Sundays Are for Murder

by Marie Ferrarella

  Charley looked away. “No big deal, really. I just stopped by to visit my father. He always affects me this way.” Even as she said it, she cursed herself for her reaction. What was she, ten?

  Nick found it telling that she avoided his eyes. And couldn’t help wondering why she’d put herself in that sort of situation in the first place. “Why do you go, then?”

  She didn’t like have her motives questioned. A little of her desperation surfaced, along with her temper. “Because he’s my father. Because I keep hoping he’ll change. And because I wanted to tell him that David’s stationed here now and is getting married.” She sighed. “I invited him to the wedding.”

  So she had said over the phone. He studied her over his slice. “And he’s really not coming?”

  “No.” Charley caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. And then she decided to push ahead and ask, “Are you doing anything Sunday?”

  He thought of the boxes that littered his apartment. Somehow, he still hadn’t unpacked them. He just kept putting off the task to the weekend. For the last four weekends. They could keep yet another week.

  “No, why?”

  She knew she was going out on a limb, but suddenly, she wanted a friend there with her. Someone she could talk to, perhaps dance with. Sam and Jack were married and Bill was currently spoken for. That left Nick.

  She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Want to go to a wedding?”

  He lifted a shoulder carelessly, then let it drop. The idea of spending an afternoon with her away from the office and the serial-killer data was not without its appeal. “As long as it’s not my own.”

  “Are you a confirmed bachelor or did your last marriage leave a bad taste in your mouth?”

  “Neither,” he told her simply. “I just haven’t found anyone I want to spend the rest of my life with. Marriage is a really serious step.”

  His declaration took her aback. Whether Brannigan knew it or not, he’d just professed to having old-fashioned values. He really was deeper than she’d given him credit for.

  “You actually think that way?” She shook her head in wonder. “Most people these days look at their first marriage the way people used to look at their first house. Like a way to get their feet wet. A starter.”

  Nick paused to wash down the slice he’d just consumed with a long drag of soda. Lowering it down, he looked at her for a long moment, thinking how beautiful her eyes were.

  “I don’t subscribe to a throwaway economy,” he said.

  His gaze unsettled her. Charley did her best to disregard the effect he had on her. “And with that philosophy, no one’s run off with you?”

  “No.” He grinned. The devil at his best couldn’t have been sexier, she thought. “Are you thinking of making me an offer?”

  It was warm in here, she thought. Very warm. Her skin was heating up at an incredible rate. And all the moisture had left her mouth. Maneuvering her tongue took a bit of doing.

  “Yes.” And then she smiled, knowing what he was thinking. “The next pizza’s on me.”

  On her.

  Nick caught himself squeezing the soda can he was holding a little too tightly. The pressure caused the shape to change. He laughed as he set the can down. Maybe he had been without female companionship too long.

  “Okay.”

  When he looked at her like that, she found it hard to form complete sentences. What the hell was going on here? Was she just being emotionally needy because of the scene she’d endured with her father, or was there something else at play?

  Charley cleared her throat. “You still really haven’t answered my question. Do you want to go to my brother’s wedding with me?”

  “In place of your father?”

  “No. As yourself.” As she said it, something told her that she was really asking for trouble.

  “Sure.” Dakota barked, as if to say that she approved of his response. Nick laughed and petted the animal on the head.

  Charley watched the way the dog rubbed her head against Nick, forcing him to continue petting her. “I think Dakota approves of you.”

  He laughed, seeing right through the animal. “I’ve got a feeling Dakota would approve of anyone who fed her pizza.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Charley told him, running her hand down along the dog’s coat. Dakota continued looking at Nick. Hussy, Charley thought affectionately. “She’ll take food from anyone, but then she’ll bark at them once she’s finished.”

  Nick smiled as he debated between taking another slice or walking away slightly hungry. He had the capacity to consume a great deal and never gain an ounce. “Sounds like some of the women I knew.”

  Charley leaned back in her corner of the sofa, shifting so that she could study him. “And just how many women did you know?”

  There was no way he was answering that one. “The average amount.” And then he turned the tables on her, his eyes holding her prisoner. “How many men have been in your life?”

  She busied herself with what was on her plate, avoiding his eyes. “If you mean suspects and victims, too many to count.”

  Crooking his index finger, he slipped it beneath her chin and lifted her head until her eyes met his. “How about the ones you can count?”

  She drew back her head. He could have sworn he saw a curtain go down. “Are you asking me about my love life, Special Agent Brannigan?”

  “I brought you pizza. I’m entitled to ask you a few questions.” His smile was easy. Seductive. “And it’s Nick, remember?”

  “You can ask as many questions as you want, Nick.” She deliberately emphasized his given name, as if it was a label for a condition instead of a name. “Doesn’t mean I have to answer.”

  Humor entered his eyes. This was a game now and he wasn’t one to give up easily. “But if you were to answer, what would it be?”

  She laughed. The man was persistent all right. A good asset for any decent law-enforcement agent. “My job keeps me too busy to notice men I’m not questioning or investigating.” She paused, then blew out a breath. Oh, what the hell, it wasn’t as if she was ashamed of it. “None.”

  “None,” he repeated, not believing the answer for a minute. But for the sake of the game, he played along. “You mean as in none currently?”

  “I mean as in none.” She enunciated the word with feeling. “I don’t have the time to get involved.”

  “You’ve never been involved.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t convince himself that she was telling him the truth. You didn’t look like that, with a killer face and a drop-dead gorgeous body and go through life un-coupled. She was putting him on. It was just a matter of getting her to admit it. “How about when you were in college?”

  She didn’t want to think back to that. Not that the years had been painful, but if she thought of college, she had to think of the way she’d found Cris. And she really didn’t want to think about that tonight.

  She shrugged. Tucking her feet under her on the sofa, she looked away. “Cris got all the attention. I did the studying for both of us. And the exam taking.”

  He stared at her, processing what she’d just admitted to. She’d cheated. Not for herself, but for her sister. Somehow, that seemed in keeping with the woman he was getting to know. It was a selfless, risky act. Caught, she would have been expelled along with her sister. She’d been willing to ruin her academic career for someone she loved.

  Nick saw her with new eyes. “Why, Special Agent Dow, this is a side of you I wouldn’t have guessed existed. I had no idea you were capable of being underhanded.”

  A protest rose to her lips, but underhanded was as good a label as any. Probably more charitable than most. “It was Cris,” she said softly, aching as the memory of her sister intruded. “No one said no to Cris. She was vivacious, dynamic. Everybody loved her. Including me,” she added wistfully.

  “Everybody but the person who killed her.”

  The stark sentence had her shoulders stiffen. The ache inside grew
stronger. “Maybe they were after me,” she told him. “Cris and I looked so alike that even my mother got us confused sometimes.”

  She’d advanced this theory before. But that was before they’d known the full extent of the Sunday Killer’s M.O. He turned her face until she looked at him. “Hasn’t it hit you yet?”

  “Hasn’t what hit me yet?”

  “The serial killer thinks he’s bringing redemption when he kills a victim. He only kills women having affairs with married men.” He wondered how long she had been letting this eat away at her. Was that why she allowed her father to browbeat her the way he did? Because she felt guilty? Because she thought she deserved it for being alive? “Were you having an affair with a married man?”

  “No.” Her answer was emphatic.

  “Then it was your sister the guy was after, not you.” His eyes held hers. “There was no mistake.”

  Charley sat as still as a statue, hardly breathing. Digesting what Nick had just said to her. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. An incredible wave of relief washed over her as the words sank in.

  Finally she looked at him. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “No.”

  She wanted to shout it. Instead, the words came out in a whisper. “Cris didn’t die in my place.”

  “No.” Nick saw the tears glistening on her lashes and held himself in check, refraining from taking her into his arms. She wouldn’t have appreciated that, he thought.

  Charley covered her mouth with her fingertips until the sob subsided. And then she breathed a long, soul-cleansing sigh. “You have no idea what kind of a rock was just lifted from my shoulders. All this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was me, that the killer had come looking for me that night. Because no one would have wanted to kill Cris.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said gently.

  Fault.

  He’d hit on the right word. She’d always thought that Cris’s death was her fault. Except that he’d just shown her that it wasn’t.

  She blinked again, shedding the tears from her lashes. From her soul.

  Charley turned toward him. “Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you.”

  “Nothing to thank me for,” he assured her.

  But by then impulse had taken over. Charley leaned into him and kissed him. Hard. On the mouth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  WITHOUT THINKING TWICE, Nick took hold of Charley’s arms. He wanted to hold her in place in case she was thinking of moving. Of pulling away.

  Because he didn’t want her to.

  Damn, this was a first. His head was spinning. Spinning as if he were a little kid running around in small, tight circles. The sensation was pleasurable. It went along with the pounding of his heart, the surging of blood through his veins like a strong current.

  There was chemistry here. A hell of a lot of chemistry. Enough to blow up the forensic lab in the Federal Building’s basement. And it just kept growing, getting stronger with each moment he kissed her back. What the hell was she doing to him? Why did he feel so disembodied? This was something new. He didn’t like the feeling that things were beyond his control.

  But they were. There was no denying it.

  Nick pulled her closer to him. With a sound that was remarkably like a protest, Dakota sank down until she was crouching beneath the coffee table. Clearing a path for them.

  Nick could feel every breath she took in. It was as if they were fused together in time and space. And all the while, the kiss continued. Weakening him. Annihilating him until he felt as if he began and ended right here, on this gray, worn sofa.

  A sense of urgency rose, pushing him forward. Demanding. An equal sense of urgency told him to leave. Now. Before it was too late. For both of them.

  He wasn’t altogether sure just how he managed, but he broke away. Creating a pocket of air between them that neither of them desired.

  Her mouth looked almost swollen. Had he been that ardent? He stole a breath before he spoke, hoping it would steady him. Hoping he wouldn’t sound as blown away as he felt.

  One look into her eyes told him he wasn’t fooling her. “I think maybe I’d better go.”

  Charley trembled inside. She was surprised that she wasn’t actually shaking. It took her a moment before she could focus, before his words sank in.

  And then she tried to smile. “Was it something I said?”

  Nick laughed, grateful that she had a sense of humor. It helped break whatever sizzled between them. He damn well didn’t want to walk away. He just knew he should.

  He rose to his feet and discovered that although his legs were shaky, they were still functioning.

  Thank heaven for small favors, he thought.

  He watched Charley swing her legs down and stand up. Nick found himself wrestling with the desire to pull her into his arms again. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. Beside him, Dakota danced from foot to foot, as if anticipating something.

  You and me, both, dog, he thought. Out loud he asked Charley, “What time should I pick you up on Sunday?”

  Wedding. Her brother and Lisa. Sunday. The pieces slowly pulled themselves together into a whole thought. Charley forced herself not to look at his lips, not to think about tasting them again.

  “The wedding’s at one,” she told him, grateful that she remembered. Details that David had given her swam around in her head like so many ducks racing about in a pond. “At Our Lady Queen of Angels in Newport Beach,” she added for good measure, although she doubted he was familiar with the church. She had been. Once, but it had been years since she’d attended any services in that or in any other house of worship. This would be the first time since she’d attended her sister’s funeral. “Pick me up at noon.”

  He nodded. “Noon it is.”

  Nick made his way to the door, then turned to look at her. Without thinking, he began to draw his hands from his pockets, anticipating the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips even before contact was made. Uttering a silent oath, Nick shoved his hands back deep into his pockets. He had to get out of here. “See you tomorrow, Charley.”

  “Tomorrow,” she echoed.

  The moment Nick crossed the threshold, she closed the door quickly behind him, and then not only locked the door but slipped the chain into place.

  Not to keep him out, but to keep herself in.

  Because for the first time that she could remember, she’d fervently wanted a man to press his advantage.

  She’d wanted Nick to stay the night.

  NICK DROVE BACK to his place with the air-conditioning set on high. He needed to cool off. He had no idea what had come over him or why Charley got to him the way she did. He found himself progressively more and more attracted to her. Something in her voice had compelled him to go over there tonight. Something that had made him want to protect her.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the woman could handle herself with the best of them. But that didn’t change the vulnerability he’d witnessed in her voice and her eyes. A vulnerability that had reeled him in as if he were a two-pound mackerel with no fight in him.

  Lord knows he’d wanted to stay. To stay and make love with her through the whole damn night.

  Heat throbbed along his skin. He turned up the air-conditioning to the last notch.

  He’d sensed her willingness. It would have taken very little on his part to make it happen.

  But that would have been a mistake.

  For both of them.

  He kept telling himself that over and over again as he struggled to shake off the effects of what had just happened in her apartment.

  She left his body humming.

  Nick sighed. Maybe a cold shower would do the trick. A cold shower and some time spent on the case. He’d copied some of the files and brought them home with him in the hopes that something might come to him.

  It occurred to him that he’d never told Charley the reason he’d called her in the first place. A
theory kicked around in the back of his mind. Something that might have them reexamining the evidence in a different light.

  It could keep until morning.

  He drove into his apartment complex and made his way to his space. But just as he began to make the turn, he saw that someone had parked in his spot. An old Mustang, its paint peeling in several places, was sitting beneath the number assigned to him.

  Irritated, Nick turned his attention to the guest parking area opposite the covered carports. At first glance, there were no empty spaces, but then he saw one at the end of the row. It was the last one beside the rectangular enclosure that housed a group of four Dumpsters.

  Nick parked and got out. It was too late to call and complain to the manager about the other car. With luck, whoever it was in his space would be gone by morning. People who flaunted simple rules annoyed him.

  Everything annoyed him tonight, Nick thought. The sooner he got that shower, the better. A scotch and soda wouldn’t be out of order either, he mused as he started to walk toward his apartment.

  He heard a clink just beneath his foot. He’d kicked something. When he looked back on it later, Nick realized that if he hadn’t picked that moment to look down on the ground, he would have never seen the shadow there cast by the streetlamp.

  Never seen the outline of a lead pipe raised to strike.

  Spinning around, Nick moved to the side in one quick motion. And just narrowly avoided having his head bashed in.

  His Bureau self-defense training was second nature to him. Although the other man had more than thirty pounds on him, as well as several inches in height, it wasn’t a contest. Within less than three minutes, the battle was all over. The man who had tried to attack him was lying writhing in pain on the ground with Nick’s foot pressing down on his throat. Nick held the man’s hand in both of his and twisted as far as it would go without snapping.

  The assailant’s bloodcurdling screams brought out several of Nick’s neighbors. As they converged, Nick heard the sound of a siren in the distance. It grew steadily louder. Someone must have seen the fight and called 911.