by Jane Graves
He didn’t know how to get through to her. Other people were easy to deal with because intimidation always worked when nothing else did. But trying to intimidate Valerie Parker was like threatening a grizzly bear—it only made her mad.
“Can we just go somewhere and talk about this?” he asked.
“It’s pointless. I can’t help you.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
She raised her chin, her jaw tightening with anger. “Do you really think I’d deliberately withhold evidence that might prove you didn’t do it?”
Yes. That was exactly what he thought. He didn’t care how many years had passed. That unholy anger she’d unleashed on him back then couldn’t possibly have dimmed to the point of rationality, and she might not think twice about taking it out on him now. The irony was unbelievable. If she was looking for revenge, the perfect opportunity had just landed squarely in her lap.
“I’d like to think you wouldn’t,” he said, “but I know we’ve got history here. If you let that get in the way of—”
“My God.” She recoiled, giving him a look of utter astonishment. “You really do believe I’d let you go to prison just to settle some old score, don’t you?”
What was he supposed to say to that? After what had happened between them, it was possible that not only would she nail his coffin shut, she’d grab a shovel and bury it six feet under.
“Look, let’s just forget I said that, okay? Of course you wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re patronizing me, Alex. I can hear it in your voice a mile away, so don’t even try it.”
He expelled a harsh breath. “What do you want me to say here, Val? Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want?”
“All I want is for you to leave me alone.”
“You really believe I killed her, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer for a long time. Finally she shrugged indifferently, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t in the house at the time. I have no way of knowing whether you did it or not.”
“Come on, Val! Do you really believe I tied Shannon Reichert to that bed and strangled her?”
“You’re strong. Very strong. And if you got involved in something with Shannon that went a little beyond the norm and you both got carried away, you might not have realized—”
“I didn’t get involved with her at all!” He clenched his teeth, wishing he could put his fist right through one of these crappy old washing machines, but then somebody might accuse him of having a violent temper, and he sure as hell couldn’t afford that right now.
“No one believes that I’d murder someone in cold blood. No one. But having kinky sex with a stranger and strangling her—nobody has any problem believing that.”
“So you didn’t have sex with her?”
“No!”
“Come on, Alex. She looked plenty naked when I got there.”
“That was her own doing, not mine. And I was dressed, wasn’t I?”
“You had time to put your clothes back on.”
“Things were not what they looked like. If you knew what really happened—”
“Don’t you get it?” she said. “It doesn’t matter what really happened! All that matters is that you look guilty. So damned guilty that even if you’re not, you’re never going to prove it. I don’t care if I saw an army of serial killers outside that house last night. You were the one in there. You were the one with the torn shirt and her lipstick all over you. It was your belt around her neck. And nothing I say or do is going to change that!”
She piled the folded towels on top of the unfolded ones in the laundry basket and picked it up off the counter. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to set it down again.
“Val. Don’t go.”
She let out a sharp breath, closing her eyes in a gesture of frustration.
“Look at me,” he said.
She turned slowly, and for the first time, the look of accusation seemed to disappear from her eyes. He met her gaze without blinking, offering her the one and only thing he had left: the truth.
“I had nothing to do with Shannon Reichert’s murder.”
In that moment he felt that old connection between them, a connection so powerful and so elemental that he couldn’t deny it any more now than he’d been able to deny it five years ago. But just as quickly she severed it again, her expression becoming cold and indifferent.
“Then get yourself a really good lawyer, Alex. You’re going to need one.”
She pulled her arm from his grip, picked the basket up, and strode out of the Laundromat. And his best hope for some kind of explanation for what had happened last night walked right out the door with her.
For the first time since he woke up on the Reicherts’ bedroom floor, Alex felt powerless—totally powerless to stop the legal machine that was going to smash him like a steamroller. He’d thought maybe she could help him, that maybe a memory would suddenly appear that would lead him to discover who else had been in that house. But that was never going to happen.
As the glass door shut behind her, Alex slammed his fist down on the lid of a nearby washing machine. The metal rattled wildly. The old lady reading her magazine looked up at him with a shocked expression. She got up off the sofa and shuffled over to sit in a brown plastic chair on the other side of the room, watching him suspiciously the whole time.
Christ, he was falling apart. Right now when he needed to keep his cool, he was losing it.
The next time he saw Val would be in court. He would be forced to sit there and listen to her recount the events of last night calmly and coolly, as if there had never been anything between them. She would tell the jury how she’d rushed into that house to find him half-crazed, disoriented, his clothes torn, and Shannon Reichert naked. Dead.
And the worst part of all was that she wouldn’t be lying.
He watched through the window as Val walked half a block up the street, the afternoon breeze swirling her hair wildly around her head. Then she turned and strode across the street toward her apartment building. Jaywalking, of course. Did she ever do anything according to the rules?
Then he heard a loud crack. Instantly he knew what it was.
Gunfire.
In the same moment, Val spun hard to one side, the laundry basket slipping out of her hands and hitting the ground, spilling towels onto the street.
And then she crumpled to the pavement beside it.
chapter six
Alex yanked the Laundromat door open and raced out into the hot summer afternoon. Cars ground to a halt, their drivers getting out and gaping at Val lying in the street. Alex felt a jolt of foreboding that by the time he got to her, he was going to be holding a dead woman in his arms.
He leaped off the curb and into the street, shoving people aside before finally kneeling down beside Val. He felt a flush of relief when he saw she was moving, then a rush of panic again when he saw her clutching the side of her head and blood oozing between her fingers.
She was conscious. At least she was conscious.
He knocked the laundry basket out of the way and grabbed one of the towels. He tossed it over his shoulder, then swept Val into his arms and headed back toward the Laundromat. Whoever had pulled the trigger might be waiting to pull it again.
“Call nine-one-one!” he shouted to onlookers. “Tell them there’s been a shooting!”
After seeing several people dive into pockets and purses for cell phones, Alex carried Val into the Laundromat and laid her on the red vinyl sofa away from the plate-glass window in the front. He knelt beside her, pried her hand away from her temple, and immediately pressed the towel to it. She sucked in a quick, sharp breath, hissing with pain.
“I know it hurts,” he told her. “Just hold on.”
After a few seconds he pulled it away again and saw, to his immense relief, that the bullet had only grazed her temple, going just deep enough to bleed like crazy. Blood had never bothered him. Lord, he’d seen enough of it to last him a li
fetime. So why was his stomach churning at the sight of it now?
“Alex,” she murmured. “What happened?”
“You were shot.”
“Shot?”
She held her hand up in front of her, and her face blanched. “Blood. Oh, God. I’m not very good with blood.”
“It’s okay. The bullet just grazed you.”
“Feels like it went a foot deep.”
“I know it hurts, but it’s not bad. Head wounds just bleed a lot. You’re going to be okay.”
“I can’t look at the blood. I mean it, Alex. I can’t—”
“Close your eyes.”
She did as he said, taking a deep, shaky breath. Alex continued to hold the towel to her head, his palm against her opposite cheek. He heard a siren in the distance.
“Did you see anyone?” he asked her.
“No. No one.”
Blood seeped through the towel, and Alex pressed harder. Val grimaced with pain. “Somebody wants me dead.”
“No. It was probably just a random shooting. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are a lot of nuts out there.”
Alex heard the siren come closer, then the plaintive downward spiral of it falling silent. A moment later he looked over to see two officers coming through the door. One he didn’t recognize. Thank God the other one was Ford. He wanted somebody competent to deal with this. To find out who had pulled that trigger and find out now.
Ford came up beside them, a startled look on his face. “Alex? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. She was shot while she was crossing the street. I carried her in here to get her out of the line of fire.”
“How bad is it?”
“Flesh wound. Deep, but it just grazed her. Another inch to the left …”
Jesus. He couldn’t even say it. Another inch to the left, and she’d be dead right now.
Ford knelt down beside them. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
She blinked her eyes open. “Valerie Parker.”
A flicker of recognition lit Ford’s eyes. He turned back to Alex. “Does this have anything to do with last night?”
So he’d heard. Of course he had. By now everyone had.
“I don’t know.”
Ford turned to Val. “Do you have any idea who did this?”
“No. I didn’t see anyone. Came out of nowhere.”
“Do you know of anyone who might want to take a shot at you?”
“No. No one.”
Another siren wailed in the distance. Ford turned to the other officer. “Check out the situation outside, will you?”
The officer nodded and left the Laundromat.
Ford turned to Alex. “You need to clear out of here.”
“What?”
“Getting in the middle of another situation that looks fishy isn’t going to help your case any. Just get out of here, okay?”
Val reached her hand up and grasped Alex’s arm. She looked up at him plaintively, her face ashen. “Don’t go.”
She was scared. She’d nearly been killed, and she was scared to death, even though he couldn’t imagine that Val Parker would be scared of the devil himself. He’d always thought of her as a woman with a coat of armor over her coat of armor. But not now.
Suddenly all the animosity between them seemed to have disappeared. His hand still rested against her face, opposing the towel he was holding against her temple on the other side. Without even thinking, he stroked his thumb lightly back and forth across her cheek. She tightened her hand against his arm, letting her eyes drop closed again, and he knew that nothing on earth could make him leave her now.
“You’d better secure the area,” he told Ford, his gaze still fixed on Val. “And make sure you find that bullet. Will you let me know when you do?”
“Alex—”
“Just go.”
He stood up. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll let you know.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “Just so you know, I was going to come by and see you today. That murder accusation is bullshit. I don’t know what really went on, but I do know that redhead was a disaster looking for a place to happen.”
“It looks bad for me. I wouldn’t blame you if you kept your distance.”
“No way. I’m with you a hundred percent, buddy. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
“Thanks, Ford.”
As Ford left the Laundromat, Val’s eyes came open again. “Last night. This has something to do with last night, doesn’t it?”
“Shh. Don’t think about that now.”
He wanted to believe that it was a random attack. Tried to believe it. But he didn’t buy coincidences. He had the nagging feeling that Ford had hit on it right away—whoever had pulled that trigger had done it because he’d found out that Val had been outside the Reichert house last night. The gunman had been trying to eliminate a possible witness to a murder, and he’d come within an inch of succeeding.
When the paramedics finally showed up and took Val to the ambulance, Alex walked alongside her, ignoring the curious stares of the other officers who’d arrived on the scene. In the end, they took Ford’s lead and acted as if his being there were nothing out of the ordinary. Alex knew the gossip would start the moment he left, but for now everybody was keeping their mouths shut.
As they loaded Val into the ambulance, Alex headed for his car. She hadn’t asked him to come to the hospital, but he was coming just the same.
He got into his car and paused a moment, thinking about those few seconds after the shot had been fired, when he didn’t know if Val was dead or alive. He’d felt a gut-level reaction that had nothing to do with the usual response he’d have to a shooting victim. It had everything to do with the fact that the victim was Val.
No.
He brushed off the feeling, reminding himself that Val was nothing more to him than a momentary temptation he’d given in to at a highly inopportune time. It had brought both of them nothing but grief. He’d known what was right that night, and he’d ignored it at his peril. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. He had to keep his hands off her. He had to keep his distance.
But he had to keep her alive.
Ten minutes later he reached Tolosa Medical Center, a sprawling complex consisting of a hospital, a research center, and a pair of seven-story towers that housed doctors’ offices.
Alex hated the sight of it.
Anytime he’d been there in a nonofficial capacity, something had always been wrong, something he couldn’t fix, something that made him feel helpless. His mother had died at this hospital years ago after finally losing a long battle with cancer. He’d been only ten at the time. Her death had been painful beyond description for him, but at least he’d been prepared for it.
His father’s death had been another story entirely.
On that cold winter day eight years ago, Joseph DeMarco had had no idea that the guy he’d pulled over on a routine traffic stop had a body in his trunk that he didn’t want discovered. The moment he walked alongside the car, he’d been gunned down. A single bullet to the chest, right there at the side of the road.
Alex and his brothers had been called to the hospital. Alex still remembered the profound anger and helplessness he’d felt when he went to his father’s bedside. All three of them had been there—he, John, and Dave—but it was Alex he reached for, the favored son, the one he knew had followed in his footsteps so closely. In a raspy, breathless voice, he spoke his dying words.
Get the bastard.
Two days later, bone-tired from lack of sleep, Alex had finally located the guy in a run-down cinder-block house on the south side. When he barricaded himself inside, Alex called in SWAT to help pull him out, and somehow he’d managed to refrain from personally doing the job of the judge and the jury right there on the spot.
Alex’s hands tightened against the steering wheel. He was experiencing the same kind of anger now that he’d felt back then. Instead of fading
as the minutes passed, it grew with every breath.
But why? It had been his father back then, for God’s sake. Not a woman who drove him crazy with every word she spoke, who just might be the person whose testimony would send him to prison for a very long time. Still, he kept thinking about the look in Val’s eyes as she stared up at him in that Laundromat, grasped his arm, and begged him not to go.
She wanted you with her. You.
No. She’d acted out of fear. That was all. She’d have clung to anyone at that moment, anyone who she thought could protect her. And he had no doubt that when she came to her senses, she’d never even consider touching him again.
An hour and a half later, Val lay on an emergency room bed, a hard, white-sheeted platform with a rocky pillow that would have been right at home in a medieval torture chamber. She’d bumped her head on the pavement when she fell, but since her neurological exam had been normal they hadn’t deemed a CT scan to be necessary. Still, she had strict instructions from the nurse that she wasn’t to leave until somebody returned to check her out.
One of the patrol cops had dropped by to question her about the shooting, but it had been a brief interview. What could she possibly tell him beyond what she’d told the other cop she’d talked to at the scene? No, she hadn’t seen anything. And no, there wasn’t anyone she knew of who might want her dead.
Except maybe Shannon Reichert’s killer.
She’d mentioned that as a possibility, and the cop dutifully made a note of it, though he didn’t seem particularly convinced that it was even a viable scenario. Neither one of them mentioned the fact that if what she speculated was true, it meant that someone besides Alex had killed Shannon. And with the mountain of evidence against him, who in the world was going to believe that?
Val sighed impatiently, wishing the nurse would return so she could get out of here. Her headache had been reduced to a dull throb, courtesy of the pain medication the woman had insisted she take, but she didn’t think much of the loopy feeling she was starting to get as a result of it. Then she touched the gauze bandage on her temple and wondered if the stitches would leave a scar.
