Secret Witness

by Jessica Andersen

  Instead, all it had proved was that the same man had raped Mae Wong and killed Honey Moreplease, and Steph had the distinct impression that the knowledge bothered Reid.

  She’d watched enough forensics programs on TV to know that serial rapists, like serial killers, had patterns that rarely changed. So why had the same man raped a five-year-old child, then killed a thirty-something prostitute? And what about the other rapes she’d heard Reid and Sturgeon talking about? Those victims had been older teens, and there had been no DNA left behind. No hair, no semen. And then there was the mail bomb. It had been addressed to her and timed to detonate after delivery. But what had been its purpose—to hurt her? To destroy the DNA evidence? It had done neither.

  Was the very lack of pattern his pattern? It didn’t make any sense, and Steph hated the uncertainty. She shut down the last of the machines and shivered at the sudden silence in the Wellington lab, and at the lingering smell of fire from the other side of the building. Her purse had survived the conflagration because it had been in the computer room, but her lightweight jacket had been reduced to ashes.

  No. She wouldn’t think of that now. Wouldn’t think of how close she’d come to being blown to kingdom come. Wouldn’t think of Maureen being forced to raise yet another generation’s orphan.

  “Ready?” Reid’s voice broke the silence and Steph shivered again at the sliver of heat that pierced her when he stepped near and slipped his suit jacket over her shoulders.

  She tried not to turn her nose into the collar of his jacket, nodding instead. “Ready.”

  They called the elevator in silence and she was acutely aware of the overnight bag he carried in one hand. He had packed a change of clothes at his place and neither of them had talked about the fact that he would stay with her another night.

  But the knowledge and the possibilities crackled around them like electricity as they walked to the Jazz Cat, the blues club on the Patriot/Chinatown line that Mortimer owned.

  They were to meet Maureen and Jilly there, as Mortimer hadn’t been able to get anyone to cover for him on short notice. As far as Steph was concerned, Jilly slept hard enough that a few hours at a jazz club would be fine if it meant she was safely surrounded by watchful people.

  Mortimer had assured them that he’d see to it personally. He was taking his protection of Maureen and Jilly very, very seriously, and if Steph tried to find an up side to the last few days, perhaps enforced togetherness would put an end to the long, pitched saxophone feud between Maureen and Mortimer.

  They walked through the night, silent as the darkness around them. Steph noticed that Reid kept the corner of his eye on the shadows across the street as they turned into a narrow alley. The shadows didn’t move, at least not that she could see.

  “Is someone out there?” she whispered.

  “You’re safe with me,” he answered, which wasn’t really an answer, and Stephanie almost snorted.

  On one level, she trusted Reid to keep her as safe as he possibly could. But on another level she was in the deepest danger she’d ever known, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that her heart was intent on sending her along a fast track to disaster.

  Why can’t I fall for a guy who isn’t a criminal, likes kids and likes me? Is that so much to ask? She wasn’t sure if she asked the question to take her mind off the shadow she felt slipping from parked cars to deserted doorways, but it was unanswerable just the same and she scowled as they marched through some of the seediest parts of seedy neighborhoods in order to reach the club. She’d never have walked through here alone during the day, never mind at night. But Reid was right. At least in this instance, she was safe with him. He would protect her.

  But would it be enough? There was no way to tell. She just prayed they would get a hit off one of the databases. It was her fondest wish that once she fed the DNA results into the federal database, it would burp out a name. Perhaps even an address.

  It could all be over the next day.

  “We’re here,” Reid said unnecessarily, holding open the door to Mortimer’s club. Happy laughter, light and the smooth slide of saxophone danced out into the night, seeming foreign to Stephanie. Inside the bar, people were drinking, flirting and falling in love as though there wasn’t someone out there in the darkness waiting for her to be alone.

  She shivered. Reid took a step toward her, but she shook her head and held him off. “I’m okay.” She would have to be. She slid out of his jacket and handed it to him with a murmur of thanks and the thought that she might never get his scent out of her head now. She took a deep breath of clean air, nodded and dove into the club with Reid at her heels.

  They found Maureen at a little round table off to one side of the wide wooden stage, where a twist of the speakers and a small alcove provided a quiet nook away from the press of bodies and noise. Jilly was fast asleep, wrapped in a blanket and cushioned on a pile of coats.

  “You’re here,” Maureen shot to her feet and grabbed Steph in a fierce hug that took them both by surprise. “I was worried.”

  “I’m fine, Aunt Maureen.” Steph hadn’t told her aunt about the bomb. She and Reid had agreed they would hold a council of war that evening. She bent to press a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, inhaling the little-girl scent and feeling the band around her heart loosen a little. “Is everything okay here?”

  “Sure, if you like being chained to a jazz club for hours at a time.” Maureen frowned and waved her hand at the stage, where Mortimer and several other men of various ages and colors slid into a sexy, bluesy number that Steph vaguely recognized. Mortimer’s eyes flickered over to the table in the corner, and he winked at Stephanie.

  Or perhaps Maureen.

  “You like jazz,” she reminded her aunt. “You made me listen to all those records over and over when I was a child, and when I took up the clarinet—”

  Reid interrupted the mini trip down memory lane. “Sorry, ladies, but it’s time to be going. Do you want me to carry the kid?”

  “I’ve got her.” Stephanie scooped Jilly up while Maureen flagged down a waitress, calling the harried-looking woman by name.

  “Oh, don’t worry about your tab, Mo. The boss said it’s on the house. See you next Wednesday, like always?”

  Stephanie had never seen her aunt blush that hard before. The older woman mumbled, “Yeah, see you then. Say goodnight to him for me, will you?” And hustled out the door ahead of the others.

  “Well, well,” Reid observed from close behind Steph’s shoulder. “Seems as though the saxophone war has taken a new turn.”

  Stephanie didn’t disagree, nor did she try to hide the fine tremor that rippled through her at the touch of his breath on the back of her neck. Now was not the time for such things.

  She straightened her shoulders, tightened her grip on Jilly and stepped back into the night, where the shadows seemed to press closer, held at bay only by the man at her side.

  THE WALK from the jazz club to Stephanie’s house seemed to take forever, but cabs were scarce and they were in a hurry. Reid would’ve liked to take his weapon in hand and fan it into every passing alley. He would’ve liked a helicopter hovering overhead, lighting the narrow cobbled streets and flushing away all the lurking shadows.

  He would’ve liked more backup than two women and a three-year-old kid.

  There was the sound of breaking glass from his left, and he shoved Maureen out of the way and braced himself between the women and the alley. There was a high-pitched giggle and a man’s voice, slurred with drink.

  “Jumpy, Detective?” He flinched when Stephanie touched his hand and the contact seemed to arc straight to the banked blaze in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what had him more worked up—her continued proximity or the feeling lodged in his gut that this could all go to hell in an instant.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Jumpy.”

  They continued to walk, and he could see that her energy was flagging. “Here, let me.” Though it would cripple him as a protector, he took the child
’s heavy, sleeping weight and draped it over his shoulder. Steph sighed in relief.

  “Thanks. I can’t believe how heavy she’s getting.”

  Reid didn’t reply as he herded the anxious, tired group up the granite steps to Stephanie’s townhouse. She pawed through her bag for the key to the front door.

  As he carried the kid up the stairs to the second floor, Reid couldn’t help noticing that she smelled of a soft, feminine combination of flowers and chocolate, and her warm, boneless weight felt solid and trusting in his arms. Like She Devil when she napped, all that edgy energy gone completely limp.

  Aware that Stephanie was only a step behind him, Reid laid the child on her mother’s big bed and stepped back. He didn’t look into Stephanie’s eyes, fearing the warmth he might see there. The offer of family.

  Without a word, he turned and headed for the kitchen.

  IT TOOK Steph two minutes to tuck Jilly in for the night, five to stomp down the soft emotions that had risen up at the sight of tough guy Reid Peters putting her daughter to bed, and another ten to strangle the irritation his abrupt departure had created.

  She would’ve rather strangled him. Who did he think he was? It wasn’t like she’d asked him to carry her daughter up to bed. And so what if for a very brief moment her heart had melted at the sight of those big, strong hands cradling Jilly as though she was something precious? Something loved?

  So what? She was over it now. Common sense had reasserted itself. He didn’t want kids, and he didn’t want her. He was doing his job and she was a victim. End of story.

  She showered and dressed in a pair of black bike shorts, a soft lime-green T-shirt and no bra, thinking, Eat your heart out, Detective. Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, she noticed a blinking red light in the living room. “I have one new message,” she said to the room at large, and heard a kitchen chair creak in response.

  She stabbed the answering machine button as Peters appeared in the doorway.

  “This message isn’t for you, bitch.” She gasped and held her hands over her ears as though blocking out the cold, cruel voice would make it all go away. Why hadn’t she thought it would be him? How could she have forgotten the way the dark sibilance could reach through the telephone and grab her by the throat?

  Reid cursed and crossed the room to her as the voice continued. “It’s for the cop. Do I have your attention yet? Are you ready to do your job? Well, here it is. You and the lab whore are going to make that evidence disappear.” There was a pause and the tape hissed with dead air, then, “If you come anywhere near me, they’re all dead. Got it? Because I’ve already shown you that I know what whores deserve…” The voice faded, then came back stronger. “Maybe I’ll even let you decide, cop. The aunt…the child…or the mother? Who goes first?”

  Reid cursed again as the tape ended and the machine beeped. Steph could feel his heart beating strong and fast beneath her fingertips when he grabbed her in his arms. She didn’t resist when he pulled her close.

  But she found no comfort in it, either. She was too afraid.

  AN HOUR LATER, Reid still wanted to punch something. Break something. Kick the wall until his loafer broke through to the cobblestone street outside and kept going. But he knew that wouldn’t really solve anything.

  So he paced instead.

  Sturgeon sat at the kitchen table with Stephanie while the technicians monkeyed with her answering machine the way they were supposed to have done the day before. Maureen leaned weakly against the counter and Mortimer stood beside her looking as though it would take an army to move him. The kid had mercifully slept through all of it.

  “So, what happens now?” Stephanie asked, her voice low and flat, just as it had been ever since he’d set her away from him to call Sturgeon and the precinct, in that order.

  He’d never, ever in his life felt such a wash of pure, white-hot rage as he had when the voice on the answering machine had threatened Stephanie, her daughter and Maureen in one breath. Reid spun on his heel and paced back across the kitchen, imagining a shadowed face with his fist planted squarely in the center of it.

  “The bomb and the phone call don’t change anything.” Sturgeon answered. “You’ll go to the lab with Detective Peters and work the DNA evidence and Maureen and Jilly will stay with Mortimer.”

  “I want more protection for them than that,” Reid snarled. “Put a couple of uniforms on the house and the street.”

  But Sturgeon shook his head. “Not visibly. We’ll have officers in place, but we’ll want them to keep a low profile.”

  “Bait?” Peters’s voice cracked, it climbed so high. “You’re using them as bait? No way, no how. I want them out of here. Today.”

  “No,” Sturgeon countered. “We’re not using civilians as bait, you know better than that. They’ll be fully protected, it just won’t be obvious. Besides, what else would you have them do, hop a plane to Fiji?”

  Reid nodded. “Yes. Fiji. Everyone clears out until all this is over. Great idea.”

  “I was kidding,” Sturgeon mumbled, and Reid scowled.

  “Well I’m not. I want them all someplace safe until we’ve got this guy. He’s escalating. You said so yourself. What do you think comes next?” A parade of images flashed through Reid’s mind. Red curls in the center of a stained bedspread. A dark-haired girl curled around a rag doll, each more bloody than the other.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Stephanie said, and Reid scowled, thinking of handcuffing her and loading her aboard a plane bound for somewhere far away. Someplace safe.

  “You want your daughter in danger? Your aunt? How about yourself? Getting you out of here makes the most sense and you know it.”

  She shook her head, making red curls fly in a cheerful manner that was at odds with their discussion. “I need to stay here, Detective.”

  “Why? So you can make sure I’m doing my job right?” He cursed. “I’m not your ex-husband,” he said. I’m not my father, he thought but didn’t say, because some days he wasn’t sure. “And I’m not that piece of crap you dated last year. I won’t let you down.”

  “I didn’t think you would.” Though they both knew she didn’t fully trust him.

  The anger rose, and he beat it back with a mental fist before he spoke. “Then why won’t you go?”

  Reid noticed that Sturgeon was following the exchange with fascination. Well, screw him. Stephanie was leaving whether she liked it or not.

  She shrugged, lifted her hands to the sky as if to say What can I do? and said, “I have to stay, Reid. With Genie gone, I’m the only one in the lab who’s checked out on the DNA database as an analyst. Molly hasn’t taken the test yet, and Jared’s only qualified as a technician. He can run the experiments, but he can’t get into the software. I need to stay here and run the DNA or we might not find him.” She glanced at her aunt. “But Maureen and Jilly should leave. I’ll work better knowing they’re safe.”

  Maureen spoke up, “Mortimer has a cabin on the New Hampshire border. We could go there for a few days.” She colored slightly. “It’s…on a lake, not too far from this little town that has a great diner and…well, we could go there.”

  “Aunt Maureen!” Steph pretended shock, and the ripple of humor relaxed the small group slightly. “Did you ever go play bingo on Wednesday nights? And those weekend casino trips with the girls—did you ever even see a roulette wheel?”

  Maureen’s voice was faint when she said, “No, but we have played the occasional hand of strip poker.”

  “And the battles over the saxophone next door?”

  Mortimer answered with a sly grin that had answering color blooming in Maureen’s cheeks. “It’s not so much the battles as the making up.”

  Reid knew from talking to Maureen across Steph’s hospital bed that the older woman had been widowed young and soon after had inherited her orphaned niece, leaving little time for relationships. Stephanie must have known how hard it had been for her aunt, because from somewhere deep within her, she dredged
up a huge smile and a hug for her aunt and Mortimer.

  “I’m so happy for both of you. This is wonderful!” Then she sobered. “Go to your cabin and be safe, okay? You can leave first thing in the morning.” She swallowed hard. “Take Jilly with you, and if…” She faltered.

  “There won’t be any ‘ifs’, Stephanie. We’ll see you as soon as this is over. Reid will keep you safe.” Maureen patted her niece on the shoulder and fixed Reid with a look that said, Keep her safe, or else.

  He nodded. He’d keep her safe or die trying.

  THAT NIGHT Reid slept in Jilly’s bed again. Or rather, he paced through the old house, slinking from window to window and peering out into the crooked nooks of darkness. He learned that the fourth stair from the top creaked loudly if he stepped on the center of it, but not if he stayed to the side. He discovered that the refrigerator hummed to life every thirty-eight minutes or so, and that he wished he had She Devil there for company.

  One of the things he liked best about having the cat was that he wasn’t alone any more when he got up in the middle of the night to read or lift weights. There was someone who noticed he was awake.

  Reid tensed at a downstairs window. Was that movement? A man waiting for him to let his guard down long enough to take Stephanie and her daughter? He stared at the black on black long enough for colors to begin swimming in front of his eyes before he decided that no, it was nothing. Just his imagination, like the way he imagined that he could feel Stephanie on his skin when he’d barely touched her in hours. Like the way he imagined that he could taste her kiss on his lips, though he’d told her it wouldn’t happen again.

  Couldn’t happen again.

  He gripped the windowsill until his knuckles whitened in the hollow light of the moon, then he paced some more. It was crazy, he knew, to keep thinking of a woman he would never have.