Shades of Passion

by DePaul, Virna

  The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Look, I just think it would be better if we wait for the next call.”

  When she merely continued to stare at him, he finally sighed. “It’s a teenage girl. A suicidal teenage girl.”

  “Oh.”

  He nodded. Said softly, “We’ll take another call.”

  Because she’d told him about Beth. And he’d read about Rachel. And he didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.

  Was he right? The minute he’d said the words suicidal teenage girl her heart had nearly exploded out of her chest. Now her mouth was dry and her hands clammy. Keep it together, Nina. This isn’t about them and it isn’t about you. It’s about a different girl who might need you. Or one down the road who might benefit if the MHIT program got the green light.

  She cleared her throat. “No. It’s okay. If this is clearly a mental health call, it’s best I—I see how Officer Harrison handles things.”

  He turned to look at her, his eyes grim. When he made no move to exit the vehicle, she did it herself. She heard him curse lightly before opening his own door again. They followed the sounds of voices through the front door and the adjacent hallway. A middle-aged woman wearing a pink housecoat and turquoise flip-flops stood in an open doorway. They could hear the low murmur of a male voice in the bedroom and hysterical female sobs getting higher and higher.

  “This is Anne’s mother,” Simon said and although Nina nodded at the woman, she couldn’t help wondering what the officer and Simon were thinking, letting the woman stand there in full view of her daughter. For all they knew, the mother had upset the daughter and her presence was continuing to do so. When they peeked inside, Nina immediately stiffened.

  The uniformed officer was talking to a teenage girl, telling her everything was going to be okay. The girl, however, had backed herself into a corner, a sure sign that she needed space, but Officer Harrison hadn’t gotten the clue. When he took a step closer, his hand on his weapon—maybe his Taser—the girl flinched and shifted, giving Nina a good view of the long-bladed kitchen knife in her hand.

  Anne’s mother moaned as her daughter stabbed repeatedly at her thigh, nicking herself so that her light Capri pants grew spotted with blood.

  “What’s he doing?” Nina asked. “He needs to back off.”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “She’s harming herself. He’s going to disarm her so we can transport her to a hospital under a 5150 watch. Standard procedure.”

  “He’s only making things worse. She’s a wall walker. He needs to back away.”

  “He can disarm her easily enough.”

  “And risk someone getting hurt in the process? Trust me, Simon. Ask him to back away.”

  Simon looked at her, seemed to struggle with himself, then said to Officer Harrison sotto voce, “Officer, return to the hallway, please.”

  Officer Harrison looked confused but backed toward them. Immediately, the girl stopped stabbing herself.

  “Leave me alone,” she screamed. “I just want to die. I can’t live like this. Can’t live—” She jabbed the point of the knife in her thigh again. Now the blood trickled down her leg instead of dotting her capris. The situation was escalating as Anne’s mind took her further and further into a deep, dark place.

  “Can I talk to her?” Nina asked Simon, pushing back the constriction in her chest.

  He nodded, his lips so tight they lost color, but he didn’t take his eyes off Anne.

  “Anne,” Nina called out gently, “I’m not with the police. I’m a doctor and I just want to help you. Will you talk to me?”

  It took her a few tries, but within minutes she had the girl’s attention. Anne’s breathing started to slow and she inched closer toward Nina. Suddenly, however, she froze.

  “I don’t want to talk to them. To the men. You come in and I’ll talk to you.”

  Nina glanced at Simon, who this time met her eyes. He shook his head.

  She turned back to Anne and said, “My friend is afraid you might accidentally cut me with your knife. If he stays in the doorway, will you put it down?”

  Shakily, the girl did as she asked, placing the knife on a small television console.

  Nina moved forward, but Simon grabbed her arm. “The knife’s still within her reach.”

  “It’s okay. She’s calmed down. She’s not going to hurt me.”

  “You’re not going in there. Have her come out.”

  “She wants me to come in. As a show of trust. It’s okay. She’s calm. Willing to talk. I know what I’m doing, Simon. I do this for a living, remember?”

  “So do I. You’re not—”

  A loud thud emanated from the front of the house and Simon automatically glanced that way. Praying she was doing the right thing, Nina pulled out of his grip and walked inside the room with Anne.

  Simon’s low but vicious curse made her wince, but she put all her attention on Anne and calming the girl down. She’d made progress and was moving toward the doorway with her when a man’s harsh voice drifted inside the room.

  Anne let out a guttural cry, a low moan that started deep in her throat and carried through the room, ending with Anne screaming, “Don’t let him near me!”

  A man, overwhelmingly large and with a face full of rage, tried to push past Simon, who held him back. Quick as a snake, Anne grabbed the knife with one hand and Nina with the other.

  The young girl was much stronger than she’d looked. Her grip was tight as she held the knife at Nina’s side.

  “I can’t let him near me,” Anne choked out.

  When the blade pierced fabric and the cool metal met her skin, Nina fought to keep her knees from buckling.

  * * *

  SIMON’S HEART THUDDED in his chest at the sight of the frail, desperate-looking teenager holding a knife to Nina.

  “Stop this, Anne. You’re such a bad daughter! I’m your father and you will listen to me. Damn it, put the knife down.”

  Fucker. Didn’t Anne’s father realize his daughter was about to blow? That this time she wouldn’t just be hurting herself, but someone else? Simon shoved the man back with his shoulder and into Harrison’s iron grip. Without turning his focus away from Nina, he ground out, “Harrison, get Anne’s parents out of here. Now.”

  When Officer Harrison and Anne’s parents were gone, Simon turned back to Anne.

  She was trembling and breathing heavily. Nina, despite her best efforts to remain calm, looked scared.

  “Listen to me, Anne. You’re frightening Nina. You need to let her go now.”

  “I don’t want to see my father.” Anne whimpered, her eyes wild.

  “No one’s going to make you see him,” Simon said. His gaze assessed the distance between him and Anne, and he weighed the risk of Tasering her while she still held Nina.

  Nina obviously sensed his intentions. “It’s okay, Simon. Just stay back. Remember what I said about giving Anne some space. She and I are going to talk. Can you take a few steps back?”

  He frowned, his gaze on the knife at her side. He was so damn angry with her he could barely see straight. She’d deliberately disregarded all his earlier warnings about not placing herself in danger, and damn it, he’d let her. He’d trusted her. Let down his guard because he’d known how shaken she’d be at Anne’s situation, and that had shaken him, as well.

  But while she had a knife to her side at the moment, that knife hadn’t been there before Anne’s father had called out. Fact was, she had been making progress before the man had shown up. She and the girl had been walking toward them, the girl’s face relaxed, her breathing even. She’d calmed the girl down once. Maybe she could calm Anne down again.

  His instincts told him he’d trusted her for a reason. They told him to do it again. Finally, he determined he had no real choice.

  Simon took several steps back, but he didn’t leave.

  “Your father,” Nina said, even though her gaze remained locked with Simon’s. “He scares you, Anne?”

  T
he girl sobbed. “Yes.”

  “Okay. I understand. But he’s gone. Simon won’t let him inside. And I don’t scare you, do I? We were talking. Getting along. You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”

  Anne shook her head. “No. Just—just keep my father away from me. I don’t want to see him. I can’t breathe when I see him. He tells me what to do. What to eat. What to wear. What to say. Where to look. It’s like he’s choking me. I can’t live. Not like this.”

  “Okay. I’m going to help you. I promise. But you need to let me go. Can you do that? Please.”

  After a tense prolonged moment of silence, she lowered the knife and released her death grip on Nina. Instead of immediately leaving, however, Nina turned back toward Anne.

  “Thank you, Anne. Now, let’s put down the knife and walk on over to Detective Granger. He’s a good man and he’s going to make sure your father doesn’t interrupt us again.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NINA SPENT SEVERAL HOURS talking to Anne. Although there was no evidence that her father was guilty of anything more than being a controlling asshole, he had no say over what happened next. Anne had tried to hurt herself and was legally required to be evaluated by a mental health professional. One that wouldn’t be Nina, since she would technically be classified as a witness. Nonetheless, Nina made sure the girl had her phone number along with the names of several counselors that Nina respected. Officer Harrison then drove Anne to the hospital, but before he did, Anne gave Nina a prolonged hug. The entire time, Simon stayed close, restless energy radiating off him like a raging fire.

  Nina fought back gruesome memories of Beth and Rachel. This time, she’d helped. This time, no one had died. She’d been lucky. Lucky that Simon had decided to trust her and let her handle Anne as she saw fit. And lucky that things had worked out.

  Simon, however, didn’t look like he felt lucky. He just drove, grim-faced and stiff.

  Finally, the tense silence between them suddenly became too much for Nina to bear. She placed a hand on his thigh, forcing herself not to flinch when the muscles there bunched along with those in his jaw. He was vibrating, she realized. With residual anger? Fear? Both?

  His girlfriend had been killed by a serial murderer. Simon believed that the reason she’d been killed was directly linked to her chosen profession. Anne hadn’t been a serial murderer, but she’d turned out to be a threat to Nina nonetheless. Had Simon thought of Lana in that moment? Had he wondered whether he would be responsible for yet another woman’s death? Because there was no doubt in her mind that Simon blamed himself for Lana’s death, just as he blamed himself for letting Anne Stanley get too close to Nina.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened back there?” Nina asked. “Why Anne felt she had no choice but to use me as a shield?”

  The leather wrap on the steering wheel squeaked as Simon squeezed harder. “I don’t really care why she went all wacko with a knife. That’s her business, not mine. I care more that she endangered you, and that you undermined my authority. That you refused to listen to me when I told you not the enter that room. This isn’t a fucking game, Nina. These are life-and-death situations, situations I’m trained to handle—”

  “I’m trained to handle them, too. We simply disagreed about how to handle this particular situation. But you did the right thing by listening to me, Simon. And listening to yourself. Your gut told you to give Anne a chance.”

  “My gut was swayed by you!” He slapped his hand against the wheel. “And look what happened. You were almost killed.”

  “That’s an exaggeration—”

  “Her knife pierced your fucking skin!”

  “A slight cut. Nothing more. I wasn’t truly hurt. No, in this particular case, de-escalation didn’t work, not perfectly. A bad thing almost happened. But it didn’t. Even if it had, it doesn’t mean what we did wasn’t warranted. We can do everything by the book and still have horrible things happen. You know that. You can’t stop trusting your instincts because things don’t go perfectly.”

  “My instincts are exactly what you’re trying to stop me and other officers from listening to.”

  “That’s not true. The training I’m talking about will simply enable your men to have more information to work with. To assess the situation with. The way Officer Harrison was crowding Anne was making the situation worse. You instinctively knew that and—”

  He cursed and suddenly swerved the car to the side of the road. He turned toward her, his arm against the back of the seat. “Instinct only goes so far. What if my instincts are telling me two different things?”

  “Then you make the most reasoned decision that you can.”

  “What if my instincts are telling me to pull away from you and pull you closer at the same time? What if they’re saying to back away because I don’t like your profession or the fact that you’re willing to endanger yourself the way Lana was? But what if they also refuse to let me forget the feel of your mouth under mine? Or the feel of your body pressed against me? What if they want me to kiss you again? Right here? Right now?”

  She stared at him, her body trembling, her heart racing. She licked her lips and tried to think. “Again, you do the best you can. You reason things out. We’re attracted to each other and right now that attraction’s been heightened by the adrenaline spike we encountered back there. But we’re working together, and you don’t respect what I do, so reason tells us that you should follow your instinct not to kiss me.”

  “And you always do the reasonable thing?”

  She smirked. “Oh, come on. After the way I dared you to kiss me the other day, you’re actually going to ask me that question?”

  “Dare me to kiss you again,” he whispered, his gaze flickering to her lips.

  And God, how she wanted to. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she ruthlessly held them back.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. It—it wouldn’t be professional.”

  For a minute, he looked at her as if he wasn’t convinced. As if he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her and maybe even do more. Instead, he took a breath, turned away and quietly pulled back onto the road.

  They were silent for several minutes, each unwilling to risk breaking the tension between them lest it unleash a tidal wave of emotions and desire.

  “I called a friend of mine in Charleston,” she finally said.

  He glanced at her.

  “Molly’s husband is a cop. He—he did some checking around, and he says Beth’s father is still there. A neighbor of his said she’d seen him just last night.”

  He grunted. Then said, “I know. I put out feelers about him and was told the same thing. I also got a call earlier. While you were talking to Anne. There weren’t any fingerprints on the letter but yours. But Davenport could have hired someone to deliver the letter and that person could have worn gloves while doing so. Or he could have flown to California and back in one day. It doesn’t sound like my source or your friend’s husband saw him for themselves. I’ll call the local P.D. and have a patrol car stop by and try to contact him directly. I’ll also double-check travel records when we get back to the office.”

  “That seems like a lot of effort. I know how busy you are. How short-staffed. That isn’t necessary.”

  He turned a dark expression on her. “Yes. It is.”

  As they got closer to SIG headquarters, he asked, “You want to come in or—”

  “No, I think I’ll just head back home.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Down a couple of blocks in a public parking lot.”

  It didn’t take long for them to reach Nina’s old clunker. He turned the ignition of his own vehicle off but didn’t remove the key.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow? Same time?”

  He nodded.

  She shoved the passenger-side door open and walked to her car. Behind her, she heard him call, “I’ll follow you home.”

  She stopped and shook her head, turning around
to face him. “That’s not—”

  “Necessary. I know. But I’ll do it anyway.”

  Remembering the scare she and Anne had caused him, she shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she muttered.

  But when she tried to start her car, the engine wouldn’t turn over. Groaning, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a second before she sensed him standing next to her door.

  “Want me to jump you?” he asked.

  Her head snapped up. He was smiling again. Showcasing that fabulous sense of humor of his despite the tense circumstances they’d just experienced. His smile loosened the tight muscles that had clenched inside her stomach ever since the confrontation with Anne Stanley.

  “Sounds wonderful,” she said.

  He grinned full-out now, making him look years younger. Then his gaze flickered to the backseat of her car and he stiffened. “Shit.”

  With a frown, she began to turn, but he reached out and stayed her. “Don’t look.”

  She kept her gaze straight ahead even as she asked, “But why?”

  He yanked open the back door and leaned into the car. “Someone left something for you.”

  “What?”

  He hesitated.

  She whirled around in her seat to look, but Simon’s large shoulders blocked her view.

  “What is it, Simon?” she demanded.

  “A dead cat.”

  “What?” she gasped out. “What does it look like?”

  Had Six crawled into her car and died of heat exposure? She’d never forgive herself if she had.

  “Nina, I’m sorry. This cat looks exactly like yours. Down to its sixth toe. It’s your cat.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “I don’t remember leaving the windows open. I don’t know how she could have gotten in here.”

  “She didn’t climb into the car on her own,” Simon ground out. He turned and faced her, and for the first time she could see Six. She wasn’t simply dead, she was bloody. “Nina, someone used your cat to leave you a message.”

  * * *

  NINA HAD FELT BONE-CRUSHING, mind-numbing grief before.

  Losing her cat didn’t make her feel anything like she’d felt when she’d lost Rachel. Or when Beth had committed suicide. But it still hurt.