by Ana Leigh
"It's not going to be easier either way, Doug. I know what you have to say, but I had to hear it from you. That's the only way I'll know for sure and can quit fooling myself."
"Jess, we're both adults. We knew this couldn't last when we started. But it was a great ride while it lasted."
She took it without even flinching. But like he'd always said, she had a lot of class.
"Well, that's what I came to hear. Sorry to have bothered you." She turned to leave.
She didn't deserve this. Not Jess. Not this way. He couldn't let her walk out of there without an explanation.
"Wait." He was on her before she could take two steps, and made the mistake of putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her around. Then it was too late.
Pulling her into his arms, his mouth swooped down and captured hem with a hunger that made mockery of the words he'd just spoken to her.
"How can I let you go, Jess?" he murmured when he broke the kiss. "I can't," he repeated over and over as he covered her face with a multitude of rapid, insatiable kisses. It took a long moment before he realized he was tasting her tears.
Doug picked her up and carried her over to the chair and sat down, holding her on his lap. "There are some things I can't have, no matter how much I want them. It tears me up to know I'm not good enough for you, that's why I have to let you go. But I can't do it by myself. You've got to help me. It's got to come from both of us."
"How can I? I love you, Doug. And I don't understand why you keep saying you're no good for me. Is that an excuse to avoid commitment? I've tried to understand, but the more we're together, the less any excuse makes sense. Why let whatever baggage you're carrying from the past destroy our future? I can't help you if you're going to keep it all inside."
She was right. It was show-and-tell time. "I don't know where to begin."
"How about why you shut me out of your life when you're facing a crisis. You did it when Vic almost died, and again with your father. Am I just someone to be there for the good times, Doug? Don't you see, I want to be there for you through the bad times, too? Did you stop to think how badly I want you to need me then?"
"Jess, I made a conscious decision to become a cop. But when I did, I also decided I wouldn't put a woman I love through what my mother went through. I grew up watching her heartache every time my dad went out the door."
"There are many professions that involve risk-taking. And men die every day of heart attacks or traffic accidents. But no one can go through life wondering if this is the day they'll die. But if you feel that strongly about it, what's stopping you from quitting the police force if that's what is preventing you from having a normal life – whatever a normal life is?"
"Easier said than done. There are deep hang-ups we often develop as a child and carry into our adult life. And they're a lot deeper than disliking liver or asparagus."
"And you have such a hang-up."
"I grew up resenting my father for what he put my mother through."
"That's common, Doug. A lot of children grow up resenting their mother or father. You've studied enough psychology to understand that."
"But we were never able to bridge the gap. He was a strict disciplinarian whose son couldn't do anything right in his eyes."
"So you got even by becoming a rebellious teenager, right? That's textbook, Doug."
"Yeah … but I wasn't as bad as some, but not as good as others. I smoked a little pot now and then, got drunk a few times and my buddies and I went for a couple of joyrides in cars we hot-wired. I never got pulled in, but I knew it annoyed the hell out of my dad. By the time I left for college, I knew I was leaving home for good."
"But surely your father must have been pleased when you joined the police force."
"At first, but then the rift widened when I became a homicide detective. He had no use for homicide detectives. He scoffed at them being called the elite of the force. He believed the true police force was the officer on the street. And when I told him that I went into it for the puzzle-solving and not for justice to be served, it only aggravated him more. We've rarely spoken in the last ten years."
"I'm so sorry, Doug."
"When I went back for his funeral, I had a long talk with my mother. We spoke of the same things I've just told you, and she got very upset with me. She told me how much she loved him through all those years of putting his interests above her own. She said I didn't understand the depth of love. That when you really love someone, that person's loves and interests will always come first. It doesn't matter if that devotion isn't reciprocated. What matters is your love for that person. She said she has never regretted one day of her marriage that I considered to be painful and heartbreaking to her. That she'd give up everything she possessed if she could have one more day with him. She told me I should be ashamed of myself for resenting my father all through the years, instead of embracing him with the same pride and devotion she felt."
"Oh, Doug." She hugged him. "I'm sure she didn't mean to condemn you. She was grieving the loss of the man she loved."
"I understand that, Jess. But you see, I did love him. All I ever wanted from him was a word of approval. Some sign that he loved me. And because I didn't get it, I let him go to his grave believing I didn't love him. Guess it's too late to tell him now."
"How can you be so certain he didn't know?" she asked. "You respected his profession enough to choose it for your own, didn't you? What better way of showing your love? And if solving puzzles was your only motive, there are a dozen federal agencies you could have selected, but you chose a city's local police force. Don't you think that's quite revealing? Since you're such a puzzle solver, it shouldn't be too difficult to put those pieces together, Detective McGuire."
She stood up. "But why do you think a penance of making our lives miserable will appease the guilt you're feeling now."
"Jess, right now I'm exhausted, grief-stricken and guilt-ridden. I need your understanding."
"Doug, I understand your exhaustion, your grief and your guilt. I don't understand what it's got to do with us and our feelings for each other."
"I thought I made that clear. My mother said when you love someone you put that person's interests above your own. That's what I'm doing. I won't let you live under the same strain she did."
"Fine. There's an easy solution. Quit the force. By your own admission, you're not a dedicated lawman like your father was." She sat back down on his lap. "So you admit you love me?"
He'd come this far, so what would be gained by holding back. "Yes."
"Then trust me on this. I can handle anything that comes my way as long as you don't shut me out. Do you still want me to leave?"
"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"
"Not true. You admitted you loved me, Doug. That's all I need to hear. Anything else we can work out together."
He wove his fingers through hers, then raised it and kissed her palm. "You make it sound easy, Jess. I wish it were."
"It will be, my love. I'll be there to help you through it," she murmured softly.
"Your father is right. You don't listen."
"I'd be a pretty poor judge if I didn't listen. My job depends upon it. I've learned to tell when someone isn't being honest. That's why I know you aren't when you say you want me out of your life."
"I never said I wanted you out of my life, Jess. I'm saying it's for your own good."
"That's very noble of you, Doug, and I love you more for it, my darling, but I'm not a Dresden doll that will crack when dropped. I'd never have chosen law if I was that fragile."
"Just why did you choose it?"
"Actually, I intended to pursue a career in teaching."
"What changed your mind?" he asked.
The laughter left her eyes. She leaned her head against his chest. "My sister's death."
"You want to talk about it?"
"I've never discussed it with anyone except my dad and mother."
"So like me, you've held the
pain inside for too long. You made me get mine out, Jess. It's time you get yours out, too."
She began hesitantly. "Karen was only seventeen when she died. Two years older than I was. She was a freshman at UW up at Madison. She was so beautiful, Doug. Blond hair, bright blue eyes."
"Yes, I've noticed. That's her in that picture with you, isn't it?"
"But that's just external. Her real beauty came from within. To know her was to love her. She loved life … and people. One night on the way back to her dorm, she was raped and murdered. They've never found the man who did it."
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, and wished he hadn't forced her to stir up these painful memories. He'd already upset her enough this past week.
Jess took a deep, shuddering sigh. "So that's why I went into law. It angers me, as much as it hurts me, to know that whoever did it might still be out there." She raised her head and looked up beseechingly. "You understand, don't you, Doug?" Tears were streaking her cheeks.
His own problem was of no consequence. Jess was hurting. She looked so heartbroken that he was overwhelmed by an urge to protect her. He loved her and wished he could absorb her pain and bring the laughter back into her eyes.
She was struggling to force back her tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry. I thought I could get through this without tears."
"Let them out, sweetheart." Tears were a cathartic, and she needed to purge herself of the pain she had held in for all those past years. "It's okay, honey," he whispered over and over into her ear, and pressed a kiss to it.
He kissed her gently on the lips and he felt her quiver, then arch instinctively against him. She parted her lips and kissed him back. They were soft and he felt them tremble beneath his. He drank in the sweetness of them, and then traced his lips along her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. The tears of his precious Dresden doll, too tough to crack. This time the thought made him smile.
He raised a hand and slid his fingers along her jaw, then buried his fingers under the silky thickness of the hair at the nape of her neck. The usual serenity of her gaze now glistened with tears. When he tenderly placed a kiss on each eyelid, she slipped her arms around his neck.
The moment was one of intimacy and need that had nothing to do with the lust of passion, yet the urge to hold and make love to her was just as great.
He carried her into the bedroom, laid her down gently on the bed and slowly undressed her. She made no sound as he shed his own clothes, and then he lay down beside her. Their gazes locked in understanding. The need was to soothe the ache in their psyches, not their bodies. As they lay in the sanctuary of their shared love, the tempestuousness of any of their previous lovemaking had been replaced by a peaceful rhythm of light touches, tender caresses, gentle kisses until they reached that sublime moment that bound their bodies together.
And after, holding her snuggled against him, they drifted into sleep.
* * *
Chapter 18
«^»
Doug woke up in the middle of the night and turned over in bed. Jess lay asleep beside him. For the longest time he just lay watching the even rise and fall of her breathing.
The air conditioner had finally cooled down the apartment, so he got out of bed and put on his boxers, and then covered her with the sheet. Still he couldn't pull himself away from the bedside. He would never tire of just looking at Jess.
It gave him a strange feeling to see her sleeping peacefully in his bed. She looked so natural there. Certainly more so than he did among her silk sheets.
But it touched something deeper within him. It made him feel she was safe – protected. The world could no longer hurt her as long as she was there. He'd see to that.
They were a pair all right. Both carried baggage that could destroy them if they let it. Like he'd almost done. But she wasn't going to let that happen to him – and he, for damn sure, wasn't going to let that happen to her. And it felt damn good knowing this.
Unable to sleep, Doug went out to the kitchen. Since he was officially back on the case, he gathered together his working file of the murders, copies of reports and notes from the case file that he'd been accumulating since Gilbert's murder. It was time he put all of the puzzle pieces together his way.
There was nothing unique about his approach. His formula for a murder case was to set up a table with four columns: Motive, Opportunity, Means and Connection to the Victim, and plug in a name. He'd then analyze the final result for whoever's name appeared the most often on the chart. Up to now he had completed the chart through Bellemy's murder, but had not had time to approach it since.
To date, Liz Alexander's, Ben Kirkland's and Jess's names appeared most often – their motive being their devotion to Jess, who had been publicly condemned for throwing these cases out of court. Although he believed Jess had nothing to do with the murders, he had to include her name in order to tie the other two to the case. Thank goodness she hadn't presided at Sanderson's trial, because it helped to knock all three out of the running.
He picked up the additional information he'd accumulated on Marcus Sands, aka Mark Sanderson. It was the first time he had the chance to go over it because of the interruption due to his father's death.
It was simply a brief report relating to the arrest of the suspect, his subsequent incarceration and the chain of events leading up to his trial. From what Doug read, he saw nothing that linked Ben Kirkland or Liz Alexander to Sanderson. Maybe Vic was right, Sands's murder might have been a copycat killing.
He started to put the paper aside when one line in the last paragraph caught his attention. The hair at his nape stood on end.
Originally assigned to the court of Judge Jessica Kirkland, she recused herself for prejudicial reasons because of the similarity between the decedent's murder and that of her sister's.
Doug groaned. Dammit, not one stinking break in the case. He entered Jess, Liz and Ben in the motive column.
"What are you doing at this late hour?" Jess had approached from behind him. She slid her arms around him, leaned over and nibbled at his ear.
He hadn't even heard her approach. He was really slipping. He turned the chart over and put it facedown. "Just catching up on my homework."
"Aha! So this is how the fabulous Detective McGuire solves his cases," she teased. Before he could stop her, she snatched it up.
"Jess, give it to me."
Too late, she had already started to read it. "Motive, Liz Alexander. Ben … Kirkland … Jess." She looked at him, stunned. "These names are your suspects?"
"Jess, you don't understand."
"You're right, Doug. I don't understand. How could you make love to me, tell me you love me and consider me a possible murderer?"
"Believe me, Jess, I've never considered you one. I rule people out with this method as well."
Still visibly shaken, it was as if she wasn't even listening. "And you've made my father and my best friend suspects as well." She looked at him like a wounded deer. "How could you?"
"It's a giant puzzle, Jess. This is how I put the pieces together until the puzzle is completed."
"A puzzle! You're talking about people. People I love dearly. Someone you claim to love. We aren't puzzle pieces to be moved around. We're human beings." She picked up the paper he had just read, and paled after reading it. "You even knew about Karen and you pretended not to. You let me run on about it. What were you hoping for, Doug? That I'd trip myself up somewhere along the way, and you'd have your murderer." She ran out of the kitchen.
Doug followed her. "Jess, I just read that myself. I didn't know how your sister died. I swear it."
She wouldn't even look at him. She finished dressing, and grabbed her purse. "Goodbye, Doug. I never want to see or hear from you again. Good luck on finding your killer. I can only suggest you come up with some new suspects because the ones you have aren't murderers."
"Jess, for the love of God, please listen to me."
She was already out the door. He was in his bo
xers and couldn't chase after her. By the time he got into a pair of shorts and got downstairs, she had gotten into her car and pulled away.
Doug went back upstairs and dialed Jess's number. He left a pleading message on her answering machine to call him. He knew she wouldn't, but he was desperate.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. He'd really screwed up this time. There was no turning back. She was through with him, and meant it. She never wanted to see him again.
Picking up the pillow, he buried his nose in her scent, then reached for the phone and dialed her again, hoping against hope, she'd answer. He left another message.
It was useless to go back to the chart. He'd never be able to concentrate, so he reached over and turned on the lamp. In her haste to leave, Jess had left her earrings behind. With a shuddering sigh he picked them up, and as he stared at them, the detective's memory for details kicked in and penetrated the haze of his misery. He'd seen one like it before.
Doug bolted off the bed and hurried into the kitchen. Shuffling quickly through the papers, he found what he was looking for: the photos of the four earrings he'd found in Marcus Sands's locker. One of the photos matched the gold and pearl earrings he held in his hand.
Adrenaline pumped through him in a flood tide. Galvanized into action, he wrote down two addresses, and then went back to the bedroom and put on a suit.
Before leaving, he called the number of the security desk at Jess's condominium. Charlie answered.
"This is McGuire. Did Judge Kirkland get home okay?"
"Yeah, she pulled in about five minutes ago. What happened, McGuire, you two lovebirds have a spat?"
"When I write my memoirs, pal, you can read all about it." He hung up.
Doug knew he'd get nowhere trying to get Jess to even listen to his questions, so he'd have to make a couple more enemies that night. He checked the address he'd written down and drove to Liz Alexander's house. She lived in a small ranch house in the residential section of a northside suburb. He wasn't surprised to see the black Cadillac parked in the driveway.
