish, Kristen. It won’t happen.
„Let’s just say my cover was very heterosexual and leave it at that,“ he said dryly, but his eyes never left hers.
Kristen swallowed hard and looked away. She picked up the sandpaper and began working a small section of mantel carving where decades of paint stubbornly clung. „I was bringing some papers to the precinct that day,“ she said. „I heard you, then saw you. You were watching me.“ With those piercing blue eyes she’d never truly forgotten. „Why?“
She heard him approach, felt his heat at her back. And wondered how she ever could have been cold. „I don’t know,“ he answered seriously. „I just looked up and there you were in your black suit with your hair pinned up. I was… stunned.“
Stunned. Kristen made herself laugh. „Oh, please, Reagan. ‘Stunned’ is a bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say?“
„You asked, I told you,“ he answered tersely. „I wasn’t happy about it myself.“
He sounded positively grim and her stomach gave a nasty twist. That hurt. She renewed her efforts on the stubborn paint until she was sure her voice would be steady. „That’s good to know. I think I’m ready to talk about vigilante stalkers now.“
„My wife was alive then.“ The words cracked out, seemed to hover between them.
His wife. Slowly she turned around. He was standing too close, and she pressed back against the mantel to put a few more inches of distance between them. He’d noticed her when he was still married. She hadn’t believed him to be that kind of man. And that hurt even more. „Your wife?“ Her voice came out a whisper.
He was staring at her, his eyes intense. Challenging. „Yeah. Debra, my wife.“
Debra, whose parents’ coming to the christening on Saturday made him angry. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. „She’s no longer alive, I take it?“
„She died a year ago.“
Kristen waited a moment, but he said no more. „Of?“
His expression became angry. „I guess the official cause of death was heart failure, but after five years in a vegetative state, any failure would have been sufficient.“
Her breath caught in her throat as the enormity of his admission hit home. Five years. Five years of painful limbo. Her heart ached for him, for what he’d endured. Her first impression had been an accurate one, she thought, thinking of that night in the elevator. Desperate desolation. „You loved her, then.“
His eyes flashed. „Yes.“ He bit it out, the one little word that said volumes. She knew that if she wanted to know more, she’d have to ask. She wondered if she did want to know more. She had enough troubles of her own without taking on those of another. But he took on yours, Kristen, without a second breath. And in a flash of insight she realized what he was offering. The opportunity to share burdens.
A relationship. Something she’d longed for over the years. Something that terrified every bit as much as it beckoned.
He was watching her think, which was unsettling, as if he knew her thoughts. Maybe he did. Maybe he won’t care. The thought came, childish and hopeful, and she dashed it immediately. No, he’d care. It would make a difference. Later, it would. But now, he needed to talk and she wanted to listen. They would be friends.
But no more than friends. It would be his choice, not hers. He would be the one to walk away, not her. She knew it, even as she stared into his eyes. They’d be hurt, both of them. But not tonight She tore her sandpaper into halves and offered him one.
„Tell me about her. Debra.“
He took the bit of sandpaper that looked pathetically small in his large hand. He stepped away, moving down to the other end of the mantel and she took in a deep breath, filling her lungs. Then turned back to her stubborn paint.
„She was…“ His voice roughened, broke. „She was everything.“
Kristen’s heart cracked as she wondered what it would be like to be „everything“ to someone. Someone like him. She sanded harder. „What happened?“
„She and I were going to the store. She got out of the car, and she was shot“
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He just stood there, staring at the sandpaper in his hand. „Was it a mugging?“
His jaw clenched. „No. Just some punk retaliating against the just-promoted detective who arrested his brother.“
She closed her eyes briefly. He’d only been doing his job and somebody ruined his life. There was a parallel here, his past experience with her current situation, but she wasn’t going to touch it now. „Tell me about her.“
„She had brown hair and brown eyes.“ He was quiet for a moment, and she could almost feel him grappling for the memory of the woman who’d been his „everything.“
„She was tall,“ he continued, his voice steadier. „She was a preschool teacher, loved little kids.“
„She sounds like a very nice woman.“
„She was.“ She heard the rueful smile in his voice and turned to find it reflected on his face. Still he stood, just holding the sandpaper. „She put up with me.“
Kristen made her own lips curve. „A hardship, I’m sure.“
His smile dimmed, draining her energy with it. „You have no idea.“
Suddenly too weary to stand, Kristen abandoned the mantel. „I’m tired, Abe. I think I’m going to call it a night. You should sleep, too. Please.“
He turned only his head, studying her from her head to her toes and back again, his eyes hot and her weariness evaporated, replaced by tingling awareness. He’d been stunned, he said. So was she, she admitted.
„Do you ever plan to take those pins out of your hair?“ he asked and her breath left her in a hard exhale that left her head spinning.
Breathe, Kristen. Breathe. „Why?“
He shook his head and the spell was broken. „Never mind. Go to sleep. Morning will be here soon enough.“
„And what will happen then?“
He lifted a brow. „We dig up Trevor Skinner.“