It hurt to look at him.
Her brain was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t had sex. She checked and her pj’s were carefully buttoned. They had definitely not had sex. So what was he doing here?
The scent of her shampoo drifted from his hair and stirred up a vision of domestic fantasy. The desire for that familial illusion closed her throat and threatened to choke her. She edged away from between the sheets.
She was falling in love with him.
He wasn’t a man to commit. Loving Nick would get her nothing but loneliness and disaster. She bit her bottom lip, determined to stop hanging on to some bogus dream about falling for a guy who actually wanted to make a life with her. Artificial insemination was cold and sterile, but it wouldn’t break her heart. And he would.
Looking at him sleeping made something twist inside her, an ache, a pain, a terrible sense of foreboding. They were running out of time. He hadn’t even left yet, but already it hurt to let him go.
In the bathroom she stared at her reflection. She was pale but the lump on her forehead had disappeared, leaving the skin a magnificent purple. She washed her face and her head was clearer, the tenderness almost gone. She patted her face dry with a soft fluffy towel.
She walked through to the kitchen and the dog stirred. Then he stared at the door and started barking a second before someone knocked. Susie dashed for the front door, not wanting Nick to wake just yet. Grabbing the knob she yanked it open, forgetting the alarm which started its countdown of irritating warning beeps.
Lily threw herself inside as the dog shot out. “I can’t find Mom!”
Susie staggered under Lily’s impact even though the girl was a good head shorter than she was. Lily gripped Susie’s pajama lapels and started shaking. Damn, the girl was strong. The alarm was about to go off when Nick sauntered into the hall, pulling up his jeans, and punched in the code, even though she couldn’t remember giving him the number.
Embarrassment washed through Susie, although her sleeping arrangements were nobody’s business. But Lily was her student. It was all such a tangled mess.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Nick asked Lily.
“I checked her at 1 p.m., just before I went for my run.” Lily let go of Susie and stood poised on the balls of her feet. After a moment’s hesitation she threw herself at Nick and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Why didn’t Ewan call?” Nick asked Susie with a frown.
The clock on the mantel said it was 2 p.m. Susie shrugged.
“I gave Mom her pills and went for a run. I just got back and poked my head in on her before jumping in the shower, but she wasn’t there.” Lily’s hair clung to her face in darkened sweaty streaks. “What if she’s hurt? I already looked on the beach.” The girl gulped noisily, tears running down her face, her black eyeliner running down to her chin. “I should never have left her alone!”
Oh hell. Susie didn’t want to think about the night they’d dragged Emily out of the sea.
“Maybe she just went for a walk?” she suggested, trying to calm the girl.
“And maybe she fell off a cliff looking for her dead bloody kid!” Lily drew back her lips as she bared her teeth. Susie took a step away.
Nick frowned over Lily’s head and raised his eyebrows in question. Susie hugged herself—she didn’t know what had warranted the change in her usually upbeat and open student. But the stress of worrying about her mother must be enormous. He pulled out his cell phone as Lily impatiently paced the hall.
“Ewan?” Nick spoke quickly. “Never mind that. Emily Heathcote’s gone AWOL. I didn’t tell you before, but she’s been showing signs of dementia. I need a bulletin put out for officers to be on the lookout for a sixty-year-old gray-haired woman along the Crail coast road. Five-foot-ten, medium-to-heavy build.”
Susie went into the kitchen and flicked on the coffeemaker. She needed caffeine. Nick angled around to keep her in sight. “You do it. The supe won’t give a damn when the alternative is another dead body turning up when an officer was in a position to prevent it. Don’t give me that crap, you’ll be fine.”
Nick closed his phone and looked up. “The boss is planning a press conference in an hour.” He went into the bedroom and, to Susie’s dismay, Lily followed him. Susie trailed them both, uncertain whether to get changed out of her pajamas or wait for privacy. Nick pulled a green T-shirt over his head and bent to pull on socks and shoes.
“They polygraphed the Sizemores after they agreed to non-binding voluntary tests.”
Lily looked impatient enough to do up his laces. Susie hovered uncertainly.
“Jake failed on the sexual relationships and Judy failed when she repeated her confession of murder.”
“What about Callie?” Lily held up his jacket, which he grabbed.
“She passed everything.” The expression on Nick’s face revealed nothing. “Doesn’t mean anything. True sociopaths don’t feel guilt, so the physiological readings that might tell us she’s a liar don’t always register.”
Susie rubbed her upper arms, feeling cold. She knew she needed to do something so she went to her dresser and pulled out clothes. “I’ll get dressed and help you search.”
“No.” Nick walked over and examined the bruise on her forehead, kissing it gently. “Stay by the phone and try to get some rest.” He brushed his lips over hers.
“Nick, come on!” Lily’s voice was impatient as she hovered in the doorway.
He shot her a glare and then looked back at Susie, the green of his eyes darkened by the olive shirt. “Lock up once we’re gone, aye? Don’t let anyone in except Ewan or me,” he added.
Susie was still nodding like one of those wobble-headed dolls when they went out the door. She didn’t even have the dog for company. Alone, she went to the living room window, the glass cold beneath her palm, and watched them jog up the gravel road toward the Heathcote cottage. A big man and a tiny young woman, both of whom had impacted her life in a major way. When she breathed out, the window misted with condensation, leaving a handprint behind.
It was Halloween, she remembered suddenly. And a real-life horror might be unfolding at this exact moment. Poor Emily. Poor Lily.
She rubbed the gooseflesh that pebbled her arms and hoped Emily was okay. She flicked on the TV to catch the world news but frowned. It made her antsy to be up but not to be working. She needed to finish that review article, needed to draft the NERC grant application due the beginning of December.
Susie walked into her office, booted up her PC and checked her email. There was one from Candace wanting to know when she should reschedule today’s lecture for. Four messages from her mother in an escalating scale of worry and irritation. Remembering she’d unhooked her phone before going to sleep that morning, she went and plugged it back in.
The marine lab was caught up in a scandal that was probably making her mother squirm in pre–million-dollar-campaign jitters, though derailing her mother’s run for office wouldn’t be such a bad thing for Susie.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. That wasn’t really fair. Her parents had forced her to give up her baby, but it hadn’t been through malice. Darcy Cooper had believed she was doing the right thing at the time and had found a wonderful couple to adopt Susie’s little boy.
Maybe it had been the right thing to do?
Susie shook her head, determined not to get distracted by thoughts and doubts regarding what might have been. That was the past. With a click she filled the oppressive silence with music.
She deleted a bunch of emails from the press. A message from the university reminded staff and students about tomorrow’s memorial for Tracy Good. Poor Tracy. Tears welled in Susie’s eyes and she couldn’t quite make them stop.
Tracy had been in foster care. She’d had no blood family who wanted her. Had she ever really felt loved? Did Susie’s child feel loved?
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks for a girl she hadn’t known and the boy
she’d abandoned. She clicked open a file a private investigator had sent her and looked into the blue eyes of a young man on horseback. Laughing, joking with the person behind the camera. All appearances suggested he loved his adoptive parents and had everything in life he could wish for. What if the press found out about him and destroyed that joy?
Every time she looked at her son, a huge yawning chasm opened up inside her chest. A sense of failure, pity and regret. But also pride that he’d turned out so well.
She’d been stupid. And yet there he was, happy and healthy. How could she risk tipping his world just because she wanted to get to know him?
But what if he wondered whether or not his real parents had loved him?
And what if he didn’t?
She was caught between a rock and a hard place. She had to get over her own regret and let her son choose his future.
She searched for “Sperm Bank” and “Scotland” and stared at the facilities listed on the Web. Not redemption for her past mistakes perhaps, certainly not forgiveness, but a way forward, a way to get on with her life. She’d also check out adoption laws in this country.
She picked up the telephone and made an appointment at a private fertility clinic in Edinburgh for the following week. As soon as she replaced the receiver, her head started pounding. Pushing away from the desk, she headed for the shower. The phone rang, but she ignored it. She stripped and shoved her head into the hot deluge of water. She’d deal with the world later.
Nick hadn’t found Emily. His body was sweat-soaked from jogging the coastal path to Crail and back. Lily had gone the other way, toward St. Andrews, but neither of them had seen any sign of the confused woman. Spray rasped his face as he looked out to sea, and coldness spread over his skin and seeped into his flesh as he realized how completely he’d failed.
It didn’t seem fair that Emily might die like this. Alone. Bewildered. Perpetually grieving. She was just a fragile old lady, long broken by grief. But who knew what the tide, with its grasping currents and bitchy temper, would toss at their feet come morning.
Twilight thickened. Night came early this far north at this time of year, an irascible darkness that cut deep into life. Darkness was the enemy now. Search and Rescue had been called. The police force and local media had been alerted. There was nothing he could do except wait and hope. He turned and spotted Susie walking the length of the beach, skirting the wet sand. Her body was braced against the wind, her blond hair whipping behind her like a flag. He couldn’t see her expression but had no doubt her forehead was pinched with worry, her mouth compressed with concern.
Why did he find that so alluring?
He was an experienced detective, used to getting his own way and wise to the ways of the world. Did he really think he wouldn’t hurt her when he walked away? Did he really think he wouldn’t screw himself in the process? He stepped down the dune to meet her. He couldn’t do anything for Emily and he had to get back to work. The murder investigation wasn’t over, the Sizemores had been released because of lack of evidence, and Tracy Good’s killer was still at large.
As Susie got closer, he saw evidence of tears in her eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Emily she was crying over.
Bloody hell. He didn’t have time to deal with this, but he held out his arms even as his conscience screamed for him to leave her the hell alone. Then she was in his embrace, warm and sweet, her breasts pressed against his chest, her arms pinned tight around his waist. He nuzzled her hair, tasted the wildness of the sea on her skin.
“Did you find her?” Susie’s voice was muffled against his shirt, her breath stirring both heat and lust.
“No. We didn’t find any sign of her.” He held Susie away from him and stared at her tear-stained face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She avoided his gaze.
“Come on, Susie.” He was getting impatient. He didn’t have time to screw around.
“I’m not the person you think I am.”
“Susie…” Nick smiled, exasperated. “You are exactly the person I think you are.”
She flinched. And maybe that was why he bothered trying to change her skewed perception of herself. Susie was as transparent as Edinburgh crystal. She was kind. Beautiful. Intelligent. Warm. Innocent. And definitely not for the likes of him.
He’d stolen from her, lied to her and gotten her naked every chance he got.
“You’re uptight, overconscientious, hardworking and practical. You worry every little detail to death.” Her eyes flashed, but he stalled her by brushing the hair off the bruise on her brow. “You are a good person, Susie Cooper. Christ knows I’ve dealt with some of the bad.”
She pulled away, her eyes narrowing, her pointy jaw set at the sort of angle that told him she was pissed. God, she was pretty when she got that pain-in-the-ass look on her face.
“When I was fifteen I seduced an older man and got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption without even holding him in my arms.” Her eyes turned opaque, holding on to the memories, her fingers biting into the sleeves of her jacket.
Nick laughed and her eyes burned with fresh tears. This was her big secret? This was what caused the self-reproach he saw in her eyes?
“Susie.” He held her arms. “There are worse things than that. I already told you what happened to me.”
She flinched and lost what little color she had left. “That was different. You were abused. I gave away my baby.”
“If you expect me to despise you for what you did when you were a kid, you chose the wrong confessor.” Nick found his patience vanishing. “What did your parents do when you got pregnant, your mother the senator?”
“They set up the adoption in secret.” Susie avoided his eyes.
“And what happened to the guy who committed statutory rape?” He watched humiliation slide over her features. “Jack shit, right?”
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she nodded. “Nothing. He was a colleague of my mother’s. He wasn’t married at the time.” She stared at the ground as if she deserved to be whipped. “I seduced him.”
Nick grabbed her hands to stop her nails digging into her own skin. “So where’s the kid now? Is he happy? Safe?”
“He grew up on a ranch in Wyoming.”
It sounded fantastic to Nick. Memories of the tiny council house he’d shared with his granny flickered through his mind, edging out the squalor of his mother’s flat. But Susie was still self-flagellating. He bet she spent every day beating the crap out of herself for one lousy lapse in judgment, a mistake most teenagers were capable of making.
A little fissure cracked in his heart. She took life so seriously. Cared too deeply. He wished he had more time. He wished he didn’t have to track down a killer and a disorientated pensioner. He let out a slow breath and pushed Susie’s hair behind her ear. “You were just a kid, Susie. The child was looked after. You need to forgive yourself.”
She took a step back, the wind molding her clothes to her body like a second skin.
“That’s it? That’s all you can say?” Her eyes were wide with anger, but it beat the hell out of tears.
“You want me to tie you up and give you a good spanking, I’m game, but don’t kid yourself it has anything to do with your past.” And it shocked him that he wanted her, right here, right now. His hands started shaking so badly he stuffed them in his pockets. “There are plenty of kids who’d be grateful for a good home and people to love them.”
“Like you, you mean?” Her words were ice against his soul.
One side of his mouth curled because Susie might be softhearted but she had guts.
“I lived.” Just. After his mother had got hold of him it had been touch and go, and after Chrissie…well, maybe existed was closer to the truth.
What about now? The question taunted the edges of his mind.
Susie gazed at the rippling ocean. “I don’t know how to forgive myself.”
“Susie, people do worse things than that every single day and never give
a monkey’s.” He rubbed the sting of salt from his eyes. “I’ve done things that would make you run screaming in horror. I’m not some hero who always does the honorable thing.” And there it was, the perfect weapon to drive her away, even though he didn’t want her to go. But he couldn’t stay and he didn’t want to hurt her.
“That night I drove you home from Dougie and Leanne’s dinner party?”
“The night Tracy was killed?” She frowned, a tremor of emotion running through her voice. “What about it?”
“When I kissed you that first time on your doorstep?” He waited for her nod. “It was great, wasn’t it? So damn hot I only just remembered to lift your wallet and steal your keycard.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. He held up his hand to stop her speaking, determined to finish this. To wreck the illusions that kept them afloat.
“I used your keycard to break into the Gatty and search Sizemore’s office for evidence that he killed Chrissie.”
“You used me? You…you lied to me and questioned me about that stupid card!” She thrust away from him, staring at him wide-eyed. “You sonofabitch. What about Tracy?”
“What about Tracy? You think I killed her?”
“Did you?” She bit her lip uncertainly.
“Bloody hell, Susie, I’ve spent my entire adult life looking for justice for one murdered woman. What makes you think I’d kill another?” He was breathing hard, guilt hurting his chest and thick emotion blurring his vision.
“I’m sorry.”
He backed away. “No. It was a smart question, exactly the sort of question you should be asking. But if I had killed her, I wouldn’t have told you about the keycard.” The smile he sent her was wolfish as he strove to hide what he was really feeling.
“Is your wife’s death the only reason you became a cop?”
“Yes. That’s why I became a cop.” Some cop—he couldn’t even nail one lousy killer. “I promised Chrissie I’d get her justice.” Twelve years of resentment reached out to suffocate him and he could barely breathe. “And I know who killed her. I just can’t prove it.” He’d failed. So where did that leave him?
Sea of Suspicion Page 23
