Courting Disaster

by Carol Stephenson

  He gave me a light pat on my buttocks. Then he pushed off from the wall and, with our bodies still linked in the most fundamental way, walked, carrying me to his bedroom. Without withdrawing, he lowered us to the bed. He drew up my legs. Relaxed and satiated, I felt more open to him than I had ever experienced before. Open. Not exposed.

  Incredibly, he began to leisurely move inside me again. Jared raised one of my limp hands and kissed my fingertips. “Thank you.”

  Wisps of desire were curling around inside me. I was finding it hard to concentrate. “For what?”

  “For believing me. About the bank account.” Releasing my hand, which somehow managed to grip his shoulder, he kissed the tip of my nose. “Pretty damning evidence.”

  The sexual haze he had been wrapping us in thinned. I turned my face so I could in turn brush my lips against his. “Not really. Our relationship issues have never been about trust or who you are as a person. I know your inner core. Our problems have always stemmed from me.”

  Jared raised his head. “Carling, that’s not true.”

  “Hush.” I pressed my finger against his lips. “We’ve both been through a lot today. Tonight I need you, just you in this bed. Not our jobs.”

  His expression serious, he said softly, “Honey, we have to find a way to balance our lives. Otherwise, we’ll tear ourselves apart.”

  “Let’s start with rule number one. Leave the job at the foot of the bed.”

  The side of his mouth kicked up. “Fair enough.”

  I reached down and cupped him. “Rule number two. Finish what we’ve started.”

  Jared’s erection filled me and he gripped my hands as he moved more forcefully. “On that point, we have an accord.”

  This time the climax was a slow, rolling crest. Afterwards, Jared tucked me close as he fell asleep.

  I tried to ride the calm moment into sleep but failed miserably. Balance. How could a person who felt constantly torn apart inside ever achieve that in a relationship?

  Only total exhaustion finally dragged me under, despite my troubled thoughts.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Good morning, honey. Here.” Barely glancing up from the newspaper spread across the built-in kitchen banquette, Jared handed me a steaming mug after I plopped onto the opposite bench.

  “Thanks.” I studied him as I cautiously sipped my coffee. With his hair wet-combed and wearing a crisp blue-and-white striped shirt and neatly knotted midnight blue tie, he looked good enough to eat. I briefly considered ruining his appearance but after a restless night, couldn’t muster up the energy.

  I swallowed and coughed.

  Jared’s mouth curved into a slight smile even as he kept reading. “Too strong?”

  “Nothing a diesel engine can’t handle.” I gestured with the mug. “The explosion front page?”

  “And then some.” He closed the paper. “Grigori Navka has disappeared.”

  Because most of the regular factory workers had been released early and the rest ran out when the alarm sounded, no one had been killed in the blast. Cuts and bruises plus six arrests were the sum of the casualties.

  “When are the first arraignments?”

  “At eleven and no, I don’t want you present. You’re going to be a material witness.” In the aftermath of the explosion, I had identified the two men with guns after they had been rounded up.

  I sniffed. “As if I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “Carling…” Jared rose and stood over me, his hands fitted to his hips.

  “I promise. I won’t stop in.”

  “Good.” He leaned down and kissed me. The mug I held tilted.

  “Hey, watch it! I have few enough clothes as it is.”

  “Speaking of which, I put your clothes from yesterday there.” Jared nodded toward the counter. “But I doubt even a dry cleaner can resuscitate them.”

  “Oh, no. That’s my favorite jacket.” I leaped up and hurried to the neatly folded pile. Tugging, I held up what remained of my jacket. With a torn sleeve and unmentionable blotches, sadly, it was a total loss. I patted the pockets and felt the outline of the earring. “Oh, my lock pick!”

  “What?”

  I reached in and carefully retrieved it. Curious to see it in daylight, I examined my lifesaver. Wavy bands of silver, gold and copper hammered and melded together dangled from the disk. Very distinctive and…familiar.

  “Oh, Jared.” Sickness warred with the acid coffee in my stomach.

  “What is it, honey?” He circled an arm around my waist. He frowned as I opened my palm, showing him the earring. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong?”

  “I found this on the floor of the closet. I used it to pick the lock.”

  “Thank God.”

  I twisted to face him. “I know who the earring belongs to. The last time I saw it, Sheree Greiner was wearing it.”

  “But how…” His jaw set. “The carjacking wasn’t a coincidence. She was abducted like you were.”

  “Why? She was only a teenager.”

  Clammy waves of cold realization engulfed me. Dropping the earring, I staggered free of Jared’s embrace. I stumbled into the bedroom, barely making the bathroom in time to pray to the porcelain goddess. When the heaves had lessened, replaced by racking shudders, I became aware that Jared held me.

  When I weakly moved away from the toilet to prop myself on the tile floor against the tub, he rose. A cabinet opened, water ran. Then he knelt once more before me and gently wiped my face with a cool damp washcloth. Drained, I didn’t fight him. “Can you stand up?”

  I nodded and he pulled me up and led me to the sink. “Here.” He wrapped my fingers around a glass of water. “Sip and spit.”

  I obeyed, repeating the process until the sour taste of vomit dissipated. Finally, Jared poured mouthwash into the glass and I swished the mint-flavored liquid around before spitting into the sink.

  As if I were a docile child he led me into the bedroom and sat me on the edge of the bed. “Okay.” He settled beside me and took my hands. “What’s wrong?”

  Would he continue to hold those hands knowing they were covered in so many people’s blood? Borys, Drew and now Sheree. No matter how I viewed it, their deaths traced back to actions I’d taken.

  I cleared my throat. “Sheree worked at the new amusement park.”

  “Whiplash?”

  “Yes. It’s one of the businesses listed on Borys’s CD.”

  Jared went still, no longer rubbing my hands that were like blocks of ice.

  It was about to get worse. “During her deposition she volunteered information about the park, people there. And I let her.”

  He released my hands and the loss of contact was a knife jab deep to my heart. “Go on.”

  “Since the rape did occur in the parking lot, it was a legitimate area of questioning,” I defended.

  “What did she say, Carling?”

  “She talked about favoritism, inferred that women who were Russian got the preferential booths. The racetrack also ran restricted betting windows, so I wondered if that was how dirty money was being funneled. I asked her if only certain customers went to a particular booth.”

  “Christ.” Jared rose and stood looking at me with disgust, like he wished that he didn’t know me.

  “You had to push it, didn’t you? Did it ever occur to you if someone worried about your memory was monitoring your actions that he might have become doubly concerned about what Sheree Greiner might or might not know?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You might as well have painted a red neon bull’s-eye on her back.”

  “I know.” I clasped my hands together for fear I would reach out for him.

  He strode across the room and grabbed his jacket. “I can’t think, let alone talk about this in a rational manner. We’ll discuss this later.” He crossed to the door.

  “I’ll pack my bag and leave.”

  Jared pivoted and came back to me. Planting his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned clo
se. “Carling, I’m upset and yes, disappointed in you. When you walked away from representing both Rocket and Larry Clark, I had hoped you were changing.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t be with you if you continue to place yourself and others in danger. I can’t go through you being shot again or worse. But for now—” he gave me a quick, hard kiss, “—I’m late for a meeting.”

  He crossed to the door and was gone.

  I released a shuddering breath. Well, he hadn’t tossed me out on my ear. That was something.

  The phone rang. “Hello,” I answered dully.

  “Carling, it’s Maria.” I had called the office yesterday and answered a barrage of questions about the blast. “How are you feeling this morning? Can you handle a first appearance for Kate?”

  I mentally ran through my calendar and knew it was blank page. I also knew that I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. “I don’t think I have anything better that I could be doing.”

  “Good, here are the details.”

  As I listened with increasing amusement, I thought Kate herself could stand a few lessons in accepting clients.

  Judge Howard Kluger blinked. “Ms. Dent, would you care to repeat that?”

  “Certainly, Your Honor.” I ignored the gaping mouth of the young male state attorney assigned to misdemeanors.

  “There is no evidence that Mr. Wolf recklessly endangered his alligators.” My client, a former Hollywood stuntman, stood silently next to me.

  The judge adjusted his glasses. “The charging affidavit states that he drugged the alligators he wrestled with as part of the wildlife shows he puts on.”

  Inwardly I winced. My client ran Alligator Bob’s Extravaganza off State Route 7, near the Loxahatchee Preserve. The ads invited out-of-state tourists to fork out a twenty-dollar admission to get up close and personal with Florida’s dangerous wildlife, from coral snakes to alligators. The grand finale consisted of a buff Alligator Bob—as he told me to call him—clad in cut-offs and muscle shirt wrestling several alligators. Problem was those gators were doped to the max so that they only gave an occasional snap of the jaws or whip of the tail.

  “Perfectly harmless,” Bob had assured me during our conference. “I’m also a veterinarian and know how much tranquilizer to administer. My insurance carrier loves it since the gators aren’t as likely to scoot off and terrorize the crowd.”

  “But isn’t your show a fake then?”

  “Heck no, Ms. Dent.” He displayed his arm, marred by scars. “Gracie and George are still frisky enough to get me on occasion.”

  Now I smiled politely at the judge. “My client’s a licensed veterinarian. The tox studies will show the alligators were only chilled a bit.”

  “T-tox studies?” stammered the rookie prosecutor.

  Judge Kluger aimed his pen at him. “Check with the animal control officer who initiated the charges. If they didn’t run any tests on these gators or you don’t have expert testimony that even the smallest dosage is harmful, I expect not to see this case again.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I’m releasing Mr. Wolf on his own recognizance, but I want Animal Control to keep monitoring all the wildlife out there. Mr. Wolf, do you understand that I expect you to cooperate fully?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Good. Next case.”

  After a few words with the grateful alligator wrestler, we parted in the hallway. I wandered aimlessly, walking by milling attorneys. No, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go into Jared’s courtroom. In fact, I probably should go back to his townhouse and move out.

  However, we needed to talk, even if it was tantamount to a knockdown, drag-out fight. We had to clear the air. I wasn’t willing to ride off into the sunset like I’d apparently done a year ago. What we had or could have together was too important.

  “Carling!”

  I turned and saw Andy Lopez hurrying toward me. His tie was slightly askew and his cheeks flushed. “How are you?” His expression was somber. “I know all about the kidnapping and explosion.”

  I gave him a smile. “I’m fine, Andy. Thank you for being concerned.”

  “Given Jared’s personal involvement with you, the chief wanted me to go to Rocket for the raid, but Jared went wild, wouldn’t stand for it.” Andy’s voice held bitterness. “It was his way or no way.”

  I lightly touched the state attorney’s arm. “Thank you for helping. I’m glad I had so many people behind me. It got a little hairy.”

  “A little? Drugged and abducted from a public street by a Russian hit man, tossed into a closet and almost shot. I’m sure it was terrifying.”

  “I’ve had better times,” I said dryly.

  His smile was lopsided. “I know I’m impressed. How did you get out of a locked cleaning closet?”

  “You’d be surprised what skills you can pick up in our business.” I hesitated. I didn’t want to disclose that I had found Sheree Greiner’s earring even though Andy had been the prosecuting attorney in her case. Jared was investigating which state attorney was on the take. Until he discovered who it was, I had to suspect everyone in the department.

  But Andy had spoken with the girl on several occasions, and attorney-client privilege extended only to matters relating to the actual rape case. Sheree might have said something in passing that would connect Rocket to the amusement park.

  I made a pretense of checking my watch. “Andy, I have time. How about that cup of coffee we never manage to have together?”

  Eagerness flashed across his face. “I’d like that.”

  “Then lead the way.” I gestured in the direction of the elevators. As we walked toward them, I glanced to my right and spotted Jared speaking to a bailiff. He looked up, his expression becoming grim when he saw me. So harsh that his jaw muscle twitched before he deliberately turned away.

  Somehow I had to make things right and the only way was to bring a killer to justice.

  An hour later I dragged into the office. While Andy had been pleasant, he managed to skirt the issue of Sheree Greiner every time I raised the topic. He had mentioned very few bits of information that I didn’t already know from the file.

  Another dead end.

  “Carling.” Maria shot out of her cubicle. “You need to get another cell phone. I’ve been trying to reach you. You have a message from Galina. She said her father’s been arrested.”

  That would explain why I hadn’t heard from him.

  “Where is he, the police station or criminal detention center?”

  “He’s at Gun Club.” That was the street the detention complex was on. I turned and headed toward the rear door. “In case Galina calls again, I’m on the way.”

  When Mike Staminski was led into the detention center conference room thirty minutes later, the first thing I noticed was how pale he was. The man was being eaten alive by fear. The guard took the handcuffs off him and left the room.

  “Hello, Mike. You don’t look well.”

  He shrugged. “It’s all right. What are you doing here?”

  Since I was never sure how private our conversations truly were inside these rooms with guards monitoring, I simply said, “I had a call that you had been arrested. Let’s see about getting you out of here.”

  I pushed a sheet of paper across the table. “The state has new evidence against you and is upping the charges to smuggling as opposed to merely possession. They have the affidavit of a witness who claims he’s helped you smuggle drugs for Rocket. The state’s disclosed the witness is a convicted felon so I’m assuming they’ve worked out a deal. Reduced sentence for whatever he’ll testify about the Rocket operation.”

  Sweat beading along his temple, Mike read the affidavit. “I do not know this man. He did not work at Rocket.”

  “Really?” I jotted down a note to do more discovery on the witness. “Then there’s an opportunity for us to work a deal.”

  “Ms. Dent.” Mike spoke in a low pleading tone. “I’ve changed my mind. I do no
t wish for a lawyer.”

  I leaned back, considering him. “How’s the family?”

  Comprehension mingled with the terror in his dark eyes. “Not good.”

  “Sudden illness?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right after I got the call this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “But my note is still good?”

  “Yes.”

  So Mike did still want me to represent him but was going through a charade of firing me. How deep were the Hedeon’s connections inside the detention center? I collected my belongings.

  “Okay, I understand. Give your family my love.”

  I rose and in passing Mike, gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. I buzzed for the guard, who promptly appeared. I hadn’t really paid any attention to him when he had admitted me to the room other than he wasn’t the friendly type. Now noting his name on his badge, I gave him a bright smile.

  “Thank you, George. Sorry for the trouble but I’ve just been fired.”

  The guard grunted and gestured for Mike to turn his back so he could be cuffed.

  “George Chudzik. Unusual last name. Polish, isn’t it?”

  The guard slanted me a dark look. “Yeah, what of it?”

  “It’s just that I recognize it from the list of people on duty the night that Borys Dolinski was murdered.”

  “Read my statement, Counselor. I was on my break at the time the shooting occurred.”

  “Oh.” I waved my hand in true airhead fashion. “I know that. You had several witnesses attesting to your whereabouts. Lucky you.”

  His thick lips lifted back in a sneer. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Certainly.” I stood aside. “Of course, you must be fearful of another shooting inside the jail.”

  That gave him pause. “Why’s that?”

  “Because if you’re on duty, then you’ll be one of the first ones put under a microscope.”

  “You’re nuts.” The guard shoved Mike out of the room, none too gently.

  I released a deep sigh. For the moment I’d done what I could to protect Mike from being murdered by a guard. I wondered if George Chudzik was PG 1 or PG 2 on Borys’s list.