by Brenda Novak
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” She stalked closer. “You’ve changed. You’re not the sister I knew, the sister I grew up with.”
Tati didn’t move. “Would you stop saying that? I’m trying to put the past behind me, Kalyna, and make peace with who I am and where I come from. And I’m trying to plan where I’m going. I’m happy for the first time in years. Is that so bad?”
“If it changes who you are.”
“Maybe it only changes who you want me to be.”
With the lights off, Kalyna could hardly see her sister, but she concentrated all her hatred on that dark amorphous shape. “You’re not better than I am. You never will be.”
Throwing off the sheet, Tati sat against the headboard and drew her knees to her chest. “I never said I was. You’re purposely misinterpreting everything I say. We’re adults now, Kalyna. I want to decide who I am. I don’t want you to decide for me. Not anymore.”
Kalyna propped her hands on her hips. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to talk to you. You’re just like he is.”
“He? Who’s he?”
“Never mind.” So what if her sister no longer admired her? Luke was the only person Kalyna cared about. And she’d have him. One way or another, he’d be the father of her children.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering, hoping. “Do you have a pregnancy test?” she asked.
“A what?” Obviously taken aback by the sudden shift in topic, Tati gaped at her.
“You heard me.”
Scooting down, her sister curled up on her side. “Of course not. I haven’t even slept with a man yet,” she grumbled.
“How pathetic! And you think there’s something wrong with me?”
“It’s my choice, Kalyna. I’m saving myself for marriage, and I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it.”
“Oh, good grief!” Kalyna felt like slapping her sister. “You’ve seen too many Disney movies. Life isn’t a fairy tale, Tati. If you’re waiting for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue you from this dump of a mortuary, you might as well embalm yourself because you’ll wind up rotting here, just like the corpses in the cemetery down the street. That’s all that’ll happen.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Tati said.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m not taking any chances. I’m going to get what I want.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“Any way I can!” she snapped.
“That’s what scares me,” Tati muttered, and pulled the covers over her head.
Luke continued to pace long after Kalyna hung up. He wanted to call his attorney, but he didn’t have an after-hours number. Instead, he made circuit after circuit of the room, struggling to come to grips with his anger. If only he’d gotten hold of Ava Bixby. If only she could’ve heard what a terrible liar Kalyna Harter really was.
He was tempted to call Ava back, hoping she’d pick up so he could tell her about it, even though he couldn’t provide proof. He hated waiting for the legal process to unfold, and longed to help himself. But he was afraid he’d come across like some kind of madman, phoning Ava in the middle of the night without a more pressing reason than his panic and impatience.
He spent several minutes arguing with himself but finally realized there was nothing to do but wait until morning. He decided to watch TV, hoping it would distract him enough so he could stop fuming.
It didn’t work. He was just as angry when the sun began to lighten the sky.
At exactly eight o’clock, he called in sick. Then he called McCreedy, Eisner and Goran, but he wasn’t able to speak to his attorney. McCreedy was already on his way to court, he was told. He should be back after one.
Luke watched the clock for most of the day, but his attorney never called. At three, the law firm’s secretary informed him that McCreedy had left for the Fourth of July weekend directly from the courthouse and would have to call him on Monday.
“Of course!” he snapped as he slammed down the phone. And that was when he decided he couldn’t sit back and bide his time anymore. He was going to effect some change. He was going to fight back.
He was going to call The Last Stand to see if he could meet with Ava Bixby before she left for the weekend, too.
The Last Stand wasn’t located in a high-crime area, but because of the kind of work they did, and the kind of people it angered, Ava, Skye and Sheridan kept the offices locked at all times. Meetings were always by appointment. So Ava was a little surprised when someone rang the buzzer just before five o’clock on Friday afternoon. She was the only one working late—in the summer they closed at four on Fridays—and she wasn’t expecting anyone.
Assuming it was a volunteer returning to pick up the box of envelopes he’d forgotten thirty minutes earlier, she skirted her desk, grabbed the work Greg Hoffman had left behind and hurried to the front. But it wasn’t Greg standing on the other side of the glass door.
Although the glare of the sun made it difficult to see her visitor’s face clearly, she saw his body. He was at least six-three—and definitely a man. His broad, powerful-looking shoulders, pectoral muscles and biceps filled out a plain white T-shirt that appeared to have been ironed. Judging by the contours of his well-worn jeans, which had a slight crease as if they, too, had been ironed, his long legs were just as muscular as his upper body.
Whoever he might be, he was obviously in excellent physical shape….
When Ava drew closer, his head blocked the sun and she caught sight of his face. It was Captain Luke Trussell. She identified him from that photograph Jonathan had brought her. But his skin was a lot more tanned than it’d been in that snapshot, and the bony ridge above his eyes was slightly more pronounced. As a matter of fact, every feature seemed more rough-hewn—from his long straight nose that flared slightly at the nostrils, to his strong jaw and stubborn chin, to his high forehead and well-defined cheekbones.
“Wow,” she muttered to herself. He was handsome, all right. Just as Kalyna had said. But he also looked as if he could tear her in two with his bare hands.
Wishing she was holding the can of mace she kept in her top drawer instead of a box of envelopes, she hesitated in indecision—and he removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of troubled blue-green eyes.
Slowly, she lowered the box into a nearby chair. She’d told Kalyna that rapists come in all shapes and sizes, and it was true. Maybe she’d never seen one this perfect, but she wasn’t about to let a flash of straight white teeth and an intense but hopeful expression dazzle her into being stupid.
“I’m sorry, we closed at four,” she called through the door. “You’ll have to make an appointment.”
A V formed between those dark eyebrows. “I phoned for your hours before coming,” he called back. “A man named Greg told me you were open weekdays from nine to five. And—” he consulted his cell phone “—it’s not quite five.” He turned it to show her.
Ava sighed. Because they worked by appointment and often stayed late, sometimes well into the night, Greg hadn’t noticed the change in their official hours.
“Did Greg also tell you that we don’t accept walk-in visitors?” she asked.
“No. He said Ava Bixby was on the phone at the moment but she was around today and I’d be able to catch her if I hurried over.”
Another sigh. They needed to have a meeting. The volunteers were getting careless about security, no doubt because everything had been going smoothly of late—no bomb threats, no altercations, no crank phone calls. Skye was so preoccupied with her family, she’d been spending less time at the office and wasn’t as vigilant about reminding everyone of the safety issues as she used to be. Because Ava hadn’t picked up where Skye had left off, she was faced with a potentially dangerous situation….
How should she handle it?
By being firm, she decided. “We’re closed,” she said again.
“Are you Ava, by any chance?”
Was it safe to admit
that she was? She had to. It’d feel too silly to deny it. “Yes.”
“I only need a few minutes of your time,” he said. “Please. I’m Captain Luke Trussell. You wanted to speak to me. You called me a few days ago.”
“I know who you are. I also know that you’re accused of rape, Captain Trussell.”
His lips formed a straight, unhappy line. “Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”
“What I mean is, I won’t be alone with you.”
His forehead rumpled. “I didn’t rape Sergeant Harter. I’ve never raped anyone, and I’m not going to hurt you. We could go somewhere public, if you want.” He glanced up and down Watt Avenue as if searching for a solution. “I’m not that familiar with this street. But…name a place, any place, and I’ll meet you there.”
She would’ve been willing to meet with him had he set this up over the phone, so she could’ve made arrangements for Jonathan or someone else to join them. “Come back on Monday,” she said. “First thing in the morning.”
“Don’t put me off,” he pleaded. “I fought ninety minutes of traffic to get here.” He lifted his hands, large hands that were callused enough to prove he’d done some hard work in his life. “I won’t come within three feet of you, I swear.”
“Not now. Not today.”
“Please?”
Ava sighed once again, this time in resignation. Oh, hell…why not? He was already here, wasn’t he? And she probably had nothing to fear. She’d been over and over his record. It was impeccable. Only Kalyna had anything negative to say about him. Even Jonathan believed in him, citing the fact that he’d been a popular, well-adjusted boy all the time he was growing up. Besides, she needed to hear what he had to say. It might put her uneasiness and indecision on this case to rest.
“Meet me at the Starbucks just down the street.” She pointed to indicate the direction.
“Thanks.” His scowl dissolved into an expression of relief, and Ava went back for her mace.
13
Luke tried to relax as he waited for Ava Bixby to join him, but he couldn’t. He had too much riding on this. At the very least, he hoped to talk the victims’ advocate out of weighing in on Kalyna’s side. At best, he hoped to solicit her help for himself. He doubted The Last Stand had ever come to the defense of someone who’d been wrongly accused. That wasn’t really part of their definition of “victim.” But it was worth a shot. His attorney had a great deal of respect for Ava and her partners, which meant others might listen to them, as well.
The door opened, and a blast of heat from outside entered the coffee shop, along with Ava. She was slightly taller than average—close to five-eight he guessed—and too thin, her face more interesting than pretty. Rather angular, in fact. But the dramatic A-line cut of her blond hair suited it well. She carried herself a bit too stiffly, but there was confidence in her bearing and she had nice eyes. Clear and intelligent, they missed nothing.
He’d already brought her a drink. He tried to wave her over, but she stopped to order anyway, and, while her back was turned, he let himself take in the rest of her. He doubted she would’ve attracted his attention had he met her under different circumstances. He typically liked his women a little softer, in looks and manner, but her no-nonsense figure seemed to fit her personality.
He glanced away before she could catch him checking her out. He didn’t want her to assume he was the sexual predator Kalyna accused him of being. But he was so curious about the kind of woman it would take to do her job—and what she already thought about this case—that it was difficult not to study her.
Leaning back in his chair, he drank one of the two iced mochas he’d ordered when he first came in, staring out at the passing cars while he waited.
Not until the chair opposite him scraped the floor did he allow himself to focus on Ava again. At that point, he found her eyeing the drinks he’d bought with smug suspicion.
“Was one of these intended for me?” she asked.
“I thought you might like it,” he said with a shrug.
Her lips, just full enough to balance the abundance of angles everywhere else, curved into a smile. “Very polite, Captain.”
“Anything wrong with polite, Ms. Bixby?”
“Of course not,” she replied, but he got the impression that his attempt to be courteous had somehow backfired. She definitely wasn’t impressed.
Someone behind the counter called her name, and she got up to retrieve a glass of iced tea. While she was gone, Luke tossed the mocha he’d purchased for her into the garbage.
When she returned, he waited for her to position her purse at her feet and place her drink on the table before speaking. Then he said, “So you can’t accept a coffee drink from a suspected rapist. Anything else I should know?”
Just the way she sat down—knees together, feet tucked under her chair, posture rigid—told him she was on guard. “I don’t like iced mocha. I buy my own drinks. And, no offense, but I won’t base your guilt or innocence on your looks or your charm.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting that much out of a four-dollar drink.” He grinned, hoping to win her over, but her expression didn’t change.
“Why are we here, Captain?” she asked.
He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. He typically got along well with everyone, especially women. But he could tell that Ava Bixby disliked him on sight. “You called me.” He let his smile disappear. That approach clearly wasn’t working.
“You took a while to respond to that call. May I ask why?”
“I have a lot on the line.”
“And you don’t trust me.”
He folded his arms. “From what I can tell, the feeling’s mutual.”
“Just because I haven’t melted at the sight of you?”
“Friendly would’ve been nice.”
“We’re not here to become friends. I’m looking for your side of the story. That’s it.”
He let his eyebrows slide up. “You don’t believe your client?”
“I’d hate to think Kalyna Harter would tell lies that could destroy a man’s life, but…”
“But?”
“She’s not my friend, either. Put it this way—I’ve learned that it’s always better to be open-minded.”
If only she meant it. “How can you say that when you’ve already decided I’m guilty?”
“I haven’t decided you’re guilty. I’m just letting you know I’m not your typical female admirer.”
He leaned close. “Are you really that attracted to me? Because I’m not having the same problem.”
He’d only been as frank with her as she’d been with him, but he had everything at stake and she had nothing. He was afraid she’d be angry, maybe even stomp off, but she inclined her head as if she finally felt she owed him some respect. “Point taken.”
“Great. Now that we’re back on an equal footing, I need to tell you something. Kalyna called me last night.”
Ava didn’t show a great deal of surprise, but a slight tightening around her mouth told him she hadn’t expected this. “Why would she do that?”
“I’m not sure. Especially if she’s as terrified of me as she’s pretending to be. Why would any little piggy call the big bad wolf?”
“Is that how you see yourself?” she asked.
He clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “That’s how I’m being portrayed, isn’t it?”
She took a sip of her tea. “What did she have to say?”
He shook his head. “Nothing that made sense.”
“Give me an example.”
“She said she misses me. As if we were ever dating. As if we even knew each other well enough for her to miss me.” He was tempted to add the part about her wanting his hands on her body. That proved she’d been an equal participant on the night of June 6. But he was afraid repeating that remark would sound false.
“Interesting.”
“You’re skeptical?”
“Open-minded, remember? Do you ha
ve a record of the incoming call?”
“Of course.” He took his cell phone from his pocket to show her. “See here? Three a.m. That was her.”
“It says Restricted,” she said pointedly. “Anyone could’ve made that call.”
Again, he lamented being unable to record his conversation with Kalyna. “Of course she’s going to block her number. She’s not stupid.”
“Just crazy.”
He set his phone aside. “That’s what I think.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said she wanted us to be together. That she…” He told himself to state it baldly. He didn’t like Ava. She was part of the nightmare into which he’d fallen. But he couldn’t bring himself to be that crude. Not in the presence of a woman wearing a business suit. “Let’s just say she made some sexual innuendos.”
Ava crossed one leg over the other. “Captain, thanks to the nature of my career, it’s very likely I’ve heard more graphic descriptions than you have. Just give me the facts. I’d rather you were straightforward than trying to protect my sensibilities.”
“Fine.” He lowered his voice so no one else in the restaurant could hear. “She told me she wanted to feel me inside her again.”
Their eyes locked and Ava’s lips parted, but nothing came out of her mouth. Then she blinked and cleared her throat, and he figured he must’ve imagined that spark between them.
“Let’s back up,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me in your own words what happened on June 6.”
He focused on his drink in case that little sizzle returned. He didn’t want to feel anything like that right now, least of all for this woman, who was someone he couldn’t envision as a friend—even if she wasn’t Kalyna’s advocate. Talk about uptight. “I ran into Kalyna at a bar, and I went home with her. It was a typical one-night stand.”
“Just a sec.” She dug a pad of paper and a pen out of her purse.
“You’re going to take notes?” he asked.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Because he was here against his attorney’s advice, it made him nervous. Depending on her level of motivation, Ms. Bixby could misinterpret a comment or two or even misrepresent what you said. But he supposed recording what he said wasn’t any riskier than meeting with her in the first place. He didn’t want to act as if he had anything to hide. “I guess not.”
