by Sandra Brown
“You shouldn’t have promised that. I can’t give them to him.”
“And me?”
“I can’t give them to you, either.”
He caught her to him, pressing her face against his throat. “Kari, for once in your life, don’t be stubborn. Relent this time. Give me a phone number, an address, something to go on, anything.”
She clung to him, her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips were touching the skin of his throat. “And if I don’t?”
With the pads of his fingers, he rubbed her scalp. “They’ll put you in jail for obstruction of justice.”
She raised her head. Her eyes were glassy with tears of apprehension. “You’d let them send me to jail?”
His eyes roved over her face, taking in the loveliness and the fear. His heart twisted with pain, but he replied, “I’d have no choice.”
Her eyes closed, forcing the tears between the lids. They rolled down her cheeks. “No, I guess you wouldn’t,” she said softly.
He drew her closer to him and bent over her protectively. She felt so small in his arms. Barefoot as she was, the top of her head came only to the base of his neck. He was overwhelmed with a need to protect her, but she was making it impossible. He spoke into her hair. “I told them there was no need to send a car for you in the morning, that you’d come in on your own.”
“Thank you.”
“Nine o’clock tomorrow. For convenience sake, let’s meet in my office.”
“Nine o’clock,” she repeated. Her hands slid around his waist. The muscles beneath the stretched cotton of his shirt were familiar. The palms of her hands glided over his back. He felt so strong. She wished he could imbue her with strength and courage.
“Change your mind. Please,” he whispered desperately. “How in the hell do you think I could lock you in a jail cell?”
“How do you think I could betray my professional code of ethics?”
He muttered a curse of frustration, as he pulled back. Then he lowered his head and stamped his mouth over hers. He kissed her long and deep, but the passion was stimulated by anxiety, not desire. When they broke apart, they stared into each other’s eyes for a long minute.
He left as he had come, without a word.
She was at Hunter’s office by eight forty-five, not wanting to take a chance on being late and having them send the police after her. Being put under arrest and hustled off to jail didn’t bear thinking about.
Hunter’s secretary greeted her and solemnly led her into the inner office. The moment she stepped through the door, Hunter jumped from his chair and came around his desk to take her arm. Did she look as faint as she felt? she wondered.
The other man in the office was less eager to put her at ease and much less courteous. He came to his feet slowly, a triumphant smirk on his thick lips. He both frightened and repelled her.
He was short and brawny. The lower part of his jaw was shadowed blue with a heavy beard. He had oiled black hair with flakes of dandruff in it. He looked like he would eat meatball sandwiches with garlic for lunch and make crude comments about women.
She had heard of Lieutenant Harris. He was reputed to be a valuable law enforcement officer, a cunning detective, with the tenacity of a bulldog and a mind as shrewd and analytical as his piercing black eyes intimated.
“Lieutenant Harris, Ms. Stewart,” Hunter said without fanfare.
“Ms. Stewart,” he drawled.
“Lieutenant Harris,” she murmured.
Hunter led her to a chair and she sat down, just before her knees buckled. She hoped she wasn’t giving away her nervousness, but Hunter’s worried look told her she might be. He didn’t look as though he’d gotten any more sleep than she had.
Harris leaned back in his chair and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “You’re in a real jam, Ms. Stewart.”
“So Mr. McKee told me.” She congratulated herself on answering in a voice that was surprisingly cool.
“But you can get out of it,” Harris went on. “Who did you talk to over at the hospital?”
“I can’t tell you.”
He lowered his foot to the floor and leaned forward. “You’d deliberately withhold evidence pertinent to a police investigation?”
“I have no evidence.”
“Let us be the judge of that. Tell us what you know.”
“I did. In my story. Look at it again if you need reminding. I can even provide you with a copy of the script.”
“Then, you won’t cooperate?”
“I’m trying. I just offered—”
“I heard what you offered,” he snapped. “I want the name of your source.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that.”
“Then, you’ll go to jail, lady.”
“I suppose I will,” she said defiantly. She despised being called “lady.” She glared at him. He glared right back. She was the first to lower her eyes.
“You ever been in jail, Ms. Stewart? Of course you haven’t, a nice girl like you. Well, let’s see if I can paint you a picture. First—”
“That’s enough, Harris,” Hunter said firmly. “I’ll take it from here.”
“But—”
“I said I’ll take it from here,” he shouted. The detective made his aggravation known by taking his time leaving the room. When the door closed behind him, Hunter took the chair the detective had just vacated directly in front of Kari. “You’re not going to tell us, are you?”
“No.”
“Kari, think of the parents of those babies.”
“I have,” she said in anguish.
“Have you? Have you really? Can you imagine going to the hospital to deliver a baby and having it snatched from you, having it disappear without a trace, never knowing what happened to the child you had created with someone you love?”
“Stop, please.”
“You lost a child—”
“Stop!”
“—but you never saw it. Imagine holding your baby once or twice, feeding it from your breast—”
“Hunter, no.”
“Imagine going home to the nursery you’d spent hours decorating, preparing, rearranging, anticipating the baby who would sleep in the crib. And then coming home without it.”
She came out of her chair and began to prowl the office aimlessly, as though looking for an escape from an invisible cage. “You’re being cruel. I know what those parents are suffering. But I can’t compromise myself.”
“What happened to those babies, Kari? Maybe they were sold on the black market to childless couples who will love them. Or maybe they’re being used in bizarre medical experiments. Or maybe they’re being reared to be used in child pornography. Or maybe they were sold to perverted old men who—”
“Oh, stop, please,” she cried, placing her hands over her ears. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because, dammit, I don’t want to put the woman I love in jail and will use any tactic necessary to keep from doing it.” He gripped her shoulders hard. “Don’t make me do this, Kari,” he pleaded.
“I have to, my darling.” She touched the lines on either side of his mouth, trying to erase the fatigue and stress there. “My heart tears in two every time I think of those families, Hunter. You know me well enough to realize that.”
She eased out of his arms but kept her eyes level with his. “But if I revealed a source, my career would be over. I’d lose my standing with other reporters. My credibility wouldn’t be worth a dime. No one would ever trust me again. I gave my word. I can’t break it.”
His head dropped forward as though a band at his neck had been severed. For several seconds, he stared at the floor. Then, drawing a deep sigh, he crossed to the door and opened it.
“Harris,” he called out harshly. The detective was slouched in a chair. He got to his feet and lumbered toward them. “She’s ready to go now,” Hunter said briskly, as though if he didn’t speak the words quickly, he might never say them.
Kari stepped through the door. Harris
snapped his fingers and two uniformed policemen rushed in to flank her. She looked at Harris with open contempt before being led into the corridor and through the door to the outside where a police car was parked at the curb.
Harris smacked his lips. “Well, that’s that. A couple of hours on ice and she’ll come around. I’d lay odds on it.” He yawned. “Still, she’s a saucy little piece, isn’t she?”
Hunter went into his office and slammed the door behind him to keep from yielding to an overpowering urge to bury his fist in Harris’s beer belly.
By the time she had been put through the red tape of incarceration, word had gotten out. News of her arrest had spread through the journalistic community. The corridors of the jail were thronged with reporters and photographers as she was led toward the cell block.
Questions were hurled at her. Flashbulbs exploded in her face. The sun-bright lights accompanying video cameras blinded her. She was reminded of the days just after Thomas had been implicated in the city hall scam. But this time, the mood wasn’t hostile.
“Kari!” a familiar voice shouted.
She whipped her head around and spotted Mike Gonzales. His camera was mounted on his shoulder, but he wasn’t looking through the eyepiece. His face was animated with excitement.
“Mike, what’s going on?” She tried to make herself heard over the clamor. A policewoman was firmly urging her to move along. Kari craned her neck around to keep the photographer in sight.
“You’re a heroine. Every journalist in town is behind you one hundred percent. Pinkie’s raising hell. McKee’s name won’t be worth two cents after this.”
“But—”
“Please move along, Ms. Stewart,” the policewoman said and pushed her through the crowd.
Disoriented by the events of the morning and confused by what Mike had told her, she didn’t realize until several minutes later that she was being led down the narrow hallway of a cell block.
“I called my husband when I found out you were going to be here,” the matron said. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you in person.”
Kari’s skin was crawling with goose bumps. She ran her hands up and down her arms. “I wish the circumstances were different.” She gave the woman a weak smile.
The matron shook her head in disgust. “This really tears it. I can’t believe they’re locking you up in here while criminals go free.”
“I don’t hold it against you.” What was she doing? Comforting her jailers? She felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat. Am I becoming hysterical? she wondered. She forced the laugh down. “There’s no one else here,” she commented. They passed cell after cell. All were empty.
“Not on this aisle, no. Word came down from the D.A.’s office to put you here.”
“I see.” But she really didn’t.
The matron held the door of the last cell open for her. “You’ve got a window,” she said in the friendly fashion of a bellhop saying, “You’ve got a room with a view.” “If you need anything,” the matron went on, “you just call for me.”
“Thank you,” she said, before realizing how ridiculous it sounded. Was she trying to win Miss Congeniality of the cell block?
The matron swung the heavy door closed. Kari jumped at the clanking sound of steel on steel. The bolt sliding home was the most nerve-racking sound she’d ever heard. It seemed to go straight through her. How did one keep from going mad?
“Could you give me your autograph before you leave?” the matron asked through the bars.
“Yes, of course.” Her teeth were chattering.
“And make it out to Gus. That’ll tickle him to death.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be at the desk. You remember to call out if you need anything.”
Her rubber-soled footsteps died away and Kari was left alone with a stool, a cot, a basin, and a commode. The cell was clean. It looked new. It was stark. And cold.
Shivering, she lay on the cot and pulled the blanket over her. What would her father have thought of this? And Thomas? He would have been horrified.
Rolling to her side, she drew her knees up to her chest and began to cry.
“You know how I feel about that girl.” Pinkie was morosely twirling his glass of Scotch over the plastic tablecloth. Bonnie was frying hamburger steaks at the range.
“She’s a woman, Pinkie. Not a girl. She’s taking a stand on something she believes. It was her decision. There’s nothing you could do even if she would let you, and she wouldn’t.”
“I know, I know,” he said irritably before swilling down the liquor. “Why does she have to be so damned obstinate?”
“She feels strongly about this.”
“Hell, I feel strongly about it, too. The first thing I did this morning was notify the station’s attorney. Management was backing her all the way. The lawyer could have gotten her out on bail within hours, but no.” He thumped the glass on the table for emphasis. “Stubborn brat that she is, she uses her one phone call to tell me not to do anything until tomorrow.”
“Did she give you a reason?”
“She said as long as she was going to do this, she was going to make it amount to something. She didn’t want to go through the motions and then buy her way out. I think she wanted her sources to see that she was willing to suffer in order to protect them.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Admirable, hell!” he shouted. “She has to spend a night in jail! And what does McKee think about it? Huh? How could he do this to her?”
“It’s his job.” Bonnie resignedly turned off the burner beneath the skillet. Pinkie wouldn’t be in the mood to eat for a long time. “I would imagine that McKee’s feeling much worse about this than you are.”
She came to stand beside his chair. With a hand on either side of his face, she guided his head to her breast and pillowed it there.
“No one feels worse than I do,” he mumbled. “Even whiskey’s not making me feel any better.” He shoved the glass away and turned his face into Bonnie’s maternal warmth. His arms went around her waist.
She smoothed her hand over his head. “Don’t worry about Kari. She’ll be fine. McKee won’t let anything happen to her. He loves her.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Pinkie moved his head against her breasts. “I’m glad you’re with me tonight, Bonnie. I need you.”
Above him, Bonnie’s eyes closed and she compressed her lips tightly against a glad cry. She wondered if he could feel her heart expanding with love and joy. “If you married me, you could have me every night. And every day. I’d be yours all the time.” She positioned the crown of her breast against his mouth and rubbed it back and forth over his lips. “I’m good for you, Pinkie.”
Through her clothes he could feel her nipple pouting with pleasure from the moist caress of his mouth. “And I’m good for you.”
She tilted his head up until he was looking at her. “You’re very good for me.”
He pulled her onto his lap. “Well, since we’re so damn good for each other, why don’t you make an honest man of me?”
He stopped her laugh with a kiss.
The ringing sound echoed through the long dim chamber, and Kari sprang to a sitting position. Her muscles were sore from being held tense for so long. She was still cold and had lain in one position beneath the blanket for hours trying to ward off the horror of the place.
But it was the sound of heels striking the concrete floor that sent a new thrill of fear coursing through her. With a steady cadence, they came closer to her cell.
The visitor cast a long shadow on the floor. She stared at it with increasing panic. It stopped directly in front of her cell. The jingle of keys could barely be heard over the pounding of her heart. Her visitor turned his head back toward the warden’s desk and the light fell on his face.
“Hunter!” she exclaimed breathlessly.
Chapter Fourteen
HE STEPPED INTO THE CELL. IN ONE SWIFT MOVEMENT
, SHE vaulted off the cot and launched herself into his arms. His embrace was encompassing. He held her tight against him, repeating her name like a religious chant and nuzzling the side of her neck.
“Are you all right?”
“Hold me, just hold me,” she whispered frantically.
“For as long as you want.”
They clung to each other. Neither spoke. Nor did they move. She pressed as near him as she could without actually becoming a part of him. His body was strong and warm. It was her security in this living nightmare. The minutes passed silently.
Within his embrace the darkness began to lift and the feeling of entrapment receded. She could breathe again without the sensation of impending suffocation.
At last, she eased herself away from him. “What are you doing here?”
“Officially I’m questioning a prisoner. Unofficially I’m rendering aid and comfort. And love.” He kissed her mouth softly. “Have you eaten?”
“Sergeant Hopkins brought my dinner a while ago. I didn’t want it.”
“I’ll go get you something.” He started to leave, but she clutched at his arm and snuggled against him again.
“No, don’t leave me. Please don’t. Hold me.”
He maneuvered his way to the cot and lowered her onto it. He sat on the edge and gazed down into her shadowed face. Purposely he had requested that Sergeant Hopkins not turn on the lights. He had access to jail cells for the purpose of questioning suspects. But that wasn’t his reason for being in this particular cell at this particular time of night. He was going beyond the limits of his office and, at the risk of appearing downright furtive, would rather be exceeding the limits in the dark.
“Has it been too bad?” he asked gently.
She reached for his hand and held it to her cheek. “Yes. I never thought it would be this bad. Perhaps at first I envisioned it being rather quixotic to spend a night in jail. Perhaps I wanted the attention, the glory. But the reality of it is a debasing thing.
