Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  Oppressive silence hung in the room. She wanted to say something, anything, to fill the agonizing void but didn’t know what. What words fit this situation?

  He sighed. “All right. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.” He pulled his hand free and smoothed it over her hair. Kissed her forehead. “You’re a good girl, Amanda. I love you.”

  She forced herself not to squirm. Dad wasn’t usually so affectionate. “I love you too, Dad.”

  “I should have said that more to Karen when she was alive. I though she knew how much I loved—“ His voice caught and a tear rolled down his cheek. “How much I loved her. But maybe if I’d said it more...maybe she wouldn’t have found someone else.”

  “Don’t do this. People have affairs that have nothing to do with how much they love their spouse.” Not that she believed for a second Karen loved Dad the same way Dad loved her – selfless, unconditional love. The kind of love she hadn't deserved.

  The kind Amanda wanted but wasn’t sure she’d ever find.

  Sweat poured down Amanda’s face and into her eyes. She grabbed her towel and mopped her skin, sliding it over her slicked back hair. Metallica blasted from the stereo, mixing with the steady thump of her feet on the treadmill.

  The machine beeped, indicating her forty-five minutes was up. From the couch, Plato meowed his protest at having his nap interrupted. The tabby glared at her through his one open eye, too lazy even to open both.

  “Sorry, baby.” Instead of beginning the cool down, she punched at the controls and programmed in another half-hour. It was almost midnight but she wasn’t ready to quit. She’d tried cooking, she’d tried reading Cooks Illustrated and Us Weekly, she’d tried Seinfeld reruns, she’d tried snuggling with Plato and Aristotle. She’d even tried watching her favorite de-stressing movie, Happy Gilmore.

  Nothing worked. She couldn’t get her mind to calm down. Couldn’t get it to stop flashing between images of Karen’s mutilated body, Hank’s sneer and Dad’s misery. Even letting herself replace those pictures with thoughts of Greg hadn’t helped.

  So, even though she knew it would keep her awake longer, she’d tried the only thing she knew would clear her head. And since it was too late to go running outside–sure, she knew how to handle herself if attacked, but she didn’t need to borrow trouble–she’d dragged her treadmill out of the corner.

  She’d finally reached the place where it was just her and the rhythm of the music and the thump of her feet. She wasn’t ready to stop. Reality could wait.

  Unfortunately, reality didn’t want to wait. It wanted to force its way back via cell phone. Letting out a huff of annoyance, she slowed the treadmill to walking speed. Again mopping her face, she reached for her phone.

  “Schreiber.”

  “Hey.”

  Heat unrelated to do with her workout spread through her body at the sound of Greg’s voice. How could one little word like hey have such an effect on her?

  “It’s Greg.”

  As if he needed to identify himself. “Hi.”

  “It’s not too late to call, is it?”

  “Probably. We should both be in bed.”

  Heavy silence filled the line as she realized what she’d said. Realized how much she wanted to be in bed with him. And definitely not sleeping.

  Dammit, she was supposed to be pissed at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We both need to get some sleep. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

  She smiled. Had she actually made him nervous? Caught the smooth, flirty Greg Cole off guard?

  “But for some reason, I can’t sleep,” he continued.

  “Why’s that?” She slowed the treadmill to a stop.

  “I don’t know. Can’t turn my brain off, I guess.”

  She took her water bottle and sank down on the floor. Leaned over her outstretched legs. Let herself feel the pull of her muscles. She wanted to flop down on the couch and chat with him like the carefree teen she’d never been. But if she didn’t stretch, she’d regret it tomorrow.

  “So you decided to call me and see if I was awake? Maybe wake me up if I wasn’t?”

  His chuckle rumbled in her ear, a husky sound that squeezed her belly. Thank God he wasn’t there so she could see his sexy smile. Her body was already revved from her run. One look at him and she’d attack. Beg him to take her to bed and take care of the ache she’d felt inside all day.

  “Guess I didn’t realize how late it is. It didn’t occur to me you might be asleep. Why are you up, anyway?”

  “Same as you. Couldn’t shut off my brain.”

  Aristotle wandered over to sit in front of Amanda. He butted his head against her chin. She obliged him by scratching behind his ears, sending the cat into bliss. He collapsed on the floor next to her, leaning into her hand and purring like a motorboat.

  “I thought I’d call to see how it went with your family tonight,” Greg said.

  The clench in her belly loosened, replaced by something that felt like disappointment. He didn't call just to chat. He’d called about work. Of course. To think he was interested in her was silly. A nice fantasy, but silly.

  “My dad agreed to come in tomorrow to talk with you and Al.”

  “That’s good. But I was wondering how you are. How things went in general. I know—“ His voice cracked and he tried to cover it by coughing. She wasn’t fooled. “I know how hard these things are on a family.”

  From personal experience? There was something he wasn’t telling her. But, all at once, exhaustion returned. Her workout adrenaline drained out of her body. All she wanted was to crawl into her bed and disappear.

  “How did things go? Let’s see. Emily’s pissed we can’t make funeral arrangements since we don’t know when her body will be released, Dad’s pissed I’m not still on the case, Hank’s a racist who’s pissed at the inconvenience of this and Todd was late because he got stuck at the hospital. All in all, pretty much a normal night at the Schreiber home. With the glaring absence of my stepmom doting on Emily and criticizing me.” She didn't mean to sound quite so bitter, but hell. She was. All she’d wanted since she was a little girl was Karen out of her life. Now, even from the grave–well, not the grave yet, as Emily would undoubtedly point out–she was still turning Amanda’s life upside down.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  “I’m sorry,” Greg said. “I know that isn’t much comfort, but I am. You don’t deserve this.”

  She heaved herself to her feet. If she didn’t get up and change now she’d end up sleeping in her sweaty clothes on the living room floor. “How do you know? You barely know me.” So why did it seem like they’d worked together for years? Why did it feel like he understood her in ways even Al or Todd didn’t?

  “I know your reputation. You’re a good cop.”

  “Good cops aren’t always good people. O’Donnell’s a complete jackass. Long will nail anything with breasts.”

  He laughed. It warmed her in the part of her female anatomy she'd just mentioned. “True. And those reputations also get around the department too. You're also forgetting I’ve met you. I know you’re a good person.”

  Discomfort prickled over her skin. No one said such complimentary things to her so directly.

  Her mind flashed to earlier that day and her stomach teeter-tottered. He thought she was a good person. With a beautiful smile.

  She shouldn’t like it so much. She didn’t get involved with co-workers anymore. “You don’t know that.”

  “Accept the compliment, Amanda.”

  She could hear the laughter in his voice. “Fine. Thank you. I’m glad you think I’m a good person based on our intimate acquaintance of one month.” She would not think about how she would like to be acquainted with him more intimately.

  “And three years.”

  “Huh?” She opened the bathroom medicine cabinet and pulled out her toothbrush. As much as she liked the warm contentment she got from talking to him, she needed sleep. She needed to g
et off the phone before she got a second–or third, or possibly tenth–wind and was back at insomnia square one.

  “It’s not like we met for the first time this week.”

  “Whatever." She stripped off her sweaty clothes and threw them in the hamper. "I appreciate you calling to see how I’m doing. It’s nice of you. But I’m finally tired, so I need to go to bed.”

  “One more thing,” he said.

  She actually blushed when she realized she was now completely naked, talking to the first man to catch her interest in months. Heat threaded through her body, centered low in her belly. “Quickly.” She really had to get off the phone.

  “We can talk more tomorrow about what Al and I learned today. But I thought you should know, your dad’s a person of interest.”

  Chapter 9

  The delicious anticipation of a moment ago drained away. Amanda sank onto the toilet, the porcelain cold against her skin. She leaned her face into her free hand, her grip on the phone tightening. She’d known this would happen. Hell, she’d told Dad it would happen. But knowing it was a possibility and hearing it was a reality were two different things.

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “This isn’t just because of probability. There’s evidence.”

  “He didn’t do it.” She waited for anger or frustration or disbelief or some other emotion. But nothing came. She’d gone numb. Stress and exhaustion had pushed her to her limit. “I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Amanda." Greg paused and silence stretched between them. "I am sorry about all this.”

  She shouldn’t believe him. He thought her father was a killer. But it was in the heavy sincerity of his tone; he truly was sorry. “I know. And you’ll see. He didn’t do it.”

  Amanda stared at her computer, trying to concentrate on Martina Ryder’s preliminary autopsy report. But she couldn’t get her father’s forlorn, defeated face out of her mind. She was the worst daughter in the world. She knew he didn’t do it, knew he couldn’t physically hurt another human, least of all his wife. But for all her training and hard work, she couldn’t protect him.

  “Amanda.”

  Zack, her ex, leaned against Al’s desk. Long legs crossed, thick arms folded over his barrel chest, he was the picture of relaxed friendliness. And a master of illusion.

  Perfect. Because what she needed was more torture. The day wasn’t already bad enough. And what the hell was he doing here on a Saturday anyway? All he ever did was whine and complain about having to work occasional overtime.

  She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. Maybe if she didn't look, he would go away. “What do you want, Zack?”

  He gave her his trademark condescending smile. “I have news. I thought you should hear it from me.”

  Amanda struggled to hold onto the itty bitty threads holding the net around her temper. “So tell me. Then leave me alone. Because unless it has to do with a case, I don’t care.”

  He nodded. “You might not think that once you hear what I have to say.”

  Arrogant prick. How had she honestly believed he loved her? Zack loved only himself. Worse, how had she believed she loved him?

  She didn’t trust herself to speak without going off on him about everything that was wrong in her life–a list that did not include their ancient history relationship. She merely nodded for him to continue.

  Zack pushed off the desk and squatted beside her. Reached for her hand.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back in her chair and gave him her hardest stare.

  Zack sighed. “Fine. Anyway, I didn’t want you to hear this from someone else.” He paused dramatically. “I’m getting married.”

  He watched her, waiting for a reaction.

  She gave none. Because she didn’t feel anything. Perhaps a little pity for his new fiancée. Better her than Amanda.

  “That’s great. I’m thrilled for you,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “Are you?”

  For fuck’s sake. She did not have the patience for this. “Sure. Why not?" She threw up her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Honestly, I don’t care.”

  His expression turned sad, his pale brows creasing over his blue eyes.

  There it was, why she’d once believed herself in love with him. She’d always been a sucker for blue eyes.

  Another pair of blue eyes flashed into her head. Deeper and more soulful. Framed by dark brows and dark hair and a slow, sexy smile. Her heart thumped, the mental picture of Greg’s face easing her tension.

  “After everything we’ve been through, you really don’t care that I’m marrying someone else? Not at all?”

  “No.” Did it make her a bad person that she derived satisfaction from popping his ego balloon? “It’s been two years since we broke up. I’m over it.”

  His face hardened, his eyes going blank. He shook his head as he rose. “This is why it never worked for us. You lock up your feelings and don’t let anyone in.”

  Whereas he told the whole world how fantastic he was.

  “And here I thought I’d do the right thing and make sure you heard it from me and not the grapevine.”

  She could not take another second of his blather. She shoved to her feet and got in his face. “You arrogant prick. Do you honestly think with everything I have going on, your life amounts to even the tiniest blip on my radar? I don't give a rat’s ass that you’re subjecting another woman to putting up with you. My stepmother is in the morgue, my family is devastated, and my father is, as we speak, being interrogated. So what the fuck makes you think I give a shit about you?” Fury burned her cheeks as she rose on tiptoe to get closer to him.

  He stared at her, stunned. “You don’t even like Karen.”

  Oh. My. God. “Get out.” She stepped back and pointed toward the door. “Get the hell out of here. Because I swear to God, I will break your neck if you’re still here in five seconds.”

  He shuffled away, turning once to glance back at her. She gave him a death look and he disappeared.

  Deflated, she dropped back to her chair. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it felt good to get out some of her anger. She felt looser inside. Like she could breathe again.

  “I see Zack's still working his magic on the ladies."

  She didn’t have to look up to know Greg stood next to her. She knew his voice too well. Could feel the electricity in the air when he got close.

  “At least I came to my senses in time. Maybe this new one will too.” She didn’t have the energy to talk to Greg right now. Didn’t have the energy for much of anything. She wanted to take Dad home, then go to her own home and sleep for a month. Until the nightmare was over.

  “I never understood how any woman could tolerate his ego.” Greg propped his hip on the corner of her desk.

  She finally looked at him. Their gazes met and her stomach jolted. “Aren’t you supposed to be interrogating my dad?” She tried to muster up the bitterness she felt inside, but couldn’t quite find it. Not when Greg looked at her with heat in his eyes. Not when he made her so restless and edgy.

  “For what it's worth, I’m sorry. But the evidence suggests he’s the best place to start.” His face creased into a deep frown and she believed him.

  It still didn’t make it right.

  “You could have waited until Monday. It is the weekend.” Yeah. Right. Like Brown wasn’t dogging their every move on this case, making sure they worked on it more than 24/7.

  “You know that’s not true.” He sounded genuinely apologetic.

  Needing to be on even ground, she stood and faced him.

  Except now their faces were too close together, their bodies aligned. She grew even more aware of every breath he took, every time he blinked. The faint crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

  Their gazes met and held. She couldn’t make herself look away. She couldn’t read what he was telling her, or what he was asking. All she knew was the room faded, narrowing to the two of them.

  “I really am s
orry. I wish...”

  He reached out and covered her forearm with his big, warm hand. His touch jolted through her like electroshock therapy. She froze, momentarily stunned.

  His eyes dropped to her lips. She couldn’t stop herself from poking her tongue out to moisten them.

  With a low groan, he stepped back. “I should get back in there.”

  Still dazed from whatever just happened between them, she merely nodded.

  “If you believe it wasn’t your dad, find us proof.”

  She forced herself out of her lust-crazed stupor and gave a humorless laugh. “Sure. No problem.”

  He went to his desk and rummaged around in a drawer. “He gave us permission to search the house. Maybe you can find something we didn’t realize is relevant.”

  He was right. As much as she wished she could just tell them her dad was innocent and that would be enough, the legal system wasn’t set up that way.

  File in hand, he returned to Amanda. He raised his other hand as if he were going to touch her again, then shoved it in his pocket. “I need to go.”

  She refused to look up at him. She couldn’t take another jolt to the heart. She nodded toward the folder. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.” He moved the folder behind his back in what he probably thought was a subtle move.

  Now she did look at him, eyes narrowed. “If it’s nothing, tell me what’s in there.”

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze, furthering her suspicion of what was in the folder.

  “You can’t show him those.” Seeing Karen’s mutilated body would destroy Dad. He’d been tough because he had to be, but being questioned as a suspect would be hard enough on him. He would crumble if he saw the photos.

  “Show him what?”

  Greg didn’t play dumb very well. “You can’t show him what she looked like. I know we do it all the time, but you can’t.”

  “Amanda—“

  Panic churning in her stomach, she spoke without thinking. “Give me an hour.” In an hour she could think of a way to stop him from showing Dad the gruesome images. It was Saturday; she didn't technically have to be here.