by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
“We’re here.”
I was shaking by the time I got into the elevator car. Jake tried to hold me upright, but I eluded his grasp and found the control, then put my back up against the wall as the car vibrated up the shaft.
My head was starting to feel bigger than my body. And more painful. I wondered how many ibuprofens it would take to calm this headache down. I couldn’t wait to get back up to street level and fresh air.
As I stopped the elevator car at the basement level, I heard a series of clicks coming from Jake’s way. Before I could ask what he was doing, an explosion of light blinded me.
“Here,” he said, shining the flashlight at me. It didn’t seem to be broken, after all. “You could have a concussion. Let me take a look at your eyes.”
He didn’t give me a choice, merely cornered me. My pulse triggered but I was too weak to fight him. Thankfully he didn’t try shining the light directly into my eyes. He aimed it somewhere over my shoulder, making me wonder how he could then see my pupils well enough to tell anything.
Or maybe that wasn’t the point, I thought, my suspicions rising. Maybe he was simply trying to distract me.
“Pupils look even,” Jake said, his voice rumbling through his chest and making my stomach do a flip. He moved the light toward my left eye. “It’s reacting to the light normally.” Then he switched hands and did the same with my right eye. “Looks okay.”
Even with the diagnosis complete, he didn’t move away. My heart thudded. If he tried something, I wasn’t sure I was up to fighting him off.
And then he stepped back and handed over the flashlight.
I snatched it out of his hand, tersely saying, “The gun.”
He handed me that, too. “What is it you expected to find down here?”
“I don’t know.” Had I imagined a cry or really heard it? Or had I been set up? “I was following my instincts.”
True, if not totally honest.
Something kept me from telling him about my overhearing Sheena talking about this place in the ladies’ room. That something being the fact that I had no idea of who Jake really was.
Or if he’d been the one to stop me from finding what I’d come for. I didn’t think so, but trusting my instincts right now probably wasn’t in my best interests.
He said, “You’d better come home with me. Concussions can be tricky things, and you should be watched closely for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I would rather go to my own apartment,” I said back to him.
“Then I’ll take you there.”
“You need to get back to the bar,” I reminded him.
“It’s closing time. Besides, I would rather check you out personally, make sure you’re all right.”
Remembering what had happened the night before after he’d taken care of my wounds, I said, “I’m not in the mood.”
Truth be told, I needed to be on guard against making another mistake, especially with a man who was harboring potentially dangerous secrets—his real identity and his true interest in the case, whatever that might be.
The creature stepped out of the shadows the moment the elevator doors whisked closed. Lights weren’t really necessary, though they presented a certain charm. Humans, for example, had quite a bit more to them than simple infrared pulses common to all living things.
The woman was exquisite under lamp light.
Silke Caldwell…what had gotten into her?
How had she found the entrance to these well-hidden chambers?
She was lucky to be alive. The bartender had followed her, and he had been her savior.
This time.
Jake DeAtley…what in Hades was he?
His scent had been different this night, and had raised an alarm that had saved the woman from death. Or from a more complicated fate.
DeAtley would need further looking into.
But enough about the man.
Not only was the woman attractive, but she was also strong and sure of herself…and far more intelligent and interesting than the other new ones. It was so difficult starting over, so hard to pick the right companions.
But there was no doubt that she would make a fine addition to the stable.
Maybe that’s what she had come for.
Maybe that’s what she would get.
Chapter 14
“So where the hell did you disappear to last night?” Norelli demanded of me the next morning, the moment I set foot in the Area 4 office.
As if I was really going to make him my best friend and confide everything in him.
My head twinging a bit—I’d iced it several times and had taken a ton of ibuprofen—I set my briefcase on my desk and put on a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”
“Doran said he never saw you the last hour before the bar closed.”
Officer Fred Doran was the plant inside the bar.
“Maybe Doran had one too many to keep proper track of anyone.”
“Doran’s no drunk,” Walker said.
“Was he drinking his soda straight last night?”
“Well, no, that would have made him look suspicious, coming to a bar to not drink.”
I spread my hands in an I-told-you-so manner. “Nothing against him. I mean, if he doesn’t usually drink, the booze probably gave him a kick in the head.” One a whole lot more gentle than the one I’d received. To keep the headache at bay, I still was eating ibuprofen as if they were candy. “He was simply mistaken.”
I could tell Norelli thought I was lying and that he was having trouble keeping himself muzzled.
He locked gazes with me and said, “You need to be wired from now on.”
“You’re not putting a leash on me, Norelli,” I informed him as calmly as I could, “so don’t even try it.”
He straightened to his full height. “This is my case, Caldwell.”
“But it’s my undercover operation, so we’re partners. You’re not running me. Get used to it.”
Norelli grabbed his coffee cup and stormed off. I felt Walker’s gaze on me.
“What?” I asked him. “You want a piece of me, too?”
“I would rather have your cooperation. You and me—we’re not important. The victims are the only ones we should be thinking about. Are you ever gonna stop being pissed off and try to work with us?”
“I don’t know.”
The victim comment got to me, though. Wasn’t that why I’d gotten into this situation in the first place—because I couldn’t forget about LaTonya Sanford?
I asked, “Why should I give you another chance?”
He gave me a disgusted expression and shook his head. “You can’t always be right, Caldwell. No one can. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t make a mistake.”
Walker came back with “But we thought you did.”
“You wanted me to be mistaken because I solved a case you and Norelli dropped.”
Walker threw up his hands. “You’re not an easy person to negotiate with.”
“And Norelli is?”
“Norelli is a good cop. He’s solved more cases than anyone in the division. The job is his life, the only one he’s got. But he’s from another era, when women didn’t make detective, so maybe you can understand that and cut him some slack. What’s your excuse?”
My excuse? I was about to say I didn’t need one when I stopped myself. Walker seemed as if he genuinely wanted to work with me, but I was fighting it all the way. I always seemed to be fighting something or someone.
Especially myself.
Wasn’t that what I’d been hearing from every direction lately?
When had this happened to me? When had I become the one who always had to be right? Who always had to win, as Silke insisted I did?
And it could get me killed. I never would have been foolish enough to rush in without backup before the Sanford case. So maybe they had a point.
“All right, Walker. I’ll lay off Norelli if it kills me.”<
br />
“Good. That’s a start.”
Only he wouldn’t think it was such a good start if he knew how much I was holding out on them. Feeling guilty about what I couldn’t—or at least was not willing to say yet—I threw him a bone.
“Tonight, after the bar, Desiree Leath wants me to work a party at her place.”
“What kinda party?” Norelli asked as he passed me and set his cup of coffee on his desk.
I shrugged. “All I know is it’s private and she asked me if I could work it.”
“Private, huh? That means you’ll be working it alone?”
“I guess. Unless we can figure out how to get someone else on the inside.”
“Or unless you agree to wear a wire. Your decision, of course.”
Silence ticked between us while I held my tongue. Then I mumbled, “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.”
Though I wanted to, I couldn’t really find a reason to object.
“I need an outfit that’ll conceal a wire,” I told Silke. “A tiny microphone with—”
“I know what a wire is. You have to wear one?”
“I’m acting in the spirit of cooperation.”
I’d gone to her place straight from work after giving in to a happy Norelli. I’d left as early as possible to leave myself plenty of time just in case I had to go elsewhere to find something appropriate to wear.
“Nice that you’ve decided to cooperate with someone,” Silke said. “And the requirements of the garment would be…?”
“Something not as revealing as a bustier.” I tried not to be aggravated by her comment, but I felt my stomach knot at her words. “The mike is tiny and black.” I held out my forefinger and thumb to indicate how small. “I need a way to camouflage it.”
“I may have just the thing.”
Silke brought out a top that was layered and draped and had lots of black beading, some of which was pulled into a fancy flower just below the shoulder. That would provide sufficient cover for the mike.
“Perfect.”
“Good.” Silke reached into the closet and pulled out a plastic cleaner’s bag to cover the top. “So what else is on your mind?”
I threw myself on the sofa bed—open, sheets torn apart, even though it was the middle of the day. I saw that she’d been reading. Books on magic and spells. One called Wicca: a State of Mind. More of Silke’s woo-woo stuff. I rolled my eyes and flipped onto my back.
“Where should I start?” I mused. “I have so many things to worry about.”
Like what would whoever was tuned into me hear. To my chagrin, Jake was working the party, as well. Unless I told him I was wired—and I didn’t intend to—he was likely to say anything. Which meant I simply had to keep my distance from him as much as possible.
“I don’t mean about the case.” Silke sat near me. “I sense something, well, personal is going on with you.”
Leave it to Silke to read me. I sighed. “I’ve been thinking about how I operate with other people. I’m afraid I’m not a very nice person.”
“Oh, come on.”
“People have been making comments to me lately about my personality. That I’m reckless and that I don’t cooperate.” I emphasized the last. “I guess I could be easier to get along with.”
Silke didn’t say anything, and I accepted her silence as agreement with that assessment.
“So how big a bitch am I?”
“You have your moments,” she admitted with a smile. “But you’re a really good person, Shell. You just need to believe in yourself more.”
“What?” Where had that come from? “I know I’m good at what I do.”
“Not just at what you do. The decisions you make. When people have self-confidence issues, they tend to strike out at others to cover.”
My jaw dropped at Silke, the psychoanalyst. I’d never seen this side of my sister’s personality before. “Wow, you still remember your Psych 101.”
“Not exactly. Something more recent.”
“You’re taking a class?”
“I’ve been stretching myself for a while now. And lately, I’ve been getting, well, counseling.”
The way she said it made me wonder the nature of the counseling. “Why?”
“I know you think I’m always happy, but it’s not true. I have issues. And working with a counselor has helped me work through some of them. Laura thinks you could use some counseling yourself.”
“You talk about me?”
“Well, duh! I’m worried about you, too.”
I didn’t know how comfortable being psychoanalyzed without my permission made me. But if it helped Silke get herself together, then that was a good thing.
“I don’t need therapy to help me find my way,” I said confidently. “I know where I’m going and what I want to do with my life.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, that was Silke humoring me. “Explain that ‘uh-huh,’ please.”
She shook her head. “You’re not ready to hear it.”
My irritation with her growing, I said, “Talk, or you’ll be sorry.”
“What are you going to do—pin me? You might not like my response.”
Now I was getting edgy. This was unfamiliar territory. In the past, I merely had to make an idle threat and Silke would be spilling her guts. She was threatening me back! As if she could hold her own against me.
I glanced at her reading material. Magic spells? Was that what she meant—she would use magic against me? And the “counseling.” Suddenly I wondered why she hadn’t used the word “therapy.”
Uncomfortable with my train of thought, which was speeding faster than a locomotive into uncharted territory, I popped up off the sofa bed, saying, “I should probably leave.”
“I thought you wanted an answer.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so I didn’t say something smart-ass that would stop her from telling me what was on her mind. No matter that we operated in direct opposition to one another, we had the same basic values.
“Okay, give it to me straight.”
“It’s just that you don’t seem to be getting along with people much these days, and I think it’s because you’re not very happy.”
“And you think seeing a shrink again will make me happy?”
“No, a trained professional is simply a sounding board and listens to what’s on your mind. Someone who doesn’t tell you you’re wrong every time you turn around.”
I swallowed a gasp. She was talking about me telling her she was wrong. Years ago, I’d supported Silke’s right to be who or whatever she wanted. Lately I’d become judgmental, had somehow turned into our mother.
Maybe I did need a shrink.
Uncomfortable now, I mumbled, “I really do have to get going,” and gave my twin a quick hug before heading for the door.
“Hey, Shell…about tonight…it’s going to get dangerous.”
“It’ll be okay,” I assured Silke, knowing she would tune in for a blow-by-blow whether or not I wanted her in my head.
“And the danger isn’t the kind you know.”
“That’s clear as mud.”
“Those books and videos I gave you—”
“I looked some of them over,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed.
“Then you know you can’t just cuff a vampire and bring it in for trial. You have to kill it.”
I sighed and shook my head. Silke really was starting to believe her own fantasies.
Suddenly, I felt her reach across the room to hold me. I swore I felt enveloped by her warmth and love, making me feel she was right there, touching me, when she hadn’t even moved.
I blinked at her and took a step back. “That was a new one.”
“I told you I’ve been stretching.”
Magic and spells, Wicca, counseling…for what? To become a witch?
I didn’t ask.
I simply left.
Silke waited until after dark to tune into her twin—she’d thought she�
��d give Shelley some private time before intruding—but station SHELL was closed for the evening.
“Shell, you’re going to make me sick not knowing.”
Silke concentrated and used all her energy to send that message over and over, but she knew it wasn’t being received. Shelley was an expert at tuning her out.
Several times over the next hour, she tried tuning in to find out what was happening at the bar, but her hardheaded sister wouldn’t let her in.
“I got you into this, and all I can do is sit here and worry.”
Wait, perhaps, for Mom to call to say Shelley had been hurt on the job this time. Or worse.
Her imagination blossoming, Silke paced her studio. Envisioning her twin drained of blood, she couldn’t settle down. Not when Shelley didn’t know what she was dealing with.
“I should have made her understand. I should have made her believe me.”
Shelley obviously hadn’t given the books and videos any credence. With nothing else to do over the past few days, Silke had been continuing her research…and looking for optimal means of protection.
If one could really protect oneself from evil.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Silke raided her wardrobe for something she hadn’t worn to the bar. She was going to find Shelley at Heart of Darkness and try to stop her from working that after-hours party at Desiree’s. And if she couldn’t stop her, then she was joining her. She found the perfect garment in the back of her closet—a backless floor-length purple velvet dress with a deep hood. Wearing this dress, added to a change in her makeup and hair color—she had some violet spray that should cover the red—no one would ever recognize her.
Her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach felt twisted into knots. Shelley was the brave one, but she was nearly as closed minded as the cops who’d laughed at her.
Someone who knew what was what had to watch her twin’s back, and Silke only hoped she was up for the job.
The creature was bored waiting for the bar to close and for party time to start. The only entertainment was the mysterious woman in purple velvet who’d walked into Heart of Darkness a short time ago. Lovely in candlelight, she stirred the senses…including a vague sense of recognition.
