“On the floor. I picked it up so you’d have fewer questions to answer. Your vest’s in the front closet.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take the underwear from his hand.
Instead of releasing his hold on the bra, he caught her hand in his and tugged her toward him. “About last night,” he began.
“Nick, considering our situation now, with my sister staying here and all, I don’t think there’s any point discussing it.”
He twined their fingers together, the silky strap sliding between them. It was a tangible reminder that went beyond words, instantly evoking the feelings that had raged last night. Holding her gaze, he leaned forward slowly and covered her mouth with his.
It was a brief kiss, filled with tender restraint. Apart from their hands, they didn’t touch anywhere else, yet when he lifted his head, Lauren’s body was humming.
For a long, silent moment he remained motionless. Then he released her fingers and took a step back. “We’re going to have to do something about that one of these days.”
She crumpled her bra between her hands. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know,” he said, reaching out to rub her lower lip gently with his thumb.
Oh, yes. She knew. Any woman with a pulse would know. His light caress was creating waves of warmth, softening her resistance more swiftly than she would have believed possible. “Nick...”
“Next time I’ll make sure we won’t be interrupted.” He dropped his hand and turned away before she could form a reply.
Next time. How often had he said that now? He was largely responsible for all this upheaval in her normally comfortable, predictable life. So why did her pulse thud and her palms sweat simply because he’d made another one of his arrogant, macho boasts?
Only, it wasn’t a boast. It was a statement. And the confusion she felt over her reaction was as much due to the prospect that there would be a next time... as it was due to the growing possibility that there wouldn’t.
The rest of the morning passed with painful slowness. Angela spent most of the time on the phone in the bedroom while Nick alternated between pacing the length of the living room and staring out the window. Lauren tried to concentrate on the work she had brought home, but it was no use. Between hearing her sister’s tearful voice through the bedroom door and watching Nick try to work off his barely controlled restlessness, Lauren felt the tension in the apartment steadily increase to a level that was almost unbearable. It was with a sense of relief that they finally left for their meeting with Wanda Smith.
The condominium that Duxbury kept for his mistress was in a tall, gleaming white building. Access from the parking garage that served the block was through a locked, tenantsonly basement corridor, so as they’d done on their previous visit, they entered through the marble-tiled lobby that faced the street.
Lauren hesitated, unable to resist the urge to glance nervously over her shoulder.
“He wouldn’t be here,” Nick said, pausing beside the building directory. “He’s always at his in-laws on Sunday afternoons, remember?”
“So it wasn’t a useless piece of information after all,” she murmured.
“What a guy, huh? Spends the morning with his girlfriend and then makes nice with his wife’s folks the rest of the day.”
She tightened her grip on her purse, trying to control her anxiety. “Wanda wouldn’t have agreed to a time when we’d run into him, anyway. And even if something goes wrong, we’ll be able to bluff our way through.”
Nick pivoted to face her, laying his hand on her shoulder. “Say the word, Lauren. If you want to call this off, it’s okay. I’ll try something else.”
“No, this is our best chance. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. But all this might be useless, anyway. She might not open up. She might be too scared of him to answer any questions.”
“Then we’ll talk to her neighbors. Or I’ll track down the garage attendant who was working the day Joey was killed. Or I’ll talk to every person I see on the street between here and the accident scene until someone does answer my questions. I won’t give up.”
No, Nick wouldn’t give up, she thought. He hadn’t yet. About anything.
He’d added a baseball cap to his disguise, and along with the beard and the heavy glasses, his features were well concealed. Lauren had to remind herself that simply because she was always conscious of the man beneath the disguise didn’t mean that everyone else was.
She glanced at the camera he held by his side. They had stopped at the station before coming here, and the heavy video camera leant a much needed note of authenticity. She’d given Nick a brief course in its operation and he’d proved to be a fast learner. As he’d said, he was good with his hands.
Stiffening her spine, Lauren picked up the telephone receiver and punched in the code beside Wanda’s name. She listened to the phone ring on the other end seven times, then pressed the reset button and tried again. This time she waited for ten rings before she disconnected.
“She said two-thirty,” Nick said, glancing at his watch.
“Maybe she reconsidered,” Lauren said.
He scowled. “No way. She was eager to get this free publicity.”
Lauren tried the phone again, cradling it against her shoulder as she listened to it ring. Despite the sunlight that streamed brightly through the glass entrance, she felt a chill. “Something must have happened,” she said.
Turning toward the lobby door, he tried unsuccessfully to pull it open, then stooped over to reach into his boot. Seconds later, there was a muted click and the sound of metal scraping on metal.
“Nick!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
He worked the tip of his switchblade between the latch and the lock plate. “You’re right. Something must have happened. I’m going to check it out.”
“For heaven’s sake, someone’s bound to come through here sooner or later. Or we could call the superintendent.”
“Don’t think we should wait,” he said tersely.
Dread curled in her stomach at his tone. In the next instant, the phone was finally picked up. Lauren cleared her throat. “Hello? Wanda?”
There was a long pause during which the only sound was labored breathing. Then a quiet voice came on. “Who is it?”
“Wanda, it’s Lauren Abbot. We’d arranged to meet this afternoon.”
Another long pause. “I’m sorry,” Wanda said. “I tried to call you all day, but your line was busy. I, um, changed my mind.”
“We could come back later, if that would be better. If you have company, I wouldn’t dream of intruding.”
“No, I’m alone. I just...” She hesitated. “I changed my mind,” she repeated.
Maybe the tension of the last week had made her more attuned to other people’s emotions, or perhaps it was because she’d lost her own professional detachment somewhere in Lake Michigan. Whatever the reason, Lauren knew that Wanda was in trouble. “Could I help, Wanda?” she asked softly. “Off the record. You might feel better if you could talk to someone.”
“I, um, need to go out.”
There was a sudden click from the lock, then Nick swung the lobby door open. He shoved his knife back into his boot and gestured to Lauren with a jerk of his head. “Come on,” he mouthed.
“I could drive you, Wanda. We could talk in the car. Where do you need to go?”
“You wouldn’t put this in your story, would you?” There was the same note of innocence in her voice that had been so touching before.
“Absolutely not,” she said, the feeling of dread growing. “I like you, Wanda, and I really do want to help you however I can.”
This time the pause was long enough to raise the fine hairs on the back of Lauren’s neck. Finally Wanda sighed and told her what she wanted. For a split second, Lauren remained motionless, stunned, not wanting to believe what she had heard. Then she slammed the phone down and hurried through the door
Nick was holding open.
He limped behind her to the elevator. “What did she say?”
Lauren jabbed the button with enough force to snap her fingernail. “She wants me to drive her to a hospital.”
There was no response to Lauren’s first knock on Wanda’s door. Nick shifted impatiently, then backed up a step and raised his foot to kick it in, but Lauren stopped him with a touch on his arm. “Don’t,” she said, knocking again. “I suspect she’s already seen enough violence.”
The door swung open to a shadowed interior. Wanda retreated quickly until she was no more than a curvy silhouette against the light that filtered through the closed curtains. “I’m sorry for messing up your plans, Miss Abbot,” she said. “It was really dumb. I fell in the bathtub.”
Lauren walked toward her, giving her vision time to adjust to the dim lighting. “It’ll be all right. My assistant and I will take you to the emergency room....” Her words trailed off as outrage closed her throat.
The right side of Wanda’s face was swollen and mottled with purple. More swelling had blackened and closed her right eye to no more than a slit. She held her arms crossed over her breasts, her shoulders curled as if to protect her from more blows.
It was one thing to sit in the safety of her comfortable apartment and speculate about the possibility of Wanda’s being abused, or to read articles or view photographs of victims, or to share public anger when wealthy abusers escaped punishment. But it was something else entirely to confront such incontrovertible evidence of cruelty.
This was no story. There was no safe distance, no protective aloofness possible. With no other thought than to give comfort, Lauren moved to Wanda’s side and slipped her arm carefully around her shoulders.
“That bastard,” Nick said, striding forward. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”
At the vehemence in his voice, Wanda started nervously. “I... don’t know who you mean. I fell, that’s all.”
He stalked past her, doing a quick check of the other rooms before he returned and switched on a lamp. His breath hissed between his teeth as he took another look at Wanda. “Duxbury’s going to pay for this. For everything.”
She glanced at Lauren, her good eye widening with fear. “I never told you his name. Oh, God. He’s going to think I told. I didn’t. I wasn’t going to say anything about him. He’s so good to me, I’d never tell.”
In the revealing light from the lamp, Wanda’s injuries looked ten times worse. “Let’s get you to a doctor,” Lauren said, gently steering her toward the door. “That’s the first priority.”
There was a mirrored door on the front closet. When Wanda saw her reflection, she gave a sudden sob and turned into Lauren’s loose embrace. “It shows this time,” she cried. “I’ll have to miss work. He never did it so it showed before.”
Lauren’s outrage became tinged with fury. She raised her hand to Wanda’s head, her fingers shaking as she smoothed the brassy blond, baby-fine hair. “We’ll help you. I promise. It’ll be all right.”
“Wanda, you need to file charges,” Nick said. “We’ll help you do that, too.”
“I thought he’d be proud of me, that he’d want to see me on TV He got so mad,” she said, her voice muffled against Lauren’s shoulder. “It was all my fault. I’ve never seen him so mad.”
Nick met Lauren’s gaze over Wanda’s head, his expression mirroring the sudden guilt she felt. “It was nobody’s fault except Duxbury’s,” he said. “It would have happened eventually. That’s the pattern of abusers. They keep getting worse unless they’re stopped.”
“But he loves me. He’s always sor...sorry.” Wanda hiccuped, nestling more tightly against Lauren. “I know I’m not smart, but he should have trusted me. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I didn’t before. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He didn’t mean to hurt that man....”
“What man?” Nick asked, cutting through her rambling words. “Who else did he hurt?”
“He didn’t mean to. That was my fault, too, ’cause he was driving me home from rehearsal.”
His entire body tensing, Nick stepped closer. He swung the camera up and switched it on. “Adam Duxbury was driving you home from your job at the Painted Pony?”
“Ducky is so good to me,” she repeated, her voice growing more high-pitched, like a little girl’s. “He loves me so much.”
Nick ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “He just beat you up, Wanda.”
“He couldn’t help it. I got him mad. He didn’t want me talking to any reporters.”
“There’s no justification for the way he hurt you,” Lauren said. “None at all. It’s his fault, not yours.”
“What happened in the accident,” Nick persisted, “when he was driving you home?”
For a moment it seemed as if she wouldn’t respond. She shuddered, her shoulders trembling beneath Lauren’s light embrace. Finally, she lifted her head and turned her battered face toward Nick. “He was in a hurry,” she said brokenly. “We only had an hour before he had to go to some banquet or something, but he took care of me, got ice for my head and everything. He knew how I didn’t want a bruise on my face.”
Banquet? Lauren thought. Duxbury had attended a fundraising dinner the day Joey was killed. “What was wrong with your head, Wanda?” Lauren asked.
“I was trying to find the-earring I dropped. He doesn’t like me to leave stuff in his car. It was my fault I was bent over like that so I bumped the gear shift real hard when he hit that guy.”
As the halting story gradually took shape, Lauren saw the flare of triumph in Nick’s eyes. It was better than they had hoped. Wanda could do more than break Duxbury’s alibi, she was a witness to the hit-and-run.
Chapter 11
“She’ll be all right,” Nick said, coming up behind Lauren where she stood by the coffee machine in the visitors’ lounge. “The fractured ribs will heal themselves, and there wasn’t any permanent damage done to her face.”
Lauren pressed her lips together, watching the cup drop to the grate, waiting while the stream of liquid gurgled downward. “We’re responsible, you know. It was because he didn’t want her talking to a journalist that this happened. If we’d left her alone—”
“Don’t start that again,” Nick said fiercely. “Do you think she’d be better off if things had gone on the way they were? She had to make the break from Duxbury eventually, and at least we were there to help.”
She lifted her cup and sipped without tasting. Yes, at least they’d been there. “Is the counselor still with her?”
“Just left. Wanda’s agreed to talk to the police.”
“Thank God. It’s the only way out for her.”
“The doctor checked her over again and discharged her, so I’m taking her down to the station as soon as she’s dressed.”
Just like that, it was all coming to an end. Lauren took another gulp of whatever it was that had filled her cup and turned to face him. “No matter what she’s been led to belive, she isn’t stupid. It didn’t take her that long to realize her safety depends on testifying....” Her head snapped up when she caught sight of his face. “You got rid of the beard.”
He rubbed his jaw. “That glue was itchy as hell.”
The hat and glasses were gone as well. Of course. He didn’t need to hide his face, he didn’t need to hide at all. Now that Wanda had agreed to testify, this whole incredible situation was almost over.
“Once Wanda gives her statement, Joey’s case is going to be reopened,” Nick said, echoing the direction of her thoughts. “And once my captain sees the job Duxbury did on her face, he’ll have to provide protection not only for her but for my family.”
“You accomplished what you set out to do,” Lauren said. “You won’t need to hide anymore.”
“No.”
“It’s time to end the hoax.”
“I already called my Mom and the captain. The rest is up to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“We made a deal, remem
ber? It’s your story, so you get to break it however you want.”
She set down her coffee, her fingers suddenly cold.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, covering her hands with his. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I suppose I hadn’t expected it to end so... fast.”
He smiled. “I’ve been told that’s one of my faults, being too fast.”
One of his faults? She wouldn’t call it that. His tendency to rush ahead, to prefer action to idleness, was a part of his nature. It was one of the things that was so attractive about him.
God, he was an attractive man, she thought, looking at the way the lines beside his mouth deepened into those adorable dimples. At last he no longer needed to hide his face when they went out in public. She was free to look at him as much as she wanted. It didn’t matter where they were, or whether his expression was tense with anger or sparkling with that boyish glint of teasing, she loved to look at him....
She drew herself up, struggling to control the impulse she felt to sway into his arms. She couldn’t afford to think about that now. Once they made an appearance at the police station with Wanda, the news of Nick’s resurrection was going to spread. If she wanted to be the one to break the story, she would need to work quickly. Her personal feelings couldn’t be allowed to interfere with the work that she had to do.
After all, the story was really all she wanted, right?
Pulling her hands from his, she reached into her purse for her notebook and pen.
The graveyard shift was just coming on duty when Nick ushered Lauren and Wanda up the worn wooden stairs to the second floor. He’d already called Captain Gilmour from the hospital. As he’d expected, the captain had recovered rapidly from the shock of hearing his voice and had agreed to meet them downtown. What Nick hadn’t expected was the group of people who were waiting for him in the captain’s office.
“Strada!” Epstein slapped him hard on the back as he stepped through the door. “Should have known you were too stubborn to die.”
Nick staggered, grabbing the edge of a filing cabinet to keep his balance. “Damn, Epstein. You been bench-pressing engine blocks again?”
On The Way To A Wedding Page 16
