Shades of Passion
Page 22
“I realize that. But you see, like I said, I knew him. Not well, but even so, even knowing how much he grieved his daughter and blamed me for her death, I would never have thought him capable of violence. Not like this.”
“Would you have suspected he’d threaten you, even break into your house with a gun?”
“No,” she said truthfully.
“Yet you saw for yourself that he did do that.”
“Yes, but murder? Mutilation? That’s far different. I just want to see him. Observe him when he doesn’t know I’m there. I might be able to offer you something useful, even if it’s nothing that can be used against him in court.”
Stevens pondered what she’d said for several minutes, then nodded. “Come with me. You can watch the tail end of Simon’s interview from a one-way mirror.”
He led her to a small room with a window that looked into another small room. There, Simon sat at a long table. On the other end of the table sat a pony-tailed man in a blazer, and Lester Davenport.
Davenport was shackled to a metal chair, his forehead on the scarred metal table in front of him, his sobs echoing through the interrogation room. Despite herself, despite all the things Simon suspected he’d done, Nina’s heart ached with sympathy for the man.
“Has he said anything about me?” she asked Stevens.
Stevens hesitated, and Nina reassured him, “It’s okay. I’ve heard him blame me for Beth’s death for a long time now. I’m just wondering if his accusations have remained consistent or if he’s started to remember the past in a skewed way. That would give me some insight into his current mental state.”
“He told Simon that you were responsible for his daughter’s death because your staff knew she was suicidal, yet you let her boyfriend give her a teddy bear with a long length of ribbon tied around its neck into a bow. He said that although your staff confiscated the bear, they failed to notice that Beth secreted the ribbon in her mouth. And he said that she used that ribbon to hang herself.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” she said. “So he’s in touch with reality.”
“He said you weren’t actually at the hospital at the time, though.”
“That’s right.”
“Yet he blames you so strongly.”
“Because I’d told him that Beth was getting better. That I didn’t think she’d make another attempt on her life as long as she continued to improve the way she had. I was obviously wrong.”
“You mean because you couldn’t predict the future with perfect accuracy, you’re to blame?”
“In his mind, yes.”
“And in your mind?”
She startled and looked up at the commander. “Logically I know I’m not to blame. But I still can’t help wondering if I could have done more to get through to Beth. Aren’t you plagued by such doubts at times?”
“Of course. We all are. I just hope you remember that.”
She smiled slightly. Commander Stevens was obviously trying to do the right thing by having someone other than Simon interview her, but he was compassionate about her situation, as well. He was just being objective, like he’d said. That went a long way in getting her to trust him again.
The interview concluded less than two minutes later without giving Nina much of an opportunity to observe Davenport. Stevens escorted her out of the room. As they walked farther down the hallway, she asked, “Despite what he believes about Davenport, Simon has said I shouldn’t assume I’m safe now. Do you agree? Because I’d like to go home. Get on with my life.”
“Does that include the shadow program with Simon?”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to continue the program. I’ve seen enough, and I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you that, while I find your men to have a basic understanding of mental illness consumers and de-escalation techniques, there is ample room for improvement. As such, I will be recommending SFPD and other city law enforcement undergo the MHIT training. Of course, I can shadow Simon or another detective a few more times if you insist but—”
“No,” Stevens said. “You’ve done what I asked. If you think you have enough information to make your recommendation, I believe you. And as far as getting back to your home? Your life? I agree with Simon. We need to proceed cautiously here. However, between last night and today, the techs should have already processed your house. If you feel strongly about it, you can return home as soon as you’re done here.”
She nodded. “Great. Then I’d prefer to give my statement to Jase or Carrie as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Stevens said. “Jase is waiting for you right now.”
Stevens escorted her to another room. There, Jase greeted her in a more subdued and professional manner than normal. It set the stage. Made Nina face the fact that her friendly interactions with Simon and his team were indeed coming to an end. Methodically, Jase told her about Cann and Hastings. He showed her sanitized photos and urged her to try to remember if she’d had contact with either of them, or if she’d ever heard Davenport talk about them.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t recognize them. I’ve never met them. You can always double-check what I’m saying by checking patient records at the hospital, see if they were ever admitted there, but other than that, I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Jase nodded and made some notes. “That’s a good idea. Looks like both men have lived in the city for the past few years. I’ll check with the hospital records clerk. They won’t give me any confidential information, of course, but whether a particular person has ever been a patient there should be something they can—”
Both of them jumped as the door to the interview room suddenly banged open.
From the open doorway, Simon glared at them. “What the hell is going on here?” he growled.
Jase looked at him calmly. “Take it easy, Simon. I was just asking Nina a few questions, trying to see if she could tell us anything about Mr. Cann or Mr. Hastings, or how she or Davenport might be connected to them.”
“And who the hell told you to do that? The Cann and Hastings cases are mine. And DeMarco’s. You have no business taking over my interviews.”
“Stevens made it my business. He wanted to make sure she was interviewed by someone objective. Just to cover our asses from accusations of preferential treatment. You two have been working together. Hell, she helped you find that little girl. It’s in the press. If you want charges against Davenport to be rock-solid, we need to think two steps ahead of his attorneys.”
“Fine. If Stevens didn’t want me interviewing her, why not DeMarco?”
“DeMarco went home. He has some kind of bug. But you’re overreacting, Simon. I help you with cases all the time. Some reason you don’t want me helping on this one?”
“I don’t like the way you and Stevens went behind my back. You waited until I was busy with Davenport to pull her in here.”
“Simon,” Nina interjected. “It’s okay. Commander Stevens explained and—”
“Are you done here?” he interrupted, clearly addressing Jase.
“Yeah. We just finished up.”
Simon nodded. Looked at Nina. “Let’s go.”
* * *
AS HE DROVE NINA BACK to his house, Simon knew he was overreacting.
He trusted Stevens and Jase. He knew they trusted him.
Having Jase interview Nina about what she might know about Cann and Hastings had made sense. If he’d still been captain and one of his men had been in his position, he’d have maneuvered things the same way.
He knew all that. So why was he feeling so off balance and pissed? As if his own team had posed a danger to Nina when she’d already had enough to deal with as it was?
“Do you want to talk about it?” Nina asked.
He glanced at her as she sat beside him. “About what?”
“Your doubts that Davenport committed these murders.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“Part of me found him persuasive,” he corrected. “A persuasive liar. There’s a difference.”
“But there’s part of you that believes he might be telling the truth, isn’t there? Or part of you that’s willing to consider it?”
He forced back his automatic denial. Forced himself to be the straight shooter he’d consistently told her he was. “Yeah,” he said finally. “There is. At least until I have more, something to connect him to the two men that were murdered, some part of me has to consider that his role in all of this is limited. The theory that I posed, that he’s trying to kill the mental illness that killed his daughter, is a legitimate one, but it’s just that, a theory. And Davenport...well, now that I’ve met him...now that I’ve actually talked with him...”
“He doesn’t seem smart enough to have pulled off these murders?” Nina nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree.”
“Everything points to him having done it. But a chain of evidence is almost never this clean. It almost seems like he’s being set up. Again, I’m not saying I believe that. Eighty percent of me thinks he’s good for the Cann and Hastings murders.”
“But twenty percent of you doesn’t. And you’re not willing to risk that the real murderer is still out there. That’s why you’re taking me back to your house, right? Why you don’t want me to go back to my place yet?”
“Do you want to go back to your place?”
“I should. I need to get a more secure security system installed. I mean, I know DeMarco put in a good one, but Davenport managed to get around it. I really want something better. Something befitting Fort Knox would be good.”
He smiled slightly. “We’ll arrange for that. I can call Lana’s father, Gil Archer. He runs one of the top security firms in the city, remember? As for you going back home? I’m not sure if the evidence techs have fully processed the house yet. Besides, I didn’t ask if you should go back to your place. I asked whether you want to go back there.”
She paused, then said, “No. I don’t want to go back there. Not yet.”
He looked at her. “Good.” After a few seconds had passed, he reached out and placed a hand on her leg. The gesture was both comforting and arousing. “Then you’ll stay at my house again.” He squeezed her leg, and fire settled low in her core. Good God, did her body respond to Simon Granger’s touch.
As if sensing her reaction, Simon grinned and murmured, “I’ll cook you dinner. Put you in bed. Let you get some sleep.”
Nina recalled how Davenport had looked in that interrogation room. She still felt sad, but she refused to wallow in it. Simon was right. They couldn’t be certain that Davenport had killed Cann and Hastings, but it was the only possible explanation so far.
In the end, however, it was up to Simon, not Nina, to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Stevens had been right about Nina’s inability to be completely objective when it came to evaluating Davenport the way a doctor should. She was his victim, and she’d have to leave the assessments and his treatment to someone else. In the meantime, she refused to deprive herself of whatever happiness she could find, no matter how temporary it might be.
She turned until she faced Simon. “I’ll go home with you. But only if you promise you won’t let me sleep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE AIR RUSHED OUT OF Nina’s lungs when her back hit Simon’s bed. Once she’d agreed to stay at his house again, Simon hadn’t taken things slow. He’d driven her back to his place, unbuttoning his shirt as soon as they crossed the doorway and unzipping his pants with one hand as he led her into the bedroom with the other. Once there, he’d stripped her, quickly and efficiently, and then he’d pushed her onto the bed.
At first, she’d been surprised by his aggression. By the fact that he wasn’t treating her with kid gloves. But then she realized why and she was grateful. If he’d moved too slow or too gently, it would have made her think about why he was doing so. As it was, she could barely focus on anything past her own passion and urgency.
“Condoms?” she asked, stroking her own belly and winding her legs together in a sinuous pattern as Simon ripped off his shoes, pants and then his shirt.
He stood before her, straight and proud, his erection jutting out. “In the nightstand next to you,” he said, “but we won’t need them for a while.”
His stated intent to stretch out the foreplay made her breath catch.
She wanted him, wanted his body on top of hers, wanted to feel his heat inside her. And yet he just stood there, at the edge of the bed, staring down at her. The warm, soft smile toying at his lips set her on fire, and she felt a strong urge to meet his aggression with her own. This wasn’t going to be another night of her lying on her back while Simon took the lead to distract her. Of course she wanted distraction again, but he could distract her simply by being in the same room with her. Of course, it distracted her more when she was in his arms. But the biggest distraction of all? That would come when she was completely immersed and solidly focused on driving him wild with passion.
Starting right now.
She pulled herself onto her knees, which made his brows lift in surprise. Kneeling in front of him, she settled her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. As the kiss grew heated, however, and she sensed his intention to take over, she pulled away.
She sprinkled kisses along his firm jaw, down his throat and over his muscular chest. She savored the feel of her lips against his hot skin, but kept her hands moving. Stroking. Cupping.
He hissed as she cradled his erection in her palm. Groaned as she continued to kiss him, progressing lower and lower down his body until...
“Jesus,” he hissed and tangled his hands in her hair. The slight sting as he lightly pulled her hair made her moan and she opened her mouth even wider to take in more of him. He tasted like nirvana, sweet and salty combined, and she sucked him strongly, like a particularly juicy piece of candy. When he groaned again, she glanced up and saw that he’d pulled back slightly and was now looking down, eyes hooded but open, watching her suck him off. Deliberately, she slowly pulled back, until he’d almost slipped out of her mouth, and then she twirled her tongue around the tip of his cock.
“That’s such an amazing sight,” he said. “Fucking beautiful.”
She smiled and once again drew him deeper into her mouth. And once again, he rewarded her with a slight pull to her hair. This time, the sting sent a jolt of pleasure between her legs so sharp that she instinctively lowered one of her hands to rub at her clit. She was wet, practically dripping for him, and she worked her fingers against herself even as she continued to work him with her mouth.
“Now that’s even more beautiful,” he gritted out. “You touching yourself while you pleasure me. You’re beautiful, Nina. I want you. Give me your mouth on mine. Now.”
When she didn’t comply right away, he lightly gripped her jaw and drew her mouth away from him. Then he hoisted her up and took her mouth in a deep kiss. Instinctively, she placed both hands on his shoulders again, but before she could miss the pleasure of sensation between her legs, he lowered his hand and gave it back to her. Only his touch felt so much better than her own. His fingers were bigger. Longer. Harder. And of course they made her think of another part of his body that would soon be inside her. How much bigger, longer and harder it would be, and how it would stretch her to her limits and still leave her craving more.
“Shift your legs farther apart,” he commanded against her mouth. “Let me get to all these pretty pink bits and sweet, sweet heat. I want to touch every inch. And then I want to taste it, Nina.”
She did as he commanded, gasping when he plunged a finger inside her. So good, she thought. This feels so good. But he’d taken over, she realized. He was driving her crazy with pleasure, when that had been her goal for him. When she pulled back to tell him so, her words c
aught in her chest.
He certainly looked crazy with lust. His eyes were hooded, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hard and desperate. All good, but not quite good enough.
“My breasts,” she gasped. “Please. Suck me. Taste me, just like you said.”
Swiftly, he lowered his head, catching her right nipple in his mouth and sucking so strongly she automatically jerked and wailed, “Yes. God yes!”
He took his time there, working her with his hand, working her with his mouth and teeth, even as his hips pumped the air beside her, his cock obviously wanting some attention of its own.
She lowered her hand and gripped him. Stroked him with firm, pulling motions.
He switched to her other nipple, giving it lavish attention, as well.
And suddenly it was too much. She grabbed his ass and said, “Now. I want you inside me. Please.”
“Not yet,” he said.
She tried pulling him forward, but he resisted until she wanted to cry. He’d promised her lots of foreplay, but she didn’t want it. She wanted him inside her, big and thick, blocking out everything else but how good they made each other feel. She was too empty. Too achy to take much more. Or rather, too achy to take anything less than all of him.
“Please, Simon. Now.”
He released her breast and looked at her, and her desperation seemed to spark his own. With a savage curse, he lowered her to the bed again, then pinned her wrists above her head.
“What are you—?” she began, startled by the erotic restraint.
“I’m going to give it to you, but we’re going to go slow. You’re not going to rush me. I’m going to draw this out all night. Me pumping into you again and again. You’re going to beg me to give you your climax, but this time, I’m not going to give in. Not until you want it so bad, you can’t think of anything else.”
“I already can’t think of anything else,” she insisted, instinctively fighting against his hold, but stopping as his gaze became intent and, with his other hand, he began to guide himself into her body.