He was the one bright spot in the darkest period of her life. Even before she’d been released from the hospital, she’d wanted desperately to see him. To touch him and thank him for saving her life. When she’d been released the next day, Claudia had driven her directly to Charity. John had been transferred to a regular room. But like a sentry, Mitch had come out and told her John didn’t want visitors. The rejection had hurt, but Julia had respected his wishes.
She waited another day before trying to call him. But once again Mitch was there to screen his calls, telling her John would return her call.
But he never did.
Once he was released, she’d called his apartment number and left messages, but he hadn’t returned her calls. She’d tried his cell phone, only to discover it had been disconnected. She might be a little hardheaded, but she could take a hint.
As long as she had the shop and her friends and family, she would get through this. As long as she stayed busy, she could endure the nightmares. Someday she might even be able to put the terrible night behind her. But there was no way she’d ever get over John.
Her heart broke every time she thought of spending the rest of her life without him. Such a decent man. So courageous. So willing to accept responsibility, even when he didn’t have to. She missed him with a ferocity that took her breath away. The ache deep in her chest wasn’t lessening with each passing day as her therapist had suggested. Instead it seemed to grow a little more every day, like a cancer that would eventually leach the life from her and leave nothing but a shell.
Finishing with the petty cash, Julia looked up at her sister, who was sitting at her desk, punching computer keys and grumbling about the new inventory system. Jacob was using a feather duster on the antique set of encyclopedias she’d purchased from Mr. Thornbrow just that morning. Life went on. Everything was going to be fine. She could take comfort in that. Like her therapist said, healing was just going to take some time . . .
The bell jingled, announcing a customer. Julia looked up from the cash register, a smile she didn’t feel pasted to her face. Every nerve in her body went taut when John came through the door. He was wearing a battered brown bomber jacket, black boots and faded blue jeans. The right sleeve of the jacket hung unused at his side. Beneath she could see the blue and white fabric of a sling. He looked thinner, his face a little more lean. But he still filled the entire room with his presence.
He scanned the shop. Julia’s heart began to pound when his gaze met hers. She knew it was a silly response considering he was probably here to officially break things off. That would be just like John. Do it face to face even if it was going to hurt more.
“Hey,” he said, crossing to her.
Feeling her cheeks heat, Julia looked blindly down at the cash in the drawer and promptly forgot the figure she had yet to jot on the daily sales form. She wanted to say something witty. Something that would let him know his showing up now to end things before they’d ever really had a chance to begin wasn’t affecting her one way or another. But her voice had suddenly taken leave.
“Julia?” She started at the sound of her sister’s voice. Only then did she realize Claudia must have noticed her discomfort and come up behind her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But Julia wasn’t fine. Her heart was pounding. Her face was hot. Her chest was aching so bad that if she hadn’t known better she might have thought she was having a heart attack.
“You’re shaking.” Jacob set a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s cold,” Julia said dumbly.
“That’s it.” Jacob raised his hands. “I’m asking him to leave.”
If Julia hadn’t suddenly been so nervous, she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. At that moment she honestly didn’t know what she’d do without Claudia and Jacob. But this was one thing they could not handle for her. She needed to do it on her own. “Guys, thank you. But I can handle this.”
Shaking his head, Jacob shot John a withering glare as he went back to his dusting. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Giving her a final, knowing look, Claudia squeezed her hand. “Same goes,” she said and slowly walked back to the desk.
Julia’s heart was still pounding when she turned to face John. He was standing at the counter, looking at her as if she were some complex math equation he’d never learned about in college. From two feet away, she could smell the masculine tang of his aftershave. The familiarity of it wrapped around her heart and squeezed until she felt she couldn’t breathe.
“How are you?” he asked.
She tried to smile, but felt her lips tremble and she pursed them instead. “I’m good. Great, in fact. This is my first day back and things couldn’t be better.” Even to her the proclamation sounded phony.
His eyes narrowed as if she’d just told a big fat lie and he didn’t believe a word of it. “You look good,” he said. “I mean, aside from the bruises.”
“Thanks.” It was difficult, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “How’s the arm?”
“Hurts like a son of a bitch.” His smile nearly disarmed her, but she steeled herself against it. “They put in a titanium pin and a few bolts.”
“Going to be fun at the airport.”
“Yeah.”
He spotted the copy of A Gentleman’s Touch on the counter and smiled. “How did Benjamin take to the idea of his daughter being an author?”
“He’s still getting used to the idea.”
“Might take some time.”
“A couple of centuries.”
John smiled.
Julia cleared her throat. “Any news on the civil suit?”
He sobered, looked away. “My lawyer believes the widow will settle out of court.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s good. She’s . . . a good person. She called me. At the hospital.”
“So you’re no longer only the man who killed her husband, but a real person who’s suffered more than his share.”
“Something like that.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “The department is going to help pay.”
“And you?”
“I’ll pay some, but it won’t financially devastate me. I can live with that.”
“I’m glad it worked out.”
He looked around the shop. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
She’d spent the morning rearranging everything from bookshelves, to knickknacks, to the coffee service. It was either that or go insane . . .
“The place needed some sprucing up,” she said quickly. “I’ve got new shelving units on order—”
“Julia,” he said abruptly.
She cut the sentence off mid-word and looked at him. “What?”
“Cut it out.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“We’re not strangers, damn it. Let’s stop acting like it.”
She blinked at him, wondering why the hell he didn’t just say what he’d come here to say and get it over with. She could handle it. She’d spent the last days preparing. But she didn’t think there was any way a woman could prepare for having her heart ripped out.
“Why don’t you just say what you’ve come here to say?” she snapped. “I’m tired of waiting.”
He arched a brow. “Well, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d just stop beating around the bush. I’ve got things to do.”
The brow went higher. For the first time realization entered his eyes. A smile that was a little amused, a little uncertain touched the corner of his mouth. “What is it you think I came here to say?”
“John, please. It’s obvious, okay? I haven’t seen you for a week. You refused to see me when you were in the hospital. You didn’t bother to return my calls. You didn’t even call to let me know you were out of the hospital. Damn it, you didn’t even call to see how I was doing.”
“I kept tabs on you through
Mitch.”
But now that the door was open, Julia couldn’t seem to stop talking. So many words and emotions had built up inside her during the last week she couldn’t stanch the flow. “I know you have some issues to deal with. I can accept that. What I can’t accept is your shutting me out, avoiding this.”
“Whoa.” He raised his good hand. “I’m not avoiding anything.”
“It’s been six days.”
“I was in the hospital for five.”
“You could have picked up a phone.” A breath shuddered out of her. “At the very least you owed me the respect of letting me know where I stand.”
A tense silence fell over the shop. Julia was only vaguely aware of Sinatra’s voice in the background. The tick of the grandfather clock against the far wall.
John was looking at her oddly. Like a man who’d just realized he’d flubbed something he’d thought he had sewn up. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you.”
“Don’t be. I got the message loud and clear.”
“I didn’t want you at the hospital because I didn’t want you to see me like that. I get prickly when I’m in pain.” When she didn’t smile, he sighed. “I needed some time to think.”
Julia closed the cash drawer with a snap. “Is there a point to dragging this out?”
Before she even realized he was going to move, he rounded the counter and was moving toward her. “There’s a point,” he said.
Stepping back to keep a safe distance between them, Julia blinked. She’d thought she had this all figured out. But the way he was looking at her, now she wasn’t so sure.
She jolted when he raised his left hand and set it against her face. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Making my point.” Bending slightly, he brushed his mouth across hers.
Every pleasure center in her brain lit up like a Christmas tree. She marveled in the firmness of his lips. The warmth of his breath against her cheek. The scratch of his whiskers against her chin.
When he pulled away, his eyes were dark and serious. “My point,” he said, “is that I love you. I didn’t want to tell you that while I was lying in a hospital bed feeling like death warmed over. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted to tell you in person. So, here I am.”
The floor shifted beneath her feet. She stared at John, her heart jigging in her chest. And in that moment, everything else in the shop faded to babble. Her every sense tunneled on the man standing before her, looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world.
“I’ve waited six hellish days to tell you that,” he said. “The least you can do is say something back.”
But Julia couldn’t find her voice. She could feel the emotions expanding and tangling in her chest. “I thought . . .” Her voice broke.
“You thought what?”
Taking a fortifying breath, she looked at him. “I’ve been expecting you to waltz in here and tell me it’s over because your life is too screwed up to let me get involved with you.”
“I won’t tell you I didn’t consider it.” His hand trembled when he caressed the side of her face. “But I’m not that selfless.” One side of his mouth curved. “I’m greedy when it comes to you, Julia. My life may be screwed up, but I want you in it.” His jaw flexed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She closed her eyes against the tears building behind her lids. The surge of happiness in her chest took her breath away. “In that case, maybe we ought to try to work on this communication thing.”
“Not my strong suit, but I’ll give it my all.” Using his left arm, he pulled her to him and looked into her eyes. “I know I’m not an easy man.”
“You’re a quick study, though.”
He grinned. “Trainable.”
“Yeah.” Blinking back tears, Julia smiled at him. “I love you.”
“I know that now.” Taking her face between his hands, he looked into her eyes. “I love you, too,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
Turn the page for a look at
HARD EVIDENCE
BY PAMELA CLARE
Available in hardcover from Sensation in October.
Tessa walked through the main entrance to the hospital, feeling uneasy, her conversation with Chief Irving still playing through her mind.
“If I were you, Ms. Novak, I’d take a long vacation,” he’d said. “Failing that, I’d buy a gun and learn how to use it.”
“I already own one—a twenty-two.”
“Good. Pack it. I’ve already ordered extra patrols for your street.”
Tessa told herself Chief Irving was just being cautious. There was no evidence to suggest her life was in danger. Kara had been getting death threats for a while before they came after her. Tessa hadn’t gotten so much as an impolite e-mail. She had nothing to worry about.
Then why are you carrying a handgun, girl?
Like Chief Irving, she was just being cautious.
Tom had all but gone apoplectic when Chief Irving promised to give her an exclusive when the killers were caught, provided she dropped the story now. He’d launched into the thousandth rendition of his “Watchdogs of Freedom” speech, bringing a look of bored resignation to Chief Irving’s face. Obviously, Irving had heard this speech before, too.
“This is outrageous! No journalist at this paper has ever caved to pressure from the city, and I can assure you Novak won’t be the first!”
Chief Irving hadn’t been pleased. “We’ll be as helpful as we can be, Ms. Novak, but we’re playing this one close to the vest. And don’t go on a charm offensive against my men with that sweet Southern accent of yours, because I’ve warned them all not to discuss this case with you. If you want information, you come to me.”
Tessa had agreed to that much.
She stopped at the hospital’s front desk and asked one of the volunteers for Bruce Simms’s room number. She’d spent the morning working on a routine story about the recent ketamine robberies and had planned to start researching Denver’s gang history, as most drive-bys in Denver were gang-related. But when she’d learned the gas station attendant had been moved out of Intensive Care, she’d known she had to speak with him.
“Room three-thirty-two, miss.”
“Thanks.”
Tessa found Mr. Simms sitting up in bed in a blue-and-white hospital gown watching a soap opera. He was pale but alert, an oxygen tube beneath his nose, deep reddish bruises on the backs of his hands from multiple IVs. He glanced over and saw her, and his eyes widened.
Clearly he recognized her.
“Mr. Simms? I’m Tessa Novak. I hope you don’t mind my stopping by.”
“You like Days of Our Lives?”
“I don’t watch much television.” She took that as an invitation and sat in the chair next to his bed. “I work during the day.”
“It’s all crap anyway.” He clicked off the television. “You’re that reporter. You came in for coffee. I read your piece. You come here to interview me? I got nothing to say.”
“I’m here for personal reasons, Mr. Simms. You and I watched someone die. I thought—”
“I didn’t see nothing.” His mouth was clamped shut, but his eyes—hazel eyes more gray than green—told a different story.
“Oh, well, I imagine you were fighting your own battle for survival, weren’t you?” She gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m terribly sorry that you became ill as a result of the shooting. I must say the whole thing nearly frightened me to death.”
Charm offensive? How dare Chief Irving reduce years spent studying deportment and communication to mere manipulation!
Even though Mr. Simms had read the article, Tessa went through the story again, told him what she’d seen. The car. The rims. The blood. The man in the leather jacket.
“She was so young, Mr. Simms. We were the last two people to see her alive. That matters to me.”
For a moment there was no sound but hospital noises from out in the hallway.
�
��She used to come by most every Sunday afternoon with the others.” Mr. Simms looked up at the dark television screen. “There were four of them, girls about the same age. They’d come in, buy gum, candy, maybe shampoo or lip gloss, then they’d go again. Never smiled. Never said a word till that night.”
It was the first real information Tessa had gotten about the girl. “Did you know her name? Do you think she lived nearby?”
“I told you they never said a word, didn’t I?” He glanced sharply at Tessa. “No, I didn’t know her name. But, yeah, I think she must have lived nearby. They always walked to the store together. Never saw her by herself. It was always the four of them, and they were always dressed kind of shabby.”
Curious, Tessa couldn’t resist asking, “Did you ever see her with anyone else—a man, someone who looked like a gang member? A man in a black leather jacket perhaps?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re fishing for an article. I don’t want to be in no newspaper.”
She met his gaze, held it. “No, sir. I’m trying to find some peace of mind. Besides, I would never quote you without making it clear you were being interviewed.”
He seemed to measure her.
“There was an older woman who sometimes came with them, but she never entered the store. I always figured her for one of their mothers. But . . .” He paused for a moment. “I always thought it was strange the way she watched them—like a hawk. I figured maybe she wanted to make sure they didn’t steal nothing.”
“Did they ever try to steal anything?”
“Nope.”
“How about the black car? Did you see it or its driver before?”
“Can’t recall. The place is a damned gas station—cars coming and going all goddamned day and night.” He picked up the remote, clicked the television back on.
Tessa stood, took a business card out of her purse, and scribbled her home phone number on the back, knowing her time with Mr. Simms had ended. “I hope you’re feeling better soon, Mr. Simms. If you think of anything else, or even if you just want to talk, you can reach me at this number.”
A Whisper in the Dark Page 31
