And as complicated.
Sturgeon spoke into the radio, nodded at the response, and glanced over. “He’s still in there. Jenks and Spiro have the back door. We’ll knock on the front and ask him to come along all friendly and answer a few questions.”
Reid checked his weapon, leaving his suit coat unbuttoned for easy access. “Yeah, and if we’re lucky he’ll resist arrest and yell ‘hide the dope’ so we’ll have probable cause to search that dump.”
Sturgeon snorted. “Yeah, and you really hate kids as much as you pretend, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” But Sturgeon was gone, easing out of the mommymobile and sauntering across the street as though oblivious to the sudden quiet and the subtle twitch of curtain here and there.
“Hey, wait up!” Reid jogged to his partner’s side just as Sturgeon knocked on the flimsy screen door, dislodging a shower of paint chips from the flaky siding.
“Derek Bott? Bott, are you in there?” Sturgeon called, and was answered by a series of scuffling noises. “Bott? Come out, or we’re coming in.”
Not waiting for a reply, Reid yanked the screen door open—almost ripping it off the one flimsy hinge that still supported it—and yelled, “Come on out, Derek. We just want to ask you a few questions. All nice and friendly, okay?”
He heard Sturgeon mutter, “Yeah, that sounded friendly, all right,” as he stomped into the house, trusting his partner to back him up. The scuffling at the back of the house suddenly intensified to a series of thumps, and the radio at Sturgeon’s hip spat to life.
“He’s going out the back!” Reid accelerated down the hall, barely registering the young woman huddled on the living-room sofa with a pair of identical little boys clutched to her breast. The radio squealed again and Sturgeon cursed.
“He got past Jenks. I’ll get the car and meet you.”
Reid tossed an affirmative over his shoulder, took one look at the high, narrow bathroom window that was open just far enough to let Bott’s skinny ass through, and kicked his way out the back door.
“Which way?” he yelled to Spiro, who was unsuccessfully trying to crank his squad car over. The youngster was notorious for his ability to kill cars by looking at them. It was an unfortunate gift.
“That way,” the kid yelled, pointing. “Jenks is on him.”
Reid sprinted, not wasting his breath on his opinion of Jenks’s ability in a foot pursuit.
He passed the laboring donut poster boy in a matter of a half minute, and cut through an alley at Jenks’s breathless gesture. He didn’t see Bott, but Sturgeon’s white minivan was waiting at the end of the alley.
“Anything?” Reid asked as he swung into the vehicle.
Sturgeon accelerated away, laying rubber and causing an assortment of squeaky toys to slosh from one side of the back seat to the other. “Spiro just radioed that he cut over toward the open market. He makes it there, we won’t find him.”
The minivan slithered through a sharp left, and the soda Reid had left in the dashboard cup holder fell, splashing Sturgeon’s pants on the way down.
“Damn it. Jen’s going to kill me for messing up her car.”
Reid ignored Sturgeon and pointed. “There he is. Get closer.” He yanked his weapon free and hit the button to lower the passenger-side window. It slid down halfway, then stopped. “What the hell?”
Sturgeon sent the minivan hurtling toward Bott, who was running for all he was worth, straight down a road that provided little cover. Unfortunately, it ended at the Chinatown open market, which was noisy, crowded and a perfect place to hide.
Bott couldn’t be allowed to reach the market.
“Kidproof window,” Sturgeon explained as he slalomed the minivan between a pair of taxis. “Don’t even think about it. Jen would kill me for sure.”
Reid lowered the gun he’d planned to use to smash the window out with. “You’re kidding.”
“I never kid about my wife. I’ll get ahead of him and slow down.”
Reid rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Sturgeon hit the gas—and swung toward the curb just as Bott swerved toward an alley.
Reid shoved open the passenger door and bounced it off a light post. He heard the scrape of white paint and buckling metal as he jumped out, took two running steps and launched himself at Derek Bott.
He wasn’t sure who howled louder, Sturgeon or Bott.
WHEN THE CALL finally came, Steph could barely bring herself to answer it. She stared at the lab phone for a long moment, hoping it was Reid.
Because if it was that cold, cruel voice again, it meant that she was still in danger, and something had happened to her protector.
On the fourth ring, she snatched the handset from its cradle, not willing to wait for the answering machine to click on again and record the breathing and the laughter. “Hello?”
“Miss Alberts? Detective Sturgeon here.”
Relief was quick as fear, she found, and as powerful. “Yes, this is Stephanie. Did you get him?”
The detective’s voice sounded strangely glum when he replied, “Yes, we did. There was a chase, but Detective Peters apprehended Bott.”
“Is everyone okay?” When Sturgeon didn’t answer right away, she felt her heartbeat accelerate and pressed, “Is Reid hurt?”
“No, he’s fine. A little bruised and banged, but nothing major. My wife’s car looks worse than he does.”
Steph didn’t bother to wonder at the comparison. She was too busy being relieved that Reid was okay and Bott was in custody. “Then it’s over? I can call Mortimer and have Aunt Maureen and Jilly come home?”
“Sure,” came Sturgeon’s easy agreement. “His resisting arrest gave us enough leverage to search Bott’s place and request his phone records. Didn’t find much in the search, but two calls were made to your house from his number. That should be enough to hold him.”
“Thank God.” Steph sank down at her lab bench and pressed her forehead to the cool, sterile surface. “It’s over.”
“Yes, Miss Alberts. Time to get back to your life. We’ll be in touch.”
Steph heard a familiar voice in the background. “Is that Detective Peters? I’d like to thank him.”
There was an awkward pause, then Sturgeon’s voice. “No, ma’am. That was someone else. Like I said, we’ll be in touch.” And the line went dead.
Stephanie stared at the handset for a long moment before replacing it on the cradle.
She shut down the lights for the night, waved at the watchman, noticed that the uniform guarding the lobby was gone, and let herself through the revolving front door for the walk home.
Alone.
“CARE TO TELL ME why I just lied to her?” Sturgeon shook his head in disappointment. “How many times do I have to tell you that you need a life? That the job gets easier when you have someone waiting for you at home besides a cranky stray cat and a bunch of dead-looking fake plants?”
“Let it lie, Sturgeon.” Reid rubbed at his temples, trying to wish the pounding pain away. The pavement had been harder than usual when he’d hit, and Bott’s bony knee had almost poked his eyeball through to the back of his skull. All in all, he wasn’t up to deflecting Sturgeon’s ‘why every cop needs a wife’ speech.
Particularly when he could still picture those two little boys, huddled against their mother on the couch, watching with wide eyes as big men broke into their house and chased their father down like a dog.
Who was he to bring scenes like that home at the end of the day? He was the job. There wasn’t anything left of him besides it. The anger throbbed dully and the tingle in his chest had soured to an ache.
“At least go see her,” Sturgeon persisted. “Maureen and Jilly are on their way home and Bott’s lawyered up, so we won’t be getting much from him until his man arrives tomorrow. Tell her it’s all over, if nothing else.”
Reid scowled. “I’m not fit company for anyone right now, Sturgeon. I’m going home. To my home, and I’m going to take ten or twelve aspirin
and sleep through until morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sturgeon didn’t try to stop him as Reid stomped out of Chinatown station, but he was pretty sure he heard the older man call, “Tell her I said hello, will you?”
Reid called back over his shoulder, “And tell Jen I said hi after you explain the dent in the mommymobile, okay?”
Sturgeon cursed explosively and Reid felt a whole world better.
He wouldn’t be the only one sleeping alone that night.
IT WAS SURPRISING how much everything changed with the knowledge that Derek Bott was in custody, Steph thought. Mortimer had brought Maureen and Jilly home soon after dark, and when Jilly had cried, “Mama!” Steph had burst into tears and held her daughter tight.
At least something good had come of this.
They’d had an early supper and Maureen had gone to the club with Mortimer with a brilliant smile on her face and an unfamiliar spring in her step. Steph had chatted to her daughter, who was speaking some as well as whistling, and had put her to bed with the new teddy bear Maureen had bought in New Hampshire.
Then Steph had stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching her daughter sleep.
She prowled the downstairs, making sure the new locks were secure, even though Bott was in custody.
She changed into her lab coat robe, made hot chocolate, drank half and left the rest.
When she heard the knock at the front door, she knew instantly that it was Reid, and she was more relieved that the wait was over than surprised he had come. She’d wanted this, wanted him like she’d wanted nothing else in her life except a healthy baby girl.
And she was ready to fight for him.
She opened the door without a word and held it aside so he could come in, but he stood on the front steps as though he was nailed there. A muscle at the side of his jaw pulsed, and the light from her front hall glanced off the cardboard box at his feet.
“Moving in?” she joked, though her heart was pounding, her stomach starting to sink. He had come, but he didn’t look happy about it.
He was wearing the same outfit he’d had on when she’d called him to find Jilly—God, was it only three days ago? The cutoff sweatshirt still clung in all the right places and the jeans still hugged his body like a lover, but the man inside them was different. Distant. Remote.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and she realized with a start it was the first time in days she’d seen him without his shoulder holster. It made her think that the danger must truly be past.
So where did that leave them?
“I want to ask a favor of you,” he said, still not crossing the threshold. He nodded down at the box, which was moving slightly as though being rocked from within. “I’d like you to take She Devil and the kittens. I thought…I thought Jilly might like them.”
It was the first time he’d said her daughter’s name. Steph felt her lips curve upward even as her heart raced. “Of course they can stay here for a while.”
He shook his head. “I want you to keep them. I…I don’t have the room for them.”
When she understood, the smile drained away. He’d made his decision. He didn’t have room for them in his life. He didn’t want the ties. Didn’t want any of it, not family, not pets. Not love.
Not her.
He’d never claimed any different, but still, the disappointment pierced deep and drew blood. Steph could feel it throbbing beneath the surface, tangling with a hurt so pure it sang a clear, sweet note in her head.
“You came to say goodbye.” It wasn’t a question.
He nodded tightly. “It’s for the best, Steph. Bott is in jail. You’re safe. Jilly and Maureen are home. It’s over.” The few feet between them stretched for miles.
“Why?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. His face shut down, though his hands were fisted at his sides. “It wouldn’t work, Steph. You know it as well as I.”
The knife pierced deeper and she drew a breath and willed the tears back. “I’m not your job any more, Reid. You don’t need to protect me from Bott any more.”
The muscle at his jaw worked once. Twice. “I’m not talking about Bott and you know it.” He stared down at his fisted hand. “I don’t do the family thing, okay? I’m sorry. It’s just not me.”
She wasn’t giving up that easily. She stepped closer and watched his eyes glint gold as the hem of the old soft lab coat brushed against his leg. “I don’t believe you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Unlike some of us, I don’t lie.”
“Low blow, Peters. Unlike some of us, I don’t put myself ahead of my family.” She blew out a breath. “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand. Do you hate children that much?” It didn’t make any sense. He’d fallen asleep rocking Jilly.
“I don’t hate kids.”
“Then what? Are you gay? Already married?”
“No and no,” but she’d gotten a ghost of a grin out of him. It soon faded. “I’m a cop.”
He said it as though it was a bad thing, as though it should explain everything and his shoulders sagged beneath the weight of it. He was exhausted, Steph realized. He’d been up the past two nights watching over her and Jilly. Protecting them.
She picked up the cardboard box. “Come inside.”
Mutely, he followed her, as though he was too tired to do anything else. When she’d settled the kitties in Jilly’s room—she’d be thrilled when she woke up—Steph handed Reid a mug of hot chocolate and sat beside him on the cushy sofa.
“Why can’t a cop have a family? Sturgeon seems to manage just fine.”
Reid snorted and sagged back against the arm of the couch, as far away from her as he could get and still be on the same piece of furniture. “Sturgeon’s a fluke. My father was more the norm. A great cop and a failure as a human being.”
Steph thought of the old cigarette burns on his shoulder and winced.
He stared into his cup of hot chocolate. “My mother tried to please him, but it never worked. Most nights he’d come home from work, put away his badge and his gun, and start yelling. Sometimes hitting. When I was little, I’d run upstairs and hide. When I got older, I didn’t.”
Steph made a wordless sound of distress and reached out to him, placing a hand on his bare forearm that he seemed not to notice.
He glanced sideways at her. “Don’t you get it? I’m like he was. When I scared you and Jilly in the kitchen the other day? That could have been my old man in your kitchen. The volume was the same. The anger was the same.”
“You’re not the same,” Steph said emphatically, shaking his arm a little. She felt him slipping away from her and could have wept for the pain she saw in the back of his eyes. For the little boy he’d been. “You were angry with me because I’d lied to you and withheld evidence. You don’t think anger is justified there?” His mouth twisted slightly, encouraging her. “You’re not your father, Reid. And I’m not your mother.”
“I know that. But you’re Jilly’s mother, and that’s a part of you that I can’t ignore.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. We’re a package deal. But I still don’t see the problem. I trust you not to hurt her and I trust you not to hurt me.”
He sprang up off the couch and strode across the room and back, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Don’t you get it? I don’t trust me, okay? I don’t trust the job.” He stopped in front of her and stared down, exhaustion battling with desperation in his eyes. “Have you ever seen a dead child, Stephanie? I have. I’ve seen children killed for no more reason than because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or because they were born to the wrong parents. Is that the world you want your daughter to grow up in?”
Steph stood and glared. “That is the world my daughter lives in, Peters, and it’s because of men like you and Sturgeon that she’ll live long enough to grow up in it. Have I seen a child killed? No, I haven’t. But I’ve seen one born and I’ll never forget it. Don’t you want that for you
rself? Wouldn’t knowing that you have someone to come home to make it easier to get through some of the toughest days?”
“You don’t understand.” He seemed almost desperate now, pacing and fisting his hands as though he wanted to fight an enemy he couldn’t even name.
She shook her head. “You’re right. I don’t understand.” She stood in his way until he stopped pacing and faced her. “I understand that with my history I should be the last person to trust my instincts. I know there’s no reason why I should want to be with you when you say you have nothing to offer.” She spread her hands. “But I’m willing to take that chance. Are you?”
She thought he might walk then and there. Thought he might take her in his arms and kiss the fears away. Thought he might curse and rage again, while being careful never to hurt or scare her.
But she didn’t expect him to sink to the sofa and cradle his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this now. I’m so goddamn tired,” he said. “So tired.”
And though it wasn’t an answer at all, it was an answer of sorts as the strongest man she’d ever known let her see him vulnerable. Nothing was decided between them, but Steph couldn’t fight the surge of unexpected tenderness. Didn’t try to.
She reached a hand down to him. “Come upstairs then.”
He stood and looked down at her for an endless moment, the gold of his eyes mirroring her own desire and confusion. Then he kissed her, gently, and it was all the answer she needed.
After that furious, grappling moment in the Chinatown alley, she expected the rocket’s red glare and the clawing, greedy power she’d glimpsed then. She braced herself for roaring fury and heat from the man who’d yelled in her kitchen, the man who’d apologized for it later. She would have welcomed the burn. Gloried in it.
She hadn’t expected the slow, sweet kiss he gave her. Hadn’t expected him to take her under with only his lips, hadn’t expected the soft touches or the single murmured word. “Stephanie.”
And that, more than anything, confirmed what she’d known all along. For all that Reid Peters claimed to dislike children, for all that he pretended not to know her daughter’s name, and for all that he believed his job had taken it away, there was a heart beneath his worn, battle-hardened exterior.
Secret Witness Page 14
